What is there to say? I'm not very interesting. I'm not a good writer. I don't even dress well. If you insist on knowing something about me just wander through the archives. It's all there.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

On an unshared moment of fashion extremes

I was sitting at a long red light. Crossing the intersection in front of me was a huge, loud, Old School Harley chopper. A huge (possibly, loud and also possibly, Old School?) man was riding it. He had a shaven head and multiple tattoos that were plainly visible since he was wearing a studded sleeveless leather vest (It was forty some degrees out there!). His ensemble was appropriately anchored by blue jeans and mid-calf lace up work boots.

No other vehicles came through. Then within ten seconds of the chopper’s passing, a tiny little scooter puttered by in front of me. It was bright red with a white wire basket on the back. A small, wizened gentleman (?) wearing a dark blue car coat and a baby blue bubble helmet rode it. I believe he (she?) was wearing brown wingtips. Although it has been so long since I’ve seen wingtips, I’m not sure if I still know what they look like.

It was a horrible moment. I was in the car alone. I desperately wanted to turn to someone and exclaim, “Did you see what I saw? Can you believe that?!? That was so weird.” Instead, as soon as I got home, I sat down and wrote this posting. It was just so I could find some closure by finally saying to someone, “It was so weird”.


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