August 08, 2004
the joys of biking
We tried to outrun a vicious thunderstorm on our way to Nebraska today. We lost the race. The sumbitch caught us and pummeled the Snake with a torrent of rain that quickly turned to marble-sized hail. That crap was falling so fast and so hard that it sounded like gunshots when it hit the windshield. I became worried about the rag-top being punctured. Recondo kept driving. ďWe gotta get out of this shit,Ē he said.
Remember all the bikers I mentioned below? OF COURSE YOU DONíT!! You havenít read that post yet. But we saw some of them (in fact, A LOT of them, since the place was CRAWLING with bikers) caught in the same maelstrom.
Montana and South Dakota donít have helmet laws the way Georgia does. Every biker I saw was riding with nothing but a doo-rag on his or her head; however, they werenít riding through that storm. They were hunkered down on the side of the road, covering up while rubbing the knots on their heads.
Man, that HAD to hurt.
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