The first week of March is always Bike Week! Right? Forever, correct? What?
Decided to go to Bike Week in Daytona. Told Nate to take the first week of March off from his job. Marc tells me they moved it to the second week because the douches at NASCAR moved the Daytona 500 back one week on the calender to give more hype time between the Super Bowl and 500.
Nate couldn't switch the the second week, some corporate pussiness reason. I could change my week off, but that wouldn't be right.
So we are loading up for a pre-Bike Week trip to Florida.
I feel bad that his first Bike Week will not be correct. With the help of the Hog Farm and Greene Acres, we might be able to salvage the trip.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Monday, February 25, 2013
Shell Station
It is late. The sad, empty hours past two. Once again I am ranging the night streets alone. Just me and my motorcycle. The only loyal thing in my life.
There is a lighted oasis. The all night gas station/convenience store. I swing the bike in.
Alone is a heavy weight at night, in Summer, when everyone else has something. Alone is grabbing a soda and the clerk can't even think in your language.
Sitting outside on the painted curb, the bike is creaking and ticking as the metal cools down. Diesels roll by on the interstate, engines low and the tires singing high. Every few minutes the roar of another two wheeled raven does the doppler on my ears.
A miguided beetle bangs his head against the storefront. Fluorescent lights hum, the yellow of the Shell beaming in the night.
Maybe I should have done it her way. Maybe was a long time ago. I made it this way through stubbornness.
Crush the can, you can't recycle hope. Wipe the dew from the saddle, turn the switch and try to ride the loneliness away.
— photo from cmadir's photostream .