It was unusually early for my ride. The darkness was trying to lift off the sleeping earth, but no sunlight touched ground. As light slowly revealed itself as fog, we were many miles from home. Isabel seemed to like the moist world. Fog had settled on her mirrors and on her once shining chrome. Enveloped, her purring seemed deeper, more throaty, maybe even dulled. Even our speed slowed. Everything became a languid and muffled thumping potato-potato-potato and we never wanted to go faster than forty five or fifty. And we didn’t. A nice slow clip showed us sixty miles of woods and fields, interrupted by only a handful of men, rising early and moving at our pace. Soft and peaceful. The mighty sun eventually intruded on the scene but by then we were home and clean. And now I am prepared to greet the twenty-five fresh Ashbrooks and their parents for lunch. A new day for the new year.
Nice, Peter - last night, the wife and I left the kids at mom’s and attended a party out in the country. I stepped on the gas pedal of my new car, upshifting and downshifting perfectly with every curve and hill as the car hugged the unfamiliar road. Not a bad party either.
Good for you. I wonder if man and machine work together better under certain weather conditions, or even time of day. It seems to have something to do with the quality and character of the air.
Maybe you’re on to something, Peter. That driving experience would have been totally different in the dark of night with deer about or in the noon sun. It was a perfect evening with the sun fading and the engine humming. It’s a nice new smooth car so I really had to push it to even hear the engine. And if I didn’t have a 6-sp manual, then I wouldn’t even be writing about this. It was an extension of my arm.