You know that hand-signal that bikers give when they drive by one another? The one where they point their fist towards the ground by the passing motorcycle, as if to say, "Yo, man. Check out the back of my hand. Sweet, ain't it?" I've always wanted to be a part of that, but I have no plans on going 75mph on a metal horse... as badass as that would be. Hopefully, they'll accept my greetings when I start my own moped gang.
When I was getting my car fixed today, a friendly guy started talking to me about life; his life, my life, what I wanted to do with it, and important things to learn along the way. He talked of his own day-to-day routine and I realized the kind of life I want won't have an anchor attached to it like so many other people... and then I got the bill for car repairs. It's a good thing I have a huge jar of change for emergencies.
New tires, new oil, and a bit of spare cash... looks like I'm getting outta Wheat State for Spring Break. It'd only get better if I was Colorado-bound as part of my apocalyptic moped gang.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment