THE PERFECT DAY


We don't plan perfect days; they just happen serendipitously. A friend's phone call came as I wondered what I might do on Sunday. He asked if I'd like to ride on the back of his Harley to see the bluebonnets and have lunch at Alamos Springs Cafe near Fredericksburg. I answered affirmatively without hesitation, although getting to sleep was a little more complicated than usual after our conversation. I was excited while imagining at the same time all the terrible things that could occur. As I let my mind drift where it had no business going, I wondered how badly it might hurt before I took my last breath should we hit a deer or a car.

I once owned a Yamaha Enduro motorcycle, which wasn't much good on or off the road. My preference was to ride on the back of my ex-husband's powerful Kawasaki. I gave up motorcycles for many years when I became pregnant with my daughter almost four decades ago. I again climbed on the back of a bike about 10 years ago in South Florida. My friend, Alex, apparently wanted to test my nerves by racing his motorcycle at 90 mph down I-90 near Ft. Lauderdale with me on the seat behind him. I passed the test, and we remained friends for many years before his death, not from a motorcycle accident but while under anesthesia for a minor heart procedure. Alex lived his life in the extremes, from serving as a Colonel in the Israeli Army to protesting at Standing Rock. I'm confident he envisioned dying in some other way than on the operating table.

The bluebonnets scattered throughout Horseshoe Bay and on the road to Llano are spectacular. I had a religious experience while admiring unobstructed views of the beautiful countryside as fields of blue covered the side of the road and various shades of green and brown with occasional blankets of bluebonnets covered the hills. I thought about how fortunate we are to live in the Hill Country and how God has been so good to me. I didn't have to be inside a church to feel God's presence, as nature brought Him to me. Any trepidation I might have had before I got on the bike quickly faded as I soaked in the scenery and communed with God. All the roads I had traveled over the years led me to this place and this time.

After cruising 20 miles out of Fredericksburg with rolling hills, ranches, and the Pedernales River accompanying us, we stopped for lunch at the rustic Alamo Springs Cafe. The cafe was overflowing with people enjoying a spectacular spring day in the middle of nowhere. Texas Monthly had once rated their hamburgers as top-notch. As I took the first few mouthwatering bites, I fell in love. It might have been the best hamburger I have ever tasted. I enjoyed it because I've severely restricted my diet and eliminated beef for the past several months, but I'm not convinced of that explanation. I'll make another visit to reach a final conclusion.

I thought of all the Sundays my former husband, our daughter Marcy and I rode a tandem bicycle in the country south of Grand Prairie. As the miles slowly rolled by, Marcy would busy herself by singing songs and asking the repetitive questions of a three-year-old. After an hour or so, I would feel her helmet bumping against my back as she took a nap. The time spent on the bicycle in the great outdoors with my daughter was one of those great memories that burned in my brain, just waiting to emerge on a Sunday that fast-forwarded 35 years to the present day. 

As I sat on the back of the motorcycle from Fredericksburg to Luckenbach,  memories kept cropping up as we passed hordes of bicyclists out for a country ride.

It had been many years since I had been to Luckenbach. When I visited the first time, there were few people present. This time was different as a hundred people were sipping beers and listening to good country music. Most of the partiers, bikers, and hangers-on were in our age range, so we felt a kinship with the audience. Our time there was too short, but I would have felt that way even if we had stayed for hours. Alas, the perfect day was coming to an end.  

I worried myself sick the night before our trip on the Harley. I kept wondering if I was too old. I was wrong about doubting my judgment because I had a blast. Besides, we're never too old to push the envelope by seizing the day. As for being too old to ride on the back of a Harley? All I can say is that I'm never gonna grow up. Not ever.
UPDATE on 2/7/23:  Doug Sanders was the friend who took me on the motorcycle ride.  We enjoyed our friendship for several years, even though we were political opposites.  He teamed with several people to oust those of us on the POA board because we dared to implement the Governor's mandates during the COVID crisis in 2020.  Because of his actions, his resort membership was rescinded.  He contacted me after he sold his house and moved out of town.  I told him we were no longer friends because I took what he did personally.  Doug had a terrible drinking problem and died several weeks ago at age 66.  I miss our friendship, but not his shenanigans.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

DR MCELROY AND TEXAS A&M

Image
  I’ve lived my life with integrity, compassion, and honesty.  I don’t back down from a controversial subject and will always speak out against injustice and prejudice.  I received many benefits from being White, although I was still short-shafted regarding equal pay as a woman.   Case in point: I was replaced by two men when I retired from overseeing a 36-bed rehabilitation hospital and 6 outpatient clinics serving children through adults. The man who replaced me had great difficulty managing the inpatient rehabilitation services. Hence, the Healthcare System overseeing the services promoted a male physical therapist to manage the outpatient facilities.  Each of the men was paid more than I.  It’s probably not a stretch to guess that had I been a person of color with the same credentials, I would not have been hired, and doubly so if I had been a woman of color with the same credentials.   A tenured UT journalism professor was recently recruited to Texas A&M to kick-start their jo
Read more

MY LIFE WITH TERI FLANAGAN

Image
  (Teri authored a story about me entitled "My Life with Dana Rushing" in the local newspaper after I moved from Horseshoe Bay to Austin. It was a total surprise and touched me beyond words. She is now in hospice at a facility in Marble Falls. Teri's husband has given me permission to publish this story. It will be in The Beacon this week.) I’m incredibly fortunate to have a friend I could call to assist me with the various projects I began or coordinated while living in Horseshoe Bay for five years. Other friends also answered my call to action, but Teri was always the first one I contacted because I was confident she would agree to help. Teri once said when she saw my name on her caller ID, she knew I wasn’t calling to chat and that she was being recruited for another project. Still, Teri answered my call. Teri is a talented artist and an avid reader. Her beautiful painting of a colorful donkey hangs in my home. A burnt orange wooden walking stick David made helps k
Read more

ROSA PARKS AND THE DREAM

Image
I dreamed of Rosa Parks last night.  She was sitting in a seat in the middle of a bus with Black men sitting on both sides of her.  I figured they were bodyguards and had joined her after news got out that this 'uppity Black woman' had dared to take her place amongst the Whites. The days of sitting in the back of the bus were over for her.  She worked long, hard days at low wages for a white family and had to take a bus every...damn...day.  Her great-grandparents had been slaves.  Enough was enough.   She felt she earned something more than a seat at the back of the bus.   She didn't know that this small act would set up a firestorm of millions of people being emboldened by her.  More and more people began speaking out, demonstrating, and even rioting to bring civil rights to the forefront.  The battle continued until, at last, civil rights passed.  Racism became somewhat more subtle over 50 years. But the Rosa Parks I saw in my dreams is still in that seat.
Read more