7 September 2006


This evening I took the Hammer into Steepleton's incomparably shit stinky farmlands. The sun was shining in my eyes so I drove slow. I was driving so slow a woman on a purple scooter passed me. She had the scooter opened all the way up. I fear for the lives of women on purple scooters. Their dress shoes do not look so sexy after they have been mangled by the pavement. I like better the way a woman looks on the back of a real motorcycle. But then, I am old school Hockey.

When I was young there was still some controversy about whether or not women could drive. They seem to have got the hang of it. I'm pretty sure most of them are taught by their drunk dads though.

I know a couple of women who ride real motorcycles. They seem to have got the hang of it. You can drive a motherfucking car around for decades without having the slightest idea what you are doing and live to get joints given to you by your grand kids. Motorcyclists simply must know what they are doing - not many people have the store of luck necessary to ride cluelessly about on a motorbike.

On our walk the Hammer found part of a coyote killed cat. I think it was the head. She did not eat it. I guess shit tastes better than cat head.

I would go for the cat head myself.

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