The Difference of Twenty

January 16th, 2013

One week ago, the thermometer read 52 degrees.  Today was twenty degrees warmer.  T-shirt weather arrived so quickly.  The difference twenty degrees made in the smell of the neighborhood astounded me.  It's the like jasmine is already creeping into the air. 

Two weeks has also granted me more confidence.  Today, Virgil and I rode to the QT, and I made a U curve leaving the parking lot.  I no longer dread stopping.  Shifting comes more naturually.

Here is a list of changes I've noticed in myself and the neighborhood since Phoenix went back into the 70's:

Uno) The rooster is back.  I don't know where he was in the cold, or if his voice doesn't carry across the street when it drops below 60 degrees, but he's back somewhere between Rovey and Bethany Home, crowing his head off.

Dos) I'm tougher.  Recently, this week in fact, I had to face the very thing I'd been dreading facing for the last six years: my ex-husband in a custody case.  It seems silly, but somehow riding the tide of my victory over the motorcycle school carried me through a tough week.

Tres) I feel different.  Turn another year older, and everyone asks, "Feel any different?"  No?  No.  Usually not.  Try getting a motorcycle endoresment.  I look at the tough old geezers sitting on the benches outside the Arrowhead Harley store in Peoria, with their tats and missing teeth, and I realize the most startling thing:  I can do what they do.  I can ride a Hawg.