What the world needs now, is love, sweet love

Something happened to me today that I feel compelled to share.

It’s easy to think that the things we do as Riders are small moments in a long line of events. A ride here. A Donation. A flag line there. A wave, a smile, an engine revved in honor. We show up, we do what we do best, and then we move on.

But sometimes, those moments stay behind long after we’ve moved on down the road.

A couple of years ago, a woman named Alice asked if we could pass by a 90-year-old veteran’s birthday party on our bikes. No speeches. No ceremony. Just a ride-by. Many of you may remember him. John Chicorelli. John proudly served in the United States Navy from 1951 to 1955. Both before and after his enlistment, he was a member of the Army National Guard. He received three honorable discharges for his service, which he was extremely proud of.

Well, it turns out it was the same day as our Vets for Pets run. But we told her we'd figure something out and stop by anyway. We lined up, rode to his home, took over the entire road right in front of his house, said hello, and presented him with a certificate of appreciation for his service and a present. Made some noise with the bikes, and let him know he was seen and honored.

Like so many things we do, it felt good in the moment… and then life carried on.

Today, my phone rang. A number I didn’t recognize. I answered, and a gentle voice asked, “Is this Chris Chase?”
I said yes. She said, "I have a message for you."

And then she began to sing!  Right there on the phone, “What the world needs now, is love, sweet love…”

I sat there completely stunned, trying to make sense of what was happening. When she finished, she wished me a Merry Christmas. I said, “I’m sorry, hon, I’m not placing your name.”

That’s when she reminded me who she was.

She told me John had passed away earlier this year at 92. And then she told me how much that day, that simple ride-by with a quick stop, meant to him. How happy it made him. How he talked about it long after the bikes were gone, replaying that moment.

By then, neither one of us was holding it together. We both choked up. You should have heard this cute lady singing to me; it absolutely broke my heart.

And in that moment, it also gave me something else: perspective.

Riders, the things we do matter. Sometimes in ways we’ll never fully realize. Sometimes in ways we won’t understand until long after the engines are shut off. What feels like “just a ride” to us can become a treasured memory, a moment of joy, a reminder to a veteran that they are honored, remembered, and not forgotten.

Today was proof that our actions don’t end when the ride does.

So never underestimate the impact of what we do, because kindness, respect, and brotherhood have a way of echoing far beyond the miles we ride.

Ride safe. Ride with purpose and Merry Christmas!