Home is where the engine purred

Flippin' through station after station and not being satisfied with the salsa, or the mamba or any reggae, hubby number two needed rock, anything as long as it was die-hard American music. Thank goodness it was not country when he found Tom Cochrane beginning to ballad rock his way through curvaceous roads in a song that holds a candle of 'good times' to this brief second marriage.

Two people 'in-love' with the idea of having someone else around to be 'in-love' with for the moment. That is a syndrome many associate with full love but it is merely a phase of better and more challenging things to come, if you last and it stays sweet you made it. If you don't well that is another memory. The highways around Sarasota ribboned through some marshes, inland lakes, swamps and underdeveloped neighborhoods where as long as the continental's engine purred, MH was safe. Getting stalled or running out of gas was not an option, therefore all provisions were made before departure.

This guy was an engine fanatic, motorcycles, cars, mowers, machinery--it was what brought him to life. As he enjoyed the internal workings of combustion, acceleration and euphoria, I took in the scenery all different kinds. Beaches with white sands, palm trees with luscious blossoms, the smell of salt, lemon and oranges filled the air. I became one with nature while the nature of his beast took over in the meanderings of a car driving along wide open road without a care in the world.

His fascination with engines and the whirring life they brought into stuff was more than a passion, it almost reeked of obsession. A good one though because if those engines were fizzling out he would crank them back up, if there was wear and tear, he would be fixing them up. All the 'toys' he had especially the Harley Sportster and this Lincoln Continental we rode to Florida in, was the home he craved most. Behind the wheel with two or four tires below, MH felt free, in control, powerful but thankfully not reckless. That home of choice was where his heart was least restricted. I understood the prison he would be trying to escape from and even if only for a short while I gave him leave from that prison, I gave him a little while Tom Cochrane gave the rest: freedom !