When we go riding

	it's often late in the day that we find the gift of one bright, shining moment...
	the glitter that signals the sun's sliding away from us
	we have a heightened awareness of the way things once were of their present fix or fluctuation & of what they might become someday... soon...
	for us (me & him) it's often not about the destination it's more about the ride
	in the evenings it's about silhouettes & the dance of the light about playing peekaboo with the night things
	it's about listening & looking for secrets & surprises before they're lost it's about finding peace at the edge of the shore, at the edge of the day
	& chasing the moon, winding home holding hands in the dark with the top down, & the heater on if it's chilly with the gentle humming of the road in our ears

Going for a ride is a family tradition for both of us. Young Handsome loved cruising in his uncle's massive convertible... huge fins & fancy two toned seating. At the same time, a couple of hundred miles away, I was luxuriating in the back of my dear Daddy's 1947 International Harvester pickup as he rambled down back roads & pig trails. I was Daddy's little sidekick. I knew the best feed stores, the freshest vegetable stands, which filling station had the coldest cream sodas... where to buy rolls of barbed wire & soft baby chickens.

In those days it wasn't illegal for children to ride in the truck bed. I hung off the side, sang loudly, waved at old ladies (who were probably the age I am now), mooed & neighed (depending on which head hung over the fence.) Sometimes I laid down in the hay & watched as the world overhead passed by: pale spring leaves on low slung limbs, summer moon, autumn birds, winter clouds. That's surely how my love of convertibles began.

the next time you're feeling invisible or uninspired... go for a ride

In an open air vehicle, even a short ride gives a different perspective on the world (not always a good one, but we seek the good regardless.) I often get interesting images without leaving my seat, sometimes without even slowing. We can see the entire sky, & we feel part of it (again, his words, not mine.) We notice things we've missed, we see the details... pulled out of our little sedan cocoon, we're hyper-sensitive about exercising our focus.

	if you're feeling overwhelmed, like you're drowning in life's "stuff"... going for a ride can renew your spirit

We (he & I) have somehow always known that at least some of the things we loved as children will always be essential to our adult well being. Riding in a convertible is an important one to us both... a teenage boy, feeling like he's one with the clouds at the summit of the bridge (his words, not mine) & a little girl, intrigued by sunbeams & moon sparkles, forgetting that the wind is making a mess of her hair.

Even at our age, that's simply who we are? Yes. Yes, that's us.

Now you may not think that an extra car, especially a convertible, is copacetic with my need to simplify, but consider this: the steady simplification of our lives is more than the clearing of physical clutter to create space in our rooms & our heads. The goal is to allow for a more relaxing existence, & to liberate our minds of distraction in order to appreciate what we each decide is really important. That's a pretty good description of what the convertible does for us. The fact that it reinforces our lingering youth? That's happy gravy.

So... get out in the fresh air, go for a ride

let your mind fly, & really see what you might be missing~ like porpoises under the moon see how wonderful the ride can be? (maybe in a wonderful, beat up old truck)