This morning I was behind a group of Harleys. I love Harleys. They always make me smile. To me, there is just something bad ass about them. It could be the chrome, or the loud rumblings, or it could just be the image of some (emphasis on SOME!) of the guys that drive them. I’m not sure exactly what it is, but I have always loved them. So much so that I took motorcycle safety so I could one day ride my own. I received my license - rode one once and then I got pregnant and now I’ve become a chicken shit. But, I still love them and one day when my adorable monsters are full grown and can take care of themselves, maybe I will stop worrying and I will get my own. Who am I kidding? I’m a mom - I will never stop worrying about them.
As I was carefully driving behind them and admiring the chrome and loud rumblings, I saw a crotch rocket zip around and zoom right past the group of Harleys and I thought to my self – what a douche bag (which by the way, we apparently say out loud too much in the car, because now Porkchop refers to bad drivers as douche-bags!) Then I thought I must be getting old. While my first love is for Harleys – there was a time back when I went to 12 Mile High – that I did not hesitate to get on the back of a crotch rocket, with some young dude that I had only known for a few weeks and whom undoubtedly had hardly any experience on a bike – and go zooming and zipping around. How stupid that was that?
I take that back, I’m not old – just more mature and responsible. Maybe not more mature. We will just go with more responsible. I guess that’s what happens when you grow up and have babies!
Anyway, one day, hopefully, I will get my very own Harley. It will be super loud and shiny and I will look bad ass on it as I cruise (not race) around with my gang. Or, it will sit in my red barn, with the green roof, with my popcorn truck, and my chevelle, and my lil’ red truck with the smoke stackers and my jeep wagoneer…….
Until next time…watch out for ALL the bikers out there and live, laugh, love xoxo
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