I am barely finished my morning cup of coffee when Andy struts past in full riding gear.
“Is it warm enough?” I ask.
“It’s 40 now and by the time you’re ready it will be.”
Andy’s prediction is correct and we depart for a pleasant day’s loop. He makes a spontaneous change to the route he said we’d take. This is typical of Andy. I have to pay close attention at all times to body language and directional signals. This day, he diverts almost as soon as we are on our way. He takes a left into unfamiliar territory. Typically I am not a fan of these sudden moves as they generally lead us to unpaved roadways that narrow and disappear the farther along we travel. I need knobby tires for some of the places he has taken us.
Surprisingly the detour turns out to be spectacular. The road climbs and crests the hill. We happen upon a treasure; a symbolic parallel reflective of the season. There on the rise is an old bucket of bolts, its rusting hulk as brown as the leaves that skip across the pasture. Repurposed into a field sculpture it serves a new role. In the autumn of its useful life it is not too old to hoist the colors of Red White and Blue. A solid stone of granite lends its usefulness to holding firm the old truck bed.
At high noon long shadows stretch across our path letting us know full well that the days are indeed getting shorter. The old truck, the helpful block of granite, the banner that flutters in the breeze will not leave my mind. The symbolism is hinting of something seemingly complex, yet so simple it takes the full ride to sink into my soul. In the sunset of our riding season, we will steady ourselves like the granite block upon the antique truck as we await the return of spring. The banner representing our enthusiasm for motorcycling as it is passed from one generation to be carried by the next.
2 comments:
you gotta tell me where this truck is. I'd love to photograph it.-
I have another view that takes in the stone wall that looks pretty awesome too. I'll send that one to you.
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