One winter's day

Today was one of those winter days we seem to get so often in Perth. The sky was a flawless blue with barely a wisp of cloud. There was little wind ... and no sign of rain whatsoever.

So it was inevitable that my thoughts turned to a quick ride on the motorbike somewhere ... anywhere. Fortunately, Dearly Beloved was in the same frame of mind. She wanted somewhere quiet, a little bucolic -- but with good coffee. (As she drinks decaffeinated coffee, her version of "good" and my version of "good" differ somewhat.)

So, Swan Valley it was. While the ride was soothing and the weather kind, it was anything but "quiet" in the Valley. In fact, it was so crowded at one stage we were wondering whether we'd  time-warped and it was really Father's Day. Most of Perth seemed to be there; car parking areas at breweries, wineries, restaurants, cafes, the Chocolate Factory, were full to overflowing.

Fortunately for us, Yahava Coffee, while busy, had room for the bike and us. I ordered the coffees, lashing out on the "3C special double shot" for me, and dropping my voice to a whisper when I ordered DB's decaf. I think some of the others waiting in line heard me though -- it was hard to miss the supercilious sneers and sniggers.

Wonder of wonders, we scored a table outside in the sun, overlooking the duck-filled dam. Looking away over the green vines to the Darling escarpment, watching the big jets thunder overhead on their way to Perth Airport, the sun filling our heads with cotton wool and the coffee rich and warm, we struggled to stay awake. We didn't even need to talk, just share the moment together. For 30 minutes it was sublime.

Even the traffic on the ride home didn't phase me. DB chatted to me over the intercom. I know she was talking because I could see her hands moving, reflected in the rear vision mirrors.

The old Divvy seemed to have a life of its own, gliding in and out of the traffic effortlessly, just a twist of the wrist all that was needed to pull away from the cars. A push and a lean and we heeled into the turns like an eagle banking on a wing. With the wind rush across my helmet, the smells and sounds of the road intimate companions, even feeling the difference in air temperatures as we rode, we were a part of the environment in a way you never can be in a motor vehicle.

Once again I am reminded of why I like motorbikes.