There are a lot of wonderful sounds of summer: the crack of a baseball bat against a ball as it connects on the sweet spot, the flare-ups of a charcoal grill as the fat from a big ole beef patty starts to melt and drip down, the chirping of the birds, et cetera.
But one of my favorites is the unmistakable rumble of ten or more Harley bikes and choppers as they come down the main drag and zoom by. I never hear that sound that I don't immediately wonder if that's not the sound of an amphibious landing.
The personal blog of author Kelly Sedinger, chronicling the adventures of one overalls-clad wanderer.
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