All Those Cautions

So who knew the new girl would bite ten minutes after she was delivered?

As previously mentioned, we have a new baby in the family, namely a 526 lb. (dry and bare weight) Suzuki VL Volusia with all the aftermarket bells and whistles. Studded Mustang seats with matching sissy bar, luggage rack, windshield, running boards, leather saddle bags, leather tank bib with sunglass case, leather conchoed tool pouch and chrome out the wazoo, including diamond grips, a screaming eagle head fender ornament and Cobra pipes… and it had been one of the pipes that “bit” bad enough to make a trip to the doctor for a huge third-degree burn, because about the only thing the new baby doesn't have are heat shields.

Caution: Bare legs and hot pipes don’t mix.

Speaking of cautions... I dislike overly dramatic “angsty” folks who view life as a bottomless pit of despair. Who no one understands. Who no one gets. Whose world is measured in the three foot radius of themselves. Who truly believe the butterfly in Central Park flaps its wings with the soul purpose of ruining their life. But that’s not me. Nope, I’m not generally like that. But I can do some pretty heavy soul-searching every once in a while. (Surprise—I know, what with me supposedly being a “writer” and all.) Like today. So if you’re interested (and I certainly don’t blame you if you aren’t) here’s a little something about me: there are very few people who know the real me. If you’re one of those who fall into the "don't" category, don’t worry—you aren’t missing anything.

I’m not a very good person, as is obvious by the amount of real life friends (none) and internet friends (few) I have, and worse, by the amount longer than a short while—a short while being anywhere from a couple of months to a couple of years.

Ah now, I already know what you’re thinking: Who’s the common denominator?

Well gosh-darnnit, that would be me!-wouldn’t it. And that brings me full circle, right back to the “not a very good person” part. I guess I change in that time. Or maybe life changes its course and I miss the detour. Relegated to the category of nonexistent. A mist. A specter. A nonentity. So it goes, again... still. I guess I do a lot wrong, and of course I do; I’m the common denominator—remember?

Maybe I'd better start looking harder for the signs. (EDIT: Scratch that. I'm done with signs altogether.)