Rowe Band

"Holy crap!!" Rowe gasped as she looked down at her hand, realizing her wedding ring was gone. She frantically searched her mind for the last time it was last seen. This morning when she awoke? Was it missing before or after a visit to the bathroom?? Last night maybe???

Sadly, she glanced again at where the band had been. On her ring finger, there was only the lightened pigmentation of skin of where the ring once was. Never off her hand for 20 years. A gold band, with a small diamond at the center. Abe and Rowe had picked out their bands together, at the tender ages of 19, both of them still in the Army. Visiting their Army base's PX with its fine assortment of budget rings for humble low-ranking soldiers. Back in 1992, Rowe had wanted the finest bling their modest soldier paychecks could purchase...

But now, as Rowe thought about it, bling was not what she wanted. Many a times she had looked down at her wedding ring and the realization hit her, "That was me then, but not now. I actually don't even like gold or diamonds!" Was the loss of her ring subliminal for wanting a different ring??

Unsure as to how Abe would take the news, she cautiously approached him. "Papi, I uh...I can't find my wedding ring. It's just gone!!" Thankfully he was neither upset nor worried. "Ok, I'll make you a new one cutey!"

As fate would have it, just a few weeks prior, a friend gave Abe a whole bag of leather scraps. And not just any leather scraps, mind you, but the fringes off an old Harley motorcycle's side bags. What better way to coalesce Rowe's love for riding, with a symbol of their love for one another??

Thus, the Rowe Band was born. The love. The ride. No bling. Just the journey, Simple, but perfect.
As the wheels are spinning...

Iron and Sky

Iron and Sky.  aHbe Racer's bikes for over three years.  Rowe's Iron 883, and Abe's Deluxe 1584.  Countless rides together, through country backroads, cutting through city traffic, in the fullness of the moon late at night.  But on this early November morning, Abe tried to hold back tears as he saw Sky being ridden away.  Not by Rowe or anyone else he knew, but a stranger.  Similarly, four months ago, Rowe couldn't watch as the new owner of her Iron rode away.  Reading her mind, Abe had said, "Let's drive away before he does...", and they did.

As a company, aHbe Racer is steadily growing since it's inception over a year and a half ago.  There have been extreme highs, coupled with deep lows.  New relationships are being formed, increased presence at moto shows, online, and at retail stores.  But as with any start-up, bills need to be paid.  And as the company is gaining momentum, it was time for Iron and Sky to go...

Temporarily moto-less.  Appropriate mourning time.  Staring at the empty spaces in the garage where Iron and Sky used to be.  Nevertheless, Abe and Rowe can't help but anticipate what's on the horizon for aHbe Racer.  Perhaps it's this Keroppi bike for Rowe,

or Sky II? for Abe??

Trusting in Him, however that looks like.  Because the race is on, and the wheels are spinning...

Nineteen years ago in Germany...

It was the year 1992.  On a small Army base in Ludwisburg, Germany called Krabbenloch Kaserne.  The month was February and the grounds were covered with snow.  Rowe, known in the Army by her last name 'Lorenzo', was sitting on the window sill of her barracks room.  Although her window was wide open, she didn't feel cold.  Feeling melancholy instead, she was smoking a cigarette and listening to The Smiths.  Deep in thought, she looked down forlornly at some Army buddies meandering towards the mess hall for lunch.  "I just wish I knew where he'll be stationed," she pondered.  It had been a week since she last received a phone call from Abe, known in the Army by his last name 'Hernandez'.  And it had been two weeks since she received his last letter.  She imagined Abe was Morrissey singing to her as he once had, and she felt even more sad.  She glanced longingly at the picture she had of him the last night they went dancing...

Abe and Rowe fell in love while they were in Advanced Individual Training at Fort Gordon, Georgia.  Rowe was in the class ahead of Abe's.  So when Rowe received orders to go to Germany, they said their goodbyes and promised to write often.  But they did not know when they would ever see each other again.  Rumors had been that Abe's class could be sent anywhere.  The couple hoped his orders would at least be in Germany...

"Lorenzo!" Rowe's buddy yelled from outside her barracks room, "I'm starving!  Let's go get some chow at the mess hall!"  Shaken back to reality from her thoughts, Rowe dragged herself off the window sill and trudged outside with her buddy.  Walking down the sidewalk, Rowe noticed a taxi dropping someone off in the distance.  A guy with a standard issue green duffel bag hopped out.  "Hey, doesn't that guy look like Hernandez?" she asked, nudging her buddy.  Rowe peered closer.  "It is Hernandez!"  Abe heard her call and turned.  As if in slow motion, he drops his duffel bag, and the two run towards one another.  Hugging, laughing and kissing, it was a joyful reunion of two soldiers in love...

