As I step outside the fence yesterday...

I get released from Prison every day, and am going to keep working on that certainty. I had a loaf of oat bread in my backpack (prisoner bakery school) and the sky was beautiful blue and Mount Rainer gleamed bright whitely across the Sound behind Steilacoom. There at the top of the little hill is where that picture of me on my Trusty Triumph should be taken, on a great afternoon like it was. Seems like all my pictures of me upon it and the road are in a parking lot, rest stop and boring. And riding isn't boring, but then I am not selling the motorcycles and no matter how many times one watches The Great Race, or some such almost reality programming - we don't have a cameraman or woman taking our pictures of boldly beating hearts leaning into the turn and twisting that throttle to power back up.

There were lots of motorcyclists and wanna-bees on the road going home yesteday - no flashing inverted Vs yet, too cool to cold, too anti-social (think bears woken early from hibernation - irritated and hungry), and I am not checking but my own fine motorcycle has water and splash stains and marks from rain riding instead of polished mirror finishes. I am so about the ride, that I forget the minimum image maintenance - being old I want more miles and belly laughing smiles than envious stares from those that just wish upon my happiness. It will be two years on the twenty-fourth of this month, and I have my registration updated, and my insurance company wants more money, sigh, and the weathermen say rain and colder are on the way -- but yesterday going home was great, especially the neighbor's grandchild on his training wheeled bicycle looking over his shoulder at me on my bike coming behind him at the court turn around. The one time I could have used the blasting bellow of a Harley, have you seen the Iron 883?