A Midnight Ride

I don't typically write this kind of stuff, but I felt inspired tonight. I got off work late. A little overtime. I got my Flat Head back a few weeks ago and really haven't been able to do much riding, so I rode it in to work today. It's about 80 miles round trip, mostly freeway. The ride in was uneventful. A lot of the Saturday riders were out. They'd pass me on the freeway, look over at the UL with confusion and speed away. Oh, but the ride home! As I merged onto the freeway, I miss shifted into neutral and revved the motor up. Rookie move! It's been a while since the flattie and I worked together. I slammed her into second and started gaining speed. Now third. I hope I don't get hit by a drunk trying to get into traffic. I made it. Now into fourth. Where are all these asshole going on the 5 fwy at midnight? OK here comes the 14 fwy. I'll get on it and hang to the right. It's mostly uphill on the way home. I don't want to blow up my new motor. I'll just take it easy. The traffic is light. Maybe I'll open her up a little. Steady as a rock! Speedo says 80 mph. Naw, must be off. How come no one's passing me? I am doing 80! Come on flattie keep it up, here come the grade. Starting to slow. A little more gas. Shit, she's actually accelerating up the hill. Good girl. Just about then a car pulls along side of me and starts to pace me. I know he's just checking out the bike, but I hate that. Pass or fall back. He falls back just a little. Far enough to read the back of my sweater. I swear I see him mouth the word "wingnut" as he reads. He then smiles and takes off. I'm smiling too. I guess it made sense to him that the guy on the '47 UL bobber on the 14 fwy, doing 80 at midnight would have the word "wingnut" stitched to the back of his shirt. As I continued to ride, I couldn't think of any place I would rather be. I wondered if I could make it to Daytona. Maybe next year. As I exited the fwy and rode to the dirt road that would take me home, I was truly happy. I hit the driveway. Shut down the motor and coasted. All I could hear was the crackling of dirt under my tires. I came to a landing at my garage. Got off the bike, walked three paces away and turned to look at the flattie. She looked great under the moonlight. As I pushed her into the garage, I thanked her for my midnight ride.