My journey was just 5.8 miles. A short trip to the Harley shop to prep the bike for spring. In those 5.8 miles I could feel the fix begin. The fix from the withdrawal that I have needed so bad. Tensions diminish as I fill my lungs with the cold air. Each deep breath calls the flood of endorphins to my brain. As I pass the wooded areas, I see winters last strangle hold giving way to the coming spring. Again, my machine and I are one and we dance in short swaying movements upon the pavement stage, still white with the salt of the winter battles and still dangerous with the unspent munitions of gravel that was bombarded upon the roads to give the masses safe passage from the ice.
Very soon I will be in earnest with my machine. She will take me to my high. She will fill my tranquil needs. I will feel the warmth of my wife’s embrace as we explore the roads both new and old and capture an adventure with each new journey. Wherever we end up.
Long Lonesome Highway 