Ah, Sore Ecstasy

Bubbie woke today with one thing on his mind; going for a ride. After downing a couple cups of hot black coffee he gears up for a cool morning ride. Unfortunately he has to swing by the chiropractor first to get a couple dislocated ribs popped back into joint before rumbling through the country side. (The sore ribs were left over from last weeks incident that involved a couple of beers, a couple of good ‘ol boys and an unfortunate remark about someone’s mother; but that’s a whole ‘nother story. )

After throwing on his leather jacket he pulls his gloves snuggly over his fingers. He saddles his trusty steed and with a healthy choke, fires the rumbling beast to life. She sounds high strung, starved for gas; Bubbie makes her wait until he eases in the choke. The whining whir slows to a throaty rumble and then kicks her into gear and they are gone.

Later, rolling out of the bone-cracker’s parking lot, he throttles it up to hit the back country roads. Before long he is rolling up the highway to destination unknown. The speed limit is 65 and that’s fast enough on this cool winter morning. His knees hug the gas tank to siphon some warmth from the roaring V-twin. It’s not long before traffic and civilization become sparse and he can relax his mind to take in the beauty of his surroundings. After heading north for a while he glides his machine off of a ramp to an intersection. This is where it all happens. Since he had never turned right at this location, he decides today is as good a day as any. It was the right decision. He’s found a long smooth road through the tightly knit pines of the Goethe Forest. Mile after mile he rides, the road lined with swampy marsh and tall green slash pines boxing him in like a mouse in a maze. He eventually rocketed out the other end of the forest and straight into wide open pasture land. The stark tan winter colors majestically frame the dusky green oaks that spot the landscape. Round and bulbous, they are stoically waiting warmer days, conserving energy yet anticipating a spring where they can turn up the volume of there shiny green leaves.

Bubbie rounds another bend and it looks like another town is coming soon. The signs hint of a waterfront area and it’s not long before he notices a very large lake on the left hand side of the road. He believes it might be Lake Rousseau and there is just enough of a breeze to give its surface a pretty good chop. The tangy fresh scent of the dark lake water hits him and he smiles at a wealth of memories and a primitive stirring in his soul to the primordial beginnings of life.

As the lake drifts off behind his left shoulder, his sore back muscles stiffen from his morning adjustment, which also makes him smile. Good times and good friends. But with that he knows it’s time to turn for home. He rolls back into the throttle and shifts up through the gears. Sweet Pea will be waiting to share a hot meal and a few laughs as the sunny afternoon unfolds. It’s good to be Bubbie.