My grandmother was Nettie Mae.  That’s a beautiful name, isn’t it.  A little lady, full of spirit.  I remember when I was a kid, 10 or 11 years old, going fishing with her way out in the country near Blue Ridge, Texas.  She drove my cousin and I in an old pickup truck out to the fields where our grandfather was working, usually driving a tractor.

I didn’t realize that what I was experiencing was a picture perfect moment.  Maybe we as motorcycle riders need to keep our eyes open for those picture perfect moments, because we probably are exposed to those with every ride.