Hey Fadac, I've been considering getting a motorcycle. (My son would kill me -- all the time he was an adolescent, he begged for a motorcycle and I wouldn't get him one. Now that he's an adult and I'm a woman in her "Power Years," as they're calling them now, I'm considering getting myself a bike. (I probably won't, but the fantasy has been pretty insistent lately ...) I had a friend back in New Mexico who had a Kawasaki that went like a rocket and he used to take me riding often. Now that I have no men friends with bikes, I've been considering taking matters into my own hands. However, I'm not all that big and bikes look pretty heavy, so my second worst fear (after going splat! in the middle of the highway) would be tipping over and not having the muscles to keep the bike from falling on me...

Now, Sourdough -- here are those words:

Hear that lonesome whipporwill, he sounds to blue to fly. The midnight train is moaning low, I"m so lonesome I could cry.

Have you ever heard a robin grieve When leaves begin to die? That means he's lost the will to live. I'm so lonesome I could cry.

Did you ever see a night so long, when time goes driftin' by? The moon just went behind some clouds To hide its face and cry.

The silence of a falling star Lights up the purple sky. And as I wonder where you are I'm so lonesome I could cry.

KC