Riding Through Memories with Uncle David

When I think back to my childhood, one face always zooms into focus: my Uncle David. Now, before you get confused—yeah, he was only 13 when I was born, so he wasn’t your traditional “elder” uncle. Instead, he was my pint-sized mentor, a budding rebel who taught me life’s most important lessons in the coolest ways possible.

I remember him as the guy who could turn everyday moments into epic adventures. He taught me how to tie my shoes (with a bit of mischief and a lot of flair) and how to ride a bike like I was already ready to take on the world. And if you think that’s impressive, just wait until you hear his tattoo advice. Uncle David was covered in tattoos, each one a story on its own, and he wasn’t shy about sharing his wisdom:

“Be careful with those tattoos, kiddo. People will judge you by them, and you might regret them later—both what they are and where you put them. And seriously, never get one while you’re drunk or high... trust me, it’ll hurt way more.”

Classic Uncle David—part tough love, part hilariously honest reality check.

One of the best parts of growing up was riding on the back of his Harley. There I was, gripping tight as we sped down the road, the wind whipping through my hair, and Uncle David flashing that signature grin of his. I still see him in my mind’s eye: long hair streaming behind him, riding his easy rider like he was born for the open road. I even remember him tinkering away in Granny and Granddaddy’s garage, turning bolts and grease into magic that brought those bikes to life.

At one point, Uncle David moved to the West Coast, California to be exact—because why wouldn’t a guy like him want to chase endless sunsets and new adventures? Even though he was miles away, his spirit was always close by. I can’t listen to Luke Combs’ song, Where the Wild Things Are, without feeling a rush of memories. The first time I heard it, my heart broke and I cried. Every time after that, a lump would form in my throat, and I’d be transported right back to those wild, unforgettable days with him. Now, I smile when the song plays—a smile tinged with the bittersweet ache of remembering a truly extraordinary soul.

Uncle David left us on December 7, 2003, while riding his motorcycle in Houston—a fitting, if heartbreaking, end to a life that was lived at full throttle. The last time I saw him was nearly 22 years ago at my house during my mom’s birthday celebration. In true Uncle David fashion, Granny decided that day she’d never experienced a ride on his Harley and just had to try it out. With a little help from my uncles, off she went—an iconic moment that perfectly sums up the adventurous, no-holds-barred spirit he brought to everything he did.

Even though it’s been years, Uncle David’s influence still roars through my life. His lessons, his humor, and that rebellious streak of his remind me to live boldly, love fiercely, and maybe think twice before getting any impulsive ink. Here’s to you, Uncle David—you’re gone, but your spirit still rides on in every wild, wind-swept memory.

2 Timothy 4:7 (NIV):

"I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith."

This verse resonates with the way I remember Uncle David—a man who lived life at full throttle, embraced every twist and turn of the ride, and left a legacy of fearless adventure and honest wisdom. It feels like a fitting tribute to his wild spirit and the impact he had on my life.