“…something that gets better mileage, like a Honda,” she said, but that was all he caught since, as usual, he hadn’t been listening to her middle-aged blather.

“Whatever you want to do is fine with me,” he said, but woke later wondering if she really meant to buy a car all on her own, without him along to oversee the process.

The next day after work, he thought she’d given up on the idea since her Lincoln was still sitting in the driveway, big as life and twice as dusty. But the vexed look on her face as she combed snarls out of her hair told him that something unusual had happened.

“I forgot to braid it,” she said.

He puzzled for a minute, then ran to the garage and stood staring at the Honda 350 motorcycle and the terrifying vision of his gray-haired wife riding it. 

by Kathleen Gabriel  Published with Permission

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