I wrote the following story a couple of years ago when I was working for Harley-Davidson corporate and contributing to their Sturgis Events website. Of all the stories I wrote from Sturgis, this one was the most memorable. I had hoped to hear from this gentleman called Wolf, but I never did. Perhaps he lost my cards, perhaps it slipped his mind. If you know Wolf, you might gently remind him that I still have some prints for him of the shot he wanted so much. I’d still very much like to hear from him.
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I was visiting the Sturgis National Cemetery for the last time this year and I noticed a man just sitting on his Heritage Softail, looking out over this field of valor. The light was perfect and I asked if I might make his picture. He politely and quietly said, ‘sure, I’d like that.’
I introduced myself and he said his name was Wolf. That’s it, just Wolf. I asked if I might have his name for this dispatch, and he quietly said, “no,” And that was that.
He told me that he was from Boston and that he rode all the out here to Sturgis for his trip of a lifetime. From here he would go to the West Coast, ride down hiway one, then back home to Boston. He didn’t know how long he’d be gone, he was just riding.
He was camping close by and he told me that, “I’ve come here every evening just to thank these people for their sacrifice. I owe them,” he said. He told me that he had been a Marine and that he was proud of that. He had joined The Corps during the Viet Nam war, but by the time he was through with training, the fighting was over. He said it in a measured matter-of-fact way that bespoke neither regret nor apology. He told me that his time in the Corps was spent “cleaning up some messes,” around the world. I have no idea what he meant, but I could tell that I had heard all I was going to hear about that.
He only spoke to answer my questions, otherwise he was content to watch with amusement, my working with the camera and trying to catch the light. But mostly he just sat quietly and looked out over the field.
When he did speak first, it was to ask if I might get a picture of him with the United States Marine Corps flag in the background. I told him I’d sure try, and we got some more shots of him and the flag.
After I was done shooting, I gave him some of my cards and told him I’d be honored to send him some prints of this session. He quietly took the cards and gently said, “Why, thank you, that would be nice.” This quiet man is the most genuine biker I met here at Sturgis. He has seen much, he has done much, and he rides far and alone.
I hope I hear from him.
Godspeed Wolf.
