Sunday, March 23, 2025
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When I think of my brother Mike, a flood of memories comes rushing in. But there are two moments that stand out and live closest to my heart.
One morning, Mike and I were heading to the 5th Wheel Truck Stop for breakfast after picking up a parts car from Pops Milton Auto Wreckers. I had hitched the car to the back of mine, ready to tow it home. What I didn’t realize was that with the type of tow latch I used, reversing wasn’t exactly an option. Of course, I learned this the hard way when I tried to back up and accidentally bumped a truck in the parking lot—leaving a nice dent in its fuel tank. I was immediately terrified, already thinking of making a quick getaway, when two men came over, clearly less than thrilled.
But Mike—being the big brother and protector he always was—stood his ground. Calm as ever, he told them the damage wasn’t the end of the world, and that we were still heading inside for breakfast. If they wanted to talk more, they knew where to find us. And just like that, he defused the situation. We ate our breakfast in peace, and somehow, nothing more ever came of it. That day reminds me so much of who Mike was: my shield, someone aways had my back, and the guy who always taught me that even when you mess up, you don’t have to run—you just face it head-on.
The second memory is one that still rides with me, quite literally. Mike once taught me how to aggressively take off from a red light—especially if you’re next to someone else. In Mike’s world, every red light was a race, and it became a little inside joke between us. To this day, every time I’m stopped at a light, I can still hear his voice revving me up. And, wouldn’t you know it, I’ve passed this little “driving tradition” on to my oldest daughter Gabrielle. So yes, Mike’s lead foot has officially become a family heirloom—and something tells me it won’t stop with her.
Thank you, brother, for all the incredible memories, the laughter, and the lessons—on the road and in life. You may be gone too soon, but you will always ride with me, and you will never, ever be forgotten.
I love you, Mike. Rest easy, and rest in peace.
