Mr Blue is back, Mr Sun is out, and it’s lookin’ like time to saddle up. If I was slightly taller I would have a Sportster, the “most girly bike” Harley Davidson makes. In candy apple red. But I know my limitations.
Honest. This is not some wild Glenn Tilbrook dream that will take 20 years to come true. It doesn’t take a brain like Newton’s to establish a Sportster is three times my body weight.
Forty-five kilos -vs- just does not compute.
Oh, I may snarl just a loudly and people part ways for my thunder, but how the hell could I possibly hold this baby upright at the lights? Or set it on its side-stand? I’d look guuuuud on that mama, but I look damn fine on a scooter too. I think the word I’m actually looking for is stylish. I can do stylish. That word feeds my inner Grace Kelly and we all know Grace would have ridden a Vespa (or a Scoopy), not a Hog.
Whoa. My time’s up. I have to finish writing this chapter. But before I go, how do all you feel about books that start with a thunderous Harley clatter and end with a scootery whizz–a stand up-and-kick-to-move kind of scootery whizz? The book I just finished was like surprisingly bad sex with someone who is a good kisser. Based on the lip action you expect delivery, yet the the goods just don’t live up to the promise. So with this story I was dazzled by a few brilliant first kisses, then it completely lost wood and I was left feeling depressingly…unsatisfied.
My only choice was to imagine how I would have finished the story if I had written the book… Which led me to think that if Ghost writers are Viagra for books then computer keyboards are vibrators for writers.