The title of this post was taken from the best t-shirt I saw Saturday during the Lightning Run. It's in reference to, of course, the most arrogant, cowardly and irresponsible maggot to ever hold political office and then kill a person. Oh, wait . . .
Anyway, even though I don't ride large American iron, I thought it might be a good thing to try: Raise some money toward diabetes research, ride with real riders, milk a summer day, etc. It was a hot one, especially since I'm a jacket/helmet/gloves kind of guy.
It was also an interesting mental exercise. Part of the event is a parade of about 15-20 miles that cuts through lots of St. Paul's east side. The entire route was police-escorted, and all traffic was stopped for something like 1,500 motorcycles. This stuff will go right to your head; heaven and Earth stopping for you, ignoring all traffic controls, throngs of folks smiling and waving from lawn chairs . . . there should be no wonder where corruption comes from.
The run ends at Holman Field, at a empty hanger. Rock and roll, chow, cold beverages, a chassis dyno, all sortsa fun. When I rode home, I had to remember to mind the other traffic, for it no longer parted in anticipation of my presence.