The monthly Squeaks dinner. While I’ve ridden to a couple of them. this is the first time I’ve actually ridden with my classmates. I ride up to the corner, to wait in the church parking lot for them. I worry that the churchgoers will think they are being invaded by hoodlums when, in fact, we’re all dull middle-aged professional folks. I wait just a few minutes in the cool late afternoon air, admiring the waning sun on the pastures across the street. I love living out here. I wave at the old thresher driver when I turn onto the main road. I slow to watch the little goats grazing on Harrison Shoals Road. I gape at the expanses of pasture on the neighboring horse farms. It’s such a nice little bucolic oasis from the madness of Atlanta.
I hear a rumble in the distance, and here they come, headlamps bobbing like huge fireflies as they round the curve. Two Harleys, a muscular Victory, and a Suzuki Boulevard cruiser. Wow, those big V-twins sound wonderful! My polite SV650 sounds like a sewing machine by comparison. Lance (the Boulevard owner) says later, “shoot, I can’t even hear mine to shift!” Continue reading