In the summer of 2021, when I was fairly new to the motorcycle community, and still trying to find my place in it, I caught a lucky break. I noticed this suave guy at a Bikes & Breakfast meeting in Palisades who was always surrounded by people hugging him, eager for his attention. He was wearing what seemed like an olive-colored flight suit that made him look like a pilot, but the patch on his sleeve indicated that he belonged to a unit called New York Classic Riders. A few of the men standing next to him were smoking fat cigars that reflected the size of their motorcycles. He was smoking a slender cigarillo.

Something told me that he was the guy I wanted to ride with. He projected the cool confidence of someone who was serious about what he was doing, but not infatuated with himself and his skills. I stood near the group for a while and heard people calling him Dave. When they were getting ready to go on a ride, I introduced myself to Dave and asked him if I could join. He smiled and said, “Of course.”

I didn’t know that Dave and the others were riding bikes that were technically superior to mine, and worried I might be out of my league. I made sure I stayed at the end of the group, so I could quietly drop out if I couldn’t keep up. But I soon learned that Dave, who was leading the group, would leave no one behind. He was riding the same way he carried himself off the bike: confident, observant, considerate.

We were just a few riders, and the rest of the group split off after a while because they had another commitment. Now it was just Dave and me. I followed him down winding roads near Bear Mountain, then we paused at a roundabout, trying to decide where to go. Part of the reason I ride a motorcycle is to have an excuse to go looking for ice cream, and I told Dave that I had heard about a good place near the Storm King Art Center. His face lit up. “I know that place,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Dave rode past West Point, down a twisting road that to this day is one of my favorites. It follows the Hudson River from high above, with beautiful views of the valley below. I didn’t take a picture of Dave that day, but I photographed my bike when we stopped at a viewing point. When I look at that photograph now, I see Dave standing just outside the frame, looking across the river, enchanted.

He led us down more winding roads, always keeping an eye on me in his mirrors. When we arrived at the ice cream place and sat down at a table, I asked Dave why he was living in Scarsdale. I jokingly said that he seemed more like a Lower East Side kind of guy. He chuckled and said, “The schools are better in Scarsdale.” I knew right there that he had his priorities straight. We never talked about motorcycles.

After that day, I always looked for Dave when I went to Bikes & Breakfast or Two-Wheel Tuesday. He was easy to spot, not only because he was tall but because the cool guys (and those who aspired to be cool) were always circling him. There was not enough time for us become confidants, but I hope Dave could tell that I admired him. I don’t want to read too much into it, but I consider it an achievement that he hugged me whenever he saw me.

There was another thing I noticed about Dave, something that brought the writer in me joy. In the messages he sent to the Classic Riders group, his spelling and punctuation were almost immaculate. That’s how I’ll remember him: as the man at the river who had his priorities and commas straight.

I know this Nov 4 I’m going to be in a bit of a funk although it’s my birthday and I should be happy.

The thing is, I have become accustomed over the past 25 years to receive an epic birthday wish from DBD each year.

I don’t think I could blow out the candles without this birthday wish. So I’m creating a DouekAI.

Douek helped me raise funds to create my first AI called EMMArye which is used in hospitals across the world today to help children feel less scared in hospital settings (see https://conference.virtualrea…)

Please share with me any/ all birthday wishes DBD has sent you over the years. I’m working on building an AI module that could simulate a Douek birthday wish in the future. The more input we have the better the AI will be.

Any narrative you have of David Douek on or around a birthday wish would be very helpful, from as many different sources as possible.

Send birthday wishes to elhelmito@me.com.

If you are interested in receiving a personalized DouekAI birthday wish text from this prototype natural language processor (NLP), please shoot me your cell phone number, your date of birth and the nickname Douek had for you.

David Douek touched the lives of many thousands of people in a way I am only beginning to understand. I know it may sound kinda crazy and that you can’t bring back someone from the dead but I urge you to participate in this experiment so David’s voice can fill out chests with love once again on the very day we will be missing him the most.

Hilly

Dave was my first friend at Binghamton. He came waltzing into my dorm from across the windway like he always knew me. He tried to get me to like the Disco Biscuits. And when that didn’t take, he asked me to go play basketball. I said “hey, it’s 95 degrees, do you wanna find a place to go swimming?” He said sure, let’s go. A few minutes later he, my friend Natalie and I ended up bushwhacking through a forest and into the mighty Chenango River. It was awesome, invigorating and probably dangerous considering the strong currents. A microcosm of my whole friendship with Dave throughout college. 

After graduation, I moved out West and he went to Wake Forest. Distance and youth, man. We lost touch but I was thinking about him just last week. I think about him often. He was a good egg and he meant a lot to me. 

I’m truly sorry for his friends, family, wife and child (soon to be children).