I’m pretty proud of myself when I successfully locate all the necessary items and set the table for us.
The food is delicious. As we eat, Bev talks me through my work placement schedule and outlines my duties at each of the businesses.
“In the third week of April, while you’re working at the diner, there is this event called Arizona Bike Week, maybe you’ve heard of it?”
I vaguely recall Dylan attending some event towards the end of my pregnancy. I remember ironing tiny bodysuits and footie pajamas while he was gone. I look over at DJ and can’t believe how big he’s gotten.
“I have, but I don’t know the details.”
“The best way to describe it is a week-long festival with charity rides, music, vendors, parties, and custom bike displays.”
“Okay?”
“I have to schedule things so that people who want to participate in the different events don’t all miss work at the same time. I also have to allocate the donations from the club and the businesses, sort out tax write-offs and employer matching of donations with Cash, make fliers, call donors and partners for the event the Chasers are organizing,” Bev stops listing things and takes a deep breath before concluding, “and I would appreciate all the help you can give me.”
“Sure, although I’m not sure how.”
“I’ll tell you exactly what to do, don’t worry. And in the process, I think you’ll familiarize yourself with the club and its members, so you’ll get something out of it as well.”
“How do people decide which events to participate in?” I ask Bev later, as we look at the acronym-filled Bike Week schedule.
Bev looks up from the table she’s studying. “Almost everyone will be at the event on Monday, because the Chasers are among the organizers. Other than that, most people have a cause that is particularly close to their heart.”
I check the flier. “The SRMA Ride?”
“Yes, SRMA is the Sober Riders Motorcycle Association, which we are part of. We’re doing a 100-mile ride, followed by safety training and a drug and substance abuse awareness workshop over at Blue Security. Then, we’ll finish the day with a barbecue in the business lot in the afternoon.”
“Why not the clubhouse?”
“We don’t allow many people into Rat Park,” Bev says with a smile.
“What is BACA?”
“An organization called Bikers Against Child Abuse.”
I imagine a group of strong, long-haired bikers arriving to defend a child in need, and my heart melts. I can see myself donating to their cause.
“I think Hawk will be at that one,” Bev says, and her tone irks me, so I deflect.
“What about you? Aside from the SRMA ride, are you going to anything else?”
“The Harley Owners’ annual Wednesday ride,” she says, and I check the flier again.
“What is that one for?”
“Camp Courage, it’s a free therapy camp for the emotional needs of kids with severe burn injuries. Hold on,” Bev says as she opens her laptop to show me photos of the different activities the children do there.
“This is absolutely amazing,” I say when I’m sure my voice won’t break. “Can I donate to this one?”
“Of course, sweetheart,” Bev tells me. “Do you want to ride or just donate?”
“Just donate,” I say quickly, trying not to imagine myself straddling Hawk’s bike or squeezing him with my thighs.
“Well, if you change your mind, let me know. It’s fun. After the ride, everyone gathers at the fairground to check out the vendors or attend the concerts. The food is great. Some events have raffles. For instance, the good people organizing the Saturday event are hosting wet T-shirt and bikini contests, since they’re raising money for breast cancer research.”
I look at the schedule. “Bikers 4 Boobies. Makes sense.”
Bev then goes through her email, tells me who to put down for each event, and makes a note on her laptop. Throughout the process, she drops little pieces of information about each person.
