Monday 28 December 2009
by Richard Hussey - January 2010
I rose at 07:02 by the clock at my wife’s bedside. For no particular reason whatsoever, I said to myself; “I think I’ll get the 100S out and take it for a ride today.”
It was overcast as I moved my GS out of the way from under the lean-to. I uncovered the Candy Red 1980 R100S I had bought from Bruce Myers’ collection. He in turn had bought it back from the customer who had bought it in the first place. I took the feather duster and removed the cobwebs and dry leaves that had found their way into the various nooks and crannies of the motorcycle. I got some soapy water and a soft cloth and washed the dust off, bringing it back to a presentable state to be seen in public. I checked the oil and pumped the tyres to specification. I put the battery on the charger - she would be ready to ride in a few hours.
I lovingly call this bike Fat-Bottomed Girl (after Queen’s popular song) because of the visual effect the big BMW touring panniers have on her rear aspect. With only 34 thousand kilometres on the odometer, FBG is still short on wear and only minor scratches mar her paintwork. She is original in all respects, except the mirrors – they were unavailable at the time I needed them and so I had a pair of K75 mirrors modified to fit. Truly a bike worth keeping for when I am less able to ride at speed and would want to potter along with other old men on old bikes.
I readied myself for the tasks and chores of the day. Being the first working day after the Christmas weekend, there were a number of things to do outside the home. Jenny and I listed them and planned our route.
I dressed and picked up my cell phone. There was a SMS message waiting for me. “Bruce my beloved husband has lost his fight against cancer this morning at 6am. Funeral at 14h00 today at the Rebecca Street Jewish Cemetery. Wendy”
I was stunned. I read it again - 14h00 today? I then remembered that Jews and Moslems bury their dead before sunset on the day of death. That gave me no time to arrange anything formal from the Club’s side. I called a few people who came to mind but they were on message service. “I am going to the funeral” I said to Jenny; “We’ll have to reschedule some of today’s tasks!”
I wondered why it was that I had chosen this day, the very day that Bruce passed and would be buried, to get out the bike I had bought from him. I took it as a sign and so I rode FBG out to Rebecca Street Cemetery with a heavy heart. There were a number of Bruce’s older friends there who I also remember from the Club’s earlier years. I saw many of his previous staff members and others that I had heard him speak of during the 15-odd years I had known him.
I had not been to a Jewish burial service before. I had also not worn a yarmulke before – the small round cap worn by males at Jewish prayer and ceremonial occasions. Not speaking Hebrew, I understood little of the rabbi’s prayers, but he said enough in English for me to understand. It was a dignified ceremony, simple, ritualistic, not overtly mournful. It reflected stoic calm respectful acceptance of God’s judgement in deciding to call Bruce from this life. At the graveside, all able-bodied gentlemen attending are asked to each participate in closing the grave. I was happy to undertake this task, both for myself and on behalf of all members of the Club.
The rabbi also explained that when entering a Jewish house in mourning, one remains silent unless spoken to by the mourners. It demonstrates their tradition that there are no words to express one’s feelings at such a time. I was able to hug Wendy and Bronwen and to shake Dylan’s hand. I know that they know that all the Club’s love and support goes out to them at this time of loss. Bruce Myers was a man I will remember most fondly until I too pass...
