Absence truly does make the heart grow fonder. At least that’s how I felt Saturday afternoon when I was reunited with my Harley Davidson motorcycle.
My wife Lisa and step-daughter Jo Ellen gave me a ride to Memphis Saturday where I picked up my bike from Bumpus Harley Davidson, where it’s been the past few weeks for a major servicing. I typically do most of the routine work myself. It was a lot more fun when my friend, the late Tom McKelroy, was around and we would get together for “oil change parties” – only Tom could turn bike maintenance into a party. But with my 12-year-old Harley pushing 30,000 miles and having sat dormant for the most part since early spring without as little as a 
short ride around the block, it seemed a good time to let the dealer do a complete overhaul.
It didn’t take but a few seconds for me to recall how much I love the wind in my face, the roar of the pipes and the blur of the pavement beneath me.
The weather couldn’t have been much more perfect. Eighty degrees allows for short sleeves, but cool, crisp wind cruising down the highway. I took the scenic route back thru Memphis including a stop by the Apple store at Saddle Creek to take a chance on maybe being able to get a new iPhone.
As expected, a week after the phone was released, the line was incredibly long and estimated at a 3-hour wait to have a chance to purchase a new phone, if they had the size and color you wanted. Looking at the sun glisten off my black and chrome Harley, there wasn’t any chance I was standing in any line for more than two seconds.
The ride home from Memphis made me eager for more, so I got back in the road Sunday, touring the countryside of Calhoun County.
Over the past few years I’ve begun collecting pictures of my Harley made with interesting backgrounds. It’s part of the joy of riding for me, spotting that unique spot for a photo. Among the favorites I’ve made are in a field of 10-foot tall corn in Banner; against a giant stack of logs at a local sawmill; in front of an old brick wall in downtown Coffeeville; in the middle of a sunset on Gum’s Crossing; on an old bridge around Big Creek; up close to a giant pile of white rock at Charlie Chrestman’s; and my absolute favorite, in front of a freshly thinned pine thicket in early spring near Shady Grove.
The potential backgrounds jump out at you when riding a motorcycle, as does everything else. The sites, smells and sounds that are lost when closed up in a car come alive on the back of a motorcycle.
Lisa met me at the top of the driveway when I arrived back home and I immediately told her, “Every time I go for a ride I wonder why I don’t do this more often?”
Traditionally, my Harley has gone into hibernation as we get to the back end of the calendar. I’ve never been much for putting on the leathers and enduring the cold on the bike. This year, however, I’m making a commitment to myself to do more riding through the rest of the fall and winter. It’s too invigorating not to.
Email Joel McNeece at joelmcneece@gmail.com & follow him on Twitter @joelmcneece