Glacial. Creeping. The forward speed of this project has been ponderously slow, punctuated only by briefest bursts of achievment. Often, the boys come over to help and everyone brings a six pack. Or two. Fun being valued more than accomplishment, we make good progress until about the 4th beer, then our attention drifts, and we float down the bubbly stream of golden laughter.

Spa Treatment

It was all her idea. I supported it, of course, but it originated with her. SHE was the one who started to feel self-conscious and who can blame her? You put a feisty mare like that in a stable full of snooty thoroughbreds, and you should expect some jealousy. A little jockeying for attention is predictable. Some of the other girls wore beautiful leather saddles and their clean pipes burned brightly with reflected white light. Their wardrobes are immaculate. Plus, they were healthy and strong inside and out. I’m not sure the poor girl even realized her lowly state until I took her in and she saw her dullness reflected in the salubrious gleam of The Others. The contrast was not flattering. She soon started whispering to me in the hush of the sleeping midnight garage. I heard her spectral promise of resurrected beauty, and so I took her shopping. It has been with great pleasure that I have observed her slow transformation as she has responded favorably to my attention. Her innate beauty is being revealed. Her make-over so far includes a powder-coated frame and sporty red and white paint for her tank and rear end. Her strong haunches are now supported with new shocks. She loves the curve of her brilliant header pipes and is very proud of her new headlight with its glistening, new, built-in tach. Baby’s even got new shoes mounted and balanced on her chrome rims. Next, its time for a session at the holistic health spa where she is going to get fitted with a new, handcrafted wiring harness, valve adjustment, and ignition timing. The doctor’s gonna work her over real good….

Baby's tryin' on some new clothes... and its a whole new look! Stock header pipes, glass tank, solo seat, homemade rearsets, and clipons.

Saline Dream

As I was waking up this morning, I was dreaming about a poem. It felt like a whisper, like a secret from a different reality...

This salty flesh and blood is my home,
With each crimson, saltwater pulse,
The ocean roars within me.

I figured I better write it down somewhere.