Polished and ready. Time to ride.
Not a lot of riding this past week - two days were spent near Hartford, Connecticut and the last several days have dawned wet and rainy - the remnants of another storm.
I'm tempted to go now - the sun is 'sorta' shining and the road is dry.
"You need more practice," he said as he pulled off his helmet.
"It was the exit ramp...?" I asked.
He nodded.
"That. And the fact you we speeding - almost 90 MPH - on the freeway." he said.
No way. I was watching my speed closely - no more than 70, 75 tops. But he disagrees and says either my speedo is off or his is. I suspect he was looking at his tach...
Later, I back the Harley back out for another trip. He just watches but doesn't move to join me.
"Another time," he says.
"Sure," I said. "There's always time..."
Let's ride.
