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Day 1 (Hanover to Woodbridge)
PHOTOS COURTESY: FAIR LAWN SGT. RICHARD SCHULTZ
It is early dawn, Monday, May 9. The sun is just beginning to rise as I walk out of my house to get my motor ready. As it warms up, my mind goes through an internal checklist.
Saddle bags packed, helmet, gloves, glasses and jacket are all on as I throw my leg over my motor. The heat from the engine helps dampen the chill still lingering in the morning air. I will spend the rest of the week basically living off this machine. It feels good.
I make excellent time as I head down 287 South toward the Ramada Inn on Route 10 in East Hanover, the starting point for the ride. As I get closer, an excitement begins building in me that I can only describe as electric. Riding for those who died, meeting up with old friends, looking forward to the hard work ahead is getting me pumped.
The stress of life slowly fades. It is replaced by a feeling of pride — pride in knowing that I am a part of something greater than myself, pride in knowing that I have been a part of this tour every year since its inception in 1997, pride in being one of the original 18 who pushed themselves to make that first donation of $18,000.
A slide show of Sgt. Schultz’s photos, set to music, follows this story ….
This will be another good tour. I know it, I feel it. No matter what, we will be making a difference in the lives of those who survived, for those who have the names of their loved ones inscribed on the walls of the National Law Enforcement Officers’ Memorial in our nation’s capital.
This first day will take us along a meandering route, first to Jersey City, where we will gather at the Target store near the entrance to the Holland Tunnel.
After a brief send-off ceremony, we remount and head into lower Manhattan for a ride past the construction zone at Ground Zero. Then it’s back to that same Jersey City parking lot.
After a quick lunch, I am given the responsibility of riding the “rocking chair.” In other words: in charge of all the others as we head to our final destination.
At the time, I didn’t consider how stressful a task it would be. I had to keep us on the designated route, send motor officers ahead to control the intersections as we passed, maintain a steady speed — all without getting too far ahead of the others.
Today’s ride is merely a warm-up for what lay ahead, a chance for the riders, their motors and the support personnel to get the kinks out. But things gel quickly: The group maintains a great pace and we rarely spread out too far. We even reach Woodbridge ahead of schedule. Dinner is served, and most of us head off to bed early. Tomorrow’s going to be a long ride.
Day 2 (Woodbridge, NJ to Wilmington, DE)
We hit the road a little after 7 a.m. We’re looking at a leg of about 100 miles, as all of us handling motor escort worry about the size of this year’s group. There are several hundred already — nearly 100 more than last year — with several hundred more waiting for us up ahead. By journey’s end, we should have more than 1,200, our largest ride ever.
The 35 motor officers we do have are the best. Many are motor instructors, with years of experience, including Unity Tours. We work together as a team, do what has to be done — even if that means putting ourselves in harm’s way to protect the riders.
We set off hoping for good weather, favorable winds and strong riders, lest we arrive at our destination in time to sleep but not to eat. The riders, with barely a few exceptions, are a strong and disciplined bunch. I check my watch as they ride by the intersection I am holding for them, just over 5 minutes between the time the lead vehicle and rear guard pass me. For a group this size, I couldn’t ask for more.
We get into Wilmington at a decent hour. Before we cross the Delaware River, we stop near the toll booths of the Commodore Perry bridge. At the appointed hour, the bridge authority shuts all lanes of traffic and we head across, two by two, motors and riders alike.
The motors cruise to the top of the bridge, where we wait for the riders to climb. There is a gentle breeze and the bridge sways. It’s unsettling at first, but it becomes soothing after awhile.
Many of us walk around snapping pictures of our motors, the views and each other. Then the riders approach. It’s time to remount. One last push will take us to our next stop.
The riders are in good spirits. Many are smiling despite their aches and pains. We end the day with a group meeting of motor officers as the riders are shuttled off to their hotels.
I find my room and grab a quick shower. Amazing how something many of us take for granted and give little thought to can make such a difference after a long day of escort duty.
I can feel my mind and body relax. A quick buffet dinner and then it’s off to bed.
Day 3 (Wilmington, DE to Annapolis, MD)
An early start to yet another 100-mile day. The roadway narrows as we head through downtown Wilmington, making it difficult for motors to get back up front after controlling an intersection. Weaving through traffic — avoiding the riders, oncoming cars and other motor officers — is intense and exhilarating. It tests the skills taught in motor school. You live for this.
Again, the riders maintain group discipline and a faster-than-normal pace. Once we pass Dover and head into Maryland, the scenery becomes more farmlike, the stress of controlling major intersections on highways begins to fade, and the group as a whole settles in for an enjoyable country ride. We are treated to sights and smells that only can be found in farming areas.
For the most part, the ride is uneventful. But there are some spills, some injuries and even ambulance trips to the hospital. Nothing serious, though.
Bergenfield Police Officer Cathy Madalone is bloodied, bruised and in pain after crashing head first into the pavement. She reluctantly allows herself to be transported for treatment, then somehow returns to the ride — stitches in her upper lip, a few loose teeth — to finish out the last leg. Her fortitude amazed everyone.
