Wally the Harley Davidson Dream Man
A boyhood dream delivered by a kind friend.
Super sad news this last weekend.
My good friend Wally passed into glory on July 3rd. From the little I know, a motorcycle accident. He succumbed to his injuries not long afterward.
Ten years since I was last up at his and Julie’s beautiful patch near Madison, Ohio. We enjoyed a good yarn on the blower a year or two ago and that was good, but... yeah, a decade shot past. Eden and our two youngest had visited them in 2024 for a great time catching up.
This is a story I’ve been meaning to tell for a while. Timing feels right now, because Wally is one of the main characters. God used him in a way that still gets me nearly sixteen years on.
So here it is. In honor of Wally for playing his part so well. And of our good Lord who wove the whole thing together.
When I was about twelve years old, I had a wish only God knew. A kid’s dream. That when I got married, I’d ride away after the wedding on a Harley Davidson with my new bride hanging on tight.
No grand reason. Just a twelve year old boy who loved motorbikes and thought that would be the coolest thing in the world.
Then life happened.
When I got married the first time I discounted the Harley dream as mere idealistic foolishness as soon as it popped up in my consciousness after our engagement. I was so out of touch with who I really was and what I really wanted that it had nowhere to go except to die, burying itself in a grave I left unmarked on purpose.
The hurricane that cut short our wedding reception would have blown us clear off a Harley anyways. Hmm, harbinger extraordinaire. When the storm of that marriage finally passed, my boyhood biker dream was the least of what I’d lost.
For a long time I carried a quiet assumption that I’d disqualified myself from that sort of blessing. I’d stuffed up. Married badly. Couldn’t hold it together. Got divorced. Why would God care a hoot for my crazy Kiwi childhood fantasies?
But in the years between that and meeting Eden, something got to shifting within me. Ever so slowly I discovered that God actually saw me as a man loved by Him. Not a man on probation. Or being tolerated. Loved the way a good father loves a son he’s proud of. Even when said son’s made a mess of things.
Not all the way there. But I was starting to believe it and to spot the favor when it appeared.
September 2009. I visited Eden at Stony Glen, the Christian camp in Ohio where she was studying. She moved out of her rodent-infested cabin so I could stay in it for the week. She moved in with friend and fellow student Kelly, whose parents, Wally and Julie, lived about half a mile down the road.
One evening I ambled down to their place for dinner. Later I ended up chillin’ in Wally’s shed with him.
Immaculate. Everything in its place. Primo tools and equipment. Two cruisers. Julie’s white Yamaha 650 and Wally’s big black Harley.
Me drooling over his cruiser some while asking him about it when he looks straight at me serious saying, “That’s my Harley. Which you are never gonna ride. Don’t even think about asking me. Nobody rides my bike.”
Just met the bloke. He seemed cool, but I wasn’t about to challenge him on it. I let it roll off me.
Fairly sure what Julie thought of me by that point. Probably reckoned I wasn’t a great match for Eden. Older, previously married man from another country. Yeah, fair enough but not her daughter so not really her business.
Now it’s May 2010. Back at Stony Glen to attend Eden’s graduation from her missions + theology training. Her father and I had driven up from Maryland the day before. A night after I flew into Dulles from Uganda via London.
Eden and I strolled along Loveland Road to the Cooks place to see their daughter Kelly and meet her new Aussie boyfriend. Then quite surprised when Julie offered me her 650 to take Eden out for a ride. We grabbed a couple of helmets and blatted off for a coffee in Madison before she changed her mind.
Nice wee ride. The 650 V-twin was pleasant but nothing more. Still, I was grateful to be out on a bike with my girl. And surprised that Julie had offered at all.
After the graduation, we drove back down to Maryland with Eden’s family. Then flew out to New Zealand a week or so later where we got engaged. When Eden flew back to the States in late July, she had only five weeks to organize our wedding.
The folk at Stony Glen offered us the campsite and grounds at no cost, which was super cool. Dreamer Eden wanted us married out on the pontoon on the big pond. Beautiful spot.
So here I am, back in Ohio, the day before the wedding. It’s Sunday night 22nd August 2010 enjoying a big potluck dinner at Stony Glen, sort of a get-to-know-everybody evening for out-of-state family and friends and local wedding guests.
