There is a specific kind of thunder that rolls through the ole’ Susquehanna Valley every September. It isn’t the sound of an approaching storm (we sure had enough of that lately) but rather the collective roar of thousands of motorcycles moving as one.

The annual 9/11 Memorial Coalition Motorcycle Ride is a tradition.

For bikers, it is more than just a ride! It is a moving sanctuary of remembrance, patriotism, and shared grief for a day that we will all never forget where we were, or what we were doing when it happened.

Last year, my view of the ride looked very different. I was so sick last year that I knew I didn’t have the strength to hold my bike up or honestly sharp enough to be on a bike. I wasn’t putting my child, myself, or the people around me in danger. I had only ever sat out the year I was pregnant with my daughter Kenzy. I wasn’t not going to participate, though. No way.

Instead, I parked my bright blue Subaru Impreza outside my husband’s work, carefully draped a large American flag across the windshield, and stood on the sidewalk with friends and family. I could hear the thunder coming as they started peeking over the bridge, with the most beautiful sunset starting. As the massive line of bikes thundered past, tears filled my eyes. I felt a profound wave of pride for my fellow riders, mixed with a deep ache because I wasn’t out there with them. It was still cool to be on the sidelines cheering my riders on. Many of them were beeping and waving to me because they knew my car. It sticks out like a sore thumb and was booming with patriotism for them.

I know how amazing it is to see the patriotism on the side of the road, and I wanted to be there to show my support even though at that time my heart was so weak. (One month later, I got my ICD placement.)

But it’s a year I will never forget, as my daughter stood in front of me waving a large American flag; my friends were throwing up peace signs, and family were waving and clapping as they rode by. I know that feeling of driving by people who go above and beyond to show support, and we were happy to be there cheering them on.

My husband and son, dad, brother, and many of our friends were riding in a large group together as we do every year, and then we all go to the Trail Inn for dinner. Just like we will do this year.

This Friday morning, looking ahead to the upcoming anniversary, my heart is full and ready to rip. Thanks to healing and feeling better, I am getting back in the saddle this year. But I won’t be riding alone. If you look closely at the chrome moving through town, you might spot a slightly unusual sight. I am a female rider, and nestled right behind me will be my daughter Kenzy, wearing her pink helmet. It isn’t every day you see a woman riding double on a memorial run, and I cherish the opportunity to share this sacred tradition with her.

As we ride by, I probably won’t be able to make direct eye contact, but I will keep an eye out for you. If you spot that pink helmet and a mom steering her bike through the crowd, give us a wave or yell out a cheer. It is those small, human connections from the sidewalks that fuel us along the route!!

Ultimately, 9/11 is a day rooted in honoring the lives lost, the heroes who ran toward danger, and the resilience of our country. We all remember where we were when the world changed, as I said. But as my daughter and I take to the road this year, surrounded by the rumble of hundreds of neighbors, I am reminded of the faith that carries us forward. Out on the open roads, beneath the open sky, we aren’t just looking back at a tragedy. No, we are actively celebrating the community, freedom, and strength that keep us moving together. Never forget. Let’s Roll!

This Week’s Sweet Tip:
The Magic of a “Dump” Cobbler

When your family gathers around the table after a big community event, you want to spend your time sharing stories, not washing a mountain of baking bowls. For a quick, comforting autumn dessert, try a simple “dump” cobbler.

Pour two cans of fruit filling (like apple, peach, or pumpkin pie filling) into a baking dish, sprinkle one box of dry yellow cake mix evenly right over the top, and slice a stick of butter into thin pats across the surface.

Bake at 350°F until bubbling. It requires zero mixing bowls, minimal cleanup, and creates a warm, comforting treat that invites everyone to linger at the table a little longer.