League City Members Attend Erdin-Erdin's Funeral by Gold Finger
November/20/2010 Filed in: Fallen Gypsys
Preface from the author:
“I know this is long, but this tale must be told in the detail and spirit in which it was ridden, that two days in November, 2010.”
The Trip
As attrition thinned the herd heading to Erdin-Erdin’s funeral in Del Rio, the remaining League City travelers, Walkin Eagle, Gold Finger, and his ever faithful bride Lippy packed and made final preparations for the 800 mile trip. “Ipod? Check, toothbrush?, check, clean undies, check, credit card, check!” exclaimed Lippy as she threw the last pair of thongs into the T-bag.
Getting up at 4:00am on Saturday, the day of the funeral, was an experience. First stop, pick up Walkin Eagle. As Lippy and Gold Finger went flying down the freeway, they looked over and saw Walkin waiting at the established meet-up point. “Damn, this isn’t starting out good” said Gold Finger as they turned the bike around at the next exit to loop around. That’s one of the many reasons why Gold Finger will NEVER be the Road Captain! With all three travelers in tow, a two-bike pack headed west towards Del Rio.
First stop was the Tony’s café in Sealy. Anyone that has ever traveled with Gold Finger knows that he really likes to have a breakfast of eggs and bacon AND have it served by a waitress. Sitting at the table having the typical breakfast conversation, Gold Finger asked Walkin “By the way, what time does the sun come up? I don’t think I have ever been up to see the sun rise”. “Gold Finger, it will probably be up when we finish breakfast” explained Walkin. After breakfast was finished, and a smoke for the road, the trio noticed the temperatures were getting chilly. Bundled up the three continued heading west after gassing their scoots.
About Columbus the fog hit. The farther they went, the foggier it got. Wiping their face shields the crew slowed down as visibility became a problem. At one point the air had the acrid smell of cow sh*t. Because the fog was so thick, it wasn’t until they almost hit the stock trailer with no lights that they had realized what they had run up on. “Glad we didn’t hit the trailer” said Walkin at the next gas stop “it would have been a horrible death, and no one would have pulled us out of the wreckage” he exclaimed.
By San Antonio the air had cleared and the fog burned off so we continued towards Del Rio roaring along at 85 and 90 MPH. The group stopped off at the hill outside of Castroville, and had a toast for the all Gypsy that have come before. Unfortunately no one had any beer, or even a flask of Vodka. Lippy pulled a bottle of Monster drink out of her saddlebag, and the three toasted Gypsy MC (and were wide awake for the next leg of the ride).
Riding west on US 90 the group noticed a parking lot full of Gold vests in Hondo. A quick on-the-fly decision was made and a U-turn later, we were queued up with the rest of the assembled bikes. Most were from the San Antonio area, but in true Gypsy fashion the three travelers from League City were welcomed into the pack. Headed out with about 75 other bikes Gold Finger relaxed on his highway bars, Lippy leaned back, and Walkin spanked his Evo and pulled out with everyone else. About half way to Del Rio a Gypsy pulled up and was pointing at Walkin’s helmet strapped (kinda) to the back of his Sea Bag. Because of this Walkin will not be in charge of stowing gear any time soon. Pulling off the road Walkin secured his helmet and it was back on the road lickity split. The three Amigos (no, not that Amigos group) quickly caught back up with the pack and slid into a slot in the rear for the rest of the ride into Del Rio.
Once in Del Rio the pack turned off to head to the Del Rio clubhouse. “I didn’t think we were headed to the Ramada Inn”, said Gold Finger, “but maybe we are going to Mexico?” Not being the best on directions, GF, Lippy, and Walkin, followed on, trusting their brothers and sisters from San Antonio. A good visit and tour of the Del Rio clubhouse later, the three decided to roll to the hotel. A nap was not in the cards for the old guy, Gold Finger. “Suck it up!” exclaimed Walkin and Lippy as they meet up with Fort Bend, Houston, and others in the parking lot of the Ramada. Checking in, and putting their bags in the room, the trio started out to the funeral only to find that Walkin’s bike wouldn’t start. “Man that sucks, I guess you can walk over to the funeral” said Lippy. “No, not really, let’s check your battery connections”. Out came the tool kit from Gold Finger’s saddlebag (man, aren’t baggers useful!) and few twists of the wrench, hit the starter button, and the old Bad Boy rumbled to life.
