It’s a beautiful Fall morning here in Misery. The leaves have turned and are falling, the air is crisp and dry, perfect leather jacket weather. I just returned from carrying out my civic duty, and I have proof. Check it:



My elementary school polling place was very busy, but not overly crowded. A sweet, little old lady poll worker told me they’d already had over 400 voters and they hadn’t yet been open 2 hours. As I suspected, turnout is going to be huge.

After voting, as I was forking my scoot, buckling and zipping and whatnot, a guy pulled up on a tricked-out Heritage and parked right next to me. In the few seconds of relative quiet between when he shut his shiny American motorcycle down and I started mine, he looked over at me, raised his eyebrows and said, “Are we bikers for McCain?”

I grinned at him and said, “Negative.”

He shook his head resignedly, mumbled “Damn” and walked away.

I’m hopeful that our conversation, brief as it was, holds a harbinger of today’s events.