Bikers, baby

We are smack dab in the middle of Bike Week here, and while it annoys the heck out of most of the area residents, I kind of love it. The constant rumble, the new and interesting faces that pop into the library every so often, the traffic back-ups... well, ok... I don't love EVERYTHING about Bike Week.

I think I just really like the idea that for one week out of the year, the place where I grew up is a popular tourist attraction. Because the rest of the year? Not so much.

Besides that, my little man is a lover of all things motorcycle, so having them all over the place is tres, tres exciting for him.

A few years ago, around Bike Week, I went on a couple of dates with a guy who was doing some of the work on our new library addition. I'm not sure it was completely kosher, and in hindsight, I'm not sure what I was thinking going out with a guy who wore a hard hat with a highly visible "Crotch Cannibal" sticker on it, but he was cute and I was young and single, so hey... why the heck not?

Anyway, he had two motorcycles; one sportsbike and one cruiser (or whatever those bigger hogs are called), and one of our dates consisted of him taking me out for a ride on the sportsbike. Without a helmet. (Yes, yes, I KNOW how dangerous that was, and no, I've never done it since). But oh man, was that exhilerating.

Shaws' Guy had a Ducati. And another one of my exes had a bike. (Apparently I'm attracted to the biker boys). However, Mr. Krutchy has nothing of the sort, and probably never WILL, so it looks like I am motorcycle-less this year... unless I get a license of my own.

Hmmmm...