I understand the lure of the open road. I’ve only gotten to eat a crumb from that table so far. Thanks to a generous friend who let me barrow his motorcycle, I got to run along the Lake Michigan Shoreline today. The two lane roads amble along the watery behemoth. The bike and I would just sway back and forth with the rythm of the road.
I will have my own bike again someday. It’s been 14 since I had one. 14 years since two friends barrowed it and were hit by a car. I have grieved. Now I grieve and long for a two wheeled horse.
The road to me is therapy. Ridding a bike to me is praying. There’s less between you and the road. Which is a deal breaker for most people. I’m open and vulnerable. Another deal breaker. There’s something special that happens in my soul when I ride. I don’t know what it is but right now, I feel at peace. Its as if I spent all day in silent contemplation. Perhaps I did. The only one I talked to was The Father. I feel as if I just returned from Mount Zion, or Sinai.
My destination was Grand Haven. This was a good bye for me. Growing up, my Mom and I went there many times for vacation. I stopped by the State Park, road up the hill that Prospect St takes you up, and walked along the channel. I bought a cheap shirt from The University Shop on the Wharf. I had a cappuccino and a tuna salad sandwich at Jumpin’ Java. [Thanks for the pen.]
I turned South. The time had come to head home. The boys would be out of school by the time I got there. Besides I had to be home to take Jen out for a belated birthday dinner. A solo road trip, and date night? Perfect.
Until next time dear road.