Biker Babe my ass!!!

The husband and I went for a motorcycle ride yesterday after slaving away in our front yard pulling out some hideous bushes.  I don’t think he is going to want to take me ever again. The wind was blowing 70 miles an hour which is not very conducive to bikes…. After the first 20 miles my ear drums hurt from the wind pounding them, the tops of my ears hurt from being beat against my own head violently, my tear ducts will be forever dry after pouring every bit of moisture out they could produce and I think I need to apologize to any motorist in the rural Tipton/West Branch/Solon area for flashing them as the wind tried to tear my tank top off. Or maybe I should say, "Your welcome!"

The straw that broke the camel’s back was when I felt something tear at my hair. I promptly had a girly freak out attack thinking some large bug, maybe even bird, was tangled in my hair. After mustering up some courage, I raised my hand up to check the damage and luckily found nothing there. Waitaminute….. The Wind (and it shall now be capitalized as it is a living, vicious entity) decided to yank the barrette that was holding my bangs out of my hair and fling it into the surrounding corn fields. Nice Wind, I really appreciate it.

Knowing we were going to be in public in just a few miles I pulled out my pony tail and decided to wrangle the bangs back in. Fuck, the Wind was not having it and ripped the pony right out of my grip! Showing my true biker colors I yelled a stream of profanities that went something like this, “cock sucking, mother fucking, son of a bitch. I AM DONE!” (Again, my apologies to the lovely couple that happened to be riding their own bike past us at that exact moment.)  I also threw my arms down at my sides like  a 2 year old…thank God I still had enough sense through the blinding rage and didn't stomp my feet on the foot pegs.

We arrived at this little bar/historical bridge landmark and I told him to park as far away from people as possible. I don't think even a rowdy biker crowd (or the group of farmers on tractors out for a nice Sunday drive) would appreciate my Wookiee impression or really foul mood. We took a quick drink of water and smoked a cigarette and decided to head home. After we passed the convoy of tractors at 90 miles an hour I made the giant mistake of asking how many miles before we got home….another temper tantrum commenced. Husband asks if he should leave me on the side of the road, drive all the way home and come back to pick me up with the car. Hell to the no….I was super frickin’ sun burnt and DONE! When we reached the garage he made the comment, “I guess I should just sell the bike then!” My reply, “I guess you should have married someone  that enjoys riding motorcycles!!!” Yeah, that didn't solve much. Guess I am done with the bike for another year…especially since it took me loads of conditioner and 20 minutes of brushing ripping my hair out to get it un-snarled.

I think my hair looked something like this when I screamed, "This is NOT a good look for me!?!?!?"