For Steven

It's become almost a cliche when it is said that no one has a bigger heart than a biker, but let me tell you about what I've had the honor to be a part of today.  Airman First Class Steven Spencer was a 21 year old Jackson native, and the son of Rob Spencer.  Rob and his girlfriend Amanda are friends of mine and the dealership.  Steven's Aunt Sam worked on the sales staff at the store for a while as well.  Steven was serving our country in the US Air Force at Tinker Air Force Base in Oklahoma City when he and another fellow Airman tragically lost their lives in an accident in the early morning hours the day after Christmas.

Today was Steven's day to come back home to Jackson.  I received a call from Sam asking if the the store could be used as a staging area for a ride down to the airport in Memphis so that Steven could be received and escorted home.  Of course I agreed to this and through email and Facebook we did what we could to get the word out.  The plan was to meet at the store at 2PM and then head out for Memphis at 2:30.  No one had any idea how many bikes would be joining us, but as the noon hour rolled over, it became apparent that the message was circulating.

After a few quick words from Rob, Sam, and others of the contingent of Spencer family members, the group numbering four or five dozen pulled out and headed for I-40 West, under escort from the Jackson Police Department.  We arrived at the Delta Cargo terminal at Memphis International an hour and a half or so later.  Memphis traffic is always a hairy tangled mess to deal with, but trying to keep pace with traffic, dragging fifty to sixty bikes, riding straight into a blinding sunset and get everyone to our destination intact was an effort unto itself.

Upon arrival at the terminal, we were met by several Memphis area members of the Patriot Guard Riders.  These people are an amazing group of men and women who take it upon themselves to create not only a safe haven for the families of deceased service members, but do so for people they've never met.  As we waited for the casket holding AFC Spencer to arrive, I mingled through the crowd.  It should have come as no surprise to me, but many of the people there did not know Steven at all, and several did not know his family.  They just felt the need to do something meaningful for the family of a young man that stepped up to serve his country.

We'd been there for about an hour when the roll up door was raised and out emerged the flag draped casket bearing one of Jackson's native sons, carried by six men, dressed in black leather.  He was led down the ramp to the waiting coach.  His family followed closely behind, holding each other up, and being collectively held up by the contingent of extended family that had made the trip with them, many of whom they did not know they even had a week ago.

When it became time to leave, the group was briefed by our Patriot Guard escort and the Memphis PD that would be getting us out of town.  By now the sun had set, and I was quite apprehensive about the ride back to Jackson.  It was about 5:30 and we should have been hitting the thickest of Memphis rush hour traffic.  I just knew that it would be a white knuckler of a ride.

On the contrary.  With the exception of one mishap leaving the terminal, the group and I experienced a ride like I'd never before been a part of.  I've been on funeral processions and parades before and have ridden under police escort scores of times, but what I experienced this evening floored me.  The Memphis Police Department Motorcycle Squad virtually closed down I-240 from the airport all the way out to the I-40E junction at rush hour.  We rode completely alone along the busiest stretch of interstate during the busiest time of day, as safe as a baby in its mothers arms.  All exits were closed.  If a stray car did happen to find its way onto our path, it either pulled to the side of the road once it saw us or was quickly corralled by one of the motor patrol officers.  Respect. The MPD carried us, untouched nearly to the county line where we were picked up by the Tennessee Highway Patrol and carried to the Jackson City limits where the JPD once again had all exits shut down, awaiting the arrival of its hometown boy.  Off the interstate, up North Highland and into the parking lot of George Smith North Chapel.  Awesome.  Stunning.  Chilling.

Here's what I saw tonight.  I saw the most professional, efficient and courteous police escort from the Memphis Police Department Motor Patrol that I've ever witnessed.  I saw men and women who answer the call immediately for total strangers in order to ensure that their deceased service/family member has the honorable sendoff they deserve.  I saw grown  men holding each other up.  I saw an outpouring of love from total strangers to a family that is seeing its darkest days.  I saw the trembling lip of an otherwise stoic Air Force Airman, in his class A dress blue uniform as he handed over his fallen comrade that he'd been escorting since Tinker.  I saw patriotism, pride, sadness, hope, honor, and most of all, love.

Steven's family and friends will say their final goodbye's to him this Sunday at George A Smith South Funeral home at 2 PM and then his remains will make their final journey on this Earth to Hopewell Cemetery in Medina.  If you can make it, the family would be honored to have you ride in Steven's memory.  If you can't, please remember Rob, Amanda, Sam and the rest of Steven's family in the days, weeks and months to come.  Steven was theirs.  They have shared him with us, and for that I am truly humbled.

Thank you AFC Steven Spencer for your life, your service, and your legacy.  And don't worry about your family.  We'll take care of them.  They're our family too.

Ride Safe and with purpose.

Scott Michael Bumpus