Magic of the Ride
I had just turned off my ride at work and was taking my helmet off when a coworker made small talk on how cool it must have been riding in this morning. It was only in the mid 50s and immediately I replied back that I’ve ridden through worse. The look I got staring back at me was priceless.
“Do you ride often?” he asked. “Enough to ride from coast to coast each year.” I replied knowing a much deeper conversation was about to begin as his curiosity was visibly growing.
“So what brings you back to ride from coast to coast? Doesn’t that get…”
“Long?” I finished his question as he nodded in response. “It does, but it’s the ‘magic of the ride’ that keeps me returning each year.”
“Magic?” he replied with a sound of concern in his voice and the look of wanting to walk away quickly.
“Come on in, sit down and let me spin you a tale. Then you tell me.”
Family Connections
My name is Pat Telkamp from Virginia where I work for a communications company, pulling fiber and cables to connect families and businesses across the nation and world. My FNG year for Run for the Wall was in 2023 where I rode the Midway Route, one of three routes from Los Angeles to Washington D.C. with Midway running on I-40 for the majority of the way. I enjoyed the route so much that I continued to stick with the same route the following three years, 2024, 2025, and 2026; each year better than the one before. My story begins in 2024.
Several months prior to the run, I was discussing the ride with some co-workers. They had the usual questions and concerns like ‘why would you ride across the country on a motorcycle’ and ‘what makes a ride like that so special’. Each question gave me a better opportunity to explain that we ride for those who cannot, that we are the ambassadors for those who ensured our freedom to do so and could not be with us. We also ride to raise the awareness of those still missing in all conflicts, raising awareness that our nation needs to be accountable for all those who they send to fight for our freedoms, and to not rest until they are all home once again.
Afterwards, Jeff Deuso, a colleague of mine came up to me, “I have had an uncle that died in the war, Vietnam conflict. Not much is known; the circumstances, anyway.” he said as he looked at me, but also away at the same time.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Jeff.” I replied somberly. “Have you ever been to the wall?” I asked.
“No, I haven’t.” he replied, almost in a whisper.
“If you would like, I can take your Uncle’s name and bio to the wall, ride for him and his memory.” I offered. “There I can also get a rubbing of his name and bring it back to you and your dad.” I continued.
Jeff’s eyes began to well up with tears. “You would do that?”
“Absolutely. That’s what we do. That’s why we ride.” I replied offering a soft smile and a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“That would mean a lot, to me and my family, especially my dad.” Jeff tried to get out without choking up.
“Don’t worry brother, I’ll bring him home.”
May finally came around and I was again riding the Midway Route, with Jeff’s uncle in the forefront of my mind, Master Chief Petty Officer Carrol J. Deuso riding along with me.
As we finished our ride in Washington D.C. and completed our mission at the Vietnam Memorial Wall, I completed my mission by visiting Master Chief Petty Officer Carroll J. Deuso on Panel W 6 Line 122 as well as getting a rubbing of his name for Jeff and his family back home. One thing I noticed this year and was a bit different from years past, it was raining more in an unusual way. It wasn’t a gentle mist or a solid downpour of torrential rain, but somewhere in the middle as a steady rhythmic shower that covered the entire memorial. One of our own riders was on the grassy knoll behind us playing the bagpipes, filling the air with a sweet serenade of music as people filtered on by the wall, passing me and other riders from behind, sheltered under their umbrellas and on a steady continuous march down one side and up the other. You could tell the riders from the tourists; riders had their baseball caps pulled and against their chests, heads bowed, maybe even a hand against the wall, dripping from the steady beat of the rain as they stood there; obedient and reverent, offering their thanks, prayers, and guilt. The others were a line of umbrellas against the chain and in constant motion, passing and leaving the others to their confessions and prayers.
My ride home was short but wet as it continued to rain for the next three days. As promised, I delivered the rubbings to Jeff and his family, bringing Carroll Deuso home. A solemn moment, but meaningful nonetheless. As I handed Jeff’s dad the rubbing along with a pin and challenge coin from the run, he broke down in tears remembering his brother. Even I was tearing up again with his heartfelt feelings as he placed all of the mementos into a shadow box he had made for his brother’s memories and accomplishments.
