Step
It Up
It’s a cool day in late September as
I ride up Interstate 35 in Oklahoma for the third time in 24 hours. But now the
bike has fresh fluids and the stripped screws on the derby cover have been
replaced with new ones. Thanks goes out to the club for the help, I’d still be
stuck without their help. It’s only 5 hours after I thought I’d be on the road,
but with the late start, the cobwebs are beginning to subside, another thanks
goes out to the club.
As I get to
the little town of Tonkawa near the border of Kansas, I decide it’s time for a
very late breakfast. I pull into one of the zombie fast food places that I
normally would have avoided if it wasn’t for the delay. I whip the bike into
the vacant spot in front of the entrance and drop in line behind the rest of
the sheep. As I’m waiting in the stiles, I see the small form of a lady looking
out of the glass into the parking lot. The kid behind the counter calls out an
order breaking her gaze. As she turns, I see that she has a big smile. Her face
has a look of years, but you can tell the years have been great, as I look into
her face, all I see are smile lines.

As I’m
getting my fixings for my sandwich, I see her grabbing some napkins and a
straw. The next thing I realize is that she has walked up to me, she asks if
the bike is mine as she is looking out of the window again. I say “yes
ma’am.” She says with a fondness “Before my husband passed, we rode all
the time.” Before I could say my condolences for the loss of her husband,
she turns and heads back to her table. After I finish prepping my food, I walk
towards the tables, I notice her happily eating her lunch. So I approach her
table asking if she would mind company for lunch, she says “That would be
lovely.”
As I sit, she asks where I’m
traveling to. I tell her that someone I met in Oklahoma City had said
before I leave the state that I should see Alabaster Caverns. She agrees
that since I’m this close, I should definitely make a point to stop. She asks
where I started my ride from. I tell her about getting laid off while
working in Montana and deciding it would be nicer in Daytona Beach, Florida.
Bike week versus stranded in the snow for the rest of the Winter. She agrees
with my decision saying they used to make all of the big rallies. She names off
some of her favorites, Sturgis, BBQ, Daytona, Texas, Laconia, and Myrtle Beach.
Then she asks where my next destination was after Alabaster? I say “No real
destination, I’m riding around the country learning as much of it as possible.
But since I’ve ridden through Oklahoma I had to ride Nebraska completing the
lower 48 states.” She asks how many miles have I ridden so far. I inform
her that so far on this trip I’ve ridden over 30,000 miles. She leans back,
sizing me up and says that I need to step it up. She tells me that for years,
she rode her own bike, but after a time, she realized how much she hated not
being on the back of the bike holding on to the love of her life. Then she gets
a shit-eating grin saying that, since she got back on her husband’s bike alone,
she’s ridden over 700,000 miles.

As we reach
the parking, lot she gives my bike a walk around shaking her head in approval.
I offer her a ride if she wants, she gives her biggest smile lowering her head.
As she raised her head, she says that if she were 20 years younger and single,
she would miss her doctor’s appointment for a ride with me.

As we say our goodbyes she steps in giving me a giant hug, thanking me for the conversation, and walks to her car. As I sit on my bike watching her drive away, I realize how lucky I was to have had problems with the oil change. Spending these brief moments with her is one of the most amazing things in my life.
Test, Test
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