Chapter 5 - THE ROAD TO HELL IS PAVED WITH CANADIANS
*** continued from previous post ***
September 27, 2008
Dear Amber,
I’m really having a hard time letting go of you being a Pirate.
Is it too late to change your course of study?
Love,
Daddio
PS. You may want to ignore any notes posted to you by your friends on Facebook or in email. I couldn’t sleep last night and I found your password and login, so I posed as you for a bit. Ever notice how sometimes things that seem hilarious at 3 AM, seem a little crude the next day? Ah well.
PPS. Um . . . I may have taken a bit out of your bank account as well. It’s ok. You owe me.
Chapter 5
The Road to Hell is Paved with Canadians
Did I mention it was raining?
As I said before, most of the trip was a blur. Literally. Riding in the dense mist of a rain-soaked road with spray kicked up by thousands of tires - did you ever see the freeway during rush hour with a good rain pounding the pavement? If you're not driving through the thick of the storm it really is an amazing sight. A gray tunnel of dirty spray. But we WERE driving through it, and it took A LOT of concentration just to keep the bike going down the road. We were wet, tired, cold, and, as Mom pointed out, for some reason when she gets tired I get cranky. Luckily our communication was kept to a minimum, for each time I raised the shield to try to say something - surprise! A mouth full of oily Canadian road juice. Yum.
So we droned on and on and on. Through mountain passes. Through small towns. Through the heart of the Canadian Rockies. I don't remember much other than the recurring thought of 'Hey! We’re going to die!', yet there were a couple of interesting moments worth mentioning.
At some point in the trip, I can't tell you exactly when, or exactly where, because I may have had an out of body experience wherein I was having warm tea and crumpets with the Queen, or Bob Dylan - it doesn't matter really except if it was Bob Dylan I should probably get some therapy because roving hands from the Queen is one thing, but from Bob? . . . but I digress. The fact is at some point mom had to pee.
Fine. I'll just whip this baby across three lanes of certain death and find her a bathroom because that's just the kind of guy I am. Far be it from me to point out that she has a bladder the size of a grain of rice. Did I mention I may have been a tad cranky by this point? Did I mention how hard it was raining? Take that and double it. Visibility was only a few hundred feet at best and often much less.
*** the journey continues ***
September 27, 2008
Dear Amber,
I’m really having a hard time letting go of you being a Pirate.
Is it too late to change your course of study?
Love,
Daddio
PS. You may want to ignore any notes posted to you by your friends on Facebook or in email. I couldn’t sleep last night and I found your password and login, so I posed as you for a bit. Ever notice how sometimes things that seem hilarious at 3 AM, seem a little crude the next day? Ah well.
PPS. Um . . . I may have taken a bit out of your bank account as well. It’s ok. You owe me.
Chapter 5
The Road to Hell is Paved with Canadians
Did I mention it was raining?
As I said before, most of the trip was a blur. Literally. Riding in the dense mist of a rain-soaked road with spray kicked up by thousands of tires - did you ever see the freeway during rush hour with a good rain pounding the pavement? If you're not driving through the thick of the storm it really is an amazing sight. A gray tunnel of dirty spray. But we WERE driving through it, and it took A LOT of concentration just to keep the bike going down the road. We were wet, tired, cold, and, as Mom pointed out, for some reason when she gets tired I get cranky. Luckily our communication was kept to a minimum, for each time I raised the shield to try to say something - surprise! A mouth full of oily Canadian road juice. Yum.
So we droned on and on and on. Through mountain passes. Through small towns. Through the heart of the Canadian Rockies. I don't remember much other than the recurring thought of 'Hey! We’re going to die!', yet there were a couple of interesting moments worth mentioning.
At some point in the trip, I can't tell you exactly when, or exactly where, because I may have had an out of body experience wherein I was having warm tea and crumpets with the Queen, or Bob Dylan - it doesn't matter really except if it was Bob Dylan I should probably get some therapy because roving hands from the Queen is one thing, but from Bob? . . . but I digress. The fact is at some point mom had to pee.
Fine. I'll just whip this baby across three lanes of certain death and find her a bathroom because that's just the kind of guy I am. Far be it from me to point out that she has a bladder the size of a grain of rice. Did I mention I may have been a tad cranky by this point? Did I mention how hard it was raining? Take that and double it. Visibility was only a few hundred feet at best and often much less.
*** the journey continues ***
Labels: Canadians, Humor, mist, motorcycle, pee, Rain, satire, Victory Vision, wet
posted by David M at
10:22 AM
2 Comments:
I just want to tell you that I appreciate you sharing the story of the trip.
Of course I can relate to the riding in the rain parts. Nothing worse when you would love to stop but really don't have the time to.
It was about 66 degrees and just beautiful in the Colorado Front Range today. Got some riding in today and will tomorrow. 16 degrees with 6 inches of snow by Tuesday.
Thanks again!
Score that you're riding gael_cee! I've been out a couple of times this year, but nothing too long. I'm itchin' to get back on the road.
And I'm glad you're enjoying my nonsense. :)
Take care and ride safe.
David
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Keep it nice or I release the Zombies.
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