Wooden Ships

You may, or may not, wonder why I sometimes name my short stories after songs. Let me try to explain like this…
Imagine you are I, riding a stretch of road and all things have fallen into blissful place. The bike is running smooth and peaceful. The exhaust sings in a baritone of monotone soothing peace and bliss. The road is smooth and just unfamiliar enough to keep you attentive and alert but not so much that you are tense. Tall white ships sail overhead. Their flat bottoms glide effortlessly on the sea that provides us life. You lean back just enough to feel nestled into the one you love as you playfully hit the throttle “just enough” to feel the iron horse obediently lunge forward as you cut the wind a little more.
The road below rises and falls as does the ocean to a ship with her sails full and proud. A turn to starboard and then to port. I command my vessel to play as we effortlessly leave them in our wake.
From the corner of my eye a hawk sits perched on a limb of a naked tree. The raptor is always alert for those lower on the food chain. The swift predator has my awe and respect.
As mile after mile roll beneath my wheels a song appears in my mind’s eye. Its melody fits the carefree and elated mood of my mind and body. I am in my zone. My Nirvana. No one can harm. No one can anger.
I think of a phrase from a “Crosby, Stills, Nash. And Young” song. “Wooden ships on the water very free and easy. Easy, you know the way it’s supposed to be”.
I send this to you all not with the usual picture enhancement, but without. In the hope that you will be able to see what I saw.