Page created by: Maureen Dime

“Keep the shiny side up” is what I used to always say to him as a safety farewell punctuated with our leather gloved fist bumped as we straddled our motorcycles and rolled out onto the open road together.

My name is Maureen Dime and I’d like to tell you about my late husband, Steve “Rock” Dime. Born in the Bronx and raised on Long Island, Steve had a love for the ocean, loved his family and friends ‐ and Oh! There was another love in his life… but I’ll explain that in a bit.

Growing up on Long Island, his Greek and Italian parents bought an above ground pool where Steve swam countless circles in. Enough to make a sailor dizzy. Circle after circle, weighted by his very first diving tank, he learning the maneuvers while swimming with fins and taught himself to scuba dive. He graduated from the University of West Florida (where he and his brother started the unofficial “Dive Club” in the early 70’s) and launched his first career as a marine biologist on a research vessel, the NOAA Ship Oregon II, home-ported in Pascagoula, Mississippi. Enjoying many years living along the gulf coast as a sea‐going scientist, he excelled in his passion on the open waters. Then, a couple of notable environmental biology research opportunities brought him to the county of San Diego in the early 80’s. One of the projects he was tasked with was researching and writing the environmental impact statement for the racetrack and fairgrounds located in Del Mar, CA, famously coined “Where The Surf Meets The Turf” in the song by Bing Crosby. He relished in the work, met some fine people in Del Mar and he fell head over fins with the little slice of paradise which hugs the Pacific Rim of San Diego. The laid back SoCal vibe and stunning topography of America’s Finest City had him saying “Ships Ahoy” to the gulf coast and setting up a new and permanent life in Del Mar, where he stoked his passions for beach livin’, body boarding, bird watching and gardening in his free time. As he gathered his scientific research, he recognized the evolution of data and information collection and he went back to college and achieved his Masters in Information Technology from USC. The intro into his second career. He knew data, and whether it would be in science, medicine or in business, data collection and retrieval was going to be king. He exceled beyond his wildest dreams. Steve Dime was a real “rain maker” in the computer and software industry for the companies he worked for and his success enabled him to afford some great new hobbies‐ like snowboarding. But it wasn’t until he was in his late 40’s, when a casual visit from one of my hotel colleagues changed everything. She rolled by on her vintage Harley‐Davidson Sportster to say hello. Seeing that cool bike intrigued him. Then after a week of late night reading about Harleys, it gave him a fever. A fever for anything on two wheels‐ especially Harley‐Davidson motorcycles. He had never ridden a motorcycle. He always said it was too dangerous and he had too much to lose. Tossing all caution to the wind, he was all in.

Just like the classic song written and sung by Peggy Lee, and the contemporary and equally rhythmic version that he and I loved performed by Madonna, It was back in 1998 when he got the Fever” and bought his first Harley‐Davidson Fat Boy just weeks after her visit. That was it. He had a fever to learn how to ride. And an old nickname given to him by his Del Mar buddies because of this physical strength, “The Rock of Del Mar” soon became just “Rock” in his new biker world.

Now he was an amazing gift giver. When he got his first Harley Fat Boy, he bought me a brand new Harley Sportster 883 Hugger. We both learned to ride and we knew this activity was going to give us both a lot of enjoyment together. A few years later, he surprised me with a fresh off the show room floor purple Harley Low Rider on my birthday… because let’s get real‐ a gal only has one neck, two ears and ten fingers. I mean how many beautiful baubles, rubies and diamonds can a guy buy to dazzle his wife?

Enter the new phase of bedazzling. Between all of our bikes, we probably raised Harley’s company stock by a full point with all the customized parts, pipes, and chrome additions we bought. His first Harley and every other one of our bikes became bedazzling projects. The more chrome on each bike, the better. The custom paint jobs became more imaginative, and the cooler our leather jackets became to match our types of bikes and riding moods. That fever forced us to hire California Closets Company and remake the garage storage to accommodate the new tool bench, air compressor, battery chargers and all the sturdy hangers weighted down by our riding leathers. This passion raised his fever and he was a full‐fledged two wheeled, weekend warrior.

We had such amazing adventures on our motorcycles. Together, we explored the twisty roads of southern California, breakfasts in Ramona, lunch rides to Palm Springs. We mapped out and packed up for extended weekends exploring Hearst Castle, met thousands of other riders in Pasadena for the annual LOVE RIDE Charity event with Jay Leno as the Grand Marshal, and explored the wineries throughout Napa and Paso Robles. The thrills rolling along through the Imperial Sand Dunes, and those crazy fun days and nights in Laughlin and Las Vegas at annual motorcycle rallies are unforgettable. There were riding adventures with friends to soak up the magic of notable Arizona towns, including Sedona, Santa Fe, Prescott and that old copper mining town, Jerome, which still makes us all belly ache from those hilarious memories. As well as cruising through some of Utah’s most majestic national parks, like Bryce and Zion. Where we soaked up the out of this world visual experiences of those towering formations and iconic scenery. That was the pinnacle of riding for me.

