Katie and I woke up to snow. There was a layer of white on everything. Like someone had dusted confectioner's sugar on a cake. I was slated to telecommute to work today. Around nine it was time to thaw Katie's car. Got her off to work safely. I watched the flakes coming down. Now it was warm enough that not much stuck. Paperwork and reports screamed for attention. I'd missed the really fun time, anyhow. Still, snowflakes softly called to me. Sophie wanted to go out and play. I could hear the scuffle of her tires as she pawed the ground. I'm sorry. I'm busy. You're not really supposed to ride a motorcycle in the snow. I tuned out the distractions. Tried to concentrate on work.
Finally I did what any sane and reasonable motorcycle commuter would do. I rode. In the snow. Some areas had a lot. Some had a little. All the while I can hear Sophie revving her motor in glee.
"Let's go freak people out!", she'd begged me. It seems we'd done it to the station wagon guys.
I think I did it to a cop, too. We passed a County patrol car coming the other way. I swear I could see the cop shaking his head. Would he pull me over? Would it be a VBR? ( violating the basic rule ) I rather think it would have been for "Very Ballsy Riding"!
The snow melted as fast as it fell. We made the most of every minute. Riding in the snow is great fun. As long as you don't crash, of course. Crashing wasn't on the menu today. The snow finally quit. It was back home to my trusty laptop and more reports.
Katie got home from work. I didn't tell her about the ride. Not until later. We settled in to watch the football game. Green Bay at Seattle. It was snowing in Seattle. Looked like Wisconsin. Brett Favre was making his 242nd consecutive start. I finally told Katie about my ride in the snow. She asked me why she wasn't surprised at that. Her voice was scornful. Her eyes radiated admiration. Maybe that was aimed more at Brett.
I spoke to Brett on the phone once. We have a small connection. It was thanks to Aerostich. I'd finally sent my jacket in for repairs after a get-off. Just after Christmas came a call. A man named Michael had left a message at the office. The note said Michael had my jacket. An errant address label had sent my package to Green Bay. I called back. Michael turned out to be an equipment manager for Green Bay. I'd watched Brett play the Bears on Christmas Day. I told Michael that after the game I figured Brett could use some cheer. The Bears had won. Michael told me that Brett was sitting nearby. The phone rustled and then came "The Voice". It was either Brett or a great impersonator.
Andy helped me get my jacket back. Thanks, Andy!
The game announcers talked about how Brett was superhuman. Extremely high pain threshold. Never quits. Sickness and injury don't stop him. He does things he's not supposed to be able to do. A couple of days after his Father died, Brett played. He played his best. The day after my Father died I taught a class. Filled in for a sick instructor. I understand how the therapy works.
Katie looked at me. Then she floored me.
"You and Brett have a lot in common. You know you shouldn't do things but you do them anyway. You're both freaks of nature. Nothing stops either one of you. You're the Brett Favre of motorcycling!"
Katie's frustrated and mystified sometimes. Beneath it all is a grudging respect.
I'm flattered and humbled by the comparison. I don't know about Brett! We're both driven to do what we do. Passion drives us to excel. Being stubborn keeps us from admitting we can't do something. You know what's sad? Some of you know EXACTLY what I'm talking about.
Miles and smiles,