You getting out of shape there Col?
I would have had my money on you catching him, frogmarching him up to the top of Featherston House, hanging him over the edge for a good lesson, then seeing the error of his ways and "letting him go."
What a prick. Not you bud. The lowlife.
And I to my motorcycle parked like the soul of the junkyard. Restored, a bicycle fleshed with power, and tore off. Up Highway 106 continually drunk on the wind in my mouth. Wringing the handlebar for speed, wild to be wreckage forever.
- James Dickey, Cherrylog Road.
Bookmarks