Terry Love
October 11th, 1943- August 1st, 2009
Broken and ravaged by this illness that has taken him from us, we are sad and he will be missed. In thinking about who Terry was like most of us he was different things to different people. He was a man who’d worn many hats, walked different paths as he became the man we knew and loved.
Proudly he served his country in Vietnam and it left its mark. He loved a woman so different from himself he all but destroyed what they had; not believing he deserved her.
He wasn’t proud of the failed marriage or failed friendships that vanished along the way. Like most of us he wasn’t perfect. Good or bad right or wrong friend or foe you knew exactly where you stood with him. He could be generous to a fault, no friend ever went thirsty; yet had a hair trigger temper that could ignite in an instant. And of course there was his softer side that he reserved for the special few.
There are two events that will forever stand out in my mind about Terry. The first was shortly after we first met at the little Mexican restaurant in Chatsworth. That evening we swapped stories and laughter for hours, becoming fast friends. Then a week or so later we met once again at the same little spot enjoying our share of margaritas and good food. Later we followed Terry and Jenny to one of their watering holes in Simi Valley. Our moods were festive we were all having a great time. That ended abruptly when a thirty something kick boxer disrespectfully put his hands on Jenny in plain view of Terry.
In disbelief I watched hardly believing that this less than svelte, out of shape, fifty-five year old could move that damn fast. I watched stunned as he lunged for the taller younger man crushing him onto the dirty barroom floor. With the heart of a lion protecting his pride and the precision of a boxer he landed a solid left and a very winning right. Wow I thought this guy’s a real badass. However that thought passed quickly as youth, raw strength and ego ended our evening at the emergency room filling Terry’s mouth with well deserved stitches. In that moment I was sold on the old bastard in my eyes he was the real deal.
The second event that I will long remember was the night we stayed in Ventura longer than planned. The temperature dropped and we would need to put on some layers. It’s odd to watch someone’s ritual knowing they had done this countless times over the years. From the cowboy boots to his well worn jeans there was a style to him. I watched him as he carefully tied the dark bandanna around his face. From deep inside his leather jacket he produced a scarf which he wrapped strategically around his neck tucking it neatly in a practiced motion.
The zipper of his leather jacket strained from the added girth. I couldn’t help but notice that his cutoff would no longer snap closed and was now held together by chains. Like I said he had a style. Finally he pulled on his ratty old gloves then straddled his bike, righting her before hitting the button bringing them both to life. It was in that almost intimate moment that I saw him differently. He was not just the patched outlaw that a passer by might see, in that moment I saw the essence of the man.
We roared out of Ventura that cold damp winter night blazing down the 101 freeway heading for home. That beautiful blue and chrome Softail lowered perfectly for Terry’s stature seemed to have melted into one perfect entity. As the chrome glistened and his engine roared beside me I could see the confidence, the steady control and the peace he found becoming one with the road. He'd look over now and then to check on me I’d nod my head and he’d do the same. He raced through the cold spots hitting ninety as I struggled to keep up. He was in his element this was his Shangri-la!
Terry was a regular guy with one true passion and that was riding his bike. It was the one place where the demons were silenced, the insecurity fell away and pain turned to joy with the push of the start button. Today I will nod my head to you one last time. I will keep the memories of our times spent together in my heart. Today I raise my glass to a Brother, Good-bye my friend, ride on, ride on! With love from Al & Donna
By, Six Shooter Sally
