I spent last Saturday driving my roadster much too fast on
twisty mountain roads, with my wife in the passenger seat. Well, mostly in the
passenger seat. I let her drive some, too.
My wife is an adrenalin junkie, so when we got back to our
hotel room that night I was handsomely rewarded for scaring the crap out of
her. It didn’t even matter that we were both dog tired, sunburned, and the
walls were so thin we could hear the fat lesbians giggling in the next room. It
was awesome.
But this post is not about getting your wife hot by riding
her around in a sports car. It’s about motorcycles, and the women who love the
bad boys who ride them.
One of the roads that we drove on that day is a particularly
infamous stretch of US Highway 129, known as the Tail of the Dragon. At one
end of this stretch of road, there’s a motel that caters to motorcyclists. And
next to the motel there’s a pub
and grill which serves the best burgers in the area. We ate lunch there,
and since it was a Saturday in the summer time, the place was packed. We
enjoyed some great people-watching along with our burgers.
There was a wide variety of people to watch. There were
young dudes in leather jumpsuits driving crotch-rocket bikes, and grizzled
old-timers on chopped Harleys. There were retired couples on Gold Wings, and of
course, there were the sports-car guys in Polo shirts and Bermuda shorts.
The first thing that I noticed was the biker women. They
ranged from the young and hot to the elderly and morbidly obese, but they all
had one thing in common: No matter where they might fall on the hotness scale,
every one of them was far hotter than the man she was with
Once I noticed this, I started searching in vain for the
exception: surely that fat gray-haired lady… nope, her husband is wrinkled and missing
half his teeth. This one looks kind of butch. Oh, that’s because her “boyfriend”
is a girl. The 30-something with the bad haircut and lazy eye? Not a biker, she’s
married to one of the sports car guys. In every case, if a biker dude had a
woman with him, she was two to three points above him on the hotness scale.
The conclusion is inescapable: buy a motorcycle to increase
your sex rank.
N.B. – I will not be taking my own advice. I owned a
motorcycle years ago, for about six weeks. In that short span I had two
accidents. The first was entirely my own fault, and resulted merely in a
bruised ego and some scratched paint. The second could easily have killed me,
and there wasn’t a damn thing I could have done to prevent it. I’ll stick to
hot two-seat convertibles, thank you very much.
I'm dangerous enough on four wheels, thanks. Ever since I heard an ER tech call them "donorcycles", I decided to up my SR by being handsome and (eventually) rich, with plenty of Game to fill the time.
ReplyDeleteBut your point is very well made. When I was a waiter once, at break time I was sitting and smoking with the rest of the crew, mostly waitresses, and talking shit. The subjects of sport bikes came up. The most shy, quiet, and demure waitress there spoke up for the first time with this bombshell:
"Sport bikes make me wet."
It was the first sexual reference she had ever made in front of me (and believe me, that's hard to maintain) but she had just basically announced to one and all a sure-fire way to get into her pants. I was already living with Mrs. I at the time (pre-Mrs.) so I never indulged, but further observation makes me conclude that a bike of any type will boost your SR by 2 . . . and the right bike, and the knowledge of how to handle it, can take it up by as much as 3.
Great post! Let's see more of them!
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