Published Oct. 25, 2011 12:15 p.m.
By Casey Farrar Sentinel Staff
JAFFREY — A lot has changed in the five years since Martin A. Taylor of Jaffrey died from injuries suffered in a motorcycle crash.
With each passing milestone or birth of a new family member, his family is reminded of the painful loss of the gregarious man they knew as Marty, who had a passion for fixing and riding motorcycles and told it like he saw it.
Like many families dealing with the loss of a loved one, members of the Taylor family say they take it one day at a time.
For some in the family, organizing a scholarship in his memory for students graduating from Conant High School who plan to attend a vocational school has helped them cope.
“It’s nice to raise money to help some kids we don’t even know,” said one of Taylor’s three brothers, Michael A. Taylor of Rindge. “For me it’s therapy, but more than that is that he’s still alive if people don’t forget him.”
Six scholarships have been granted so far — the first just a few months after Taylor’s death.
Area bikers help raise funds twice a year by participating in motorcycle rides called poker runs. Some knew Taylor well — they grew up with him, rode with him, spent hours visiting and chatting with him at the small garage he had in downtown Jaffrey, Michael Taylor said in a recent interview. On the rides, they reminisce about good times they had with their friend.
Others never met Taylor, but heard about him from friends and wanted to do their part, he said.
A Harley funeral
The crash that killed Marty Taylor happened on Peterborough Street in Jaffrey in September 2006.
Taylor, 52, was riding his 2006 Harley-Davidson — the first new motorcycle he’d owned — to see his parents at a nursing home when an elderly driver turned in front of him, colliding with the bike.
Taylor was conscious following the crash, but suffered a brain injury and was flown to UMass Memorial Medical Center in Worcester, where he died six days later from his injuries. He was surrounded by his family.
At his funeral, a motorcycle hearse accompanied by a procession of more than 60 Harleys carried him to the cemetery in Jaffrey where he was buried. A few months later, Michael Taylor built a headstone for his brother out of Harley parts — his name is engraved on a windshield, which is attached to ape-hanger handlebars and a solar-powered headlight that shines.
The idea for a scholarship in his memory began a few months after his death.
Taylor was in his 40s when he packed up his family — his then-wife, Janice Fiandaca of Rindge and Christine M. Haase of Stoddard, the youngest of his three daughters — and headed to Florida for a year, where he studied at a motorcycle mechanics school.
The eldest of four brothers (his youngest brothers are Mark and Marshall Taylor), he’d been a lifelong Jaffrey resident and had been riding motorcycles since his teens, Michael Taylor said.
After serving in the Army and working at a Peterborough steel company, Taylor was just beginning to realize his dream of opening his own Harley repair shop before his death.
Fiandaca, who remained close to the family after she and Taylor divorced, floated the idea with them of starting a scholarship in his name for students who wanted to go to a trade school.
“I kind of knew how people would do a scholarship in memory of someone local and I thought this was something we could do,” she said.
At first, Michael was skeptical of the idea, he said. After his brother died, he felt angry and channeled his energy into going to Concord to testify in support of a failed legislative bill that would have created tighter laws for elderly drivers.
“I thought that (testifying) would make me feel better,” he said. “But in the end it didn’t really, and I realized that I don’t think I could have supported the bill the way it was written anyway.
“I don’t want to harass old people, because we’ll all get old, but I do think there should be some protection from someone who has an illness that could make them a danger on the road.”
He agreed to help organize the scholarship, along with Fiandaca and Haase. The three of them review applications from students every year and select a recipient.
Haase, who was 21 years old when her father died, said she’s been impressed with the gratitude the family has received from students who win the scholarships. It would make her father happy, she said.
“I think he would have thought it was awesome, especially because there are so many (scholarships) out there for big schools, but this is for students who want to go to vocational school,” she said.
Lighting a candle
Next month, on Nov. 14, Taylor would have turned 58 years old. As always, it’ll be a difficult day for his family, Michael Taylor said.
And in a few months, Michael Taylor will be older than his brother was when he died.
“It’s weird to think about,” he said.
Michael Taylor said he’d always looked up to his older brother, who was his best friend.
“The reason why I ride motorcycles is him,” Michael Taylor said. “All of my friends ride, I don’t think I have any friends who don’t have a motorcycle, and Marty was the biggest influence on me to ride.”
He now wears a helmet when riding, since his then-2-year-old granddaughter asked him at Taylor’s funeral to wear one.
“I still think you should have a right to choose, but for me, my choice was made by my granddaughter,” he said.
Before Marty Taylor died, the brothers were planning a trip to Sturgis, S.D., for the annual motorcycle rally that draws thousands of bikers.
A few years ago, Michael made the trip, carrying a memorial candle for Marty that he lit at the rally and when he stopped at the Harley-Davidson motorcycle plant in Milwaukee on the way home.
Michael Taylor carries some mementos of his brother’s on his motorcycle and prefers to remember him where he was happiest: in the saddle of a Harley.
The last time he saw his brother before the crash was a motorcycle ride to New York the day before with a group of friends, Michael Taylor said.
On the return trip, the bikers broke off one by one to head home until the group of about 10 bikes dwindled to just Michael and Marty Taylor.
As Michael Taylor, riding in the lead, turned onto his road, Marty Taylor drove past — the stereo on his bike playing, his gray hair blowing back and a cigarette that was more ash than cigarette hanging from his mouth.
“He gave me this little wave, like a queen’s wave, that he used to do.”
