REFLECTIONS ON ROLLING THUNDER XVIII (OR WHY DID I/WE RIDE TO THE WALL?) While riding southwest through the hills of Virginia last Monday, I found myself becoming more and more aggravated.  What should have been a time of blissful reflection on the events of the past weekend became the source of questions, doubt, and even anger.  At some point each of us must take a stand and damn the consequences.  That point has arrived in my life. What had I truly accomplished just 24 hours earlier?  Had I made even one person care or even made one aware of our stated mission?  That would make this journey worth my time, right?  What did I accomplish?  Maybe nothing.  How very sad. It has become painfully obvious that many “Run to the Wall” for reasons that have little or nothing to do with our goal of protesting the government’s lack of action over the POW/MIA issue.  While many, and I pray, most, are pure in their desire to support said mission, all too many are completely clueless.  Would you believe that one rider was actually heard to say she couldn’t believe how many bikers had gotten together to protest the war in Iraq?!?!?!  While this example is certainly extreme, maybe it’s time to ask yourself, as I have, why did I ride to The Wall?  If you don’t know why you are somewhere, maybe you don’t belong there.  If you don’t have at least some level of commitment to the POW/MIA issue, then you have no business at Rolling Thunder’s “Run to the Wall” and certainly no right to wear the Rolling Thunder patch.  That is my opinion, of course. “I just had to see it.”  “It’s the biggest one day bike event there is.”  “400,000 scooters, what a party.”  And on and on and on.  All are valid reasons to attend a run or event at Daytona or Sturgis, but not this weekend people.  This weekend is supposed to be special; a time of purpose and reflection—a time that should be almost sacred. People line the streets and bridges to watch the “parade.”  At the end of the day my guess is that less than half know why we are actually in D.C.  Some are simply there to see all the “crazy bikers.”  Some hold signs saying “Support Our Troops” or “Welcome Home” or “September 11th Never Forget.”  They offer “high fives.”  All are outstanding but wrong.  We need to make the public and the media aware of our true mission.  They must be reminded of the goal.  Some of us need to be reminded too!  THIS AIN’T NO DAMN PARADE, IT’S A PROTEST!  This is a sad and solemn time. If just half of those who line our route would write, call, or email their Representatives on Capitol Hill and demand answers and action, would that get those left behind the attention they are owed?  Unfortunately I believe the sad truth is that the bystanders who do know why we ride are there by in large to do the “right thing” to make themselves feel a bit more patriotic or to be politically correct on this one day.  Do they truly care or is a five point drop in the Dow of more importance to them than living, breathing countrymen left behind?  Unfortunately, I think we all know the answer to that one. While I accept the bystanders for what they are, bystanders, I will never understand them.  They, however, are not my concern.  Each of us finds a way to justify and live with ourselves.  Perhaps however we need to make more of an effort to inform the citizens as to the reason we are “invading” their space and “inconveniencing” them. My concern lies with what each of us do.  How we show our respect for those we are supposedly committed to bringing home.  The name that is on the bracelet around your wrist—what do you know about him or his family?  Have you ever contacted his son or daughter?  Have you ever touched his name on The Wall?  Do you even know the panel number on which it is chiseled?  When was the last time each of us sent a letter to a local newspaper?  When was the last time each of us contacted our Representatives on Capitol Hill?  For me, I’m ashamed to say it has been more than a year.  Can you even begin to imagine the impact that a single letter from each of us who rode to The Wall would have on our elected officials once every quarter?  That’s an average of over 820 letters in each and every Congressman and Senator’s office every quarter—more than 13 every working day.  We can get their attention.  Perhaps I am naïve, but I believe that each of us can make the politicians take notice, but if and only if we make an honest effort. We are at least 400,000 strong and we can make a difference.  But we must do something now! Politicians speak of their own legacy.  The politician who brings forward the truth will not only assure that legacy, but may well be honored with statues not unlike those of the true men who forged the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence.  Men of truth and principle, not men of PACs. When the truth is told, and it always is, the American citizen will, in time, forgive and accept and heal.  We are after all an inherently forgiving species.  But time is short, very short.  Our Senators and Congressmen have an opportunity to do something great and prove once and for all that they do care.  Then close this chapter for not only those who served, who never returned, and indeed for America as a whole.  But first we must demand action, not empty words.  Action begins with each and every one of us.  Search your heart.  Have you done enough?  Where is the POW/MIA issue on your priority list?  I hope that you can live with the answers. Time is growing short.  It may already be too late for all but truth itself to be released from captivity.  Our mission seems to have been evolving recently.  Not so much in words as in tone.  We began by screaming, “BRING THEM HOME OR SEND US BACK.”  We moved to whispering, “for an accounting of those listed as POW/MIA.”  How much further down the government’s priority list are we going to allow our heroes to fall?  Do the names Matt Maupin or Scott Speicher mean anything to you?  While I believe with every fiber of my being that it is possible that live American fighting men are still held captive in Southeast Asia, I am certain each passing day and even hour dims the light of hope just that much more.  If we do not do something, who will?  If not now, when?  Time my friends is short.  The government marks time just waiting I’m afraid for you and me to tire or die.  They are winning and unless we do something now, our “leaders” in Washington will have succeeded in sweeping this ugly chapter in our history under the oval office carpet. I have no right, nor is it my intent, to preach to those of you, many of whom I respect more than words can express.  I have not and by the grace of God will never have to experience the path many of you have walked.  I am honored and humbled when you call me brother and I understand the responsibility that goes with it.  Part of that responsibility is to seek, speak, and write the truth. Please do not read into my ranting any more than there is.  I am certainly not in a position to question anyone’s motives—how could I be when I am not even sure of my own.  All I ask is that we each look inside ourselves and ask, if it were a crime to be a member of Rolling Thunder or an advocate for POW/MIAs, would there be enough evidence to convict or would I walk free, head hung low and asking could I have done more?  For me, today, the answer makes me feel ashamed. Thanks for your time and for considering one man’s opinion.  Here’s hoping that next year we all feel as though we have earned the privilege of riding in Rolling Thunder XIX. Bart (a.k.a. Soap Box) (Honorably Discharged US Army Vietnam Era Vet) Rolling Thunder NC Chapter 2 31 May 2005