For What Its Worth

Bubbie jumped on the Harley and rode to the beach. The smell of the salt air as he traveled thru the sawgrass flats to get out there is transcendent, timeless. It's thick and fills his nostrils making it heavy to breathe and yet gratifying. He feels his lungs pulling the oxygen from the salty air. The warm wind on his face. Every trip out thru the sawgrass, the huge expanse of palm tree and cedar islands, if I caught a glimpse of an elephant or giraffe out of the corner of my eye I wouldn't be surprised. As a matter of fact, sometimes he thinks he has… just for a moment.

It was windy and a little overcast so the sands were sparsely dotted with naked Yankees outnumbered by the slightly more cantankerous seagulls. Sandpipers scurry and bob, their twiggy beaks probing the sand. Children chase the birds in vane. A big flock of black skimmer terns land en masse on the sand with their beaks pointed east into the wind. 

In Bubbie's view, the freedom that comes along with the ride is a spirit that we should all carry in our hearts. The beauty of our American landscape should be retained in our minds and we'd willingly sacrifice and fight for our country.