Thursday, March 12, 2009

No Triumph for Him

I hate motorcycles. I hate them. I hate them. I hate them!

I probably wouldn't hate them if I was never an E.M.T. in Los Angeles. I've seen some horribly gross things. There have been times we arrived on scene and a few of us had to go off searching for the missing body parts.

My husband has a motorcycle, a Triumph. He loves it. He bought the thing a few days before we met and mentioned how excited he was about it our fist date. Like the Debbie Downer I am, I told him about other people's misfortunes and said I will never get on one.

A few months later, I got on his. We went around the block once and my hand was bleeding from holding on so tight. I got off, was a little shaky, and said that was it. Never again.

Geoff told me he couldn't wait to buy Sawyer his first motorcycle.

Me: " I can't wait to buy our (future) daughter red lace thong underwear when she turns ten."

Geoff deflated: "No motorcycle for Sawyer."

That's what I thought.

3 comments:

fallgirly said...

I'm with you! I hate motorcycles as much as I hate tatoos!!

G. B. Miller said...

Ouch.

Brutal and to the point.

My mother was the same way about motorcycles.

She seen too many end results while working as a nurse.

Love the sound and sight of them, but don't want to ride them.

*Tanyetta* said...

I'm with you on the motorcycle thing.

I heard someone say riders have either gone done or will eventually go down.

UMMMMMM hello, isn't that enough to just say NO to the motorized contraptions~

Ugh!