to the Man Responsible for My Addiction ~ wind

a recent photo of Rene, leathered up on his HOG, ready to go

   My day started out pretty poorly by any terms. I was awakened at 6:30 am with a phone call from a disenchanted horse adoptor who was impatient about the process. Ten minutes later she was resolved to be patient with the methodical process for the placement of this horse. I hung up; I rolled over; the phone then rang sharply with the previous adopter, the one surrendering the horse to his new home. She was frantic, in tears and irrational, at first. Ten minutes later, she was settled down and committed to proceed according to plan. It's not even seven o'clock yet and I've conducted 20 minutes of mediation. Not the best way to start any day, by any means. I slothed out of bed, took a shower, had some coffee; the phone rang at 8 sharp. It was a good friend inviting me out for a "twirl" on his bike in the North East Kingdom. Did I want to go; yes!

   My gentleman chauffeur biker friend showed up on time with a toot toot of his Kawasaki touring bike. As I leathered up, fussing with long hair, sunglasses, and the finale silk scarf around my neck (I've been badly sunburned before, looking like a massive hickey at ride's end); he blushed and remarked that he liked my "outfit" (I don't ever hear that!) and I "looked very stylish and people would get the wrong idea..." I joked that I hoped so. We mounted his very comfortable bike and departed for the journey north. He spent the ride explaining the survival points of sharing the road with "cagers" (clueless people in cars) and the precarious conditions of Vermont's roads. And he did show me roads I never knew of, villages I'd only known about by their tiny name on a map. We did the "Lake Willoughby-tour".

  It was glorious over every mile. We took lunch at a little dinner and swapped stories about horses. I've know this fine fellow for 15 years or so; he is a retired mounted policeman from NYC. He has great pictures of his spectacular mount during the 60's when America was torn with civil events that often turned contentious and violent. He is a a very interesting person. He spoke with every intention of encouraging me to ride my own motorcycle next year and expected as much, brain injury or not. As we enjoyed lunch, a gentlemen-couple seated behind me  were discussing us. Finally, I stood up to put on my scarf and jacket and one patron felt compelled to speak to me. I turned to hear him say: "Do you know you look just like Julia Roberts? Have you ever been told that?" I could only respond with a shy smile and answer: "I have been told that by more than a few people over the years. I just don't know why. I can't see the resemblance at all." His reply, "Well you do, we really thought maybe she was up here, hiding out.." I laughed, "no, it's just me. I do wish I had her money though; but she can keep her problems, I have enough of my own." He laughed, "she has twins, you wouldn't want them." I smiled broadly, "I have twin boys; they're awesome but one set is enough. You enjoy the day, now..."

  I turned back to my riding partner and he was beaming. I shrugged, "the least I can do, is look good on your bike." He said, "we'll be heading home now, I'll show you a different way from how we came," as we strolled out the door adjusting our helmets. We mounted his bike, talked more about the motorcycle classes, the endorsement and his favorite memories on trips. A spectacular day in glorious country with very kind company. Perfect weather, warm wind, inspiring scenery, a very good friend at the dash. As we covered the last mile home, the spell lifted gently, we rolled to my door yard. I dismounted and gave him a kiss on the cheek, hug at his shoulder, farewell good man. He blushed and made a pact with me: "I will not see you again until you call me and tell me you have your own bike next summer...you can do this and you should, you need to be out here, with people, its a great culture and its made for you..." I interrupted, "I know, but its so much fun riding two-up...thank you for a wonderful day, for your wisdom in the ride...give my best to your beautiful wife..." He smiled: "I didn't even tell I was bringing you; this is our secret and I'm not telling! Don't say anything if you see her. I have a reputation over there; I'm 82 years old you know!" I was floored; I wouldn't have guessed that age for him. Strong, competent, adventurous, seventy maybe, but 82?! I gave him one more hug and walked to the house, peeling off leather as I went, swelling with inspiration. I hope, by the grace of God, I am riding my favorite bike over the hill and dale of VT when I am 82 years old. God bless you and yours my friend...until next time, happy riding.
luv and peace ~ ell

   this was 2008, he still rides giving a toot when he's rolling by my farm; always I smile when I think of him and our ride and my addiction for ridding and all of the friends that has brought me. Ride on Rene, always and forever.