He's old with a white beard & ponytail & in winter he wears a motorcycle jacket as a windbreaker.
People at check-out stands kept saying things like it's a little cold to be riding motorcycle isn't it & watch for black ice & one woman gave him her phone number & said call me if you go on the road & want company.
That night he went to the garage with a flashlight & pulled the tarp off his 45 flathead Harley with the tank shift & suicide clutch that he hadn't ridden in fifty years.
He ran his hand over the tank & then replaced the tarp & left the garage.
Before he was halfway back to the house, his last dream vanished. (reposted with the author's permission)
John Bennet has much to share about life as is.
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