Dad has been busy taking care of the last minute minutae before returning to work next week, but yesterday was an exceptionally beautiful day at the Casa, so on the bike we went.
I have many things I particularly enjoy: licking dad, laying on dad, annoying dad, sleeping with dad, bogarting dad’s food, (are we seeing a pattern here?), but what I love best is riding with dad. Taking Miss Ellie is always cause for excessive celebration, but the bike?
That’s what makes my heart overload.
The almost imperceptible click of the key being inserted into the ignition is all it takes to send me into quivering, paroxysmal fit of anticipation. Who gives a flying fig who’s sitting in or marching on the White House when we’re carving through the curves, my ears popping in the wind as it peels my floppy lips back from my choppers. This causes my teeth to dry out and my lips to stick so when we finally stop, I’m sporting a maniacal Joker-like grin.
After enough time in the saddle, I eventually calm down enough to lay my head on dad’s right shoulder and go with the flow, but no matter how long the ride or how foul the conditions, I have yet to lay down in the crate to escape the cold and rain. Are you kidding me? “Cold, wet and hungry is the life for me, what I call living, some call misery”…
Riding is moving, and moving is life; there is no bad, just varying degrees of good. Even though there has been a change of plans concerning the dreamed-of blogging trips this summer, dad’s new employer has been gracious enough to agree to a very generous vacation offering, so a New Mexico/Colorado trip is not out of the question.
Because that’s where I’m truly in my element. No distractions, no walls, no leashes, no boundaries, no company except what we encounter on the road, no direction except forward, no leader except the front wheel. And it WILL eventually happen, as I, Charlemagne Bravissimo, have decreed it so!
The difficult we do immediately. the impossible takes a little longer…