Smell The Ride

THE ODOUR OF GASOLINE fills my nostrils as I plunk myself on the cushy seat of the sidecar. My husband-driver, Frank, has just poured fuel from one of our three attached Jerry Cans into the tank. The roar of the motor fills my ears and the tang from the engine pierces my nostrils.

We drive away from the city of Campbell River, south on Highway 19A. The stench of a recent road-kill grabs my attention. I glance quickly to see the remains of a white-speckled fawn on the highway. Everything seems so close on the Ural bike. I look up to see a streak of white plume following a jet. The sky is brilliant blue and filled now with a low-flying flock of Canadian geese.

The aroma of evergreen trees replaces all fragrances with their robust attempt to stay strong. Fall season, on this part of the Vancouver Island, means that yards are being cleared. The stinging smells of burning bushes fill the air. As we roar down the highway an enormous wave of perfume fragrance fills my nostrils. I close my eyes to help keep the memory of the precious scent but soon the reek of skunk shocks me into reality. Whether near of far, the stink takes over everything.

As a passenger on an Ural bike, you have the distinct pleasure of absorbing the smells that no car passenger would ever imagine. Take your time and enjoy the ride.

Smell is a potent wizard that transports you across thousands of miles and all the years you have lived.

~ Helen Keller  Courtesy of http://www.brainyquote.com

Son and grandson get to smell the ride.

The odour of gasoline.

Smell the ride.