And so do people. Probably 'cause you're always craning your neck looking up at them.
Like the man in denim I saw in the grocery store line when I was seven. He seemed huge, tall, with thick black hair down to his shoulders.
I looked up at him, standing in that grocery store line, and, man, I wanted to be that guy.
When he left that store, I had no doubt he hopped on a motorcycle and rode away, paper sack of groceries in hand.
A few years later, I was stuffed in a VW bus with my siblings, tooling down a stifling hot L.A. freeway on the way to Santa Monica beach.The big fat Hondas and Suzukis and Yamahas came roaring through the knot of cars and trucks and vans, splitting lanes, the men riding one handed, hair flowing in the wind, hollering at each other and laughing as they rode.
Man, I thought, that looks like fun.
More years passed. I was maybe 15 and saw an ad in a magazine - just a photo of a guy in jeans, head in a dark helmet, riding a Kawasaki LTD, the motto "Let the Good Times Roll," just below the image.
And so, when I turned 21 I walked into a Suzuki dealership and bought my first motorcycle, a red Suzuki GS650.
It just looked fun.
3 comments:
Thanks for your comment.
May I inquire which piece was it that you liked?
I'm embarrassed you found my blog. It's not very good. I liked an old entry of yours - something from 2008, I think. I think you titled it something like, "Is there anyone out there?"
It was funny. It was poignant. It was self-aware.
Hi George :)
You still doin' your thing on here? Haven't seen ya around.
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