To Mesh or Not to Mesh . . . that is the question.
*** continued from previous post ***
"Dang", I said, rubbing my hands together, "little chilly out here."
"That's an understatement. It's freezing!", Mom exclaimed, wrapping her arms about herself.
"Well, I guess so much for the mesh jacket. I'm going to wear my heavier coat."
I don't think we had the mesh jackets the last time you were home, so you need to know that what I'm talking about is a full sized coat, with Kevlar armor in the elbows, shoulders, kidney area, and back that sports perforated holes on the sleeves and body. That way, when on the bike, the air flows through the holes keeping you cool. It's as comfortable as riding with a T-shirt, but wayyyyyyy safer. Well, relatively safer. If you like your skin it's definitely the way to go.
"I think you'll be sorry babe. Just layer up until we get over the mountains. It's supposed to be hot in Eastern Washington. Upper 90's in some places."
I have no idea why your Mother had her doubts about my weather prognosticating abilities, but she gave me a look like our old dog Barkley used to give me when I was trying to hide a pill in his food. "No, I'm going to stick with the heavier leather jacket."
"Tiger, I know it's cold, but this is a fluke. A local cold pocket. Let's at least try and bungee cord your mesh gear to the nylon bag. If you wear your leather I think you're going to be sorry."
"Well, I think you're going to be sorry for wearing your mesh."
I knew what this was. You're Mom had caved one too many times in the last few days to my demands. She was drawing a line in the sand. She was holding her ground. This was her Masada. She was the Romans. I, logically, must be the hold-outs at the top of the mountain. And we all know how well that turned out for our Jewish friends.
I decided to try one more time, "Sweetie, with the heated seats you'll be fine. Please, let's at least try and take your mesh."
"I'll be fine," she said, quietly and evenly. "If I get too hot, I'll unzip the liner and take it out."
I could see that arguing would be pointless. Fun no doubt, but pointless. Possibly, given her mood, dangerous. No, we would find a way to deal with whatever came our way. If worse came to worse, I would buy her another damn mesh jacket, and mail her heavy coat home.
"Okay. Well, let's get this show on the road, shall we?"
*** the journey continues tomorrow
"Dang", I said, rubbing my hands together, "little chilly out here."
"That's an understatement. It's freezing!", Mom exclaimed, wrapping her arms about herself.
"Well, I guess so much for the mesh jacket. I'm going to wear my heavier coat."
I don't think we had the mesh jackets the last time you were home, so you need to know that what I'm talking about is a full sized coat, with Kevlar armor in the elbows, shoulders, kidney area, and back that sports perforated holes on the sleeves and body. That way, when on the bike, the air flows through the holes keeping you cool. It's as comfortable as riding with a T-shirt, but wayyyyyyy safer. Well, relatively safer. If you like your skin it's definitely the way to go.
"I think you'll be sorry babe. Just layer up until we get over the mountains. It's supposed to be hot in Eastern Washington. Upper 90's in some places."
I have no idea why your Mother had her doubts about my weather prognosticating abilities, but she gave me a look like our old dog Barkley used to give me when I was trying to hide a pill in his food. "No, I'm going to stick with the heavier leather jacket."
"Tiger, I know it's cold, but this is a fluke. A local cold pocket. Let's at least try and bungee cord your mesh gear to the nylon bag. If you wear your leather I think you're going to be sorry."
"Well, I think you're going to be sorry for wearing your mesh."
I knew what this was. You're Mom had caved one too many times in the last few days to my demands. She was drawing a line in the sand. She was holding her ground. This was her Masada. She was the Romans. I, logically, must be the hold-outs at the top of the mountain. And we all know how well that turned out for our Jewish friends.
I decided to try one more time, "Sweetie, with the heated seats you'll be fine. Please, let's at least try and take your mesh."
"I'll be fine," she said, quietly and evenly. "If I get too hot, I'll unzip the liner and take it out."
I could see that arguing would be pointless. Fun no doubt, but pointless. Possibly, given her mood, dangerous. No, we would find a way to deal with whatever came our way. If worse came to worse, I would buy her another damn mesh jacket, and mail her heavy coat home.
"Okay. Well, let's get this show on the road, shall we?"
*** the journey continues tomorrow
Labels: Humor, Kevlar, marriage, Masada, mesh jacket, motorcycles, satire, Victory Vision
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Keep it nice or I release the Zombies.
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