Today was bittersweet. The sweet was, well, sweet. For the first time in a while, I got on a motorcycle and rode. Mark took in a bike on trade that fit me easily. No windshield and some goofy buckhorn handlebars but I sit flat-footed which, while not a requirement, does make the maneuvering easier, especially when I've been out of the saddle for a time. This morning, I dusted off my gear - my gloves (where did I put my gloves?) , my helmet, my boots and my armor-plated jacket. Mark gave me the run-down, reminded me to take my phone and sent me on my way.
I can't say it was eventful, just peaceful. I stopped at the vista point over Clam Beach to watch the waves then cruised through Fieldbrook, Blue Lake.... rolling out West End Road, I popped open the face shield and took in the warm smell of the mud, the trees, eau de equine. There is nothing like that feeling of the microclimates as you pass from shade to open and sunny then back into the dappled shadows. It wasn't a long ride, only about 70 miles, but it relaxed me and prepared me for the bitter part of my day. I dropped my riding gear, changed clothes and tucked tissues into my pocket in preparation for attending the memorial for Phyllis Flores, my coworker who passed away almost a month ago. It was a nice service with her brother speaking then, in Native American tradition, chanted her on her way "across the river". It was beautiful and touching. I believe I saw her go and it didn't require much tissue. CR coworkers who also attended agreed that it won't be the same without her.
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