At the end of the rally, the family gathers at the Chicago Loop for a combination Irish funeral and fundraiser. Stevie Starlite, a fiftyish rocker going on nineteen, provides the entertainment. He's donating his time and tunes, for if he doesn't ride himself, he can feel the good vibrations among those who do.
Sporting a ludicrously long beard, ponytail and raucous, take-no-prisoners attitude, Starlite alternates between hard-driving riffs on his guitar, NC-17 rated one-liners and Cubs' bashing; all of which this correspondent found endearing.
He calls for some girls to help with a song. A darkly-tanned member of the ersatz back-up group tries to leave the stage and Starlite shouts: "Hey Post Toastie, where you goin?" That's about the only example of Starlite humor that one can print in a family newspaper. It's all part of the letting your hair down, blowing off steam, we're just goofing off attitude that provides the healthy attraction for the men and women who ride.
A younger fella, sporting a beard some four inches shorter than Starlite approaches the mike. "Hey, when you grow up, maybe you'll get one of these," the musician cracks, fondling the grey growth of whiskers reaching down to his chest. The crowd raises their glasses in tribute to Randy Shure. Starlite breaks into a supercharged version of "I'm So Glad to be Livin' in the USA". The evening is young and life is short.
As the door closes and you walk out into the cool night air, you hear laughter mingled with shouts and music mixing with memories or, in other words: life. For Randy Shure, and for his family, that's what it's all about.