The Fog

You would assume that in a logical order of things that I would make this next post about my beautiful, caring, giving, loving wife whom I love with all of my heart and is in fact my soul mate. But this morning as I was riding my motorcycle to work, I rode in and out of strange envelops of fog and mist that was eerie, and yet had some mystic beauty about it. I see how you may still be thinking this could be about my lovely wife, but I am sure if I were to include eerie in any writing about her I may not live to post again. So before I totally forget about this strange fog, I was riding on the Interstate under this soft blanket of fog and mist that was Maybe 20 or 30 feet above me. It was still dark, no sign of sunlight from the east yet. The street lights at the exit ramps reflected off the fog as if it were some sort of faded mirror. Big eight-teen wheeled trucks disturbed the peace of the blanket just enough to leave a soft ripple in their wake. As the road followed the gently rolling hills up and down, I would ride in and out of the blanket. I could see it approaching as the road climbed up to its level and then gently I would be introduced into the softness of it. Then I’d ride awhile thru the damp, cool mist. And as the road descended I would ride out of the soft blanket and again be covered by the soft reflections of street lights. It was quite strange and surreal. Something one could never fully grasp or experience in a car.