[VulcanRider]

Maybe a little off-topic, but I thought you'd like to read a description from one of the Patriot Guard Riders. This was a funeral for PFC. Tina Marie Priest in Smithville, Texas, so apparently none of Phelps' inbreds were there, but I think it's a great description of the respect shown at a military funeral. In a twisted way we have Phelps to thank for this. The PGR was started specifically to counter his protests...

Pardon the Army-ese, but that was the order of the day. Almost everone I met today was a vet, former service member, or a family member of a service person. Met Chuck and about 10 others at Denny's in Austin at 7:00 or so. A good breakfast and six cups of coffee later, we hit the road for Smithville. The reality of why we were there did not strike me at first. I was all into the ride and having a good time...then we got to the church. When we pulled up in front and they organized everyone with the flags to be directly in front of the church when the funeral party emerged, I started to well up. The sight of the flag in a ceremony like that by itself is an emotional event for me, but thinking of the grieving family of that young girl inside was almost overwhelming. When the family came out a woman, who may have been the mother, came out first. She stopped when she saw the flags, and the 80 or so bikers standing in rough formation behind them with their hands respectfully clasped behind their backs in the best rendition of 'parade rest' most of us remembered. She put her hands over her mouth and just stared for what must have been two minutes. It was all I could do not to sob out loud just looking at her. I thought I was going to have a hard time getting to the cemetery if I couldn't see. After they brought the flag-draped coffin out,which was another teary moment (I'm not ashamed, there were men much worthier than I that had tears streaming) we mounted up for the ride to the cemetery. The procession was amazing. On one long straight stretch, I realized that I could not see the front of the procession. Half of Smithville must have turned out. The bikes (75) by themselves stretched out forever. The people in Smithville that were not at the funeral came out of their homes and business's as we passed. Some put their hands over their hearts, men removed their hats, most all waved as the bikes went by. At the cemetery, they did a full honors military service with a 21 gun salute and taps. I cried like a baby, but didn't care. There were grizzled old limping Viet Nam era vets crying right along with me. After the graveside service, we were thanked by Brigadier General Campbell who came by and shook everyones hand, working his way down the line. Those of us who had it drilled in snapped to attention by reflex as he stopped in front of us. Then he gave a small speech to the group. He was followed by family members who thanked us for attending and invited us back to the church for the after funeral dinner. Most of us went to the church, and the ensuing scene was another heart-wrencher. Small town, conservative America in their finest clothes were mingling with big, leather clad, sun-burnt bikers, most of whom had been on the road all day to get there. One guy rode from Valdosta Georgia! Anyway, it was a very poignant day. Sad in parts and gratifying in others. I would not have missed it for the world, but I hope occasions to ride as part of a funeral procession are few and far between.