"I want to be somewhere new," she whispers, shifting slightly beneath me.
"What?" My mind had wandered a bit, unfocused, coasting.
"Let's get away, find somewhere new. People have been looking at us funny."
"They're just not used to seeing us together."
"Can't we find some place to get away for awhile? Why can't it be like before?"
"Look, we both have a lot going on right now. Let's just get past this next couple of weeks and then we can figure something out."
"We used to go places, be out together. We had fun doing that. We met some interesting people, remember?"
"Maybe you're right. I'll look around, I got a couple of ideas." I promised.
"Yeah, right." Unconvinced.

She was right of course, her instincts were always good. It did used to be better. Just having that thought made me realize she'd certainly thought it as well. We were still pretty much in sync, all these years together. Great, you've taken her for granted so long, she's thinking of the good times in past tense. Nice work.

"I'll look around, really. I've heard of a couple of places that might work out. I'll check into it."
"Yeah, right." Still unconvinced. "Something will come up at work, it always does."
"No, no, actually work is in good shape. We can do this. I'll find some places for us and in the meantime, we'll get ourselves fixed up a bit. What do you say?"

I'd forgotten just how good a "Yes" can be.

We needed to get out, but we weren't ready. Several times we tried and always something would come up. I think we were trying too hard; she'd get somewhere and need something she'd never needed before; I'd get frustrated too easily, make some stupid remark I'd regret the instant I said it.

Was it me, expecting too much, or was it her, just away too long and it just wasn't to be anymore? One minute we were ready to give it all up and the next we'd be moving together like the old days. It was just enough to keep us going.

Until that weekend a couple of weeks ago. We'd felt ready. Some new things, a bit of sparkle on the old girl to put a spring in her step, a twinkle in my eye. It's a mind thing, we knew that. You have to feel you belong and sometimes it's as simple as having some new things like everybody else. "Hey, we're players."

"So why isn't anybody here?" she asks for about the fifteenth time.
"I don't know. They said they'd be here, I don't know where they are."
"Geez, this isn't rocket science, just arranging to meet somebody."

I knew it wasn't about the time. She figured the worst, of course, she always does. "You told people I'm coming and look, the place is deserted." I could practically hear her thinking it.

"Well at least we'll have a nice time. We haven't been out there in ages and the weather is perfect."
"You're right. I'm sorry, Let's just have fun."

And we did. We were better together than we had been for a long time. Amazing what a little fall sunshine can do. Some of the old moves came back. We both smiled, feeling the years slip away. We found those comfortable places, relaxed, let the mood take us wherever it led. Sweetness.

Afterwords, pretending to each other we hadn't been there before, everything new and bright and fresh, just moving along together, just floating really, listening to the sounds around us, feeling the sun warm us, seeing everything and nothing as it moves past us. We spot our missed friends and join them, listening, just being there, not really hearing, kind of disconnected. And then someone asks, in a whisper just a little too loud, "Hey Phil, you bring her?"

"Oh. Yes." I answered, still relaxed, surprised by the question, unfocused enough to just blurt it out and then look at her with an odd look on my face. But she'd heard the question, and my answer. My awkward response to the unexpected question mistaken for some hesitation, some misgiving, some regret about the relationship. We finished badly, moved awkwardly, parted with few words, down.

"I'm sorry," I said, "It's just that he caught me off guard. I want it to be good."
"I know, I know," she soothes a day or two later. "I'm not blaming you, maybe that just wasn't our kind of place."

We're on the right track, I'm sure. Just need the right combination of place and time where we can both be ourselves, and let it happen. We've been spending more time together lately, working things out we should have long ago, but pleased and happy with the results.

"Hey! I think I got it!" As I roll into the garage after work.
"Really, where?"
"Some place called Belfair. I'm not really sure where it is, but from what I hear people like us go there."
"Let's check it out." sort of noncommittal.

But the twinkle in her eye gave her away. I could tell she was as excited about this as I was. We spent a lot of time together the next couple of days, working through things we knew would be important to have settled. So much to do when there is suddenly so little time to do it. It reminded us both of the old days, the senses getting a little sharper when you know the game is afoot.

When we met the others in the parking lot, she sat quietly, saying barely a word.

"You could at least say 'Hello'." I urged.
"They're so young! I thought you said they'd be like us."

For a moment I thought she would ask to go home, but she just sat as we headed out.

"So, what is it? Too hot, too cold? You're the one who wanted to get away, somewhere new."

Why did she have to pick now to not want to get started. If she didn't want to come, she could have at least said so this morning and saved us the four hour drive out here.

"I just wasn't expecting this, this, I don't know, so much!"
"Hey, take it easy, I know you don't know everybody. But Marc's here and Jim. You know them. Let's just relax and see how it goes."
"I want to talk to Marc."
"Okay."

After a bit, everyone seems ready. While we struggle to start, move cautiously, get a feel for the area, the others dart here and there with such energy, so light, so nimble, moving so easily. They seem so oblivious to what we concentrate on, we wonder what secret we've missed, how long they'll tolerate our ineptness. Some are moving in ways we've only seen on TV. We look at each other, not quite daring to believe, unsure if we're sane after all.

At first, it's a bit awkward in front of the others, but soon everyone is concentrating and we're alone. And it's working. My technique is poor, but her natural instincts work nicely and we move easily and it is good.

Too slow and it's too hard. Too fast and we're not as young as we used to be. But for several long periods we hit that perfect pace and we know we've found what's been missing for us. The two of us moving together, first up high, then low, a little faster, then easy. And more than an occasional surprise, taking a turn where you least expect it, showing each other moves we didn't know were there, laughing out loud when it works just right in spite of ourselves.

But we aren't as young as we were, so we need an occasional break. A couple of times we try too hard but the awkward tumbles are painless. We grin at each other, knowing some things are best left to the young. Some of our companions are really showing off now, with mixed results. We laugh, thinking of Dirty Harry's admonition: 'A man's got to know his limitations.' We're happy knowing ours.

And we're off again. Up then down, high then low, mostly wet, sometimes dry, struggling in some places, flying across others. Sure, the extra pounds and years slow our pace, but we hardly notice. The others stop often, waiting to see if we're okay. We grin, knowing we are.

After, sitting there together in the rain, exhausted, but not tired, we know we'll be back. Oh sure, we gave each other some bumps and bruises and we've found weaknesses the young don't have, but this is good. This is where we can know each other again and move together again and it will be 1974 again.

Phil
'74 XL250