![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I'm now the proud owner of leathers. Yes, as in, plural. And what are leathers, exactly? Well, they're basically the core of motorcycle safety...vest, chaps, and jacket. All in super-soft thick black leather that will protect the wearer during pavement skids of up to about 80 feet...76 feet farther than denim will protect you, so that's pretty cool.
I'm mucho excited, in case that's not already evident.
And to make the excitement even greater, I'm going to get to wear my brand new leathers on a 2000+ mile ride to and from Sturgis, SD, in a week and a half. And I get to relax on the back of a 2000 silver Harley Davidson SuperGlide Sport, so I don't hafta think about HOW to ride, but instead get to be amazed and stare in wonder at the Mighty Cool Badlands and stuff. I hope we have to stop for a buffalo along the way.
I wonder if they have those little 25-cent pellet machines that you can by buffalo-food from, for to feed the fuzzy critters. If not, they really should.
I know a guy, who I shall call Rich, for that is his real name, who used to live near Sturgis, or maybe he went there one year...dunno...doesn't really matter for this story. Anyway, one day he was driving/riding (not sure which) through the Badlands, and hadn't seen another soul for like an hour or more. He stopped on the side of the road (so I guess he was riding, now that I think of it), and he hears this squeaking noise. He waits, and listens, and then around the bend, he sees something...it's an Eskimo, riding a bicycle. Through the Badlands. A freaking Eskimo. That has to be the best Badlands story I've ever heard, for real.
And yes, it's the only Badlands story I've ever heard, to be true, but I think even if I heard another one, the Eskimo story would still emerge as the winner.
I think I'm done now. At least for now. I forgot how fun it is to write about absolutely nothing, except for the things that make you smile. Which, I guess, isn't nothing at all.
*hugs herself in happiness*
Yeah, I'm done.
I'm mucho excited, in case that's not already evident.
And to make the excitement even greater, I'm going to get to wear my brand new leathers on a 2000+ mile ride to and from Sturgis, SD, in a week and a half. And I get to relax on the back of a 2000 silver Harley Davidson SuperGlide Sport, so I don't hafta think about HOW to ride, but instead get to be amazed and stare in wonder at the Mighty Cool Badlands and stuff. I hope we have to stop for a buffalo along the way.
I wonder if they have those little 25-cent pellet machines that you can by buffalo-food from, for to feed the fuzzy critters. If not, they really should.
I know a guy, who I shall call Rich, for that is his real name, who used to live near Sturgis, or maybe he went there one year...dunno...doesn't really matter for this story. Anyway, one day he was driving/riding (not sure which) through the Badlands, and hadn't seen another soul for like an hour or more. He stopped on the side of the road (so I guess he was riding, now that I think of it), and he hears this squeaking noise. He waits, and listens, and then around the bend, he sees something...it's an Eskimo, riding a bicycle. Through the Badlands. A freaking Eskimo. That has to be the best Badlands story I've ever heard, for real.
And yes, it's the only Badlands story I've ever heard, to be true, but I think even if I heard another one, the Eskimo story would still emerge as the winner.
I think I'm done now. At least for now. I forgot how fun it is to write about absolutely nothing, except for the things that make you smile. Which, I guess, isn't nothing at all.
*hugs herself in happiness*
Yeah, I'm done.
