THE THEME THURSDAY IS BIKE.
I WILL POST ON BIKE ... Well, BIKERS.
We were somewhere between San Francisco and our Santa Barbara destination. Your hands full of hose. Looking up in mischievous impatience, you catch my eyes and raise an eyebrow sensing a question.
“...I just never thought I’d see you siphoning gas from a strange car outside a biker bar in the middle of the night...”
“You think I was never a teenager?”
It was short walk from the apartment on Union Square to the village sandal shop that was run by Hells Angels. There is nothing more noble than a kneeling Angel as he traces your foot and asks,
“How long do you want the straps?”
I had an idea I wanted them very long, but didn’t know how to say without seeming like it was a lot of trouble. I imagine it was Kyle that broke my indecision by interrupting,
“She wants them to wrap up her legs and around her waist twice.”
The angel tilted his head up with a confused complexion,
“How would that look...”
Kyle pursed his lips, raised an eye brow, turned on one heel and began searching the notice board. The biker lumbered to his feet and embarrassingly asked if they could have the twenty-five bucks in advance.
I still have those simple leather Grecian sandals. In some places they are brittle from sea water and there’s a bit gnawed from Maine rodents that aches my heel when I wear them. But then, every pair of shoes has a story.
All of those Z Z looking guys have the choice of impersonating Santa or Bikers.
And ... I am wondering if, as children, future bikers used the card & clothespin trick on the spokes of their Stingray (with banana seats!) to get the Hog sound they would future fall in love with ...