It was cool and misty when I arrived early Sunday morning to paint the bridge. I needed a day away from the thousands of Harleys that grace Rt. 84 every sunny weekend. I suspect it's the guys with a microphallus condition who mount the extra-loud pipes that rattle my brain matter from the obnoxious audio output they generate. I had such a peaceful morning, until every bike in three states came to see the covered bridges this past weekend. Sucks to be me sometimes, but then, my life tends to read like a comic book most of the time.