A motorcycle....

...came past me on the hilly County secondary road this morning as I was coming home from a town run.

I was coming up the hill and he suddenly came over the crest going the opposite direction. All I got was an instantaneous glimpse and he was gone. Tall, slender black bike, rider in black full-face helmet and black rider's gear. Quick, very loud unmuffled twin-cylinder exhaust snarl.

Could have been a customized old Sportster from back when they actually had large diameter wheels, or as likely an up-to-date Euro techno something.

In any case a real rider. He was going over the speed limit and I was 5 over myself, in my car. I rode like that, too, 60 years ago.

Driving into town an hour earlier, I'd braked for a doe crossing the road. Lots of deer between us and town.

So I dug out one of my old drawing books that I'd written this in all those years ago:

GREASE SPOT JATAKA
motorcycle rider just
live a prayer away
time to say “Sweet
Jesus” and he's gone