A Harley-Davidson motorcycle has a sound like no other bike out there. It announces its presence with a deep-throated, aggressive rumble, even at an idle. What with one thing and another, I was late getting to the barn yesterday and hurried through the chores, listening all the while for a Harley. With perfect timing, I had just finished straining the milk back at the house when that rumble told me my son had arrived. What a luxury to have an afternoon to do nothing but sit, talk, and enjoy each other's company. Dave frequently works seven days a week at two jobs and doesn't have much time to share, so I take it as a gift when he comes up. When he left in the late afternoon, I could follow the sound of his bike down the dirt road to the big road and all the way out to E-16. There's just something about a Harley.
I told myself I would not spout off with my semi-annual diatribe against Daylight Savings Time. Some promises are not meant to be kept (like my telling my Kids that they'd best shape up or I'd trade them for a mongoose...they didn't realize there are no mongooses in the US so they were safe). Once again, my schedule has been shattered by the changing of the clock. Being a "morning person" with the majority of chores to do before noon, I much prefer my sunshine at the beginning of the day.
Oh well, it wouldn't matter today anyhow...it's raining. Ruffles got her fresh bedding pulled in just in time, and my biker-dude son made his visit just in time, whatever time it was.