I was in the parking lot of the local WaWa strapping a jug of milk to the sissy bar of my motorcycle. For a winter day in New Jersey this wasn’t a bad one – temperature around 40 and the rain of the past several days had given way to overcast. Today’s ride was a good one and now I was on my way home.
The old guy diverted from his path to the store and stopped to talk. “You’ve got balls,” he said, “out riding in this weather. I know – when I was younger I did it, too.” I hadn’t thought of the day as particularly cold. I’ve certainly been out in much worse. We talked for several minutes, and he smiled and laughed as he spoke of the past.
I thumbed the starter. The engine came to life and settled into that characteristic V-twin idle as I pulled on my gloves. I think the old guy walked a little taller, a little straighter, as he continued into the store.
