It was a gathering of Great Americans supporting Great Americans who serve Great Americans. It was the ninth annual USO Ride for Freedom sponsored by the Marietta Harley Owners Group in Cobb County. More than 150 bikers took part in the event to raise money for the USO of Georgia, a worthy group if there ever was one. I am pleased to say the whole affair was better than cornbread and sweet tea.

Bob Fremin, a member of the Marietta HOGS, has been inviting me to participate for several years. But the Woman Who Shares My Name had declined my supplications because she was afraid I would do something dumb, like fall on my head in the middle of the East-West Connector and everybody would laugh at me for falling and at her being married to a guy who falls off motorcycles. She is very sensitive about this kind of thing.

She reminded me that I had been to Iraq, hurt my knees while there and was almost blown to smithereens by an IED. I married you for better or worse, she intoned, but not for stupid.

In what was not one of my finer moments, I confessed that I would not be astride a Harley in black leather jacket and helmet with motor growling and me flexed-up and snarly-looking like Marlon Brando in The Wild Bunch. I would be seated in a motorcycle sidecar with my knees above my head and that my chauffer would be Bettie Southern, who is 75 years young and was riding Harleys when hip-hop was something only bunny rabbits did.

That won her reluctant approval, although she began to worry that someone would see me stuffed in a sidecar like a sardine, looking like Bozo the Clown, not Marlon Brando, and would laugh as loud as if I fell on my head on the East-West Connector. Sometimes I just can't win with the Woman Who Shares My Name.

As much as my male macho image may have suffered by being the only participant riding in sidecar in the rally, it was a good day through and through. Sunday was the kind of spectacular fall afternoon that occurs only in Georgia and suggested that God must love Harley-Davidson motorcycles and those who drive them. The riders - some of whom looked as though they could rip out my jugular with the flick of a wrist - could not have been nicer and more solicitous. (Thank you, Lord!) Bettie Southern managed to keep her eye on me and on the road at the same time, not an easy feat.

A Cobb County police motorcycle unit escorted us from one end of the county to the other and looked like a million dollars doing it. You never want to see one of these guys with their blue lights flashing in your rearview mirror, but they are an impressive sight to behold from where I sat.

The sharp-as-tack team is under the command of Lt. Hawk Hageback, who told me that while his motorcycle unit provides escorts for large events such as the USO Ride for Freedom, their first responsibility is to enforce the traffic laws in Cobb County, including the Selective Traffic Enforcement Program. These guys could run down a cheetah. So far, traffic deaths in Cobb County are down 64 percent from this time last year.

Just so you know that police officers have a life beyond cleaning up the mess the rest of us make, Lt. Hagebok, an avid biker himself, has written several guides books for cyclists suggesting tour routes and the best places to eat, shop and stay. He says more books are coming.

Of course, the real winner Sunday was the USO of Georgia and their able president, Mary Lou Austin. I have watched her and her volunteers take care of our troops as they arrive at the Atlanta Airport and depart for some really bad places on earth. The ride could not have been for a more worthy cause.

Thanks to the Marietta HOGs, the USO and the Cobb County police and to my new love, Bettie Southern - Great Americans all - for making the world look a lot better than usual last Sunday - even if I only saw it through my knees.

You can reach Dick Yarbrough at yarb2400@bellsouth.net or P.O. Box 725373, Atlanta, Georgia 31139.