A Eulogy of sorts

I just read my wife's blog and I had to comment.

Clay was a bit of a friend of mine. As much as could be I guess. He was a loner, but as I have been at home all day every day for the past five years, I got to know him better then most on our street I think.

To look at he was a bit scary, or maybe a bit weird. But he had a good heart.

He loved his Harley, and he loved his '67 impala. In the summer he would take it to car shows, and usually won some recognition. Occassionally, he would even drive it.

Clay and I would talk about the weather, our health problems, and our various surgeries. He had bad hands, and bad shoulders so I would either snowblow his drive, or let him borrow the snowblower . . . at least if I could get out before he did.

As I did most of the shopping I would see him at the store, and I we would chat as he checked out my groceries.

I tried to reach out to him, to befriend him, but I know that I didn't do all that I could.

I don't know how the accident happened, but I do know this: if he had his choice, he probably would have chosen to go out that way, on his Harley, riding on a beautiful fall day.

I lift the proverbial glass to you Clay.