I’d made the necessary arrangements to be able to get away Tuesday. On Monday evening I charged the camera batteries and selected my clothes for the cool and wet day I expected. I’d changed the oil just 1200 miles ago, the gas tank was full to its 5-gallon capacity and I didn’t need a map for this trip.

Burlington is about an hour northwest of my home so I arose at 0500 and was rolling at 0600. I had performed consulting work for many years and when I had a first-in-the-morning appointment at a distant location, I would drive to my destination and then look for a nearby breakfast restaurant. Patriot Guard missions have availed me of many fine breakfasts.

I rode through the Cross Lutheran Church parking lot and headed back west two blocks to the downtown area. I quickly came across Shelia Mae’s Town Fryer. The rain had been steady from the moment I entered Wisconsin and I was glad to get inside for a while. The bike, with a yellow ribbon magnet on the gas tank and an American flag fastened to the rear of the saddle bag, was parked directly in front of the door. The seat immediately collected a puddle of water.

The three booths in the front windows were available. I took the one on the end and sat with my back to the wall. With my heavy leather jacket on the opposite bench the patches on my denim jacket were exposed. The menu offered a $5 package that included one slice of grilled ham, two eggs, three pancakes and toast. I have to go back there.

A fellow came in and sat facing me from the next booth. We talked. He is a biker. He served on an ammunition ship during Vietnam. His brother was a Marine. His father jumped into Normandy and Holland with the 101^st. He had never heard of the PGR.

A woman approached me and asked if I were a Patriot Guard Rider. She told me that she had just joined and that she had both a son and a daughter over there. She became a little emotional and then retreated. A minute later the waitress came back and snatched-up my bill.

My breakfast acquaintance – his name is Guy – asked how we dressed for our participation. I told him everything he wanted to know. The waitress returned to check my coffee. She told me the woman is a regular and that her name is Gail.

I left a $3 tip. The waitress confirmed that my bill had been paid. Guy said he would join us. I saw Gail at the counter.

After I donned my jacket I went over to her. No doubt, she had bought my breakfast but I didn’t mention it. I gave her a card with this website address on it and we shook hands. Thanks for breakfast, Gail. And thanks for your kind words.

I went back to the church where Henry, DJ and two LEOs were waiting. The rain stopped. Guy soon joined us and I introduced him. Four hours later I would be walking to my bike to return home when he would call to me to say that he would see me again, next time. Then the rain started again.

There is one PGRider who posts with a tagline, “Tell me when to be there; show me where to stand.” I think that sums-up the spirit of the Patriot Guard. I didn’t do anything more than sit in a booth and I met Gail and Guy, two wonderful people. And that was before I even got to the staging area. This thing is far bigger than any of us – bigger than any of us could make it.

We are each humbled before our fallen heroes. R.I.P. Captain Schiller.

My pictures.

YouTube video of PGR standing for Rhett Schiller.