Outside of this context, the woman might have appeared ordinary, but for this moment she was a star and all eyes belonged to her. John erupted in laughter and had to catch his breath before he could speak. Busy day on the Boston common. They gave me a pass that allowed me to stand right on the track. Men rode the main thoroughfare bare-chested in chaps and Viking helmets, women flashed their breasts to the delight of drunken spectators, and barrooms throbbed to capacity with leather-clad revelers. Slowly, patches of ice melted into puddles, but it would be weeks before I could pull my bike from under its tarp, prime it with fresh gasoline, and fire it up. You are commenting using your Facebook account.
Slowly, patches of ice melted into puddles, but it would be weeks before I could pull my bike from under its tarp, prime it with fresh gasoline, and fire it up.
Bikes and Boobs!
So while the guys waited hours at an empty bus stop, I sat on a square of padded leather, my hands gripping the thick waist of a stranger, wearing a helmet with the word bitch emblazoned across the back, and cruised the long boulevard to the center of town. I thought about John, his gentleness, and the touch of frailty that caused his friend to feel so protective. They had prayed for me the year before, when a group of them burst into the shop, infiltrating the crowd and calling out to each other over the heads of strangers. In the morning at the speedway we met up with his partner and their mobile darkroom. Archives October August April