Gene gave me a ride to work last week on his motorcycle. I spent the first portion of the ride terrified, expecting to pitch off the bike at any moment, but once I realized that I wasn't going to fall, I was able to relax. I mean, there's a chance I could have fallen, but that's only if the bike crashed anyway. In that situation, it's not like I could jump off and avert injury or anything anyway, so why worry?
The whole experience was great. I liked the speed, the wind in my face, being at near-eye level with pedestrians we passed, and this one moment where Gene revved the bike up so we could slip past this big construction-type truck thing on Dwight. Some might ask, "Hey Sean... riding on the back of Gene's motorcycle? Didn't that feel a little bit... gay?" Well, if wrapping my arms tightly around Gene's warm, leather-clad chest while hundreds of pounds of metal vibrate between my legs is gay, then I don't want to be straight!
Kristen once described her difficulties with Gene's spare helmet as such: "His spare helmet is too big for me so it tends to wobble around on my head a lot; I probably look like a Parkinson's sufferer from the outside." My enormous, Sputnik-like head posed no such problem with the helmet. The appropriate analogy is Sean's head: Helmet :: Winnie-the-Pooh's head: Honeypot.
So any of all y'all that get a chance to, ride on a damn motorcycle, you should do so. You don't have to break your necks to get your kicks. Gene almost definitely probably might not crash. Again. Almost for positively not.
