Ricker’s Final Countdown aired on KISW on October 23rd If you missed our Dawg Ricker’s final goodbye to all you Rockaholics. Check out the podcast of his Final Countdown.

You know the old saying, “A rolling stone gathers no moss.” It’s one of the most Rock n Roll metaphors ever spoken, but in all actuality, it perfectly represents everything in the universe. The fact is that nothing stays the same. Everything changes. It’s inevitable. And now, the time for me to change has come--thus, the reason for this letter.

When I came to Seattle, many of you know, I left my home state of Florida. I left a lot of things behind me that I loved for the opportunity to work for one of the most storied rock stations in the country. More important to me than the sunshine, parties and panties, was the love of music and the chance to be a part of it. This was a respected town from which so many brilliant artists had launched, and to make history, I had to learn history.

Immediately, I started a band (Courtney Killed Kurt) and played the circuit for a couple years. All the while, breaking into the psyche of the Rockaholics, understanding their rare mentality and becoming one of them. And for years now, this has been my home and the people here, my friends. This leads me to the reason for my departure from the greatest rock station that ever existed.

You see, I consider my time here to be the greatest accomplishment of my career. I’ve fulfilled the longing that existed inside of me—to enter an environment that had achieved greatness long before I became a part of it. And then become accepted as one of its own. I have left an indelible mark here and it is that of a brother. I’ve entertained and have been entertained. I’ve loved, laughed, screamed and cried. And I’ve shared every moment of it with you, if not in person, then in soul.

And now, like the fabled cowboy from the Wild West, it’s time for me to hop on my horse and ride off into the sunset. I leave behind some mystery and mystique, but no regret. Because the time we shared will last as long as your memory will allow. And for that entire time, it will still be meaningful.

In closing, I want to say something to you—you, the individual. You, who reads this letter right now at this moment. Not the collective mass, but the iron worker, the musician, the father, the friend—you. Thank you. And I mean that. Thank you for sharing this time with me. I truly hope our paths cross again and we can recall a great time in our lives--the time before we began gathering moss.

Deep Respect,

Michael Ricker