In Wine, Truth

It is Saturday and I've got stuff to do. The weather is improving and it seems warm with temperatures in the high 60's. That's not exactly hot but it has been colder for so long it seems like spring can't be far away. There are a lot of motorcycles on the road and why not? It's a beautiful day. By afternoon I'm done with all my chores so I decide to take a little ride. I think a short jaunt through the Sonoma Valley will fit the day.



As I cruise down Hwy 12 toward the town of Sonoma, I see vinyard after vinyard. But one particular section of road starts me thinking, I do a lot of thinking while riding, it's one of the things I like best about being on the road. In this vinyard are old vines. These vines have thick, knarled trunks. Right across the highway are young vines, these have stems more than trunks.



I'm sure nobody is missing the point here. I'm thinking that I've seen more vintages that I have yet to see. So what's a person to do? Live every minute to the fullest. Enjoy every second. No, this just isn't the way life works. Someone who laughs a little too hard just sounds like an idiot (can you hear me Hilary). Someone who sucks in too much experience is just a glutton. Enjoy every second it just dosen't work like that.



Well what is the secret to happiness, you ask? Just get a motorcycle and ride through the Sonoma Valley on a warm late winter day and you'll be heading in the right direction.

The Razor or the Couch

The weather has finally gotten better. It's not raining and quite a bit warmer. So I'm thinking it’s time for a ride. But where? I've got it; I'll pick my daughter, Lee, up from school. She will love it; her very cool Dad on his very cool Harley will ride up looking like a cross between James Dean and Steve McQueen. All the other kids will be green with envy.
I decide to leave the LaPera seat on because it's much cooler and it’s only a short way home. Clearly a good trade off, coolness for comfort. I know she will agree.
So as I arrive I notice that things are not quite the same as my mental image. Lee is not looking excited, whoa, she's not even looking enthusiastic. More whoa, she does not look happy. What's up?
"Dad, I hate that seat, it is so uncomfortable." She gets on. "Dad, I hate it when you pick me up on the motorcycle." There is a sound of tires skidding on dry pavement inside my head. "It is so embarrassing," she says.
"I thought your friends would think it would be so cool to have your Dad pull up on a bike to pick you up."
"None of my friends think motorcycles are cool," she says.
I'm thinking that maybe dinosaurs are not extinct and that I may be one, we pull away, then she says, "can we take the long way home?"