1997 Rolling Thunder X Rally
May 30, 1997. The peace of a quiet Virginia morning was disturbed by a distant and scattered rumble. Though at first indistinct and widespread, it had unsettling similarities to the big guns that had once shredded this gentle countryside. Then, brother fought brother in a conflict that nearly destroyed this great nation at places named Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, Antietam, Bull Run, and Gettysburg during our Civil War.
No, this Big-Twin rumble instead came from thousands upon thousands of Harley-Davidson motorcycles. All around the Commonwealth and Mid-Atlantic coast, bikers were preparing for a ride to the Vietnam War Memorial -- The Wall -- for Rolling Thunder X, often spoke of as the largest one-day motorcycle event in the world. Literally hundreds of thousands of motorcyclists uniting for a good cause - a full accounting for those men and women still missing from this nation's wars.
I am a Vietnam veteran. Though I did not personally participate in combat, I have seen first-hand the effect it can render. Many vets still, and always will, carry emotional baggage from that staunch attempt to preserve the sovereignty of a tiny nation at peril. Rolling Thunder is not a political statement about the rights or wrongs of war, but rather a show of solidarity amongst veterans for our MIAs.
Our first stop on this year's Rolling Thunder saw us dock at Gargoyles Coffee Bar in Stafford, Virginia. We were pretty well wired from high-octane espresso when the last of our group's riders arrived. We were to head from here to our main assembly point at Classic Iron, just north of the Quantico Marine Base. Riders continued to drift by in twos and threes. Slowly, our little group grew to become a gleaming sea of chrome and iron.
We took a turn off toward the Pentagon and joined a line already there. By now most spectators were brothers and sisters who had already parked and climbed the hill from the parking lot to welcome us. We were surrounded by motorcycles of all varieties and styles. License plates appeared to represent at least half our Union.
Initially people were still in a party mood, but the tempo slowly shifted to a more somber note -- one that would dominate the rest of our ride and visit to the Wall. First-time riders, like myself last year, had a lot of questions and were tense about doing the right thing. Old timers knew what the Wall does to your mind. Memories and emotions locked away since last year resurface. You can't help it, it's gonna happen.
Due to the sheer number of participants riding in this year's event, it took an hour and 20 minutes for us to work our way up the hill and out of the parking lot. Once into D.C. proper, we rode around the mall area and all its monuments. One rally vet estimated around a quarter of a million motorcycles present here today. As we got closer, spectators were becoming charged with the emotion a rumbling V-Twin brings out in people. We parked, secured everything and headed for the Wall.
By now emotions are churning and conversations hushed. It's hard to imagine the quieting effect this place has on even the hardiest biker. You have to be there. The feeling is almost as if walking on sacred ground. Grown men, bikers, tough guys, blue collar guys -- all crying. It has to run its course and that really sucks, man. We thought we were doin' the right thing, like our fathers did in World War II. We were so damn naive.
Slowly, in small groups at first, then larger ones, bikers began to splinter. My companion and I pulled out late that afternoon for home. Rolling Thunder was once again drawing near a close. What effect this annual event has on our country's politicos one really doesn't know. We just understand we won't quit trying.
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