Saturday, April 19, 2008

Perfect riding day

Today was a perfect day to ride. Sunny, warm, dry, the kind of day you could pack on the miles...But I didn't ride today. Today I was a suburban slave: raking, mulching, washing, fixing, charging, seeding. Ah, the joy of home ownership!

Lucky for me, I have friends who are kind enough to rub in the fact that they were riding today and I was not. This morning at 11:15, bent over the mulch pile we all heard it. At first, it sounded like a distant plane. As it got closer my wife made some comment about a train, even though the nearest tracks are a mile or more away. And then I instantly knew what it was. A large group of motorcycles, headed our way.

As they roared around the corner to our street, I smiled a big grin as the insidious leader of this foray, Ultra Bosco cruised up the street bearing a smug, smarmy smile. I waved to some, flipped off others and laughed out loud as the bikes continued to pile into our neighborhood. I lost count after a while. It seemed like everyone in the club made it out today for a ride.

After they rounded the cul de sac the leader of this fiasco pulled up at the end of my driveway. They enjoyed the fact that I was hard at work, sweating in the warm sun. My son ran into the house for my camera so I'll post the few shots I took here.

New friends-


Old friends-














New riders with new bikes:


All of them sparkling prettily in the spring sunshine...



I hope you all had a great ride today. I'm considering having a bumper sticker made that says "My other bike is a rake." Well, we gotta do what we gotta do. When the lawn comes in and the gardens are in full bloom, I'll have my biker friends over to enjoy the fruits of our labors. And you know what? No matter how bad I ache tomorrow when I wake, I'm pulling on my boots and hitting the open road.

This is going to be a great season, a great year. I'm excited that we have new friends to join us as we explore every nook and granny in New England. I'll see you out there my friends.

A low, slow wave,

Joe Rocket