Dreams

The sun is at its lowest.
The snow and ice coat the branches of trees and our machines sit idle under tarps, in sheds, waiting.
We dream of the the K1200R, the Vstrom, BMW r65, Majesty and Burgman, cruising the winding, tree lined, car sparse, roads of Eastern NY, Western MA, Western CT and Southern VT.
We dream of Triumph Bobbers, seductive red Vespas, old, old vintage metal of bygone days.
Now is the time to act, sleep fading from our hearts, pursuing new objects of desires, which shall never be fulfilled.