"Beautiful. It doesn't get any better than this." I typed. The map showed sunshine and warmth all the way from the East Coast to the Midwest. Hitting the Return key with a smile on my face, I just knew my wife would agree with me.
"What doesn't?" came an immediate reply. "I don't see anything but some map..."
I suppose beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
The July 4th week was a perfect week for motorcycle riding. I had been wanting to visit mom and do some distance riding so as far as I was concerned, it wasn't going to get any better than this. I had been doing a bit of riding recently - just completed the 10K service on the bike - and was ready. It was almost 550 miles to mom's via the Interstate but I wanted to go backroads. With the Wife's blessing, off I went. Twelve hours and 640 miles later, I pulled in to mom's.
The next morning the Wife calls to tell me she's on her way.
We had a good visit. Spent some time with mom, my wife's aunt (in the hospital), and of course shopping with the wife. I headed for home early on the 4th and the Wife came much later. Happy Birthday today, dear.
I never did see a '55 Chevy the whole time. But I did see a beautiful red '57 Belair sitting in some high weeds in a yard in rural Ohio (what a waste) and a T'bird club making it's way toward Cleveland.
But the best part was popping a rise in West Virginia back country and running upon identical-twin SVT Cobras. These metallic gray beasts reminded me of two dragons out for a Sunday stroll, belching fire and brimstone. They were loud, obnoxious, and undoubtedly fast if they were to find a straight stretch of road.
And they were amazed that some old guy riding a Harley could keep pace. By the time they had finished playing with me, I needed my GPS to help me find my way out of the hills.
Beautiful country. Beautiful weather. Beautiful wife. Beautiful ride.
I was right. It just doesn't get any better than this.
