Disclaimer: If you haven’t read the previous two blogs on my Riding the Hog adventure, it may serve you well…so you have the whole story.
Morning came all too early. About 5:30 I was awake and refused to get up. As usual, I snoozed and dozed like a cat until I MUST GET OUT OF BED.
7:30AM – here I come!
Our departure time was 8:30AM.
I leap into the shower and throw on my jeans and shirt.
Grab a cuppa cuppa coffee – fully leaded, none of that creamer shit.
Do my hair and put my eyebrows on.
Some women won’t leave the house without mascara. I don’t leave without my eyebrows.
I have very little in the eyebrow category.
Which actually works to my favor.
Some days I can have ANGRY EYES and other days suspicious eyes.
Depends on which way the pencil goes.
I make one last pass over myself in the mirror.
Blot the make up one last time as it’s already warm out.
Adjust my boobs.
Take two giant swigs from my flask.
Yep. I came prepared.
Vodka – 8:20AM
Wait, one more swig……
I race upstairs, lace up my heeled boots and we’re out the door.
Walk outside and cue the theme music.
Note: Some times my theme music is the Imperial March from Stars Wars. You know when Darth Vader https://youtu.be/-bzWSJG93P8 shows up in the scene. (It also sounds suspiciously like CBS Evening News theme music from 1990, odd.) Other times, it’s Tinkerbell fairy music and then every once in a while it’s something else.
This morning, I had George Thorogood music….Bad to the Bone will do just fine. https://youtu.be/_7VsoxT_FUY
I swear that Harley was glowing under a spotlight.
It was shiny.
And dark purple.
And B I G.
Good thing I wore the boots with the heels.
Is it too late to get my flask?
Okay, so first things first.
How do I get on this beast?
After a handful of photos, I hop off. Grab a helmet and get ready to go.
My Biker jumps on.
I’m left with the dumbfounding question: Ummmm yeah, how do you want me to get on here exactly?
One foot here on the pad.
Throw your leg over.
When you get off, get off on the left, so you don’t melt your boot into the exhaust pipe.
Noted: left, left, left, left, left, left, left.
Dear God, please don’t let me make an ass out of myself.
I do as instructed and get seated.
Luckily, I don’t have time to worry about my next concern.
Remember when I mentioned I’m not a touchy feely kind of person….in the previous blog?
Yeah, well. I had been worrying all week about where to hold on.
You have no doubt seen the girls wrapped like a pretzel around their biker.
Yeah, not so much me.
I don’t see any real hand holds.
But I had no time to think about it! We were off like a shot up the steep driveway. It was like being shot out of a cannon but different.
So as we take off, I grab my Biker’s vest. Low and behold, the sides are laced up!
I’m easily able to literally grab the back portion of his vest.
Whoo Hoo! No awkward where to put my hands moments!
Still too late to get my flask?
Well, it wouldn’t have mattered, I didn’t have anywhere to put it besides the saddlebags on the bike or my bra.
I kept some money and my phone in the bra.
It’s the perfect little pocket.
However, not big enough for a flask.
We’re zipping down the highway and it’s amazing.
Everything racing past.
The wind was loud in my ears and I thought:
Reaction: My knees immediately clamped down on my Biker’s hips. I was trying to crack that man like a walnut.
If I was busy looking at the scenery and not watching where we were going, when we down shifted….because it surprised me….guess what?
My Biker would reassuringly pat my leg. We’re okay! We’re not going to die. You’re fine.
Bless his heart, I swear, he was lucky if he didn’t come out with bruises.
I’m loving the ride. We would turn corners and I would lean as he would lean.
It was like flying….but much closer to the ground.
It was being free.
It made me laugh.
I LOVED IT.
Of course, as we’re zipping along, I noticed, every once in a while, something wet would hit my cheek.
I chalked it up to morning dew.
Rain sprinkles maybe?
But it kept happening.
Okay, what’s the deal with my wet cheek?
This is really odd.
At a stop light I reach up and touch my nose.
OMG – my nose was running!
Okay, hazard #1 of being on the bike!
Get out the hankie! Or your shirt….whichever you have handy.
Okay, that’s our secret. I’ll know for next time.
Our music was perfect. AC/DC. LOVE THEM!
One song after the other, I’m on the back, singing along.
Highway to Hell.
Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap https://youtu.be/whQQpwwvSh4
Excellent choice for the early morning ride.
We arrive to the meeting point of the ride and get into the ride line.
We pay our donations, wander around, people watch, greet old friends, look at tattoos, see the outfits, applaud the veterans.
You see, this was a fundraiser for Wounded Heros.
Last year they had 600 people participating.
By the time the group had gathered, dedication announced, prayers said and the local police gave us the instructions for the ride, there must have been close to 800 riders.
