Sunday evening I ran east toward Old Hickory, along the lake where the road bends around every little cove and takes twice as long as it ought to. Stopped at a boat ramp where a fella was backing a trailer down about as slow as a man can back a trailer. Neither one of us had anywhere to be, so I sat on the Heritage and watched him work at it. Took him four tries. When he finally got it he looked over and gave me a thumbs up like we had accomplished something together, and I reckon we had. Rode home with the lake going dark on my right.