My personal highlight comes from a most unlikely event.
We’re passing through a long stretch of back country roadway when we are greeted by a woman and her children standing in front of their property, staring at this group of strangers, not sure what they’re witnessing.
Suddenly, their dog breaks free and dashes down the middle of the roadway. Friendly and curious, she keeps pace with the riders. Seeing her headed toward oncoming traffic, Clifton Police Officer Derek Fogg and I take off, hoping to grab her before she’s flattened by a vehicle driven by a motorist paying more attention to the tour than what’s directly ahead.
I shout to some construction workers on the side of the road, pointing to her. With their help, I make my “collar” — and am immediately presented with a big ol’ doggy belly to rub.
Derek Fogg doubles back to locate the owner while I wrestle with the runaway hound, making a fool of myself as I roll around the grass with her.
Derek soon pulls up, pet and family are reunited, and I have smile that just won’t go away. It may not have been the biggest collar of my career. But today, it least, it was my best.
We arrive in Annapolis way ahead of schedule, giving us all more time to shower and change before hitting the town for dinner and some relaxation. The weather continues to be fantastic.
Day 4 (final leg, from Annapolis, MD to Washington, DC)
We leave earlier than years past. No sleep for the weary this time: We need to get into Washington and at the memorial by 2 p.m. This last leg is full of hills — it’s ALL hills, in fact. Yet through all the ups and downs, the group rides tight and makes phenomenal time.
We pick up the group of riders that make up the South Jersey chapter, adding another 140 or so members to our already enormous group. As we near Washington, riders and motors find new purpose. The group barrels like a freight train through the streets to RFK stadium, where we will regroup and wait for the other two bands of riders to catch up — one from Virginia and another who took a more challenging route.
Before long, we are nearly 1,200 strong.
There was a time when I was the only officer from Bergen County on the tour. Now there are so many, I don’t know them all. Others I know very well. All are my brothers and sisters.
Wayne Hall, a detective from Tenafly, took his usual position as rear motor guard of the group, ensuring that no car got past to endanger the riders. Talk about a necessary yet at times lonely job. Still, Wayne always does it with a smile and never complains.
Like him, my friends from North Jersey continue to show why they are a breed of their own. Whenever there was an issue with a motor, all pulled together to make sure that no one was left behind — including me.
And the riders…. They struggled and suffered, yet were about to overcome adversity to accomplish what many could not even attempt. I made the ride for several years after this thing started, so I know the agony — as well as the ecstasy.
It’s time for the final push into the heart of the capital and the grounds of the memorial. We begin to arrange in formation. Riders, motors and support vehicles line up and head off slowly toward Judiciary Square, maintaining a steady pace, moving as one.
As we reach the National Mall, all the motors — as if on cue — hit their sirens, announcing the arrival of the Police Unity Tour.
Ahead I see a wall of people flanking both sides of the roadway, with a group filling in between at the memorial’s entrance. I am reminded of the wall of officers standing outside the church and on both sides of the roadway as my colleagues and I carried the casket of Fair Lawn Police Officer Mary Ann Collura, 43, out of St. Anne Church following her murder in the line of duty in April 2003.
I was then, as I am now, awed by this wall of officers, loved ones and survivors lined up to greet us.
Each motor goes silent as we reach our final destination. I am overcome by the emotional weight of the memorial we are about to enter.
As I steer my way in, pangs of loneliness and loss suddenly bubble to the surface. Then, suddenly, I feel it: My fallen friend is right there, riding beside me, smiling at what we are doing, grateful to the many participating in this Police Unity tour.
I proudly make that last turn, the groups splitting left and right. My fellow motor officers from Clifton ride in front of me as we pass the names of our former co-workers inscribed on the west wall. As we exit back out onto the street to park, I feel as if a weight has been lifted.
We are home; all is well with the world.
It will take some time for the thousand riders and support personnel to make their way through. We then gather on the grounds for our arrival ceremony and the presentation of our donation check.
As I look around, I see the faces, the nods of approval from the families who have lost loved ones whose names are engraved in the granite that surrounds us.
We do this ride for them, we do it for their loved ones and, in a small sense, we do it for ourselves. All the blood, the sweat, the tears…. But wait. The donation amount is being announced:
$1.5 million!!
The Author
I am dumbfounded. Somehow, a group of 18 riders leaving from Florham Park in 1997 gave birth to this, a tour that includes participants from all over this country, from Canada, Israel, Europe, Australia, and elsewhere. Can you believe it?
More than anything, I am proud to be part of this group. I am grateful to have been there at the very beginning. And I am thankful that God gave me an opportunity to do something bigger than myself.
Making a difference for others: This is what it’s all about.
“The wicked flee when no man pursueth: but the righteous are as bold as a lion.” (Proverbs 28:1)
With thanks to The Police Pipes & Drums of Bergen County:
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