Copyright © 2012 by Ralph Couey
The experience of life can best be summedup as a series of beginnings, middles, and endings.As the years pile up, what changes is that endings begin to outnumber beginnings.Some things are given up simply because we get bored and move on.Others fall by the wayside due to other demands upon our time.This is natural.Time is always in motion; things and people are always changing.
But there are those things we give up because…well, we just can’t do them anymore.
Softball was once my second religion.It was how I spent just about every summer.I can still recall the rising sense of excitement as I walked through the humid Missouri evenings toward the complex of diamonds already lit.I was never a star, but I played hard.The competition was tough and I loved every minute.But as I got older, I grew weaker and slower.Frozen ropes that once leapt off my bat became dying quails.I knew the end was coming, but it wasn’t until I suffered the humiliation of being thrown out at first base by the left fielder that I finally accepted inevitable and hung up my cleats for good.
But there are still times when I can pick up my glove, slip it on, and wait for the aroma of leather, sweat, dirt, and chalk to fill my senses and bring the inevitable flood of memories.
It was in my late 30’s that I discovered motorcycles.In the 20 years since, riding has been my source of joy, freedom, and soul-satisfying inspiration.Although primarily a commuting tool, I’ve done a lot of miles through countless countrysides, mountains, prairies, plains, deserts, and coastlines ranging from 2-hour Sunday jaunts to a 9-day 5,000 mile sojourn through the southwest.
I would tell you that I’m in the middle of this particular activity, but I have to be honest and admit that I can see just over the horizon the sorrowful day when age will force me to lay this aside as well.
I want to make one more long trip while I still can.But a few things will have to happen first.