And yes, we all attended the 100th year anniversary celebration during the 2003 Harley‐ Davidson bash in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Lucky us! Rock and I got to meet Willie G. Davidson, the grandson of Harley‐Davidson co‐founder William A. Davidson during our week‐long visit and spent some quality time with him and got his autograph. That’s when Rock went on a quest to find a Harley‐Davidson XLCR in good condition and he finally did in 2007. He loved that collectable bike like no other. He regularly road it on group rides with the San Diego Antique Motorcycle Club and was he was so honored and thrilled when it took first place at the La Jolla Concours d’Elegance in 2015.

Riding with Rock was epic.

He had great riding buddies. From vintage cafe racers‐ to the guys on their customized choppers and baggers. Saturday morning breakfasts started at The Waterfront in San Diego, and from there, the sound of those old Nortons, BSAs, Indians, and the Harley XLCR fueled his passion for Saturday and Sunday cruises throughout SoCal. Then there was the long distance Harley guys with those customized Fat Boys, Road Kings, Springers and BMWs. Always ready to take off from our seaside driveway for multi day road trips to Sturgis, Daytona, and from Del Mar to Canada and back. Each stop during those “hall pass trips” added another waitress story from some little diner in Nowhere USA, where his gift of loquacious gab with the staff gave him ideas and mental notes for a future coffee table book titled “Waitresses I Have Met” he swore he would write in his later years, recalling his open road adventures. Those days of riding the roads less‐traveled treated this band of riding brothers to road weary dinners, ending with late night cigar sessions, fueled by jokes and storytelling‐ all capable of bringing every one of these great guys to tears from laughter. The thousands and thousands of miles he racked up on his motorcycles were pure joy for him. A “ride it like you stole it” level of joy. We both knew old age wouldn’t allow us to be in our leather saddles forever, so he rode each journey like it was his first with that feverish passion.

Until his diagnosis of Parkinson's disease happened, and the physical changes and neurological effects tragically stopped him in his tracks.

Due to Parkinson’s disease, my husband was forced to retire from his VP position at Oracle, and he lost his physical strength to ride in early 2019. It was absolutely devastating to watch my Rock, who was so smart, super active and strong, to be stricken with this horrible disease. Sadly, one by one, we sold all of our motorcycles, with the exception of his Harley‐Davidson XLCR. He didn’t want to let that bike go.

At 68, Steve “Rock” Dime died in February 2021.

Through my journey of unimaginable grief, I’ve focused on doing positive activities to honor him and his beautiful memory. In late 2021, I designed and created 173 tabletop holiday trees and raised over $48,000 for The Michael J. Fox Foundation with my little Christmas Tree Project. Because in my own way, I wanted to help make a difference in finding a cure for the disease that took away our dreams and everything he and I worked so hard to achieve and for what was to be the next exciting chapter together, called retirement.

Our retirement was supposed to be filled with mornings in the garden and in the greenhouse (he gifted me on Valentines Day back in 1999) growing orchids together. Afternoons on the beach, playing bocce ball and then cruising on our motorcycles to dinner somewhere to possibly catch a glimpse of the legendary “green flash” as the sun set over the Pacific Rim. We had plotted out so many road trips for our future. Then Parkinson’s crushed those plans. The disease stripped away his physical balance and strength and started to dissolve his adventurous and fun personality. Stripped away his balance and strength to walk to the beach where he loved to body board in the Pacific Ocean. Stripped away his ability to garden alongside me. And stripped away his balance and strength to ride motorcycles. His other love.

It wasn’t fair. We both stopped riding and focused on his health. Spent time driving to doctor appointments instead of riding motorcycles. And slowly, we came to grips of how awful this disease was and what is does to the human body and mind.

After he died, I secretly struggled how I was going to weave his love of the ocean, San Diego and his feverish passion for motorcycle riding together, and find a way to honor his memory with the bike he never wanted to sell. The Harley‐Davidson XLCR. Late one night last fall, I was sitting in the garage amongst his old diving gear, body boards, riding jackets, helmets and the XLCR motorcycle, and as I watched a video clip on my phone of the “Drive By” from back in 2021. That’s when it all came to me.

Have you ever heard of a “Paddle Out” or a “Drive By” for someone who has passed on? Let me explain.