What’s really cool….when I gave my donation….they gave me a patch!
When I get my Vespa, I’m totally putting this on my vest!
For nearly 800 riders, there were 7 police, also on motorcycles, who came from across the state to escort our group. That speaks volumes about these people. This group could have easily taken a team of 7….but is simply wasn’t even in anyone’s thoughts.
Our cops rocked. They were fantastic. Funny, upbeat and excited to be there. They had a sense of humor. Their job was to block the intersections as we came through. They would also be first available to help anyone who may have an accident. They were beyond words – WONDERFUL.
Everyone for a common cause.
Riding for veterans.
Enjoying a great morning ride.
Ooooooo-ga-ling awesome bikes.
Ooooooo-ga-ling awesome women.
Ooooooo-ga-ling awesome tats.
Ooooooo-ga-ling awesome men.
Snarking out on the ridiculous outfits. (of course)
Before we got into the ceremonies, we jumped into line for the Port-o-Potties. I’m thinking, I would rather jump behind a tree, but I don’t see anyone making for the bushes, so I figured best bet is to follow the Bikers. Don’t want to upset some unwritten law.
When I get into the john. All I can think is…..
1. Dear God, who actually puts the seat down in these things? Don’t touch more stuff!
2. Dear God, please when I lift seat, DO NOT let something come flying up from the muck.
Note: This is a fear of mine. Some sort of Hiney Monster is going to get me.
3. When did they start installing urinals into these things?
4. Is that gap in the door frame supposed to be there for ventilation?
5. Thank you for the hand sanitizer…..and the mirror.
Still would have been happier with a tree.
I’ve already had a great ride – longer than the main fundraiser ride – to get here this morning.
Now we are in line and preparing to hit the road.
Fear not. I’ve wiped my nose, so we’re good.
I’ve added sunscreen as I am starting to get crispy.
Finally, it’s our lane’s turn to go.
People stopped along the road to wave at us.
There were kids waving.
People saluting to the gang of motorcycles driving past.
Standing out holding the American flag.
Cars honking their horns.
I’ve never, ever, experienced anything like this before.
They were excited to see us.
We were excited to see them.
My Biker would “rev” his engine.
We passed by a fire house.
They were on our right.
They had extended their ladder, with the American flag hanging off the end.
A firefighter was all the way at the top, waving and waving.
And they were blowing their horn as we passed.
Had I known….I would have been ready to take a photo.
Our destination was a biker bar, “Bentley’s.”
All I knew about Bentley’s is there was a pig I needed to ride.
We are escorted through the campground and arrive at giant parking lot.
Our bike is one of hundreds upon hundreds here for the event.
Heaven forbid I get separated and can’t find my way back to THE bike!
Not 40 feet off the bike and we encounter a wonderful godsend.
Buckets of Bud.
Wander inside the gates.
Everyone and I do mean everyone….is looking everyone else up and down.
Did you want me to spin for you?
Blow a kiss?
Sit in your lap?
Smack your ass?
Smack my ass?
Okay, just tell me the protocols.
Something you don’t encounter every day in Boston.
So Mrs. Biker made sure I made it to the gift shop – to get my Bentley’s shirt. While it may not show off my cleavage as well, nothing a pair of scissors cant fix, it has glittery sparkly shit, so I’m thrilled. I also think I should have bought the boy shorts. They had numerous shorts all in black, with various announcements across the ass.
The one I liked the most:
“Quit imagining me naked!”
I am thinking I should have bought those. Although, wearing those, wouldn’t leave much to the imagination. Hence the, “Imagine me naked” concept.
Out the door that went.
I should have bought those shorts.
Yes, this is a regret.
You know what happens with regrets?
Damn it. I need to go back…just to get those shorts!
So I bought this and that. Next thing I knew…..it was time.
Time to get on the pig.
I’m thinking, next time, that pig needs a feather boa.
I had full intentions of getting on the pig. But mind you, it’s not something you aim for upon arrival. I probably would have ridden that pig backwards if we were there longer. However, time was of the essence and I had to climb on board.
Funny thing, when you approach the table where the pig resides, people clear a path.
Need a hand getting getting up on the bar table? No problem! Plenty of hands to assist.
Don’t mind me.
Excuse my butt.
But yes, that’s part of it.
Butt and boobs.
Nope, not drunk!
I know it’s still light out – it’s summer.
Not a tiny tittie on this chicky to be seen!
Let’s ride this pig!
There were whoops and hollers. – hey, someone has to go first.
What a wonderful way to spend a summer day in Maine!
If someone could have taken my photo —- as we cruised down the highway, they’d see me with my arms out to my sides…..enjoying the wind caressing me like a dove’s feather.
Needless to say, I can’t wait to go again.
Is Biker Ornament a profession?
I could do this!
I’d need more leather.