The Sun was out, the sunglasses needed...

Thursday afternoon as I got into the Caravan for the trip home the Sun was shining brightly, I put on the sunglasses and buckled the seat belt and put the machine in gear. Nice to go home with the Sun still up and shining, means that motorcycle weather can't be far behind, and Friday is the last riding day of this week - it is a date... So I got up and dressed and opened the garage door and rolled the motorcycle out to start it up. It is thirty-four degrees, frosty mostly everywhere, and foggy in butter knife cutting possibilities. Doesn't matter, get the boots on and grab the gear, if one has to be driven about something riding a motorcycle is a good way to go. With the fog I won't notice the fogging of the face shield, will I? Just riding in the gray cotton misty cold. The humidity is high, or those are really fat drops of cold cloud making the morning fog. Doesn't matter, only the ride, staying up and leaning hard and rolling up and out of it. Gets colder, since the gloved hands don't get warmer, I run out of the primary tank fuel, switch to reserve and ride on. So quiet, figuratively, and so alone and in control. Roll into the parking lot, shut down and leave the helmet.

Friday is clean up day, finish the unfinished week, wish I could go home early, but don't - talk books, tell the big old worker that F. Paul Wilson has a book about Jack before he got old enough to be a Repairman. Talk to one of my workers about David Drake, whom is the best writer in the current world according to the worker, I got happily stuck on Hammer's Slammers long before he (David Drake) wrote some nice postcards back to me while I was performing speed bump duties in Saudi Arabia in Desert Shield. We had lots of time to read as we waited for an opportunity to excel. I have finished building the March book cart of stuff to buy, will submit it on the 1st of March, doesn't pay to wait they could cut my budget again and I would rather be ahead than behind. I did a lot of talking today, even with other staff - very rare, but they have been talking to me about work, re-entry resources, motorcycles and today - rifles and shooting in Europe and here in the Northwest. I lock up after shutting down the computers, a good week of work - in four days, one more of five to go and February will be history, too.

I talk a little on the ferry, ride the bus to the parking lot and start smiling more as I get closer to the Trusty Triumph. Get the helmet, start the bike - remembering to put it on reserve tank, and ride off to re-fuel and go home. The Sun is shining, it is warmer, much, than it was in the morning, but the traffic is heavy and don't know about the economy where y'all are - the I-5 South lanes are a slow moving parking lot as I glance that way as I zoom over the bridge above the lost upon the highway to California... riding home is good the bike is responsive and I don't see the fearless woman on her Sportster, although I did yesterday, she has new black leathers with fringes, new to me. I think she goes home early on Friday afternoons. There must be a secret to missing all the red lights, but with too many cars there seems no hope. I do fill the tank up, and head on home. Roast, corn, potatoes and hot coffee the news tells me that Wall Street doesn't believe the Whitehouse about Bank NATIONALIZATIONS this weekend. But I am not holding stock (directly in banks now - my mutual funds are a different matter) in banks. I do trust my wife, my motorcycle and my M1 Garand - which I am off to shoot with tomorrow.