Winter Ride

February 22, 2020

Western New York winters aren’t often cooperative for the outdoor activities I like. I don’t ski, have never owned a snowmobile, can barely ice skate. Most of the time the skies are heavy, the sun hidden behind thick winter clouds. Today was different; the skies were blue and the sun shone off the snow in the fields, so dazzlingly bright I had to squint to see. I couldn’t detect even the slightest breeze. It was perfect!

Scattered next to our wood shed, were the odd chunks that were too big for our stove so I took them to my wood shop, aka motorcycle garage, and trimmed them to size before filling the wood bin. As I did so, I heard my name being called. Turning around, I saw no one. I filled the bin and carried another oversized chunk to the shop. Again I heard my name and began to wonder if I were experiencing a Samuel moment (1 Samuel 3), but turns out, it was only my Ural speaking to me. “Ride me,” she whispered. So I did.

Topping off the tank, I stopped by son Matt’s to see if he was up to a short spin. “You’re kidding me,” was about all he could say. “Are you crazy?” I think he knew the answer to that question. The road was dry, the sun shining, no wind, and the thermometer was tickling the upper twenties. It was glorious!