Hold Me Tight

So I said, to this beautiful blonde standing before me, “Hold me tight and I'll give you a ride you won't forget.” Within minutes we were cutting through the wind, on two wheels, crossing bridge after bridge, bombarded with breathtaking views of the choppy bays and Gulf that reflected the hot orange, setting-sun. We were doing exactly what we do best, riding by the seat of our pants into another adventure, excitement that we create.

She did; she held me tight, wrapped around me in so much practical affection, as we zipped to our island destination. My lady prefers a placid ride, but with those pipes pulsating a powerful rhythm under her, she can't help but giggle, as I pull the throttle tighter, rev the pistons, and drive us forward with roller-coaster joyfulness. The Scrambler's note was raspy and strong; it's tires reached a special resonance on that windy night.

After a while, we came to our destination, an old wooden pier sitting in Tampa Bay. It's historic now, and the powers that be will do what they do with those things. It's being beautified, but the only beauty I needed was the one I brought with me and that which Nature provided, the water, wind, setting sun, and wild creatures – the manatee, the birds, and those happy drinkers dancing to Rocky-Top.

The sky turned dark, illuminated only by a few dozen stars and occasional lightning in the distance. We ate. We reflected. We Tweeted. Then we restarted our journey, this time returning to our grande domestic adventure – family life.

That's the story; except it's not a story. It's how things go, when things go great.

Some photos, taken with my cell phone.

A quick break at New Pass

My Scrambler, resting at Coquina Beach, bay-side

The lucky, wind-blown author and his beautiful mate

City Pier, Anna Maria