Look ma, no hands
"Your stories are getting crazier, you know."
Bob told me that today and I thought about it, and thought, well, maybe, but living them it does not seem so.
Last week, a friend introduced me to his friend, who rode up on a black dirt bike doing a spinout.
He then rode around the plaza and down the street doing wheelies. I told him every time he saw me, the deal is this: Take me for a ride.
(I did check him out first with my friend: A. Can he drive? B. He can drive. Well. Is he crazy? C. Should I get on the bike?)
Today we went.
He asked me twice if i was scared.
Then i saw he was talking to me with his hands in the air. As we drove over the gaps in the bridge.
The motorcycle never swerved.
I slapped his shoulder that I'm impressed, then told him no more tricks without a helmet.
This story is for Bob.