A paddle out is a spiritual practice within the surf culture. It's a traditional Hawaiian tribute to the life of people who’ve passed away. The paddle‐out is a floating memorial held in the ocean, usually just a few yards from the shore, where surfers and other water sports participants honor someone they cherished. Paddlers often carry flowers and Hawaiian leis on top of their body boards and surf boards to the place where they will celebrate someone's life. As they arrive at the selected location, surfers join hands, form a human circle, say a few words and set afloat the flowers and leis they carefully paddled out with. The circle aims to represent the way the ocean brings people together with a common passion for nature and their love for the ocean. He had participated in a few paddle outs when fellow ocean lovers had passed on. A few weeks after Rock died, I got a call from one of the antique motorcycle riders asking me which Saturday morning and what time they could come over for a quick visit. They wanted to stop over on their way out on a local ride and pay their respects. We nailed down a date and on that Saturday morning in early March 2021, I had the fortune of having my three dearest childhood friends from out of town staying with me, and I invited some close friends and neighbors over to hang out in the driveway with us and to say hello to the guys who were coming by. We were all still in shock and our hearts were very heavy from Rock’s recent passing. As we waited for their arrival, we mulled around, in and out of the garage eating the donuts one of the guys brought in his honor because he knew donuts was the one treat Rock would enjoy on a rare moment. Then all of a sudden, the music of his favorite‐ Bruce Springsteen playing in the garage, and the constant sound of the waves of nearby Pacific Ocean were both drowned out by the low hum of motorcycle engines. To our surprise, there was a
parade of over forty motorcycles, old and new, riding slowly towards the house! One by one, those Nortons, BSAs, Triumphs, Indians, Ducatis and Harleys swarmed our dead end street and formed several arched rows of bikes with their engines rumbling low. Rows of bikes facing the driveway, facing me, our friends, our neighbors and his Café Racer riding jacket draped over his garage stool. Then, with a signal from Rick’s leather‐clad arm raised high up in the air for all riders to see, as if he was the conductor of this metal symphony, his hand signal raised the rumble to a 30 second roar of engines and bike horns blaring in honor of their friend and club member. It was a stunning show of appreciation and their valued friendship. The sounds of the different bike engines and unique horns, coupled with the looks on the faces of Rock’s riding buddies with their bikes gleaming in the SoCal sunshine brought us all to tears. The gazes from under their helmets all turned, as if in formation, and fixated on his riding jacket and on the smiles of everyone standing in our driveway. It was bold and loud and it was amazing.

Something I will never forget. None of us there that day will ever forget it. The decrescendo of the engines brought every fast beating heart back to a somewhat normal pace with the low rumbles once again, and as they stood there, straddling their iron horses, they waived to us, and the lumps in our throats and the tears in our eyes gave us such a rush of pure joy! As fast as they got there, each of the riders adjusted their gloves and goggles, cracked their throttles wide open and started up the street to kick off their day long ride in Rock’s honor through the twisty roads of San Diego’s scenic east county. As they rode off, I threw air kisses of gratitude to the riders, bidding each of them a “Keep The Shiny Side Up” farewell, and our friends and neighbors waved and chanted “Rock On” at the top of their lungs as each bike faded from our line of sight from the driveway and out onto Hwy 101 where those engines roared up the Del Mar coastline until the last one faded from earshot. The “Drive By.” The spiritual practice within the cool motorcycle culture. Their traditional tribute to the life of a fellow rider they loved who has passed on.

Fast forward. I figured out what do with his other love. The XLCR. How to honor the love he had for riding, and for that bike, for San Diego‐ the city he loved, and to once again, personally fundraise in his honor, to help find a cure for Parkinson’s disease.

I’m thrilled beyond measure to announce I’ve gifted his Harley‐Davidson XLCR motorcycle along with a monetary donation in his honor to the San Diego Automotive Museum! On March 31, 2025, Steve “Rock” Dime’s Harley‐Davidson XLCR Cafe Racer arrived at the museum, with some of his vintage riders and Harley buddies in attendance, and his cousin Michael accompanied me with the bike. That is a day we will never forget. I’ve donated this bike in the spirit of sharing. Sharing was a super power Rock quietly practiced. Sharing this unique motorcycle Willie G. Davidson helped design so that all the museum visitors can enjoy it. It all makes my healing heart smile.

As the XLCR bike gets prepared to make its debut within the museum’s permanent collection alongside other impressive motorcycles and cars, I have established this (time sensitive) personal fundraiser to once again help raise money for the Michael J. Fox Foundation for Parkinson’s research in Steve “Rock” Dime’s honor. I hope you will join me with a donation on this site‐ at whatever level you can afford to give. Instead of buying me a lunch or a glass of my favorite bubbly, please donate that kind gesture to my fundraiser. Maybe you never met Rock, but love motorcycling, or you personally know how the horrible effects this disease has had on your loved one. Help me accelerate research with your willingness to give. Let’s do this together and be a part of helping find a cure. Please give what you can.

My wish going forward is the next time you’re visiting Balboa Park in America’s Finest City, the city he loved, I hope you’ll have time to visit the San Diego Automotive Museum and look for Rock’s bike. Perhaps it will be on display for you to see. Oh… and after you have generously donated to my fundraiser, I hope the next time you hear a motorcycle engine, you’ll think of Steve “Rock” Dime. Remember the Drive By and send a shout out to him or a fellow rider you know who has passed on. Just fill your immediate world with good vibes and give a shout out with my mantra I always say with love in honoring his memory… shout out “Rock On!”

Riding with Rock was epic. I miss him every day. I thank you in advance for your generosity, and I wish you good health and joy as you keep the shiny side up in your own life.

Ride In Peace Rock.

Gone too soon.
Steve “Rock” Dime
1952‐2021