The funeral was packed with bikes, bikers, and friends and family of Erdin-Erdin. Many stories from the heart were told, tears were shed, and laughter was shared. With everyone shoulder to shoulder the service was concluded. The funeral procession to the cemetery was amazing. Row upon row of bikes thundered to the grave site. I’m sure that the experience of being the center of Gypsy MC for that day in November will be something the citizens of Del Rio will talk about for a while. The actual funeral was somber with a Mariachi band playing, toasts of Tequila, and a 21-gun salute by the military honor guard. Lippy went to the front of the crowd with the others toasting Erdin-Erdin with a huge slug of Tequila. “Wow, that was pretty smooth” exclaimed Lippy as she wiped her mouth and lit up a smoke.
Meeting some of the Houston chapter at a gas station Lippy and Gold Finger found their way to the cantina where the wake was being held for Erdin-Erdin. It was already in full swing by the time Lippy and Gold Finger made their way through the door. You’re probably wondering what happened to Walkin? Well… he had gone to the wake a couple of hours earlier while the old guy got a nap! After talking to Walking, Gold Finger and Lippy determined that Walkin had a HUGE head start on the evening festivities.
Meeting and talking to many of the Gypsy leaders from the past, introductions were made and given. Gin, Roger-Roger, Burr, and on and on. It truly was an opportunity to see and meet Gypsys that we had heard about, but never meet. It just so happened that the night was a full moon. In honor of Erdin, most of the Gypsys mooned the moon. The reflected glow from all that Gypsy A$$ accidently caused an airliner to land near by thinking it was the runway. (I think that is how it happened)
Headed back to the hotel the crew hooked up with Fort Bend to party in the parking lot. It was surprising that we didn’t get a visit from the local PD. Drinks were much cheaper in the parking lot (free), and many “stories” were told.
The next morning the trio shook their foggy heads, packed their bags, and loaded the bikes for the long trip back. At breakfast LC hooked up with former LC Prez, Timberrr (of course we had partied with him the night before!) He needed company for the ride back, and one more Gypsy to crew would be a welcome addition. Mounting up the three bikes headed East. The wind was howling which made for a fun ride back to LC. 80 to 85 was the average speed with Walkin’s Bad Boy in the lead. 400 miles later, gas and food stops, and one stop at West of the Brazos to meet up with Low Jack and his ol’ lady, and a final stop at Mixed Nuts the weekend was concluded.
RIP Erdin-Erdin. There won’t be another like him.
About Columbus the fog hit. The farther they went, the foggier it got. Wiping their face shields the crew slowed down as visibility became a problem. At one point the air had the acrid smell of cow sh*t. Because the fog was so thick, it wasn’t until they almost hit the stock trailer with no lights that they had realized what they had run up on. “Glad we didn’t hit the trailer” said Walkin at the next gas stop “it would have been a horrible death, and no one would have pulled us out of the wreckage” he exclaimed.
By San Antonio the air had cleared and the fog burned off so we continued towards Del Rio roaring along at 85 and 90 MPH. The group stopped off at the hill outside of Castroville, and had a toast for the all Gypsy that have come before. Unfortunately no one had any beer, or even a flask of Vodka. Lippy pulled a bottle of Monster drink out of her saddlebag, and the three toasted Gypsy MC (and were wide awake for the next leg of the ride).
