6:11am. A few of my favorite things that I have to bypass on my way to work………

If you were there I dont have to tell you. Not a personal favorite but love the way it got the party started………

AM. Wednesday. Almost halfway to the weekend.

In my previous post I shared how my dreary Monday went by relatively quickly. Well today is Tuesday, actually Tuesday night. 9:47pm Tuesday night and I realize that I was set up. Yep, that daggone Monday set my ass up!

You see, I never shop during the week. At 9pm on a week night I’m relaxing with music and/or reading. Not this Tuesday night. See, I was supposed to go to Walmart on my way home on Monday, but Monday had me so gassed up I went straight home to practice some bass. So guess when I remembered? Yep, Tuesday night. That damned Monday boy…….don’t make no sense.

So here I am at Walmart at 9 o’clock Tuesday night. Brother out here waxing his truck with the music jumpin. Dude out here yellin at somebody on his phone. Girl out here dressed in a robe lookin like she either just got out of OR just ready to get into bed. But with heels on…..! Always a party out here.

Got home a little past my “bedtime” at 9:30. A little music to set the mood. Wonder what Wednesday has in store for me?

Yea, I know it’s Tuesday.  That’s a good thing as Mondays have a way of testing your positivity and your patience. So making Monday go by quickly usually has a positive effect on the rest of your week.  Overcast and dreary Monday mornings are a challenge, making every increment of time last twice as long. 

But this dreary Monday morning was different, peculiar in the sense that it moved by so fast I hardly had time to complain about it. For the first time in my life I felt compelled to photograph my commute to work. It doesn’t take me long to dress and prepare for work but I find that I rush anyway. Some anxiety and refusal to accept the weekend being over play a part in that.

Not this Monday.  I took my time. Ate breskfast at home. Actually turned on the TV for a minute to check the weather. Not a good day for a two-wheeled commute. Okay. Into the car I go. Video or photo of every road traveled. Just because. Familiar radio voices to keep me company.

I arrive. A couple of deep breaths for relaxation before entering the building. Like always twenty minutes before the official “clock” starts. Daily Word, peek at a few of my commute photos and then work begins.

Somehow, the day just disappears. A few photos of my commute home. Wonder what Tuesday would bring…….

Looking out of my window on an August summer night.  On this particular night, for some unknown reason, I am reminded of summer nights of my youth. I lived with my grandmother in those days. She was not fond of air conditioning so I kept a fan in my bedroom window. I did not have a television in my bedroom so I could listen to music without distractions. That was a good thing.

I can hear the fan blowing, doing it’s best to cool the room. My favorite songs playing in the background: “Star of a Story” by Heatwave, “Every Generation” and “Stay Awake” by Ronnie Laws, “Walk Into Sun” by Central Line, “Drop The Bomb” by Trouble Funk, “Body Moves” by Rare Essence, “One Of Those Nights” by Billy Ocean, “Funkin For Jamaica” by Tom Brown, “Planet Rock” by Soulsonic Force, “Journey” by NYC Peech Boys. I could go on for days. And the lovely “company” that my grandmother allowed to visit me….I had no idea how lucky I was!

Time goes on. I yearn for the feeling of leisurely innocence that those summer nights afforded. All of us neighborhood kids staying out way later than should have been allowed. Gettin’ lost in all kinds of mischievous activity. But it was wholesome adolescent fun.

Different time, different place. Thank God I had those life experiences. And for the ability to still realize how important they were to me.

Another ride. Another place to collect my thoughts. Another day to be thankful. Rode to three bike shops this past week. Harley, Indian and BMW. Finally got the chance to see my “dream bikes”: BMW S1000r and Triumph Speed Triple RS. Both beautiful, but not for me. I am a different rider these days. I want to ride COMFORTABLY. I want to take meaningful journeys, not just be on a bike. But I always want my destination to bring me peace. See you on the next trip.

A little more music is on the menu this weekend. Never seems to be enough time to get it all in. So I’m starting early.

