Ain’t That Some Sh*t

Sometimes even Modern Men get depressed and, by golly, it has been quite the week.

Fuck it, I can’t even build this story up. My beloved Triumph Speed Triple, Tammy Mother Fuckin’ Lou, fell. Thanks to a trailer/strap mishap she fell over/off the trailer while I was pulling onto the road to head to my first track day. Never mind the fact that she has been trailered to and fro for many miles in the past year including the nearly eight hours north to Cleveland, Ohio (FUCK YEAH, CAVS!!!!!!).

I met up with my buddy, Rick James, so we could trailer together to Mid-Ohio Sports Car Course for our first track day and this shit happened. I spent a solid two days as depressed as can be but at the end of the day it was a turd sandwich that apparently nobody saw coming. Rick James feels it was a sign and we should count our blessings since the Ol’ Girl saved us from a bigger mishap.

We were able to reschedule our outing for the end of August so I guess we’ll just have to wait to rip it up until then.

In the meanwhile I will set aside a corner of the garage so I can make a shrine to The Parts Who Are No Longer With Us. Spectacles, testicles, wallet, and watch. Pour one out for my homies. Light the funeral pyre.

From the ashes will arise a Speed Triple reborn.

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