The Smell Of Power

While I was at work today a friend brought her big Harley Davidson motorcycle over to my garage to store it for the winter.  When I got home, 6 hours later, I opened my garage door.  Before I could see the big machine I knew it was there.  The air in the garage was charged with a smell that I don't usually have in my garage - the smell of raw Harley Davidson power - a mixture of gasoline, of oil, and of gun powder.  I could tell by the lingering smell that something loud and powerful happened here in this garage.  Maybe this winter, when the long, cold nights, bitter winds, and bone chilling cold get to me, I'll dress warm and sit on one of the two motorcycles and try to remember those days on the road.  Those warm days when I had to lift my face shield at red lights to breathe some cooler air. Those wonderful days in August when I partially unzipped my jacket so the air could get inside and puff it out and dry the sweat on my back.  That one day in July when the heat from the pavement reflected up toward the bottoms of my boots and made my feet hot.  Riding a motorcycle is only sweeter because of these long, cold winters.  I doubt I'd like it as much if I could indulge 12 months of the year.