One of Eric’s greatest joys was riding his motorcycle.He described to me the feeling he got while on his bike, he said, “it requires complete concentration, I can’t allow myself distraction, but within that, I find absolute freedom and peace.” I read a quote from a motorcyclist who said, “4 Wheels Transport the Body, Two Wheels Transport the Soul.” Much was the case with Eric.The additional caveat is that he loved to go really, really fast, always safe, but fast! About 2 years ago, I decided to take a ride with Eric, and what a ride it was!I loved Eric very much, I loved every ride we took.Today I’d like you to hold on and join me while I share some of our rides.

THE WILD RIDE

The time I had with Eric was exhilarating, enchanted, infatuating and surreal.He showed me how to wake up to a small, ordinary day and make it bigger, explode it with passion and animation, wriggle my toes in status quo like it was mud, put butter on absolutely everything that was edible, find humor in the most mundane, and begin every single moment like we were Lewis and Clark, on the very first day of their explore, with motorcycle helmets on!

THE LOVE RIDE

ERIC had a heart that when fully stretched to it's maximum, which is the way he liked it, housed a universe of colossal joy, goodwill and empathy. More than anybody I've ever met, he truly wanted everyone in his life to seek and find their greatest contentment. His generosity was boundless, he would help anyone, at anytime, in anyway.No paybacks, that’s not the ride he was on.And the thing is, at memorial services like these, people stand up and say, “He was the kindest person I’ve ever known”, but this time it’s REALLY, REALLY, REALLY true!

THE FUN RIDE

Eric’s sense of humor was unparalleled.He had comebacks and quips that were lightning fast and perfectly on target.He was uniquely unfettered and sometimes it was just as much fun watching the reaction of someone he was joking with as listening to what he was saying.So many times, I saw this look from those who were experiencing Eric’s wit for the first time, “Did he really just say that?” “Can you say that?”

I was once out of town for a week and he would text me every day, “I miss you Jane” and that would be the caption of the photo he sent with him wearing various articles of my clothing, skirts, underwear, tights, bras…….

And the school bus radio! Wow, many of you can attest to his radio comedy!

My Dad, whose nick name was “Swede” had a stroke leaving him paralyzed on his right side. He was leaving the nursing home for the first time, my siblings and I were all there, Eric too, and we were trying to get him out of the car, into the wheel chair……..it was stressful for us, humiliating for my dad.At just the right moment, Eric said to my dad, “Swede, did you have a stroke or something”! Perfect ice-breaker, perfect start to a wonderful Thanksgiving.

THE GAMBLING RIDE

Eric was a gambler, but a smart one.He knew the odds, and he played them.And when he was ALL IN, baby he was ALL IN! Eric was bi-polar, he was aware the odds were against him, but he played his hand with valor and grace and genius.He played his life brilliantly with the cards he was given, sometimes the Ace remained elusive, sometimes a Royal Flush.He accepted it all and played on.

THE REAL ERIC RIDE

This is the Eric I knew and the Eric I miss every day.

I miss how he poured coffee.When he would make a fresh pot of coffee, he would pour it into a cup like it was liquid gold, a rare exotic, life changing fluid that may never be encountered again.

I miss the way he lifted his chin and smiled when something engaged him.

I loved all his variations on chicken salad.

I miss the way his face softened and glowed when he talked about how proud he was of Savi, or what Savi was doing or experiencing.“I love that kid”, he would say so often.

I miss the way he talked to me in his Barry White voice.

I miss his giggle.

I miss the way he sang a Bob Dylan song.

I miss the way he flossed.

I miss walking hand in hand with ERIC and feeling like I was absolutely the luckiest person on the planet.

THE JANE AND ERIC RIDE

Eric flirted with reality like it was his script to write. I never edited.I let him ride his ride.He let me ride mine.But together, well sometimes maybe an editor should have stepped in! One time he asked me if I could help him stop saying FUCK so much.I told him, “Eric, you are the most eloquent, prolific swearer I have ever known, I won’t do it.” To which he replied, “Oh Fuck it, you’re right.”“Fuckity, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck”!

When we went on bicycle rides neither of us would give in and say, “We’ve gone out far enough, maybe should head back.”We would just keep riding!On the way back it would be all kinds of groaning and swearing and laughing through the exhaustion.

When we got on his motorcycle, he’d open it up wide and I would scream in speed drenched Euphoria.We’d fly up the mountain to Nederland for an Americano at The Train Cars and then fly back down, now fueled with both adrenaline AND caffeine!

Let’s get some chocolate, SURE. That hitchhiker needs a ride, YES HE DOES. One more episode? WHY NOT. Is it too early? NO.Is it too late? NEVER. Should we try that? ABSOLUTELY!

ERIC’S LAST RIDE

Hunter S. Thompson shared this experience about riding a motorcycle, “Faster, Faster, Faster, until the thrill of speed overcomes the fear of death.”That was Eric’s Ride.

In August of this year, Eric told me he was thinking about selling his motorcycle.This is what is so devastating to me.We should all be meeting here today, Eric should be standing in the front, and we should be asking, “Hey Eric, what’s going on?”“Why would you ever want to sell your motorcycle?” We could drink coffee and talk about it. That’s what we should be doing today.

