We drove Steve's boss's v-8 trike, it's red with Budweiser logos on it.
As we arrived to get lined up, we saw the usual reaction:
We were good little citizens and brought a present that any little girl would be excited to receive:
I can't even begin to estimate how many bikes participated this year. Easily a thousand. We were towards the back of the procession and we could see bikes ahead of us for at least a couple of miles.
Once we got into the city limits, people lined the streets to wave and watch us all go by. I laughed the entire way, because there were babies, toddlers, kids, parents, grandparents, and all shapes and sizes out in their driveways waving and smiling. I guess you could say the bikers around here have a much tamer reputation than the ones from Southern California. Well, Steve and his friends are all called the Rolex Riders, because they're all yuppie bikers who discovered their inner Harley owner once they reached their forties. Oh, and they wear their Rolexes.
Shay stayed home so he could enjoy his Sunday and watch all the bikes go by. We live less than a block from the parade route so he walked up there when it was time for us to come by. He had the video camera, and filmed the entire procession, but then after it was done he realized that he didn't push the "record" button.
We got to our destination, dropped off the toy, then headed to another bar and grill to get something to eat. We knew if we stayed where everyone else was we'd never get to sit, eat, or use the restroom.
Steve has been shopping for an airplane for the past month or so. He wants a specific kind with a specific engine with specific horsepower and specific other things, so the search has been very, well, specific. We have seen our share of clunky junky planes, and nice ones as well. Last Sunday and yesterday we drive 90 minutes to remote airfields to see planes and the look on Steve's face says it all:
He thinks he has found "the one." It's in Washington state. He has friends up there who will look at the plane and let him know if it's worth the trip. Then somehow we have to find the time to get up to Washington.
Okey dokey.
As I was watching the sunset today I ran into an old friend:
Hello, old friend. I miss you.
It got a bit cold today, probably never reached 70 degrees. Waaaahhhh.....
But that didn't bother Mr. Kitty Meow Meow, the most spoiled feline in the state. He was up on the wall in the back yard, looking at the sunset.
Probably planning his evening.
