Saturday, August 14, 2004
Okay, Crotch Rocket Punks -- Move Over.
I just traded in my Red Hat with the little veil for a Red Helmet from the local Harley store discount table. Added a few feathers. And I’m ready to rule the highway in my Big Blue Booty Jet.
My SUV may not be able to go 255 mph in 1/4 mile. In fact, I doubt it can go 255 mph in 1/4 of a continent. But I think it is just as dangerous on Dead Man’s Curve.
First I strap myself into the lumbar support seat and wrap my hands around the wheel at a risque Ten-Two position. Then I lean forward, lean low, and get ready to roll. Well, as low as my belly will let me bend and as close as my chin can get to resting on the dash. A lotta Bach and a little a/c. Perfect.
As I whip in and out of the lanes, I discover I need to do a ballast lean –- so I lean away from the curves instead of into them. It’s a trick I learned from my ex who once used our children as counterweights when he had driven his van down a washed out dirt road that had half plummeted into the deep canyon below. (That is one of those adventures kids think are so cool and moms would be better off not knowing about.)
Since that Tron-looking biker started taking my expressway every morning during rush hour, I have developed a whole new philosophy on suicide. Why not take half the highway with you? Why not take the cheap thrills of speed and precision steering to get that adrenalin high? If you are too cowardly to do something real with your life, why not do something that imitates feeling real? Feel brave. Feel alive. Crotch Rocket enthusiasts recommend starting with a 600 cc 370 lb. bike. Booty Jet enthusiasts (me) recommend you start with the Saturn Vue. Either way, when you tip, parts are more accessible.
And by the way, am I the only one who keeps thinking of that Lion King song when listening to the news?
I just traded in my Red Hat with the little veil for a Red Helmet from the local Harley store discount table. Added a few feathers. And I’m ready to rule the highway in my Big Blue Booty Jet.
My SUV may not be able to go 255 mph in 1/4 mile. In fact, I doubt it can go 255 mph in 1/4 of a continent. But I think it is just as dangerous on Dead Man’s Curve.
First I strap myself into the lumbar support seat and wrap my hands around the wheel at a risque Ten-Two position. Then I lean forward, lean low, and get ready to roll. Well, as low as my belly will let me bend and as close as my chin can get to resting on the dash. A lotta Bach and a little a/c. Perfect.
As I whip in and out of the lanes, I discover I need to do a ballast lean –- so I lean away from the curves instead of into them. It’s a trick I learned from my ex who once used our children as counterweights when he had driven his van down a washed out dirt road that had half plummeted into the deep canyon below. (That is one of those adventures kids think are so cool and moms would be better off not knowing about.)
Since that Tron-looking biker started taking my expressway every morning during rush hour, I have developed a whole new philosophy on suicide. Why not take half the highway with you? Why not take the cheap thrills of speed and precision steering to get that adrenalin high? If you are too cowardly to do something real with your life, why not do something that imitates feeling real? Feel brave. Feel alive. Crotch Rocket enthusiasts recommend starting with a 600 cc 370 lb. bike. Booty Jet enthusiasts (me) recommend you start with the Saturn Vue. Either way, when you tip, parts are more accessible.
And by the way, am I the only one who keeps thinking of that Lion King song when listening to the news?
Muqtada al-Sadr! What a wonderful phraseOh. And Go Michael Phelps! You work hard, you like Eminem, and you are making us proud!
Muqtada al-Sadr! Ain't no passing craze
It means no worries for the rest of your days
It's our problem-free philosophy
Muqtada al-Sadr!
Muqtada al-Sadr?
Yeah. It's our motto!
What's a motto?
Nothing. What's a-motto with you?
