It was hot and sticky and damp last night on my lunch break. We've had a rash of people calling out sick this past week and I've worked non stop since last Monday with no end in sight it seems like. So I lay down on the picnic table, as one does, at Rest Beach and let the warm tropical sea breeze blow up my trouser legs. I actually dropped off for a few minutes I was so tired, and I only got to take a lunch break at all thanks to a dispatch-trained police officer, who came up and took over the radio for me for an hour. 
I got up off the table, a bit groggy, and thought to myself how pretty it looked under the street lights and what a shame I didn't have my camera with me. Oh but I did, I remembered suddenly, and with most of my lunch break snoozed away I got to work. The lense came out fogged it was damp and i got the rather nice halo effect as though mist was laying over the Key West, but the reality was rather more prosaic: I was thinking to myself that summer is finally here. On the afternoon ride into work the summer rain clouds had piled up all over the flats, big white puffy balls of cotton reflected off the turquoise waters. They deserved a picture of their own but I was late for work and busy working the throttle rather than the camera. I like the Higgs Beach/Rest Beach area not least because its close to the police station and Sandy's all-night Cuban Cafe is on the way so I can sip con leche and watch the waves, and the distant horizon while reflecting on my life.
I got pulled over last week. I was stupid and deserved it, after another shitty night on the radio I wanted to blow the cobwebs away as I rode home. There was an annoying pair of headlights in my mirrors as I came off the four-lane and entered the 45mph at Big Coppitt. I blew past the gas stations and side streets at 60mph and came out the other side with those headlights still in my mirrors. Back on the 55mph I wicked it up to 70, passed a lumbering SUV ( I used my indicators and as usual took the briefest of pauses to check the scene), and then the damned headlights passed the SUV also. Shortly thereafter the blue and red lights come on. Oh well, I was resigned to my fate because usually I pull over and ride at my speed when I'm being followed by a fast car but that morning I wanted open road ahead. I handed over my license, insurance and registration and sat on my helmet. The first sign of good news was that he wasn't carrying the ticket book as he strolled back to my brightly illuminated Bonneville. (This ghostly picture was of my Bonnie at Rest Beach; I lacked the presence of mind to take a picture of the moment...)
"I'm giving you a verbal warning..." he said. I had my papers, I admitted my stupidity and I was wearing proper clothing (and I did use my signals properly, perhaps that helped) and wasn't drunk. If you think people don't drive drunk at 6am in the Lower Keys you might be surprised...
I left work last week right after we got a call about a young man who had fallen unconscious. It soon became apparent that he was in a serious way, the call taker could hear screaming and sobbing in the background as we tried to help bring him back with CPR over the phone. The day shift came in and we packed our stuff and left. As I pulled out the Bonneville onto the Boulevard the ambulance appeared from downtown, all lights and noise. I fell in behind Rescue and ambled along behind them, they headed to the hospital, me headed to the Highway and home. The ambulance was running slowly, keeping up a steady 30 miles per hour and I knew why. A firefighter was driving and keeping it steady while the paramedics attempted to revive him in the truck. It felt like a funeral cortege, as traffic bunched behind the flashing lights and I imagined him so young and so definitely dying right there in front of me, hidden only by the curtain of the ambulance door. The ambulance turned left to the hospital on Stock Island, I revved it up and took to the open road, exercising all due diligence as I wanted neither an ambulance nor another Monroe County Sheriff's Deputy in attendance on my commute that morning.
The Weather Gods did a nice job of fooling me yesterday. I stepped out of the police station after yet another night of blather on the radio ready to wallow in some more of the delicious, lubricating humidity and instead we had received (may the Lord make us truly grateful) a surprise little cold front and the wind was honking out of the north and there were sprinkles of rain in the air and temperatures had plummeted to 67 degrees. I pulled on my waterproofs, which naturally chased the rain away almost immediately but I rode home in blusterous crosswinds and pitch dark. It was entirely exhilarating and being the weekend there was almost no other traffic out at six in the morning. I was actually slightly chilled in the cold north wind, but even in the strongest gusts,estimated above 30mph by the weather service, the Bonneville tracked straight. I was riding a motorcycle that had its mind on one thing and that was finding its way to its stable. We flew (not that fast officer!) and the sensation of flight was increased by the powerful gusts that hit us as we came out of the cover of bushes and buildings into the open windswept reaches of the bridges.
Another day another dollar as they say, though the frequency of my appearance at work is getting a little much. The good news is I get to do that much more riding with all this commuting and this week I blew past the 9100 mile mark. I calculated while showering this afternoon that I have ridden 42,000 miles in the past three years since we moved into the tree house, variously on the Suzuki, the Stella (ugh!) the Vespa and the Bonneville. So many miles for such small amounts of roadway. I dread to think how many would have accumulated had there been real motorcycling destinations!
