radman
R.I.P. Our Motorcycling Friend
After a hard day of harassing Homo-Eroticals, Wimmins, and various non-white races, in other words, doin' what I do best :wacko: , twas homeward bound on my blue horse, Frank, when I spotted the most unusual apparition before me. A sweet young thang (well, maybe a medium thang), riding upon her chosen steed, a late model Hardley Ableson. Decked out, of course, with the accoutrements befitting such a noble beast, mufflerless pipes, king and queen (queen and king?) seat, medium ape-hangers (size large on her tiny frame), effeminate-man bar, and no welds on the frame, obviously a weight savings move from Hardleys performance team. Observed from behind (the bike, not her, of course), the bike would get this most awful wiggle along it's length on every bump. I mean, I expected the thing to start shedding parts with every oscillation. Not that she was noticing, having the left hand busy re-attaching her cute little Brando-esque leather cap in what little breeze made it past the large, sticker bedecked windscreen. It was quite the show, and reminded me how far chassis technology has advanced since it was built, oh, 3 months ago or so.
radperson
radperson