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| Steve Winters |
He leaves behind his wife Diana, two adult children, two brothers, and more friends than one can count.
Steve was a great bear of a man who lived and enjoyed life to the fullest. He rode in Rolling Thunder, the motorcycle group that rides to Washington DC each year to remember the MIAs from Viet Nam. He rode with honor patrols escorting the bodies of servicemen home for burial.
And no matter where he was, when it met a veteran, he always took the time to say a heart-felt thank you.
I was privileged to get to know Steve over the past five years - to become close friends. That happens when you share thousands of miles on motorcycles and more than a few evening sipping bourbon. In the past two years, we took four trips together -- the Tail of the Dragon & the Bourbon Trail in 2012, and New Orleans Jazz Fest and the Blue Ridge Parkway & Skyline Drive this year. Weather necessitated taking a car to New Orleans, but all the other trip were on our motorcycles.
On our trip to New Orleans, I introduced Steve to fried green tomatoes, crawfish ("mudbugs" he insisted) and street music. It was his first time in the Big Easy, and before we left, he was already planning a return trip, this time with his wife Diana.
But of all our travels, the highlight was our recent 1,763 mile, nine-state adventure. We rode the Tail of the Dragon (US 129) and Moonshiner (US 28), the entire 469 miles of the Blue Ridge Parkway and the 105-mile Skyline Drive through Shenandoah National Park.
The trip fulfilled a dream Steve had for more than 40 years. Since he was young and his family camped at Great Smokey Mountain National Park, he wanted to travel the entire Blue Ridge Parkway. And he did.
Unlike so many deferred dreams, Steve told me on the last day of our trip that the actual experience exceeded his every expectation. It was everything he hoped - and more.
In trying to save Steve's life, physicians discovered an incurable cancer ravaging Steve's body - something of which Steve was unaware. He would have soon began to feel its impact, and it was likely he would not have survived until the next riding season.
Maybe God, in his wisdom, knew that Steve was not the type of man to waste away in a hospital bed. Maybe He let him have that one last great adventure, the trip of a lifetime, before cancer deprived him of his ability to make that dream come true -- before God called him home.
On our trip, Steve so obviously enjoyed every minute -- smiling, laughing, talking with people along the road, taking in the glory of the mountain overlooks, and just simply enjoying the road beneath his wheels.
That's the way I will remember him.
Every time I start up my motorcycle, I will think of Steve. And I will miss him.
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