“For A Friend” by Don Gentle

Last fall at one of our meetings someone brought up the story of a Palmyra man who was injured in a practice crash. We were all told that he was paralyzed and was the new parent of a baby girl. That night I suggested that the club build a ramp for him to get in and out of his house. The idea kind of got put on the back burner due to the club changing of the guard.
Once the votes were in and the new leaders were in place, it was all about to come together. Now that I had a better chance of getting the attention of the key people involved, the rest was history.

Around Christmas time I got the phone number for James Henry’s house. I called and left a message. A couple days later John Victor, James’ father-in- law called me and we talked for about a half hour. He told me how James was doing in the hospital and we eventually got on the subject that I was trying to avoid. What happened...? 

This was something I was not very comfortable talking about. I wasn’t sure what James would say.  Was he going to have bad feelings towards motocross? Was he going to get upset or emotional when we talked?
These were questions that went through my head.

What the hell do you say? Sometimes "sorry" or "I know what you are going through" don’t cut it. I didn’t want to be sorry; I didn’t know what he was going through.

After a week or so, Jeff Kelly of Kelly Contracting, a good friend of mine, came out and helped me lay out the ramp to code. P.R.A was well on its way to making it happen. A couple of days passed and Santelli’s delivered the goods. Ricky “G” (Grisofe), Slick Willy (McMahon), Mad Mike (Pinkney), Chad and Roger Mcbroome, Ned Munier, Big Don (my pops) and I brought havoc with power tools to the Henry household. (Side note: keep the nail gun away from McMahon.) Three weekends later, Christmas eve day, Chad and I sank the last nail and hung the last rail. That was a great feeling to have for the holidays and it should be shared with the whole club, then and now.

One day at work the call came where I wasn’t sure how to react or what to say. James called me from his bed in Jersey. It took two seconds and I knew what type of person he was. We hit it off like we were friends for years. He was and is still a man who loves the sound of a dirt bike ripping through a fresh berm, He was a family man, and he was sick of sitting in that damn bed. He wanted to be at home. The first thing he said was that he looked forward to watching Supercross on T.V. at the hospital. Just him saying that let me know it was going to be okay to talk about the thing we had in common the most, motocross. After a little bit I found out that we had more in common, as both our children were both born on the same day, Friday, August 13th, 2004.

I had a lot of apprehension in what to say or how to create conversation when I first met him. Well, that all went away one Saturday afternoon. I was on my way home from Bristol Mountain and James had been home for about a week.

What the hell, right? I swing into my buddies houses unannounced. So, I dropped in. Tara answered the door and I introduced myself. She told me that James was in the bed room. I have to admit I was pretty nervous. Right off the bat he thanked the P.R.A for everything that we had done and he thought the ramped looked great. I never told him about the crap we screwed up on. We talked about everything and I have to admit a couple of times there were a few lumps in my throat and some wet eyes. I immediately broke the superstition of wondering if meeting him was a sign for something bad to happen in my future, I parked my ass in the only open seat in his room, his wheelchair. At first it was a little awkward but it went away quick.

On the way home I thought since they had been in that hospital for so long, they would like to get out and about. So I ran it by the board. We invited them to our banquet. 

The thing that kept sticking in my head was the fact that Tara and James were renting an apartment in Jersey so they could stay together as a family. It didn’t take long to realize that James’ days of a male stripper were over (actually an H.V.A.C. technician) and they could probably use a couple of bucks.

This is where we came in … we have everything at our disposal to raise money. We have the premier motocross track in the district. We have dedicated members. We are organized and most of all we all treat each “moto bro” like they were family. Think about it, when you go racing and need a place to stay there is always an open door somewhere. Last Saturday it all came together. We pulled it off flawlessly. We enjoyed a great day, great track, some killer food and for a few some golden brew.

I wanted to write this to let everyone know how proud I am to be a part of this organization, and of the great people that make it a club. This whole undertaking was not an “I” thing….it was a “We” thing. These words are just mine. The credit goes to all involved.

Writing this gives me the same feeling when I sat in James’ wheelchair. I had to do it to make me feel better. The monkey is off my back and I am not a superstitious guy but, man the crap makes you think. Don’t tell me that you haven’t thought about him or it...

I will end the serious stuff with this … James doesn’t want anyone to give up riding because it’s not safe. He wants you to Haul Ass and Take Names. I actually think he would enjoy getting close to the fence and taking a little roost. He wanted to see everyone turning laps Saturday. He was as excited as we all were. Admit it, none of you needed Viagra that day, as the track was Awesome!!

My father taught me something early in life…that is you put your family first and friends next. When either one of them needs help you drop what you are doing for yourself and help others. 

Well, my family is great and my friends James, Tara and Jacquelin needed some help. They didn’t ask for it nor did they need to. It’s just the right thing to do.

So, Ricky “G”, you of all people know that it takes more than what you wrote to embarrass me. I will never take any credit for what happened Saturday, May 21st, 2005.

Don’t come up and thank me… thank my dad.

Oh yeah, James, that last lap I took before we had that beer together was for you man. You’re an inspiration to all. Stay strong. You are more and have more of an influence than you will ever imagine. I have fallen asleep many nights with us side by side whippin' the livin’ crap out of our Hondas.
Someday we will.  Thanks for letting us be a part of your family. You’re a great friend.

We at the P.R.A. are grateful to do something “For A Friend”.