What Happens In Boscobel Does Not Stay In Boscobel

WARNING: NUDITY AND EROTIC CLOUD FORMATIONS !!!!!!! DO NOT LOOK!!!!!!!! THIS MEANS YOU, PATTI, MY NEW FRIEND FROM CREVE COEUR.

As you know I ride a motorcycle but I am most definitely not a biker. I blush at the thought of wearing leather, tried a dew rag once but felt self-conscious, and wouldn't think of purchasing a vest. Great if others do, and don't mind it on others, but for me, being the complex little biker I am, it was always kind of a foreign concept to me, to look like one. I even wear a helmet! GASP! In a non-mandatory state!! My only nod to the biker world is a great pair of heavy Red Wing boots that supposedly will help in the case of a spill. But I even hate them. They are heavy and after a day's ride I walk like Frankenstein with those size 14 concrete shoes.

In 2004 I attended 2 Kawasaki National/Regional rallies: one in Boscobel Wisconsin and one in Eureka Springs Arkansas. They were alright but for a type B personality I mostly just stood around and watched. I have never made a hard attempt to return, although had things been a little different I might have made a greater push to ride with Stewart up to Boscobel this year. I don't know if they have anything in Florida, but so far, riding down there is either going across the Skyway Bridge and coming back or sitting at 5 minute stop lights every block. But I digress.

A member of the crowd posted pictures from this year's Boscobel 13 get-together. The following pictures are not for the squeamish. Patti, go cut up some rhubarb. I did not attend nor did I take these pictures. Apparently this is some of the stuff that bikers do. So, with out any further adieu --- (I should also add that Stewart is in none of the following pictures.)

There appears to be a phallic proclivity that escaped me when I attended in 2004.

OK, Patti, you can open your eyes and perhaps we will have a family oriented posting tomorrow.

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Flashback Friday

Class, Or Lack Thereof The Dwight Vice gravestone in Oquawka, Illinois. I bring this old chestnut out every so often just to remind me that class is classless. Dwight Vice was killed in his home near Oquawka in 2001. It was one of those things that can generate crime: two guys thought Dwight had a lot of money stashed at home because of his pot-selling sideline to supplement his fishing job. Not really one of those big drug deals gone-bad things. Marijuana was, according to the trial, about the only stuff Dwight sold. But these two guys barge into the house and killed Dwight and attempted to kill his 11 year old kid, Darryl, before they took off with what money they could find. His son, now 23, was stabbed in the back and left for dead. He survived and is wheelchair bound and has undergone several surgeries to repair his wounds. He will be paralyzed for life. None of this is pleasant. Reading the facts of the murder and attempted murder are most unpleasant

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Existing In BFE

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