A couple of weeks ago we had a fluke 84-degree day up here in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan which stirred the gypsy blood of all motorcyclists, myself included, though I don’t know how to ride.  Both my hubby and I had gotten some pretty depressing financial news so hubby disrobed his mistress--the purple Sportster--from her winter cloak and took off for a scoot.  I was sitting on the retaining wall that surrounds our front porch, allowing the sun’s heat to penetrate through my jeans, as he