They being dead yet speak

I use those words for the title because today, after hours winding through cold wind-swept roads, paving a way through nature's attempts to take back the tar, when I looked over a grey expanse of water I heard this music.

Marlon and I rode today.  It rained so heavily at times that we hid under trees, soaking, while Marlon rolled wet cigarettes.

After the Reefton Spur we stopped at Warburton to warm up.

We were to ride new roads.  Greasy clay tracks amid giant ferns.  And to return to Melbourne at the day's end.

At one point early in the day, after rolling through the Black Spur at a delayed pace, we pulled up together and all I could say was, "What fun motorcycling is!  It simply is damn fun!"  Motorcycling gives me a simple, profound joy.