The Action is Hot and Heavy
Yesterday, I walked to the Deadwood Rec center for my Wednesday Workout. As I stepped off the tall, frozen metal steps a Softail rolled into the gas station/liquor store, the Pack Horse station. It might reach 50 degrees and a low of 25.
I walked over to the rider and said, “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
He said, “Nowhere.” He was just warming his bikes, charging batteries and making sure they were running properly. I wanted to ride my Indian to the dealership in Sturgis, but there’s still slippery ice on every corner. Still, the desire was there. It snowed last night.