RIP KTM Robert

It’s hard to be eloquent when you’re in shock. I’m in shock. A friend of mine was killed yesterday and I’m still just getting my head around it. I am stunned, in disbelief. He was in an accident on his motorcycle, riding with a group of friends, something he did often, because he loved it. He was a very capable rider, with skills far beyond those of most of the people out there on two wheels. It was sudden, freakish, and, truly, an accident. Our shared passion, riding motorcycles, is an inherently dangerous one. We know, understand, and, above all, respect this fact. Even with that in mind, things happen.

I first met Robert on a group ride. He was gregarious, funny, and genuinely interested in others. He wasn’t a guy to talk about himself; he always enjoyed hearing about others, he engaged the new members, and made them feel welcome right away. When it comes to sportbike riders, there’s always plenty of ego to go around; speed, adrenaline, and lots of testosterone have a way of bringing that out. Robert, while party to all three, didn’t have a problem with his ego. He wasn’t caught up in proving he was better, on any level, than anyone else. He was real; he enjoyed having a good time, and seeing others having a good time too. It was his selfless nature, and concern for his friends that, ultimately, may have cost him. It was his own effort to avoid and protect other riders that put him in harms way yesterday. His friends were spared; Robert was not.

I often ponder the logic of the Universe, or the lack thereof. So much chaos; so much of our everyday life seems to be spinning at a frantic, dangerously kinetic pace. There are no controls. Not enough safety handles to hang onto. Robert, and people like him, are safety handles. Centered points amidst all the craziness of life, that, when we reach out to touch them, grab onto them, they help us to find the calm in the storm. So, like many, I am tempted to ask, “Why?” Why Robert? Why now? The world really was a better place with Robert in it, so why would it make sense to remove him from it? And what really sucks is I don’t have an answer, and never will. I have lost other friends before what I believed was ‘their time’. I found myself asking the same questions then as I do now. In my mind, the only way I can begin to make sense of it is to figure that this was simply his mission in this life. Robert was a better man than most that I have come across; he led by example. His death is a shock, a slap in the face, and has permanently burned who he was and how he lived into my memory. I, for one, will move forward with that example in my head and in my heart. If I live my life even a little bit more like he did, I’ll be a better man for it. I owe my friend in life and in death.

Robert Becker was a good man, a great guy, and a skilled rider. He was a lover of his family, his friends, and critters of all shapes and sizes. He brought many smiles, much laughter, and lots of wonderful memories to the lives of everyone he knew, and it really sucks to think about him not being around anymore. I will carry Robert in my heart, I will keep him alive by speaking of him often, and I will ride knowing he’s on my shoulder keeping an eye out for the blind corners.

Rest In Peace, Robert David Becker.