Dichotomy

Is spring all that far away? The tingle in my bones tells me it isn't.

When the sun shines a bit brighter and we start to see glimmers of the ground under all that snow, my motorcycle comes to mind. The insurance is paid up, the bike is polished and ready to go, and now all we are waiting for is a dry day. That is, dry pavement . . . can't be any ice, for sure.

But, sometimes as I start to think of the few months we can jump on our motorcycles and make the day different from so many before us, the dichotomy of what can be found in Fowlerville comes to mind.

There was an afternoon last summer, as my husband and I rode slowly through town, a feeling of yesteryear and our modern lives coincided. And it was the feeling of opposites, or contradiction, that collision of two things that don't really go together . . . the dichotomy of it all.

There is always a feeling of stepping into years gone by as one ventures through town . . . brick buildings, old-fashioned streetlights, tall storefront windows book-ending a single front door . . . but it is no more apparent when a motorcycle rider gives a wide berth to riders on horses.

Since that day, I have watched these riders wander through a parking lot at a fast food restaurant and then turn toward the downtown, and I witness drivers giving them the same wide berth we did. Once again, it reminded me of you never know what you might see in Fowlerville.