Last weekend I rode on the back of a motorcycle through the foothills. It was in the name of reporting, I promise.
I rode along as a passenger with the Rolling Thunder Motorcycle Poker Rally — a trek that raised money in support of Wounded Warriors. The organization helps Canadian Forces members who have been injured during their service to Canada. The initiative aims to help soldiers transition to civilian life. Currently, much of the group’s focus is on mental health and the impact of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
Aside from my newfound desire for a motorcycle — or a man with a motorcycle — my journey was eye opening. While I’m always touched by the large crowds that support non-profit events, there was something about the camaraderie at Rolling Thunder that felt extra special.
Camaraderie was a word that popped up throughout the event. Brotherhood was another big one. It was a group of men and women who were out in support of each other.
“Events like this — it’s a must attend,” said Roy Eckmeier, a veteran and participant who was riding under the group Veterans UN-NATO Canada. “We have a moral responsibility to take care of our own.”
As if to prove his point, my conversation with Eckmeier was stop-start, as his friends and fellow veterans came over to greet him and briefly catch up.
For many, the motorcycle rally was a chance to reconnect with the military family, along with raising awareness and money for Wounded Warriors. Having been out of the military now for about 20 years, Eckmeier said support for the troops is currently high — due in part to military involvement in Afghanistan. For him, keeping the Canadian Forces in high profile will help veterans receive the treatment they need, when they need it.
“Right now, there are PTSD sufferers — but there are also people who don’t know they have it yet,” he remarked, standing outside the second stop of the rally, the Canmore Legion. “I know there are guys in that building who don’t have it, but will suffer from it in a few years. We need to support them when they do.”
Eckmeier introduced me to Bruce Nickel, a veteran of the Balkan Wars who was riding in the rally as an individual. When he returned from his tour, Nickel said he was affected by the little things — like crossing his lawn to pet his dog.
“In Yugoslavia, you can’t step off the blacktop — the ground was full of mines,” said Nickel. “It’s a survival tactic, I couldn’t make myself step onto my grass to see my dog.”
It took about three months before he was able to step away from the pavement. For him, the big concern was filling the gaps for fellow veterans. He said soldiers can often fall through the cracks of government systems.
“A lot of my brothers really needed those services and they didn’t get them,” he said. “So, if you don’t support your brothers, who’s going to?”
Nickel’s brothers can expect a lot of support: the event raised more than $6,000, surpassing the goal by more than $1,000.
The only disappointing part of the event was my losing poker hand. I was feeling confident with my full house — three jacks, a pair of 10s — until my competitor, Noel from the Cochrane Times, showed up with four Queens. I owe the man a damn cake.
