Tuesday, August 16, 2011

No, you can't have my number

So, as my you-need-gas-soon-light came on, I decided I'd fill up before heading home. I pull into the gas station, and find myself in a conversation with a stranger. Don't get me wrong now, I'm all for random conversations with strangers and even a little flirting, but if you're 15 years my senior and do not ride AND you start the convo with "Where's your man at?" then there is no way in hell you're getting my number. As a matter of fact, a snowball stands a better chance surviving hell and maintaining its snowball-iness than you stand a chance of getting my number.

Also, mentioning your income level is not a selling point. In fact, I find it kind of vain.

Pervert dude: "Where's your man at?"
Me: *looks around.* *shrugs* "Hmph. Guess he must've fallen off..."

That reminds me of that shirt which reads "If you can read this then the bitch fell off" on the back. I really ought to buy that shirt.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

She thought I was a guy

So I was riding through town on my way home from a ride through the refuge, and as I'm approaching a light that ought to turn green, this chick and two guys were crossing the street between my bike and the light. I guess sportbike to most people evokes the notion that the rider must be a guy because she tried to flag me down.

She ought to know what happens when one assumes. You find yourself flagging down a pink-bootlace rocking female rider.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

The Ride That Never Was

Yeah, I totally stole that from a book. In this crazy heat wave we currently have, I was pleased to find that there are enough crazy people who are still riding. I think, I'll take this moment to define riding. Riding = at least 25 miles of being on a bike moving in a certain direction (preferably not down). Riding does not mean riding the streets of town (riding the cruise) or "riding" to a car wash. Unfortunately, most riders who ride (as defined) have cruisers (no offense intended). Looks like I need to find some cruisers to ride with because finding someone with a sportbike who rides and doesn't belong to a club is a challenge which I am tired of. Guess I'll be riding solo for the most part.

I found a couple of riders who were interested in going to Lake Altus with me. You know what they say about the best laid plans. We got off to a late start and after the boys were happily fed, there wasn't really the time. So a 200 mile ride turned into an 80 mile ride. It was a little warm, and my face received a free sauna from the brainbucket. Speaking of motorcycle apparel and heat, the Red Route Kevlar jeans I invested in are awesome. I was worried that they might be unbearable in the heat, but they're no worse than my regular jeans. I had to take out the knee guard, though. The knee guards never sit right, but there's Kevlar where the guards were.
Almost makes me want to test my jeans: