Those of you that know me, and since only 6 people read this blog, all of you know me, understand that I am quite possibly the world’s most boring individual. Okay, maybe not the most boring, but certainly in the top ten.
Let’s face it, I live in the suburbs, have 2.0 terrific kids, and work as a drone in a large suburban office building filled with other drones. I don’t ride a motorcycle, in fact I have never ridden one, but I do ride a bicycle. I don’t go real fast, or uphill, and sometimes the training wheels don’t work correctly…
Lately, I have been reading a couple of books about the Hell’s Angels Motorcycle Club. I find the stories fascinating; I’m inexplicably drawn to these modern day outlaws and their folk hero status. There is a certain sex, drugs, and rock ’n roll aspect to the books that is very entertaining. Mrs. Rogue says the books are appealing to my alter ego.
I didn’t really give that much thought until…
Mrs. R and I were running a few errands on a recent Saturday afternoon. We were stopped in the right lane at a stoplight near the local mall. A minivan slowly rolled to a stop in the left lane next to us. As the minivan was coming to a stop, a woman in the passenger seat was frantically waving at me as she rolled down her window. I thought maybe my car was on fire or something, so I rolled down my window.
A very attractive woman smiled at me and started to say something when she saw Mrs. R sitting in the passenger seat. She became flustered (the minivan passenger, not Mrs. R) and pretended to be lost and in need of directions. Being a male that has, ahem, never been lost, I gladly offered my help. The light turned green, and we went our separate ways.
I looked over, and Mrs. R was in hysterics. About three miles later, after she had regained her composure, Mrs. R said “I think that minivan chic was trying to pick you up.” This was followed by another three or four miles of hysterics (Mrs. R’s, not mine).
So now I’m thinkin’ that after reading some Hell’s Angels books my bad self is coming out, and the minivan gal really was trying to pick me up. She just didn’t realize Mrs. R. was in the car with me.
As soon as I got home, I got on my bike, and headed out for the open road, “lookin’ for adventure” as the old Steppenwolf song goes.
I made it to the end of the driveway before one of the training wheels gave out…
Let’s face it, I live in the suburbs, have 2.0 terrific kids, and work as a drone in a large suburban office building filled with other drones. I don’t ride a motorcycle, in fact I have never ridden one, but I do ride a bicycle. I don’t go real fast, or uphill, and sometimes the training wheels don’t work correctly…
Lately, I have been reading a couple of books about the Hell’s Angels Motorcycle Club. I find the stories fascinating; I’m inexplicably drawn to these modern day outlaws and their folk hero status. There is a certain sex, drugs, and rock ’n roll aspect to the books that is very entertaining. Mrs. Rogue says the books are appealing to my alter ego.
I didn’t really give that much thought until…
Mrs. R and I were running a few errands on a recent Saturday afternoon. We were stopped in the right lane at a stoplight near the local mall. A minivan slowly rolled to a stop in the left lane next to us. As the minivan was coming to a stop, a woman in the passenger seat was frantically waving at me as she rolled down her window. I thought maybe my car was on fire or something, so I rolled down my window.
A very attractive woman smiled at me and started to say something when she saw Mrs. R sitting in the passenger seat. She became flustered (the minivan passenger, not Mrs. R) and pretended to be lost and in need of directions. Being a male that has, ahem, never been lost, I gladly offered my help. The light turned green, and we went our separate ways.
I looked over, and Mrs. R was in hysterics. About three miles later, after she had regained her composure, Mrs. R said “I think that minivan chic was trying to pick you up.” This was followed by another three or four miles of hysterics (Mrs. R’s, not mine).
So now I’m thinkin’ that after reading some Hell’s Angels books my bad self is coming out, and the minivan gal really was trying to pick me up. She just didn’t realize Mrs. R. was in the car with me.
As soon as I got home, I got on my bike, and headed out for the open road, “lookin’ for adventure” as the old Steppenwolf song goes.
I made it to the end of the driveway before one of the training wheels gave out…
1 comment:
Mrs. R., here,
Yes, this truly did happen. Yes, I knew from the 1st moment that this chiquita was trying to pick up the Mr...perhaps. But Mr. Rogue keeps making fun of this particular incident. Anyway, I happen to believe that other women may find him attractive--what attracted me to him was his sense of humor. On the other hand, when I see him riding down the driveway, with the other 4-year-olds, wearing a helmet (I am a Kindergarten teacher, after all, and helmets are preached about almost daily) I am made aware that our son's raising is almost done, our daughter's upbringing is still on-going--but SR's tutelage (sp) will probably never end. Oh well, such is the life of the every day housewife. Luckily, as I am grateful for this daily of my 5-year-olds, he's got the cuteness factor going for him. I like the new, sleek helmet, Big Guy...
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