Friday Musings

Hope you aren't melting from the heat.  It's bad everywhere.

I enjoy blogging for the personal interaction it fosters among us, not to compile numerical stats.  I'm not immune to a little vanity, however -- I'm human.  I peek at the number of my followers like everyone else. 

Unlike you guys whose followings grow fast, mine crawls at an incredibly slow pace.  A snail could beat it in a race.  I reassure myself that it's the quality of our interactions that matter, not the quantity, and that's true.  But as I inch toward 100, I can't resist the urge to pump up that number.  Would it help for me to take steroids?  Oh, sorry; that's a boy-solution.  How 'bout Spanx?

At the rate I'm going, I'll hit that milestone in November, just in time for my birthday -- another large number. :)

I want to tell you something about bikers.  We love stickers.  Love 'em to death.  They capture our irreverent attitude and adorn our helmets.  Motorcycle shops are full of them, right between the black leather jackets and skull belt-buckles.

There are thousands of possible slogans to choose among.  I've always picked one for each new helmet that I thought reflected my life at that moment in time.  My first helmet-sticker was "Good Kid Gone Bad."  That's exactly what my family and friends thought when I got deep into motorcycling at age 37.

My second sticker, when I started riding faster, was "More Balls Than Brains."  I thought it was a funny comment on my increased risktaking.

Here are the stickers currently on my two bikes and helmet.  The first poses an epistemological question.  The second is small and, if a cop can read it, constitutes a formal admission.  The last is the kind of sage musing we old people make.

If you were picking out a sticker, what would it say?  "So Many Outfits, So Little Time"?