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She prepares carefully for the journey now that it's time to go. Meticulous in packing arrangements, she has things in perfect order. Done many times before, this comes as second nature. Well, it's now or never...

She takes out clothes to wear. Always her best color, black will contrast nicely with the pale of her complexion.
She thinks of him as she gets into her clothes. David...gone. It seems so unreal.

The blood clot robbed them of so much, striking fast and fatal. It left her reeling from the shock and David dead, just like that. Touching his jacket still hanging in the closet after all these many months, indulging grief, she misses him. They were united and best friends almost to the point of excluding others. With her husband gone, she feels empty, wanting only what is lost...the sun to her world.

She turns back to preparations. Packed to go, she is anxious to leave. She will drive to Alaska and back through Canada, taking time to see all the things he would have seen. This was a trip they had planned together long ago, like so many others before. Love of travel acquired from him, David will go down new roads with her in memory.

The musky smell of leather completes her dress. Lipstick and comb fit neatly in her jean's pocket. A purse will lie behind, gathering dust in the corner closet...a nuisance always. A quick glance in the mirror for assurance she looks right, black leathers most impressive; then she closes the front door behind. She is ready to go.

At the curb she swings onto her black 650 Yamaha motorcycle, fully dressed. Their large cycle was sold, this smaller machine pleases her. Pulling the helmet tight, she turns on the gas, then hits the electric start. The cycle roars to life as if eager to move. Always, she feels the disappointment of the easy push button, missing the punch of the old kick start,
sacrificed to being a grandmother of three. The support of her family has re-enforced her determination to make this trip.

Adjusting the mirrors, she gears into first before pulling out. Clover-leafing around the city, she wends her way onto I-35, heading north. Air clears as she travels and her dress leathers soften into the warm day. Sunshine leads the way...a clear sign of a good ride ahead. Exhileration of the open road lifts her heart as she shouts into the wind, "Alaska, here I come!"

Leaving Dallas behind, she recalls the greeting of hello and farewell shared with fellow biking friends over the years:
May you have warm words on a cold evening; a full moon on a dark night; and a smooth road all the way to your door.

And she whispers into the wind, "David...ride with me."