Motors and Mountains

Motors and mountains combine for great fun for male gladiators on dirt bikes. The men folk have gone to West VA for their spring-time Hatfield and McCoy dirt bike ride.  I always worry about injury and the like.  Phone calls from weary, but still excited husband allay concerns and then give the highlights.

Highlights are generally in the categories of (1) injuries; (2) near misses; (3) didn't miss but survived it; (4) the splendor of nature; (5) the demands of the trail.

This year, there is a 6th highlight--the first time husbando said in a voice that was weary from #5 on the list, "I'm not in very good shape."  Time to break out the mountain bikes.  His passion for meeting the demands of the trail without feeling like an old man (he will be 58 this year), will inspire his working out.  My jealousy in seeing the very fit and not-too-much-younger-than-me Helen Hunt in
"The Sessions" should inspire me!  The movie itself was an inspiration on many levels.  Not only was the film a reminder of the abundance and generosity of spirit that exists in all of us, but also how the most basic of human experiences--sexual intimacy--is taken for granted by those of us who have experienced it.  Of course we can add walking, talking, seeing, hearing, thinking, breathing, eating and elimination to that, as there are many who are deprived of the easy experience of these things if at all. 

There was a #3--my son's bike fell into some watery hole and water was sucked into the engine.  More than two hours later and mechanical wizardry on the part of several got the motor dried out.  It needed to be pulled to get started--a feat overzealously undertaken by a fellow rider on a four wheeler.  He was pulling far too fast than my son was comfortable with.  Son bailed; bike dropped. The singular casualty was a Bark Buster bolt was a casualty.  Sure sounds like fun to me!

With the men folk gone, I was able to have the house to myself, eat out of the fridge, and work.  I've been so busy and feeling underwater to the point of gurgling.  But I'm kicking hard, and I'm closer to breathing air.  At some point in my life I hope to find equilibrium.  I've certainly had little success with it except for a few glimpses.  I guess when you have a proclivity to immersing yourself into what you do, gurgling is going to be an expected result.  As I can gurgle and kick, I'm not complaining.  Perspective is everything (it really is not attitude, because if you have perspective, attitude will fall into its proper place)--so I'm not complaining.

Spring has been arriving in fits and starts---it seemed to arrive first in early January, and then retreated for three more months.  It is now starting to emerge again...this is the coolest and wettest Spring that I remember in a while.  My favorite point in spring is when the reclusive wood thrushes begin their calling.  I've seen them for the last three weeks, but they do not begin their beguiling songs until the 3rd week of April.  When they start, they are the first to song in the morning and the second to last in the evening.  This lasts for for about 90 days, and then they are silent.  And missed.

And, I miss the men folk, who will be returning soon. It will be 72, and I hope that Spring will stay around for a while.


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