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Road to heaven

My Johnny's first love was his bike - but at what cost?


Published by: Laura Hinton
Published on: 6 December 2012

They say you know when you've met the one. Well, I'll never forget the moment I fell in love with Johnny. It was pitch black, freezing cold and pouring with rain. We were huddled together at the top of Binn Hill in Moray with only his tiny torch to see one another with.
‘This is the funniest date I've ever been on,' I chuckled, tickling his odd goatee beard.
‘It took me 45 minutes to pluck up the courage to knock on your door,' he admitted. ‘I'm so glad I did, though.'
‘Me too,' I grinned back. And I knew right there and then that I'd fallen in love. Later, I hopped on the back of Johnny's bike and held on tightly to his leather jacket as he rode me home.
‘I felt like the happiest girl in the world that night,' I giggled now, 11 years on. ‘And it only got better...'
‘It certainly did,' Johnny grinned. He was cradling our gorgeous six-month-old son, Kade. His sister Kiera, six, was already tucked up in bed. We hadn't always been this cosy, though.
We'd spent three years living in a caravan so we could build the home of our dreams. Then, I'd unexpectedly fallen pregnant with Kiera. ‘It's a bit of a surprise,' Johnny laughed at the time. ‘But not a bad one!'
Nine months on, we'd welcomed Kiera into the world. Seeing her tiny face for the first time, I'd reached a decision. Her innocence made me realise just how precious life was.
‘I can't ride on the back of your bike anymore,' I told Johnny. ‘I'm worried I'll have an accident.'
‘You'll be fine,' he laughed, rolling his eyes. ‘But, of course, I understand.'
I'd never have asked him to give up his bikes, though. Johnny, 38, was obsessed - they were almost as important to him as we were! A mechanic, he was forever tinkering about with them in the garage, up to his eyeballs in oil and grease. He'd often go to biker conventions across Scotland, too. It was his passion.
Now we had both Kiera and Kade, there was a little less time for that, although friends constantly rang him asking for help with their engines.
‘Johnny's mechanical helpline,' he'd joke. ‘I'm the man in the know!'
Up bright and early again the following morning, I laughed when I heard Kiera chatting to Johnny over breakfast.
‘Can I go on your bike again?' Kiera begged. ‘Pretty please!'
He'd taken her out for the first time just a few weeks before and she'd loved it.
‘Maybe tomorrow, sweetheart,' Johnny laughed. ‘You're out with Grandma today.'
My mum Les, 52, had offered to take the kids off us for the day, leaving me and Johnny to do our own thing.
‘Have fun at the motorbike convention,' I smiled at him an hour later as I got in the car.
‘Enjoy your horse show,' he grinned, giving me a quick kiss goodbye.
But, just a few minutes later, I passed him in the village. He'd pulled over for a chat with a pal. Sticking out my tongue, I waved then turned round the corner.
When I got home later that afternoon, I'd just popped the kettle on when there was a knock at the door. A policeman was stood outside.
‘Oh dear, what have I done, officer?!' I joked. ‘Are you Lynn Cruickshank?' he asked. As I nodded, I felt a shiver run up my spine.
‘Johnny lost control of his bike earlier today,' he gently told me, motioning towards a chair. ‘He crashed into a car. I'm so sorry, but he didn't make it.'
I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. Then the room started to spin.
For some reason, I couldn't stop thinking about when I'd had Kade. I lost pints of blood and it took doctors three hours to stabilise me. Then I'd been wheeled round to the ward.
‘I thought you weren't coming back,' Johnny had gasped, his face drained of colour. But I had come back to him. Now it was his turn to do the same, come back to me...
‘No,' I said, shaking my head. ‘Not my Johnny.'
He was too big, too strong, too in control of himself on his bikes. He was my husband, the father of my children.
Suddenly, Mum was there. ‘Oh, love,' she croaked. ‘He followed behind us in the car today just before he crashed. Kiera was waving at him.'
‘Oh, my poor baby,' I sobbed, my words barely audible. How was she going to deal with that?
I felt hollow and empty. I stumbled to his garage, the place that felt so, so him.
I completely broke down again. There were bits of engine all lined up on the floor. It was as if they were waiting for Johnny to come home...
Walking back inside, I told myself I had to stay strong for the children. Still, sitting Kiera down and telling her that Daddy had died was utterly heartbreaking.
‘But I was waving at him,' she kept saying, her lip trembling.
‘I know, sweetheart,' I whispered. ‘He didn't want to go. He loved you so much.'
Later, Kade kept crying. Nothing I did would make him settle. It was as if he could sense his Daddy was gone. ‘You were Daddy's special little boy,' I croaked.
A lump rose in my throat as I realised all the important milestones Johnny would miss. His son's first steps, his first words, his first day at school... there was so much.
His funeral was just a couple of weeks later, and there was one thing I was determined to do. ‘I'm doing it you for, love,' I whispered, as I plucked up the courage to get on the back of Johnny's favourite blue bike. I'd asked his pal to drive me there. Me and Johnny had done so many miles on it together, it was almost a part of us.
As the wind whipped at my face, I was stunned that I didn't feel nervous or scared. For a minute, it was Johnny driving me again - Johnny, the only man I'd ever loved.
As 50 of his biker pals followed behind, the roar of the engines lifted my heart.
After a beautiful service, he was cremated.
Back home, one day blurred into the next. To distract myself from the grief, I put together photo albums and memory books for the children. Kade would grow up never knowing his biker dad, but I wanted to keep his memory alive.
Now, three months on, I take each day as it comes. I can't help but get upset thinking about everything Johnny will miss. This will be our first Christmas without him, but I'm determined to make it super special for the kids. Johnny always put mince pies out for Santa and carrots for Rudolph. ‘Look who's been,' he'd grin to Kiera the next morning. I don't know who was the bigger kid. So, I'll do the same this year and do him proud.
Just recently, I let the final part of Johnny go. A small group of us went to Binn Hill. As I scattered his ashes at the place where we fell in love, tears ran down my cheeks. ‘Goodbye, Johnny,' I sobbed.
‘I'll bring the kids here as they grow up,' I said, turning to Mum. ‘And I'll tell them all about their wonderful Daddy.'
That's all I can do. I'll continue to live in the home that we built through blood, sweat and tears, with the children that we created. I'll stay strong and proud. Johnny might not be here anymore, but I'm so grateful for the wonderful years I got to share with the love of my life.
Lynn Cruickshank, 32, Buckie, Moray