The driving rain subsided to a trickle, and then stopped. After an hour or so, I packed up some rags and chrome polish and wandered out to the bike to see what I could do to the pipes. I scrubbed industriously for awhile, and they started looking really nice again.
It dawned on me that it was warm, sunny, with just a light breeze. I checked the temperature: twelve degrees Celsius. Hmm… roads are dry too…
My beautiful wife was feeling tired and uncomfortable. But with happy, enthusiastic persistence, I managed to convince her to come out for a ride.
“But I don’t have proper motorcycle gear, yet,” she protested weakly, “and I really don’t feel comfortable riding unarmoured.”
“Great!” I replied. “Let’s go get you some!”
The air was crisp and beautiful. Trees shed their leaves in glorious golden cascades, swirling in the wind and surrounding us as we roared through. My wife’s suede jacket flapped a little in the draught, but it wasn’t too bad. We reveled in the glory of nature, pointed out the white-tipped mountain peaks, and hugged closer and closer on each new curve in the road. The November (November?! On a motorcycle?!?!) air chilled our faces and legs a little, but not beyond what we could handle.
In the leather boutique, we tried on chaps for both and jacket and face guard for my wife. The proprietor spent more than an hour with us helping us make good choices, and in the end we were very pleased. The sun was setting as we finished our transactions, and we were very glad of the leather chaps on the way home.
What incredible, intense joy.