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Me, putting a Tail of the Dragonsticker on my and my dad’sbike. (Beneath my hands, thebike reads “Daddy’s Girl”.)The group who rode with me to help me “conquer the Dragon”.After dad passed, I just couldn’t sell hisbike. Instead, I sold mine so I could have dad’sbike triked. That way, my 7-year-old granddaughter,TaylorGuilford, and I could continueto share this wonderful gift of riding. Eversince Taylor has been old enough to sit still,she has enjoyed riding on the back.Today,Taylor and I ride to the same placesthat my dad and I once rode. If you were toask her what her feelings are on the subject ofriding, she would say in a heartbeat,“Life is forliving!” And, seeing my dad’s gift of riding beingpassed down to her, I would have to agreewith her!But the story doesn’t end here. You see,when dad had his stroke, we were in themountains, just as I said. But what I omittedwas that we were just a few miles from ridingthe Tail of the Dragon.The dream of us ridingthe Tail of the Dragon together had been agoal of mine ever since he taught me to ride.Unfortunately, that never happened.What did happen, however, was that thefollowing year—September 27, 2008—I rodewith the same group of riders (members ofSouthern Cruisers Riding Club, Chapter 93)back to the mountains. This time I was goingto ride the Dragon with him, even though mydad would be with me only in my heart.Thiswas something I just had to do in order tohave closure. I had to ride the Dragon for us,for him, for me.The group knew the story about my andmy dad's prior plans to ride the Tail of theDragon, so they did all they could to prepareme and to take care of me while we rode.Most rode ahead of me—a few rodebehind—as they knew just how hard this wasgoing to be for me personally.I cried, as well as prayed, for God’s protectivehand to be with me, all the way. Once Iarrived at the top, I was greeted with a loudapplause by those who had reached it first!Then, with tears shedding, I placed the firstdragon sticker on the windshield of my andmy dad’s bike.The return trip back down the Dragonwas a little bit different than going up. On thereturn down the mountain, I prayed that Godwould please let me know that Daddy waswith me and, in some way, that it would beunmistakable. Being the loving God that He is,He did just that! All of the sudden, the bell onthe trike began to ring—and it kept on ringingfor a good minute or so. (This is the bellthat my dad bought for me at a rally the firstyear I began to ride. I’ve heard it make asound here or there, but never for that lengthof time.)I knew without a doubt that Dad was withme and that he was proud of me for conqueringnot only the Tail of the Dragon but myfears as well. Thank you, Daddy, for all yourprecious, wonderful gifts—including the gift ofriding!●62 Wing World