A morning motorcycle ride, on an open highway, with nowhere to be and no special time to be there, is exhilarating! Freedom. I ride westward. Even I can’t miss west. I travel “old school”. I don’t have any GPS or a map shining through the clear plastic of a tank bag. I have a thick Harley Davidson atlas in my saddlebag which I consult now and again.
Whate’er its mission, the soft breeze can come
To none more grateful than to me; escaped
From the vast city, where I long had pined
A discontented sojourner: now free…
Today the skies were clear and blue. Wildflowers in the rich green grass accompanied me: brilliant buttercups, melancholy primroses, long stemmed purple flowers bursting like fireworks. Creamy magnolia flowers high in the trees. Snowy egrets stood on the edges of flooded lowlands filled with cypress trees. The rich scent of a wood fire burning wafted through the air. We flew past rows of corn and cotton fields along with pecan tree groves. The ride was thrilling. Stay tuned.