For those who missed it, and because I have nothing new:
Fall Run
The weather was warm that day. Clear blue sky, and the sun shone with a radiance that you only see in the morning just after dawn. With a quiet rattle, the garage door opened to the command from the remote opener. There, it sat, waiting, with chrome gleaming like stars where the sun reflected as it streamed in through the door. With heavy steps the rider walked across to the bike.
A quick look over, pull out the choke, engine stop switch, ignition on, press the starter, and the bike came to life with a throaty rumble.
Leg over the bike, jacket zipped up, and the rider was ready.
Slowly the bike edged out of the garage and down the driveway. The engine yearned to be opened up
“Not yet.” The rider said. As they slowly made their way to the main road, both rider and bike settled into a comfortable cruising position.
As they turned onto the highway that would take them out of town the rider reveled in the beauty of the fall colors, the sights and sounds and smells of the town. Soon, all these would give way to rolling meadows and hedges that would twist across the countryside and into the glory of all that nature had to offer.
As they rode the smooth tarmac the rider began to feel that closeness of the bike, the feeling that they were one, that with every turn they worked in unison to round each bend, exhilarated at each rise and fall of the road.
Mile after mile fell behind them, the telephone poles that had been their constant roadside companions left them and embarked on their own mission across some field.
The hedges began to thin, and soon there was nothing but road, trees and grass.
The rider took this all in, and daydreamed of lazing in the grass, watching the blue sky and waiting for the sun to slowly meander its way across the sky.
With each intersection the rider would wait the last moment and turn in the direction that most appealed at the time.
The throb of the exhaust finally worked its way into the riders mind.
This bike was the one thing the rider felt at home on. There was a oneness that could not compare to anything.
A sadness began to creep into the riders mind, the dawning realization cleared into a crystal clear thought. A singular thought that burned through everything that had gone before:
“Damn, I’m almost out of gas, and I’m lost !”
Fall Run
The weather was warm that day. Clear blue sky, and the sun shone with a radiance that you only see in the morning just after dawn. With a quiet rattle, the garage door opened to the command from the remote opener. There, it sat, waiting, with chrome gleaming like stars where the sun reflected as it streamed in through the door. With heavy steps the rider walked across to the bike.
A quick look over, pull out the choke, engine stop switch, ignition on, press the starter, and the bike came to life with a throaty rumble.
Leg over the bike, jacket zipped up, and the rider was ready.
Slowly the bike edged out of the garage and down the driveway. The engine yearned to be opened up
“Not yet.” The rider said. As they slowly made their way to the main road, both rider and bike settled into a comfortable cruising position.
As they turned onto the highway that would take them out of town the rider reveled in the beauty of the fall colors, the sights and sounds and smells of the town. Soon, all these would give way to rolling meadows and hedges that would twist across the countryside and into the glory of all that nature had to offer.
As they rode the smooth tarmac the rider began to feel that closeness of the bike, the feeling that they were one, that with every turn they worked in unison to round each bend, exhilarated at each rise and fall of the road.
Mile after mile fell behind them, the telephone poles that had been their constant roadside companions left them and embarked on their own mission across some field.
The hedges began to thin, and soon there was nothing but road, trees and grass.
The rider took this all in, and daydreamed of lazing in the grass, watching the blue sky and waiting for the sun to slowly meander its way across the sky.
With each intersection the rider would wait the last moment and turn in the direction that most appealed at the time.
The throb of the exhaust finally worked its way into the riders mind.
This bike was the one thing the rider felt at home on. There was a oneness that could not compare to anything.
A sadness began to creep into the riders mind, the dawning realization cleared into a crystal clear thought. A singular thought that burned through everything that had gone before:
“Damn, I’m almost out of gas, and I’m lost !”
