Alone Drone

Just some stuff I did today. This is Ronnie and me. I've talked about her before, but I don't know if you've actually met. The Beneficiary got fed up with my whiny ass and chucked me out and told me to go ride first thing this AM. Like when it was still cool. I argued with her. For about 3.5 seconds.

I was, as almost always, alone. Today I'm feeling lonely, too. Lonelier than usual. But they're not related, being alone and being lonely. It's just that I'm not a crew rider, normally. When I'm with a crew, it's usually specific-purpose - a particular run, a particular bar, a particular event, a particular piece of business. For just getting out and about, it's almost always just me. The peace of the ride, communing with the bike -- it's all a solo pursuit. Go where I want. Do what I want. See who I want. Take the time that I want. Eat where I want.

Like this little cafe I stopped at in a little town that's barely more than a crossroad in Oklahoma. You've never heard of the town. Neither had I, other than as a road sign pointing a direction I'd never taken before. I pulled up out front -- early, no lunch traffic yet. Starting to get warm -- it eventually got to be better than 100 today. The sign next to the "No Cards!" warning says all you need to say about this place.

Wrote about a thousand words about it, about the sad desperation of the young waitress there and our ennui in a nondescript room in a dusty truckstop motel in Waurika, and heat in Wichita Falls, and rednecks in Archer City, and.....well, and about the rest of the ride.

But I just got in not long ago, and I'm sunburned, windburned and my ass is ride-chapped nearly to my shoulders, and those thousand words need to be put into some kind of order, so I'm showering and going to bed instead. Maybe I'll put them up here tomorrow.

Or not.

For now, a little biker pr0n...

Veronica's Curves Against My Thighs At About 70

Except for various versions of "what if," miseries, it's been a good day.