All hail the first day of Layla Season!
Let there be a great huzzah and shedding of clothing!
(Unless you're riding - then you'll need your gear.
Get naked at the end of the day.)



Opening day began with a jaunt to Lynnwood Cycle Barn, where our heroine received a new front tire and innertube, as well as front brakes. In and out in an hour is pretty good for a Saturday, first-come, first-served situation.

The sun was out! It was sixty degrees! Layla and Elsa, on the road, oh my.

Next she spirited me to Shoreline, where I purchased some nice Polaris rain gear, pants and a jacket, from a dude who advertised them on Craigslist. Gotta love Craigslist.

Layla's throaty purr vibrated me down to Fremont, where I picked up the Indian on the Indian.



We picked up his daughter, and then ate late lunch at Beth's Café by Greenlake. Good hash browns. Good bacon. Good golly.



Then the faithful mare bore me over the Aurora Bridge, up Denny Way, and onto Capitol Hill, home of Onyx Leather. There, we left my chaps to be taken in. PJ is a costumer, too (she's done Teatro ZinZanni), so whether you need chaps or a Bjork-style swan dress, she's your gal.

Layla hung tight all the way home to her little shelter, where she went to bed before the rain started.

Sleep well, goddess of the open road. By tonight my hair will match your gas tank, and we shall have completed the opening-day rituals. All hail to Layla, may she live long.

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FYI: Before I ever dumped my motorcycle for the first time, I knew her name was Layla. And after that first time, when I stalled during a slow left turn, fell, and scraped my knee up pretty well, I realized how well-named she was:

Layla, you've got me on my knees.
Layla, I'm begging, darling please.
Layla, darling won't you ease my worried mind.