As we say during the run, ‘This is why we ride’. However, the run of 2026 and the events that followed will be one that I will never forget.
Half way through the ride I was talking with Ben Noyce, aka Stitch, who was our SITREP writer, photographer and videographer this year who was having issues with his Goldwing as he lost his preloads on both front and back suspensions. The poor guy was running up and down the road past the pack in order to get photos and video, but looked as if he was galloping rather than smooth riding as he bounced on past; all springs and no shocks. When I asked him about it, he simply shrugged it off as if it was no big deal and ‘someone had to do it’. He even referred to it being similar to his FNG year when he and his daughter broke down on their first day on his dad’s old Victory and the adventure they had getting it back on the road, even catching up to the pack just to finish the run.
They were in my platoon in 2024, platoon 4 and I had totally forgotten about that until he mentioned it. That poor bike was so loaded down with camping gear and both of them; they were there half the day when they first joined, and then gone. Some even said they were broken down and left behind at one of our stops. Two days later they were back in formation with what seemed like a new look on life, even a determination like I’ve never seen. Stitch said he wrote a book on it afterwards and that it was available on Amazon. A few quick clicks and sure enough, there it was, Ohana, A Tale of a Ride. A few more clicks and it was on its way home awaiting my return after the run.
By the time I returned home, Stitch’s book had arrived in the mail; honestly I’d almost forgotten about it. As I was getting back into the pattern of my normal routine, I began to read his book, and it was exactly as he described it, a very detailed and emotional recount of the 2024 run. The descriptions were so vivid and real, it brought me back to my FNG year and I began to relive the emotions and feelings that I had; I couldn’t put it down. But something was different too, it wasn’t only about the run, but their family members that they researched and were riding for on the Wall as well. Strangely enough, it wasn’t only about them but the soldiers they were with.
Soon I was at the point where they had disappeared from the pack, and for good reason. Their adventure of repairs on the sidewalk as no local service shop would take them in. And then over the hills from Knoxville, TN to Ashville, NC where they joined up with us the following morning. But this is where the ‘magic of the ride’ took its turn.
Stitch finished almost every chapter with a story of his relatives on the wall, something that really captures you and draws you in with the details and history, and this chapter was no different. Here was a first hand account of William Stewart heading home on emergency leave to the funeral of his dad who had just passed away. Each passing moment was like watching a movie or even reliving a memory until I was stopped cold in mid-sentence. A passenger described on the plane was Master Chief Deuso… “This can’t be.” I whispered to myself. I slowly began reading on as a complete manifest is listed at the end of each account. There he was, BTCM Carroll J. Deuso, Richford, VT, age 36, Status: MIA (Body not recovered). My blood ran cold, I was frozen in place as if ice had instantly gripped my body from head to toe. I could feel panic as I caught my breath short of fully exhaling.
I called Jeff and asked him what his uncle’s name was, just to confirm if it was truly him.
“Carroll J…” Jeff started.
“Dueso.” I finished his sentence immediately.
I asked him to sit down as there was no easy way to speak of what I just discovered. I explained to him the book that I was currently reading and then described the events within the chapter leading up to the death of the six in a plane crash the day his uncle passed. I could feel the tears in his voice over the phone as he began to look up the book. Finding it almost immediately, he purchased it without thinking twice to give it to his dad on Father’s Day.
A few weeks later I got a call from Jeff saying he just received the book and that he just read the chapter. He even had his dad read it and they both were completely astonished, all they knew was that he had died in a plane crash, but never was told any circumstances around the incident or even what he did in the Navy. “This gave us an understanding of what generally happened, even closure all these years later.” Jeff said. “Thank you.”
Everyone has their own story, some may have multiple. They are what keeps our family together, and brings so many of us back each year. Let us help you create your story and your own bit of magic. Come ride with us.
If you have a story and would like to share, we would love to hear it. Comment or email: bnoyce1213@gmail.com
Until next month,
Ride Safe
Keep the rubber side down
Shiny side up.
Stitch