Sights. Sounds. Air. Water. Those of you ride motorcycles will completely understand the following statement: riding connects you to your environment like no car ever could. The breeze slipping past your body, the sounds immediately awakening you to everything around you, the smell of the air and, if you’re lucky, the aroma of freshly prepared food from nearby restaurants. Riding makes you realize that you’re “alive”. And breathing……

Breathing. On those perfect days, on those perfect rides, you find a place that reminds you to breath. You take in the view, gaze off into the distance, take a deep breath, and then…….exhale. Repeat repeatedly as necessary. And then, find another place to do it all over again.

Life sometimes makes you hold your breath without even realizing it. For me, riding not only lets me breath. It reminds me to exhale.

So, I guess it truly is inevitable.  Time catches up to all of us eventually.  I knew it would catch up to me also.  I just thought I’d see it coming, but apparently I did not.  Well I guess it’s official.  I’m either old, fat or bald.  Or all three. No offense to anyone who joins me in either of these categories.  Let me explain.

I have never been interested in Harley Davidson motorcycles.  Been around them my whole life. Uncles rode them.  Cousins rode them.  Friends rode them.  They never drew my interest. As a matter of fact, as young rider I often said that Harleys were for old, fat and bald guys.  But, truth be told, I’ve been late to the party once or twice.

My first love of motorcycles started with dirtbikes.  It was 1976.  My cousin got a brand new Yamaha Trials 80.  It was among the coolest toys I’d ever seen.  First bike I ever road.  Couple of years later he got a YZ80. Aside from my childhood crush it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.  It looked cool.  Sounded cool.  Just plain fun. 

I carried that love of dirtbikes into my teens and young adulthood.  Owned a couple of dirtbikes myself.  Never had any interest in streetbikes.  Friends were buying the new “race bikes”,   Kawasaki Ninjas, Suzuki GSX-Rs, Honda Hurricanes.  I had no interest.  Dirtbikes remained my motorcycle of choice.  Until……

Though I cannot recall the exact date I will never forget the day. The day that changed my life.  The year was 1992. Summer. I had recently sold my last dirtbike.  I was on my way home from a company Appreciation Barbeque.  Driving down a road that I traveled hundreds of times I passed the local Honda dealership.  As usual I rode right by as my brand of choice was Yamaha.  On this day however, something was different. As I rode by I noticed a red reflection in the shop’s glass window.  The reflection revealed a shape, a silhouette that seemed to hover above the ground.  Hmmm.

So I made a u-turn. Went to the Honda dealership for the very first time.  Pulled into the parking lot. Jumped out of my car.  Never took my eyes off of the image in the window.  I was so focused on that red silhouette that I stumbled up the stairs leading to the door.  Upon entering the dealership I was greeted by a salesperson who was obviously amused by my presence.  She greeted me but without even making eye contact with her I asked, “What’s that?”  “Oh, that’s the new F2”, she said.

1992 Honda CBR600F2.  Red with white Honda wings on the fairing. I stared at that bike for ten straight minutes speechless.  My salesperson, Vicky, was a faint voice in the background. To my eyes it looked almost as fast as an F16 fighter jet.  I came to my senses long enough to hear Vicky say one sentence.  “This bike is as fast as some 750s!”  I left the dealership and went to my local newsstand  (remember those…) and bought a copy of EVERY sportbike magazine they had.  Got my license the following year and bought a 1995 Honda CBR600F3 shortly thereafter. 

Fast forward to 2021.  I had been researching bikes the past few years.  CBR650F, MT09, GSX S750, Street Triple, Trident 600, S1000R, settling on an MT03 to sharpen my riding skills after a twenty year absence.  So, while following other riders and being visited by friends who ride Harleys, I decided to visit the Harley website.  I noticed the Sport Glide.  Did a little research.  Checked some reviews.  Okay, time to go the …….Harley dealership…?  Okay hop on my bike.  Head down a road I passed a hundred times.  Walk into the the door.  Greeted by a Service Tech.  Asks what I’m looking for.  “Sport Glide.”  “You ever check out the new Sportster S or Low Rider?”  No. “Hey, what is this?”  “Oh, that’s a Fat Bob 114”  I stared at that bike for ten minutes straight!  So…..

Only old, fat, bald guys like Harleys right?  Yes, I concede.