Riding west on US 90 the group noticed a parking lot full of Gold vests in Hondo. A quick on-the-fly decision was made and a U-turn later, we were queued up with the rest of the assembled bikes. Most were from the San Antonio area, but in true Gypsy fashion the three travelers from League City were welcomed into the pack. Headed out with about 75 other bikes Gold Finger relaxed on his highway bars, Lippy leaned back, and Walkin spanked his Evo and pulled out with everyone else. About half way to Del Rio a Gypsy pulled up and was pointing at Walkin’s helmet strapped (kinda) to the back of his Sea Bag. Because of this Walkin will not be in charge of stowing gear any time soon. Pulling off the road Walkin secured his helmet and it was back on the road lickity split. The three Amigos (no, not that Amigos group) quickly caught back up with the pack and slid into a slot in the rear for the rest of the ride into Del Rio.
Once in Del Rio the pack turned off to head to the Del Rio clubhouse. “I didn’t think we were headed to the Ramada Inn”, said Gold Finger, “but maybe we are going to Mexico?” Not being the best on directions, GF, Lippy, and Walkin, followed on, trusting their brothers and sisters from San Antonio. A good visit and tour of the Del Rio clubhouse later, the three decided to roll to the hotel. A nap was not in the cards for the old guy, Gold Finger. “Suck it up!” exclaimed Walkin and Lippy as they meet up with Fort Bend, Houston, and others in the parking lot of the Ramada. Checking in, and putting their bags in the room, the trio started out to the funeral only to find that Walkin’s bike wouldn’t start. “Man that sucks, I guess you can walk over to the funeral” said Lippy. “No, not really, let’s check your battery connections”. Out came the tool kit from Gold Finger’s saddlebag (man, aren’t baggers useful!) and few twists of the wrench, hit the starter button, and the old Bad Boy rumbled to life.
The funeral was packed with bikes, bikers, and friends and family of Erdin-Erdin. Many stories from the heart were told, tears were shed, and laughter was shared. With everyone shoulder to shoulder the service was concluded. The funeral procession to the cemetery was amazing. Row upon row of bikes thundered to the grave site. I’m sure that the experience of being the center of Gypsy MC for that day in November will be something the citizens of Del Rio will talk about for a while. The actual funeral was somber with a Mariachi band playing, toasts of Tequila, and a 21-gun salute by the military honor guard. Lippy went to the front of the crowd with the others toasting Erdin-Erdin with a huge slug of Tequila. “Wow, that was pretty smooth” exclaimed Lippy as she wiped her mouth and lit up a smoke.
Meeting some of the Houston chapter at a gas station Lippy and Gold Finger found their way to the cantina where the wake was being held for Erdin-Erdin. It was already in full swing by the time Lippy and Gold Finger made their way through the door. You’re probably wondering what happened to Walkin? Well… he had gone to the wake a couple of hours earlier while the old guy got a nap! After talking to Walking, Gold Finger and Lippy determined that Walkin had a HUGE head start on the evening festivities.
Meeting and talking to many of the Gypsy leaders from the past, introductions were made and given. Gin, Roger-Roger, Burr, and on and on. It truly was an opportunity to see and meet Gypsys that we had heard about, but never meet. It just so happened that the night was a full moon. In honor of Erdin, most of the Gypsys mooned the moon. The reflected glow from all that Gypsy A$$ accidently caused an airliner to land near by thinking it was the runway. (I think that is how it happened)
Headed back to the hotel the crew hooked up with Fort Bend to party in the parking lot. It was surprising that we didn’t get a visit from the local PD. Drinks were much cheaper in the parking lot (free), and many “stories” were told.
The next morning the trio shook their foggy heads, packed their bags, and loaded the bikes for the long trip back. At breakfast LC hooked up with former LC Prez, Timberrr (of course we had partied with him the night before!) He needed company for the ride back, and one more Gypsy to crew would be a welcome addition. Mounting up the three bikes headed East. The wind was howling which made for a fun ride back to LC. 80 to 85 was the average speed with Walkin’s Bad Boy in the lead. 400 miles later, gas and food stops, and one stop at West of the Brazos to meet up with Low Jack and his ol’ lady, and a final stop at Mixed Nuts the weekend was concluded.
RIP Erdin-Erdin. There won’t be another like him.
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