It snowed last night. It snowed and dashed all my hopes of getting out on my motorcycle. I blame the damn groundhog and its six more weeks of winter. I've been needing to get out on my motorcycle like a druggie needs a fix.
Psychological. It's all in my head. And my head is telling me I'm old. It's telling me that I should cut my hair and get a responsible 'do. It's telling me that I should stop wearing my watch that has the picture of Grover from Sesame Street on it. It's telling me it is now undignified to make up specific victory dances for when I get a spare versus a strike during Wii bowling.
And so I need the ride. I need it to remind myself that all this is temporary and to grab the experiences by the throat and never let go. I need the ride to remind me that I would hate to have that responsible 'do in my coffin. And I need the ride to remind me that the world doesn't only exist of anatomically impossible cartoon girls and sickeningly sweet dinosaurs. There really are other things beyond these walls. If only I could get on my motorcycle and find them.
So I have to wait until spring to get out from under the winter doldrums and onto my Ninja. Hopefully Disney won't completely take over the country by then, covering it in a carpet of big eyed princesses that reek of pasty political correctness.
If only I could go for a ride.
Because if I don't soon, I have a feeling I'll do something like this.