Since meeting nearly two years earlier God had shown up in so many specific ways to bless Eden and I. Unmistakable fingerprints. Things falling into place that had no business doing so. My old doubt, the one that said, “Why would God bother blessing you like that? You forfeited it.” was starting to slip away.
Which, I guess, is why a certain thought suddenly resurrected itself.
Andrew, you do know there’s a Harley Davidson cruiser parked up only half a mile from where you’re getting married tomorrow. Yeah. So duh - what if?
What if that young Kiwi kid’s dream, the one I hadn’t genuinely thought about in decades, suddenly wasn’t a vain ridiculous hope? If God was in the business of blessing me just because He wanted to, and He’d been making that pretty clear of late, then... why not?
Sure. Only problem was Wally telling me in no uncertain terms that nobody rides his Harley ever.
That evening I was walking back to my cabin in the half light of dusk when I saw Julie coming along the path, heading home. I thought, I could ask if I could use her new chrome and white Roadstar 1300 cruiser tomorrow. Not a Harley but still kinda awesome.
But as she got closer... she didn’t look in the mood to appreciate such a request. Something on her mind I guess? Just felt it wasn’t the right moment. So I said goodnight and walked on.
And thought, well, that was your final opportunity.
But you know what? It’s ok. Just a bike. Tomorrow I’m marrying a wonderful woman. I’m chuffed about that.
Next morning the rain stopped ninety minutes before our 8am ceremony. We got married out on the pontoon. Everything went to plan. Wedding breakfast and speeches. Eden and I were walking around the camp conference center greeting everyone.
And there was Wally and Julie, having a great old time.
We moseyed on over to say hello. Smiles all round, especially Wally. He was just... grinning up at me like crazy.
And I’m standing there hearing his voice from a year earlier: “This is my Harley. Nobody rides my bike.”
I nudged Eden. Whispered that I wanted to ask him if we could ride the Harley out for our send-off. She smiled but her glance said you’re on your own with that.
Next thing I’m hearing the coward in me “Julie, could we borrow your Roadstar for the send-off?”
She looked at me real strange. “No, you can’t. One of the rear indicator bulbs is blown.”
I’m thinking... the closest cop is miles away and we’re riding under a mile down a gravel road in broad daylight. What’s a blown bulb matter?!
But she looked hella serious. Unlike Wally.
Even bigger grin now.
Dang, I thought, he wants me to ask for it!
“Hey, Wally... how about your bike?”
“Sure. I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”
The man who told me nobody rides his Harley, grinning like he’d been planning this all along.
Wally says toss me your car keys. I’ll drive it to my place and ride the Harley back.
Handing your car keys to someone at your wedding is risky. Eden’s brothers and cousins were hoping to mess with our car. Still, a Harley rideout would be worth all that and more. Threw Wally the keys.
A while later I heard the rumble coming up the road. He parked, came inside, handed me the keys.
Those keys felt good in my pocket through our private photoshoot down by the river, and through Eden throwing the bouquet after we returned. By half past noon I was thinking let’s get moving. Pittsburgh and the rest of our special day was calling.
So I walked up to the hog and threw my leg over. Slid the key in. Started it up. Blipped the grip - BRUUM!
Eden came running. Grabbed my shoulders and jumped on behind me.
First gear. Into second. Now third. Down the gravel road and we’re taking the left fork going a tad too quick. Got around without getting squiggly, and we were gone.
Three quarters of a mile living a twelve year old’s dream. Fulfilled in rural Ohio thirty years on.
Rolled into Wally and Julie’s driveway. Put the cruiser away. Went inside, took a shower, changed clothes, hopped into Eden’s old Honda Civic and drove off into married life.
Totally clean getaway because Eden’s brothers didn’t see Wally move the car so they never found it :)
Here’s what gets me, even today.
That dream was dead for decades. I believed I’d forfeited any right to it. God didn’t argue with me about it, didn’t correct my theology in a lecture. He just quietly positioned the man and the machine half a mile from the wedding venue and waited for me to decide if it was worth asking for.
Wally was the instrument. God the architect.
The man who said “nobody rides my Harley” turned out to be the man God had already chosen to make a twelve year old Kiwi kid’s dream come true.
God bless you Wally. You’re with your Heavenly Father now. I look forward to seeing you again brother.
And thank you, I’ll never forget your special one-of-a-kindness.