Sunday, May 16, 2010

Born to be wild.......

A couple weeks ago I decided to embrace my 56 years and accompany my husband on his motorcycle for a Sunday "putt" as he calls it. Normally I decline saying I have things I need to do....clean the oven, vacuum behind the refrigerator, name all the squirrels in the yard, but this time I was ready to roll. It delighted me to answer my grown daughters' phone call with, "I'm going with your father to see the wildflowers on his bike, don't know when we'll be back". To hear, "be careful" tickled me! That it's ME dabbling in risky behavior is too gratifying.Of course my husband is extremely careful and wouldn't risk even one dimple on my soft doughy rear end. I got all my gear on...leather jacket(nope, old Eddie Bauer), gloves, boots, helmet, and my blue calico pillow to lean against. A look of utter disbelief and horror registered on my husbands' face. "What?" This could be a deal breaker... evidently calico pillows are unacceptable adornment...really?! He got out a hacksaw and altered the existing backrest made for an anorexic, not a full grown woman with her own unique back padding (I know because I had just glimpsed it in a department store dressing room and stared in disbelief at the unfamiliar architecture of my own flesh. These things happen when you refuse to have full length mirrors in the house. I would be happy if the only reflective surface was the one on the toaster!) My husband is so happy I'm riding with him, certainly now that I appear to have nothing left in direct opposition to the biker code. He gets on and fires it up, I step on the foot rest and swing my other leg over....OMG!.....just as we take off I get the worst charlie horse in my right buttocks. I don't breath for the first 3 miles, so when he asks,"how are you doing back there?", all he can hear is something like, "your mama!" And I wonder what would happen if I let my leg dangle, how fast would the asphalt chew up my boot, I imagine it would be less painful than this cramp! Hey, maybe it would sand off that ugly enlarged bone( okay, it's a bunion) Thankfully the pain eases and I admire the scenery, the abundance of wildflowers, and the sweet smell of lupin in the air. I feel young again, happy to be alive! We pull off the road after a couple of hours at an old cafe out in the country. Lots of bikes in the dusty dirt parking lot, the place looks like it should be condemned (guaranteed to have the best burgers).There are no table clothes, no menu, no screens on the windows, no vacuum apparently, and definitely no dental plan. A sign above the bar says, Helping Ugly People Get Laid Since 1955. The food is mouthwatering good, lots of happy faces with bad helmet hair. After a few mouthfuls...maybe it was the beer...I decide every sentence should be peppered with a "hell yea" or a "shit no!", it is a biker bar after all....that is until my husband refers to me as his "bitch" do I see the error of my ways. We head back home, give the biker wave to all our fellow travelers .....the weather is fine, I'm fine, Jim's fine, and all is well!................


the Q said...

omg..I can't believe I am the twin to such a great wit..I get it, I'm the dim-wit! Q

The Godfather said...

shit yeah, motherfucker!

My Favorite Photo

My Favorite Photo
I'm the twin troll on the right
I was born a twin, although I was the first one to appear, so maybe that makes me the normal one. Anyway, my mother was fond of Toni perms in the 50's and thought our straight blond hair could reap the benefits of that products curly promises......questionable! The hair solution was so nasty all the windows and doors had to be opened, any food product left out on a counter had a slight mystery flavor, the cat stayed outside for a week. And the end result...well, my twin and I refer to that period as the "duelling Bozo's"

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