Sunday morning religious experience

He woke me up early this morning when he got home from work.
He woke me with a kiss and a greeting to the dozing cat on the blanket.
"Come on. Get ready," he said.

I pulled on some jeans, a tank top, two socks and my heavy black shoes.
I pulled on a jacket and grabbed my sunglasses.
"All right. Let's go," I said.

The slight breeze felt cool, with dew on the grass and the sun slowly climbing.
We walked to the driveway as he fastened his jacket and gloves.

The bike was still warm from his ride home.

He swung his leg over the bike and looked at me expectantly.
I swung my leg over the bike and wrapped my arms tight around him.
"Ready?" he asked.

We were off: down the alley, around the corner and past the hospital.
We were off: through the park, following the river, down the hill and downtown.
"Hang on," he said.

The river glistened with early sun rays through the mist.
The river glistened as ducks swam and called to us passing by.
"What a beautiful day!" I gasped.

We sped through the neighborhoods, over the river, and up through town.
We sped past schools and graveyards, businesses and homes.

At a stop sign on the edge of town, he looked back and grinned.

He gunned it. A newly laid road, straightaway, not a car in sight.
He gunned it. A hill up ahead, my chin bumping his shoulder as he changed gears.
The wind ripped any words away.

The bike didn't hesitate; it simply roared with pleasure as it sped past fields.
The bike didn't care as we turned onto the highway back towards town.
"Awesome stretch of road!" he screamed.

We turned back into town, past the businesses, buildings, park and river.
We turned back into town, past the hospital, down the alley and up the driveway.
"Wow," I whispered.