Did you know the wind has a smell to it? No, not the smell of a fire place drifting on the breeze, or fresh flowers, but it has it’s own, unique smell. If you’ve ever ridden on a motorcycle you know what I mean. It is the smell of FREEDOM.
My honey had been missing his other woman. As in his bike. She was ‘hospitalized’ for repairs/maintenance so we were on a borrowed bike last weekend. She is to him what the Black Pearl is to Captain Jack Sparrow. FREEDOM. He got her back late this afternoon. My sister and I pulled ourselves together and took him to get his other baby. He rode her for a bit to be sure all was in working in order then had me jump on board. Ya gotta love a man that is so darn protective. And he really is super protective of me. We rode 41 miles back home and it was pure heaven, me and my pavement pirate.
It was while we were riding and I was wrapped around him that I realized that his scent was back to normal. See, he smells of leather and the wind. His spirit is like mine, free and cannot and will not be nailed down. Sitting behind him, my body up against his, my face next to his head on his shoulder, I recognized it. Leather and ‘freedom’ are the scent of my man. And it settles a peace over me when I inhale it. After a day of fighting with an upset stomach and migraine, something about the throttle therapy takes that away. Well okay, not entirely, as some of the way I feel right now is just pure exhaustion. But it did ease up things a good deal.
I am so looking forward to every mile to come.
Marti Gardner 