I paused at the bedroom door. Teresa was just finishing getting dressed for work. I was about to go downstairs and fix my morning cup of joe when she said, "Are you driving into work today?"
"Yes. I'm driving." It was raining and though I can handle the wet roads, my daughter was traveling with me and she would look like a drowned rat after the 45 minute commute to her work.
As I turned to take my leave, I asked, "Will there ever come a time when I don't have to call you when I arrive at work?"
Now before you start thinking she has me wrapped around her little finger (which she does), let me explain something. I've been riding for a little over a year now with over 18,000 miles under my belt. Not much in the grand scheme of things but certainly more than your average 2,000 to 3,000 mile, first year, fair weather rider.
And every morning that I ride to work, a trip of about 50 miles, she expects a phone call soon after I arrive. She doesn't expect a phone call when I drive the quad-cycle but if I'm riding she wants to know that I've arrived in one piece. If I were cynical, I might think she was checking up on me, verifying my travel time, calculating my speed, estimating any detours or unscheduled stops. But I'm not and she isn't.
The conversation is almost always the same:
"Hi. I'm here, upright and vertical. How about you?" Those mornings that have been a little chilly she likes to emphasise the fact that she was warm and toasty in her car for the 15 minutes it took her to get to work. But regardless of the lack of variety in the conversation, a phone call she expects and gets.
Hence, my question.
She pondered what I had asked for a second and said, "Yes. Of course."
I smiled and stepped away from the doorway, already thinking about my coffee, when I heard her say, "Just send me an email."