Gut Rumbles

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.


My supervisor is on his way to Sturgis, and he doesn't wear a helmet. Ah, the image of him sitting under an overpass, rubbing the lumps on his head...

Posted by: Mark on August 9, 2004 12:28 PM

Pansies. Any crotch rocket rider will be ducked down behind the wristwatch-sized windscreen doing 150 through the crap.

Being young and crazy has its advantages.

Posted by: Mr. Lion on August 9, 2004 03:27 PM
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