Out here in the country, its hard to miss the coming of Spring. The air sweetens, and the green fades into the grass along my favorite twisting tarmac. The ice releases the chatter of the Little Kentucky River. The farmers turn earth and prepare for the first planting of the season, the smell of grave and good harvest.
Motorcyclists are emerging from their winter hibernation. One minute, I'm alone in frigid temperatures and the next, I'm surrounded by my own kind. Its as if they bloomed along with the first flowers and trees. The boar grunt of the Harley bounces off cars parked along the gentile boulevards of small town Kentucky as bands of roaming bankers and lawyers take to the streets. The farting bee-can of the elusive high speed squid filters down to me out of the hills as I settle the bike onto the side stand in my driveway.
Yes, we're all out again. And so are the bugs. If ever there's a surer sign that the deep freeze of winter is coming to an end, I have yet to experience one as disgusting. Due to the fact that I have a brain, I'm fortunate to own a cranial protection device. Inside, I take in the gentle pitter-patter of countless little lives being snuffed out against the protective shield. Its kind of like rain, only gooier.
To all my brethren only now emerging into the light, to all of those purchasing their first horses this season, and to those once lonely sentinels of the frozen asphalt, ride safe, ride hard, and ride free.
