Batgirl, Batgirl, Batgirl.
What are you doing?!
Seriously, just look at yourself. Must you insist on sullying your good name by riding around on some motorcycle whos front fairing appears to have been formed by squeezing mashed potatos out of a pastry bag?
Are those…? Wait a minute! Are those ruffles?
D…d… do I see fringe on your seat?!
Oy vey. I think I need to sit down.
Bush Fire Warning Level is at Code Red for Extreme Danger. That precariously placed magnifying glass is bad news, sister. You’ve been warned.
As usual, I was flipping thru my picture archive looking for something to strike my fancy. There it is, todays picture the beautiful Royal Enfield Bullet. Delightful. If I dare say, charming.
[cue harps for daydream sequence]
I can see me with my pink, silk scarf flowing, tootling down the road under a cloudless, blue sky. Heart shaped puffs of exhaust leave a perfumed trail in my wake. The trees gently wave to me as I putt-putt along.
‘Why, hello there, Miss Fuzzy. Fine day we’re having.’
A fine day it is indeed, Mr. Hemlock. All is right with the world when you’re piloting such a delightful machine. Oh Bullet, you are the consummate gentleman.
Well, except for that whole chauvinistic advertising literature thing…
Have you seen that new Coke Side Of Life commercial where the old guy is sitting in the nursing home is offered a Coke. He says something like ‘.. never had one…,’ and he takes a sip? He is so knocked out by the taste of this coke that he wonders what else he hasn’t done in his life. Fast forward to a montage of this old coot whooping it up, doing all of the things with his life that he put off or never got around to. In this vignette, there is a scene of him buzzing down the freeway on a green Kawi.
It made me wonder about my own advancement into later life. I sat sipping a Corona thinking about my future in this world my own mortality. Here i am, a stones throw from middle age. What will I be like in 10 years? Will I further mellow? Will my restless spirit quiet down? I pondered these things and I came to a conclusion.
I wanna be like the late Jennifer Paterson. She was one of the two feisty, old broads on that cooking show Two Fat Ladies. She smoked, drank, ate like a Viking and cruised around with her partner in crime on a Triumph Thunderbird with a sidehack. 71, she was when she exited this place, living life to the fullest until the end. Brava.
What is it about motorcycles that keep people youthful? There is definitely something to it.
Delly, if you happen to read this… I get first dibs on piloting, you hold the map. XOXO
Gosh, I’ve just been so.. un-bloggish lately. I guess I’m in my winter slump. Le sigh. So anyway, I was digging through my picture archive, reminiscing about the good times… and I click past this… this.
Two Brothers has put this number together for Rolling Stone Magazine’s 1000th issue. A quote from their page says: ‘There were a lot of long nights and skinned knuckles, but the results speak for themselves…‘
I don’t know. This bike is sayin’ somethin’, all right. Its sayin’ somethin’ and it ain’t good.
Do you think that they skinned their knuckles wrestling the Anaconda to make that seat? Yeesh.