WHAT’S YOUR RIDE?

Today I wanted to celebrate Eric, but I also wanted to ask you, Eric’s people, an important question.

Toward the end of Eric’s life he began to question his worth. This magnificent man, who had lived the life of a gallant, sovereign soul, began to examine himself under a lense of cultural standards and expectations that had seemed to never matter to him before. He lamented that he hadn’t done enough, been enough, made enough.He tried to cram himself into the ONE-SIZE-FITS-ALL-BECAUSE-WE’RE- ALL- THE- SAME-SUIT, and it didn’t fit. He tugged at it. He wrestled the discomfort. He tried so very hard.

I want you to get on your motorcycle right now.Get on your motorcycle! Clutch is on the left, Brake is on the right.Close your eyes, do it, please play along with me.

I want you to think about your worth, YOUR RIDE……… Put your motorcycle into first gear, one click down.

Before you let out the clutch, let me ask you this. Is this the ride you want to be on?Are you happy with your direction? Is there another path you want to take? Now is the time, today is your day. And if your journey seems too overwhelming, too arduous, please, please, please, ask for help.

Because really, we’re all on the ERIC RIDE now. We have to be, or there is no purpose or direction to any of this. If we see someone in need, we must help.If there is joy to be had, we must seize it.We must forgo judgement, and embrace differences, equality and acceptance. We must save room in our motorcycle saddlebags for a good joke, a dark roast coffee, a safe journey and infinite love.

LET’S RIDE!

Eric and i would ride peak to peak to highway 36 then head into Estes Park, not a short ride. If you know 36 going into Estes Park you know that the last couple miles is a 7% grade hill 2 lanes going into Estes. We always prepared ourselve for the hill going down because we agreed to own the road and not ride on the edge of the road (gravel). So when we got to the hill it was heads down and fly. We would hit 40 mph, Cars couldnt pass we owned the road on our bikes. Again heads down and hailing axx. Smiling and knowing we owned it, we had to be focused, back in the day no helmets, So we held the road. Once down, we'd wow the hailing axx and move to our next objective. 

We always did the same thing once in Estes, 3 places were our favorites. A soda shop (root beer) on the east end of town, an ice cream parlor on the west side of town and Beau Jo Pizza. I haven't been to Estes in a while but bet they are still there. We would start at the soda shop, then a slice of pizza, then ice cream. It took an hour or so, what we knew is we need the fuel for the ride back (The Hill).

Once rested and fueled we would start back. There is only one way back to Boulder, THE HILL. It was intimiadating we would talk about what was to come for 10 minutes before we hit the hill. All kidding aside, breath and peddle. We both had 18 speed bikes, as we climbed the hill obviously we would down shift. by the time we were half way we were both burning. By the time we got to the top we were both in 1st gear, ( no smiling now it was work and breath).I mean we could walk faster then the speed of the bike. But we both knew once we got off it was a whole new set of muscles that weren't being used, so we pumped it out in 1st gear. We always made it, not one time was it easy. Once on top we were both relieved even though we still had 20 miles of rolling hills to go to get home. 

We would get home, exhausted, yearning for the couch. The last step in the ride was carrying the bikes up stairs. We would discuss leaving them outside because we were done. We'd laugh about it. You go first, no you, on and on. Finally we'd take them up. The final climb, up the stairs with the bikes. 

It was never about easy with Eric, it was about successfully doing what we set out to do. Enjoy it and feel accomplished. Each time we rode that hill it built us in ways I took with me in life. Like so many things with Eric. The HILL built character. Each time I approach a hill today i think of those days and pump it out. There isn't a hill on this planet I can't climb because of those lessons with Eric. 

The climb was always worth it, work but worth the reward. 

Thanks Eric for so many rewards in life. 

Randy

Another story to show a personality that wont be forgotten.
 
Eric was a push -up and sit-up guy, me push-up barbell guy. We worked out all the time in the apartment. Eric push-up and sit-up. He was proud of his abs. Me push-up and barbell , arms. Bike handled the legs. 

One day we just got done with our workout, I'm sitting on the couch resting. Eric grabs a dumbell (10#), says whoever can do the most doesnt buy coffee. I'm pumped, blood flowing already. I say go. Eric pumped out 40 rips with his right arm, stops. The goal, 41 rips so Eric buys coffee. 

I start feeling good get to 30. Eric gets up and starts dancing around the room to distract me. It was working. I slowed. I'm at 33 he pulls down his pants and puts his axx in my face in his underwear. I start laughing slowed again, curling weight to beat 40. Eric saw I'm close I'm at 37, then that shxxhead pulls his underwear down and sticks his bare axx in my face (goofy Eric). I lost it laughing my ass off (laughing and weights dont go together, cant breath on each rip) dropped the dumbell at 38. He won. 

It cost me $2 at the coffee store across the street. I got a lifetime of laughs for $2. He did that. A gift of laughter. That was Eric. 

The moral to the story, know the child in yourself. Eric always brought the boy out in me. That's not easy to do in this world, Eric made it so easy. 

Thanks Eric for a lifetime of laughs. I won't forget.

Randy