Wednesday, 10 October 2012
THE PURPLE PENIS, SITTING PRETTY WHILE I HAVE MYSELF A CIGGY . . . . HOMEWARD BOUND FROM A 300 KLM TRIP FOR A NIGHT WITH THE BOYS, A BEAUT MORNING, LIGHT TRAFFIC . . . . AND A NORTHERLY SIDEWIND BLOWING STRAIGHT FROM SATAN'S ARSEHOLE . . . . THE ONLY TIME I REGRET RUNNING WIDE BARS . . . . UNLIKE THE OLD TRUMPY, AT LEAST THE HOGLET IS HEAVY ENOUGH TO REMAIN STABLE.
Freakin headwinds really deflate the spirit sometimes, when you throw wide bars into the equation the results are even more annoying. You'd think I'd learn something after having run the same basic style of 'bars on two Bonnies and now on the Skirtster . . . . they are a wonderful thing for comfort and handling most of the time, relaxed, one handed operation, wind resistance minimised, joy, but when you're powering into a cyclonic strength headwind/sidewind they're a pain in the progression metre, you become a human sail and forward progress is almost annoying . . . . I suppose it could've been worse if I'd been on the old Bonnie, many a time I found myself leaning into the wind, if it was blowing from the side, with so much force that the entire bike would be slanted over at a forty five degrees angle . . . . thank fuck the so called 'Sporty' is substantially heavier, it just slows down to a gentle 120 Klm/hr and sits there like a bloody great . . . . well, a bloody great purple penis on the highway of life.
See the dust blowing across the sugar cane field in the above photo, yep that dust is being blown straight up my fucking hooter, which is fine and dandy, what's not fine nor dandy is that the surface area presented by myself, even in single handed, clutch hand under the tank mode, means that the buffeting and resultant level of frustration and annoyance keep intensifying to the point where I'm yelling obscenities at the breeze . . . . no result whatsoever from that plan of attack . . . . maybe next time . . . . maybe not.