Bright morning, but rainy afternoon. Chilly. Perfect for reading (in between naps).

Previously, I had cleaned the motorcycle of its winter pall, changed the oil, inflated the tires to proper pressure, and replaced the four-year-old battery. Today, late morning just as the clouds were moving in to take over the blue sky, I drove the bike down to a dealer in Darien, WI, for some transfusions—brake fluid (which over time turns into jelly), coolant, hypoid gear oil, and the like. Sue picked me up and we had lunch at the truck-stop right off US43 before heading home.

I need to get the bike into top operating condition, seeing as Bri and I are planning a last ride prior to his selling of the beautiful black and yellow Suzuki GSXR crotch rocket he has had since high school. (When you reach his age and stage in life you no longer need a crotch rocket.) (And when you have a new F150 Platinum.)

Whereas me, at my stage of life, I'm thinking why sell the Mean Streak? Although I don't use it much, I still feel competent and capable of riding. It looks good and sounds good. And there are certain fall days when wandering off through the hills, on the back roads, sounds like the the best possible thing to do.