That November 8th in 1992, we were married.  Nineteen years with my beloved Abe...and I love him now more than ever.  Our marriage could accurately be described as an adventurous motorcycle ride.  Magnificent and glorious, with sunny skies, bright sun and smooth roads.  But there have also been countless rocky patches, numerous thunderstorms, and we've nearly run each other off the highway many times.  But I would do the whole ride over again, as long as we're riding together.  Abe and Rowe, on His ride for at least another nineteen years, as the wheels are spinning... 

Wheels aren't spinning

Cold...wet...rainy...

the wheels will spin tomorrow...

Beloved dance

"Grant me wings that I may fly...my restless soul is longing.  No pain remains, no feeling...eternity awaits...", the Beloved track from VNV Nation echoes in the air.  Their harmony amidst deep bass resonates throughout the club.  On a dark, spanish-tiled dance floor, lasers intermittentlly flood the area with light.  Through the misty cloud of the fog machine, a wave of bodies dressed all in black could be seen.  Each dancer has their own unique style of movement: bizarre, exotic, subdued or brooding.  In unity, the dance floor appears beautifully choreographed. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N939-xgTBrM&feature=related

Ever since Abe and I have met, we have been drawn to dancing, especially to goth-industrial music.  When the right song plays, it speaks to our soul.  We're caught up in the moment, expressing the harmony through a melodious synchronization of dance.  Tonight we're headed to our local goth club, Skandal!  Dancing with my beloved while the wheels (and DJ's) are spinning...

Conspicuous cacophony

Rowe's bike is a Harley Davidson Sportster Iron 883.  Its pipes are stock.  They aren't loud, they don't grumble.  Perhaps the bike was manufactured to be silent and stealthy.  On this particular day, though, something was different.  The day begins as usual before work:  Abe rolls Rowe's bike down from the garage.  Rowe meanders outside, late as usual, but prepared for her usual morning ride.  She hops on the bike, turns it on, and it growls.   It never growled before.  BRmppp...pa..pop..pa..pa..BRmppp.  "Hmm, that's weird," Rowe muses, "engine must be cold".  With her growling engine, she takes off.  At a red light, she stops between two cars, and her pipes continue their conspicuous cacophony.  The drivers in the cars rudely look over at the raucous cause of their early morning awakening.  "No idea why the pipes are acting up, but I think I like this sound of some real pipes!" Rowe ruminates.

Abe later explains that when he had last ridden the bike, he hit some sort of pothole, and probably loosened the pipes somehow.  Not sure whether the bike needs to be fixed and the pipes return to their stock sound.

For just one month, writing for the November Blog Fest is like having new pipes...something different that allows me to collectively gather my thoughts, adding a new view to my daily life.  A fellow blogger in his blog Simple but Significant appropriately describes it, "When you’re trying to create and post a coherent blog everyday, the world looks a little different...Conversations become inspirations, the rough surface of the day is mined for its precious metals, thoughts become words..."

I'm an accountant, not a writer, and as I write this, I'm trying not to over-analyze words, paragraphs, or grammar.  Just jotting down my thoughts through simple stories, sometimes metaphorically using my love of motorcycling.  Oh, and I love using thesaurus.com.  Blogging is an opportunity to utilize vocabulary I otherwise wouldn't use in daily life.  So...beneath the conspicuous cacophony of grumbling pipes, the wheels are spinning...

Roomie spray paint night

Pawn Stars..Diner, Drive-ins and Dives...The Office...the monotonous images of syndication flickered on the television.  Stretched out languidly in front of the mind-numbing set sit Abe and Rowe, completely bored.  "I'm bored, " Rowe laments to Abe.  "Me too," Abe replies half-awake, "whatcha wanna do?"  Couple of moments later, a spark of inspiration hits Rowe.  "Let's tag the fence!" she exclaims, now wide awake.  Abe's head instantly jolts up.  In moments, he is texting Kev:  Come home, time to spray paint...

After dragging about twenty bottles of spray paint from the garage and ensuring adequate music was blaring from the iPod, the threesome furiously get to work.  The smell of spray paint wafted in the air.  On what was once a dreary brown fence, art was created:  psychedelic, mind-altering, hallucinogenic depictions by Kev, aHbe Racer retro vintage bobber with a Live Free metaphor by Abe, and a pictorial message to a friend in Kihei, Maui that Abe and Rowe would like to visit again soon, tagged Mahalo brah by Rowe.

The Abode is home to five of us: Kevin, Abe, Jacqui, Justin, and Rowe.  We have different occupations, come from diverse backgrounds, and we all have distinct personalities.  Our schedules are busy, so it's rare to catch all five of us at home, at the same time.  But I cherish living in community.  Acts 2:42-47 talks about a fellowship of believers.  Although we aren't all believers, I think He put us all under the same roof for a reason.  Maybe just to share life together.  I'm not sure how the fence will look like in the end.  Many more tagging evenings await.  But collectively it should be a work of art, as the wheels are spinning...