Surprise

On a cold Friday evening, well after dark, probably in 1970 or so, my parents and I heard a motorcycle on our front sidewalk. My brother had gotten off work in Fort Worth, and decided, instead of going home, he would ride up to Midwest City. He didn't bring any extra clothes, a toothbrush, or anything. Momma rustled up something warm for him to eat, while we set up the hide-a-bed. We spent Saturday cleaning up and polishing his beautiful Yamaha 650 and my Honda 350. Later that day, Daddy drove us to a custom motorcycle show at the Oklahoma City Fairgrounds, something we otherwise would have never done. On Sunday morning, Momma stitched some vis-queen into a pair of old pants, like chaps, to wear over his jeans, to protect against the cold, and he and his Yamaha barrelled their way back toward Fort Worth. He told us later that he broke out into bright sunshine at around the Arbuckles, and he sang the rest of the way home. That was Deanie.