I wish I could hibernate!
Like a bear cuddled up somewhere warm, fat and content. Dreaming peacefully of summer smells and the sound of my Harley.
I am no bear and I am not superwoman either. Winter is just too cold to keep her on the roads.
We are separated, I am not at home. I can’t touch her. There are more than a thousand miles between us.
I am in my other life just now,up North, where my other bike was waiting for me. Last week the sun was out. It felt warm although I suspect it can’t have been more than four of five degrees out there. I took her for a ride, anyway.
There’s nothing like the warmth of the sun on black leather on a winter’s day.
The regrets came on the way back. The sun gone, it soon felt like a fight, a struggle with the elements. Forcing my hands to move the clutch, trying to wriggle frozen toes in biker boots, hardening the chin against the cold wind. How cold it is, to be cool!
I felt even more like a heroine then, a heroine craving a hot bath but I guess that’s allowed in the hero world.
I had taken care of my abstinence symptoms, I cured my desire and lust with another one.
What a male thing to do!
I kept the other bike right outside the house so I could see here, touch her, watch the rain’s pattern on the tank. I gave her a good clean and finally gave in. She’s back in the shed again. Snow is coming.
Hibernating a Harley is hard, but hibernating two bikes is even worse.