The last days of summer.
Wisconsin has had a hit or miss style of summer. Either it's been humid, or dry enough to kill lawns or subject them to a relentless down pour. And in my little bedroom community, the natural depression of the area seems to attract storms not usually found on the far side of Madison.
However, in the dregs of the season, the weather has been perfect. My forehead and wrists are scorched so red by the sun and the wind they actually appear like The Joker's rouge samples. (And after the gym, I'm going out again today. Hit the shop. Steal a free hot dog. Schmooze.)
I've learned that while early summer seems to slow the pulse, the final days quicken the tempo. Those first marginally tepid mornings relax the soul with a promise of endless bright days. The height of Sol nows reminds us that a crisp autumn is but weeks away.
I rolled Black Betty into the garage last night after a furtive romp on the Interstate. The day had been perfect, and I wasn't going to give my wife or SIL one scintilla of a life that is singularly mine. I had been a biker before I met my wife, and even as I awaited this girl to actually *ahem* turn eighteen, I had a full existence as club member and finally as a highway ronin.
I cleaned Betty's front forks with a Moco polishing product called "Pig Snot." Despite its up-yours designation, it imparts a very warm and relaxing glow to the immediate area. Much like her seasonal tenure, each fall nip reminds me that this rolling thunder of chrome subtracts one more year from my hostile armor.
These are the best days. The raging sun, the cooler evenings. The shivering rides of autumn and heavy leather. The beverages as they turn in season. The final journey before time runs out.
I am at that peak of this unbending lifestyle. The summers can now be easily counted. I once saw the film of an old bull elk. His greying muzzle, the scars ripped into the resume' of his life. His head unbowed. A life lived without quarter. And now I too stand in his place.
And so I turn to you. Do you live these days, I mean really live them as the shadows grow longer but the promises diminish. Can you stand grey and scarred. Do you care?
Tell us what you learned in your travels on this season.