Two and a half eggs

What came first, the chicken or the egg??

In this case, the chicken, or chicken(s). Before I left to meet my riding partner for breakfast this morning, I watched the neighborhood black hen with her babies. They are so cute. They were all standing in the water dish together, but I could not get my camera out in time to get a photo of all of them in the water. I think my appearance (wearing full motorcycle gear) kind of frightened them, as it would anyone.

Hen with chicks, feathers a little ruffled

Wait! Somebody's missing!

They all sorted themselves out because later when I got home, they were reunited and looking for food again.

Meanwhile, I rode north to meet Hal. The temperature when I left this morning was 56°, 10 degrees colder than when I’d left San Diego exactly a week ago. This has been a strange spring. Last week it was 93° F., today it was in the 50s and 60s. Unfortunately, it is supposed to go back up to the 90s later in the week. I am not looking forward to the heat, and it’s just around the corner. Summer is not something to celebrate here in the Phoenix area.

Hal was in his car today due to recent eye surgery. That was weird. Really weird. It kind of freaked me out at first, but then I just got on my bike and let go of it. He was behind me in the car. We went to Roadrunner again, and when I got there, the place had pickup trucks lined up in front of it. No bikes.

“It’s below 60°!” Hal explained to me patiently once we got inside, as if I were a somewhat stupid child. “Oh!!” I said, the light bulb coming on at last. I forgot that HD riders don’t ride in temps that are outside the 70-80 degree range, and that 60 miles is a “long” ride. Oops.

We sat in front of the fireplace because I was actually kind of cold. We ordered our breakfast and enjoyed the coffee. Soon we were served our food, and after I started eating one of my eggs, I accidentally dropped it; it flopped to the floor like a dead fish. I saw with dismay that the floor was filthy and there was no chance of washing the dirt off the egg and eating it. It was gone. That is, until Hal announced it to the whole restaurant (to my embarrassment), which had the happy result of the waitress bringing me another. So, that’s how I got 2-1/2 eggs for breakfast, plus toast, bacon, and potatoes, my favorite “on the road” breakfast.

We sat there for a while, but then it was time to go. When we went outside for me to gear up, at least there were a couple of HDs out there. It was warmer, after all. The women riders were all two-up with men, and I thought about getting a sticker on my bike that says, “I don’t ride bitch,” but sometimes I do, behind Hal. Occasionally, I do like it, like when we stop for the day while on vacation and we leave my bike at the hotel to keep the parking space while we go for dinner. 😉 We figured that out pretty quickly.

I got on my bike, Hal got in his car, and soon we parted ways. On the way home, I visited the cemetery where my mom’s remains are. I don’t know why I am drawn there, I get no special peace or comfort there. Today, as before, I stood there tracing the letters of my mom’s name with my fingers. I wasn’t thinking of anything in particular except how much I hate that she’s gone. There is nothing “nice” or “sweet” about visiting there. It makes me feel a little calmer, but there is always the great big emptiness that used to be my strong, vibrant, clever mother. Countless times I have thought throughout any day, oh, I’ll have to tell Mother about this when I talk to her later, only to quickly remember that she is now unreachable by any phone that I know of.

Presently, I got back on the bike and went the rest of the way home.

I felt like that baby chick this morning, kind of lost. Unfortunately, no amount of distressed cheeping is going to make my mom come back.

Somebody’s missing, indeed.


2 thoughts on “Two and a half eggs

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