For me, a warm, sunny day with silence in the neighborhood - my hammock under a shade tree, me in it with a good book - maybe dozing off to sleep in the warm breeze.
A great tasting cup of coffee while sitting waiting for the sun to rise. Then, when the yellow light starts to creep up the trunks of the trees, I get on my Triumph Tiger and carve up the curvy wood lined two-lane along the river. A couple of hours later, a breakfast and another cup o' joe, and a cigar after. Not a big fat cigar, just a small flavorful one like an Arturo Fuentes Short Story from their Hemingway collection. Return to riding, an afternoon espresso, and pull into a rustic and clean motel and a dip in the hot spring pool. A massage, dinner, another cigar, in a lawn chair watching the sun go down, and a hockey game on the tube to watch until I fall asleep on the select comfort bed.
All this with someone loading and unloading my bags on and off the bike, carrying them into and out of the motel room, and making me that coffee, the stuff with plenty of flavor. Oh, and the helper would be wiping down the bike so it would be clean and ready and fueled up the next morning. If the helper was a female, she'd want me, but I'd have to turn her advances down, but she'd understand. Unless it was my wife, who would still turn my advances down. But it's MY perfect day, so she couldn't. Okay then, it's settled, my wife would come along, on her own bike, riding far enough behind me so I wouldn't have to worry about her, but catch up when I'm ready to stop to do the chores.
That, or world peace. I think I'll have the same chance at either one of my perfect day scenarios coming true.
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A great tasting cup of coffee while sitting waiting for the sun to rise. Then, when the yellow light starts to creep up the trunks of the trees, I get on my Triumph Tiger and carve up the curvy wood lined two-lane along the river. A couple of hours later, a breakfast and another cup o' joe, and a cigar after. Not a big fat cigar, just a small flavorful one like an Arturo Fuentes Short Story from their Hemingway collection. Return to riding, an afternoon espresso, and pull into a rustic and clean motel and a dip in the hot spring pool. A massage, dinner, another cigar, in a lawn chair watching the sun go down, and a hockey game on the tube to watch until I fall asleep on the select comfort bed.
All this with someone loading and unloading my bags on and off the bike, carrying them into and out of the motel room, and making me that coffee, the stuff with plenty of flavor. Oh, and the helper would be wiping down the bike so it would be clean and ready and fueled up the next morning. If the helper was a female, she'd want me, but I'd have to turn her advances down, but she'd understand. Unless it was my wife, who would still turn my advances down. But it's MY perfect day, so she couldn't. Okay then, it's settled, my wife would come along, on her own bike, riding far enough behind me so I wouldn't have to worry about her, but catch up when I'm ready to stop to do the chores.
That, or world peace. I think I'll have the same chance at either one of my perfect day scenarios coming true.
WOW~ I like your day better than my own. Thanks for posting that - it's great!
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