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OK, that's it.
I need to win the lottery tonight. Not just because having roughly 22 million dollars would be a neat thing, not just so I can go pay some white-coated sadist an obscene amount of money to fix my teeth, not just so Kirsten and I can live life without wondering were our next meal is coming from; no, we need to win the lottery because I need a motorcycle.
For the last few weeks I've been dreaming about riding, almost everynight. Just me and a good chunk of Milwaukee iron heading up 101 into the redwoods, or down 1 to Big Sur. Hell, I even dreamed of riding I-5! I want to wear my leathers, and have kids in cars stare in envy. I want to pull into truck stops after 300 miles and eat chili. I want to white line past cages stuck in traffic. I want to do toy runs, and the memorial runs, and the what-the-hell-it's-the-weekend runs.
I want my face in the wind.
So, tonight the California lottery had better come through.
For the last few weeks I've been dreaming about riding, almost everynight. Just me and a good chunk of Milwaukee iron heading up 101 into the redwoods, or down 1 to Big Sur. Hell, I even dreamed of riding I-5! I want to wear my leathers, and have kids in cars stare in envy. I want to pull into truck stops after 300 miles and eat chili. I want to white line past cages stuck in traffic. I want to do toy runs, and the memorial runs, and the what-the-hell-it's-the-weekend runs.
I want my face in the wind.
So, tonight the California lottery had better come through.