Best Friend, Biggest Fan

I heard them long before I ever saw them coming. On Friday afternoon I sat in my car at one of the high schools. Hot and steamy air oppressed us all day long. The clouds billowed into threatening storms with spikes of sunlight streaming through. I napped for a few minutes in my car and then I heard the rumbling.

"Here they come," I said to myself. I grabbed my notebook, pen and keys and hopped out into humid air. At the stoplight the Hogs thundered.

So here's the question: What does an education reporter have to do with a bunch of bikers? It's a weird juxtaposition.

The bikes thundered around the corner into the lot at the high school. Parents waiting to pick up their kids sidled into their cell phones, calling around to ask what heck is going on. The bikers revved and rumbled. Students pressed against the windows of the classrooms, jaws dropped. The kids playing tennis stopped and stared. They pulled to the end of the lot in front of the art classrooms and revved some more before turning off their engines.

As I approached, one of the art teachers came out of the building and into the leather-clad loving arms of his wife. This is his 37th year as an teacher at this particular school. After next week he is retiring to paint - what else - the chrome on Harley's. He and his wife belong to a biker club and she even rides her bike to work. She's a special ed teacher. He designed her tattoo. And their granddaughter's, as well.

His wife has been planning this surprise for weeks. She let me in on the secret, but asked me not to say a word. The Principal appeared, walkie-talkie in hand. Once he figured out that all was well he went over and shook hands and gave the teacher's wife a hug. I asked him what brought him outside this afternoon.

"I started getting calls that the school was being invaded by bikers. This is even better. He's a great teacher," he said.

The revelers (and rumblers) headed over to a local eatery where friends, family, former students and community members were invited to spend the evening. A live band would be playing at around nine.

Here's the kicker for me with this story. It's not just about a teacher retiring and the great surprise by his wife. When I interviewed her a couple of weeks ago she and I sat together, looking at pictures of her husband and his artwork. At one point her eyes teared up.

"You know, he worked two jobs for eight years to put me through school," she said, her voice choking with emotion. "He started talking about keeping the second job, but I made him promise to quit as soon as I started teaching."

Best friend, biggest fan.

"He's easily hoodwinked," she said with a laugh as the Harley's started to rev again.

What a great story.

TARB