Driver~Helper Chemistry

brownette

@)>-%---
I'm late to this thread but I think brownette can easily be an author if she put her mind to it. . I love everyone of her posts. They seem to make a twisted sort of sense to me.


Sort of like Ignatius O'Reilly from "A Confederacy of Dunces", emphasis on "sort of".

Hello pickup, Regarding me being a writer….thank you for the compliment!….here’s a true story:

In the late 1980’s, my older sister gave me a hand me down Honda motorcycle. I took it to a shop, and paid for a tune up. However, I didn’t have a license or riding lessons. Nonetheless, I picked it up at the shop when it was ready. It was a lovely summer evening, dark outside, so I walked the bike away from the shop, started it up, and slowly rode around the quiet streets. However, it was such a big bike, that I could barely touch the ground with my feet. I’m riding down an alley, and suddenly a police squad car approaches me from the other end of the alley. I slowly swerve to let them pass, and they ignore me, thank God. A while later, at maybe 5 to 10 miles per hour, I slowly take a left turn around a corner, and I wipe out in a pile of sand. The fork of the bike was bent, making it unrideable as I tried to get up and leave. I had a small road rash. So I walk the bike back to the shop, and leave it outside. The next day I contact the shop, and ask them to fix it up again. The owner angrily asks me, “Do you even know how to ride?” I say no. He says, he’ll fix up the bike, if I have a licensed rider pick it up for me, and I contacted a friend, who did that for me after I paid for the second repair. We took the bike back to my house, and then I brought the bike to a college during my Motorcycle maintenance class, and we got it working real good. I remember the instructor happily riding it around the garage. I took it home again, and as I had no license yet and hadn’t yet transferred the title all this time, my sneaky sister sold it to someone else and shared no profit with me, after all of that time and money I put into the bike. Oh well….LOL!
 

burrheadd

KING Of GIFS
Hello pickup, Regarding me being a writer….thank you for the compliment!….here’s a true story:

In the late 1980’s, my older sister gave me a hand me down Honda motorcycle. I took it to a shop, and paid for a tune up. However, I didn’t have a license or riding lessons. Nonetheless, I picked it up at the shop when it was ready. It was a lovely summer evening, dark outside, so I walked the bike away from the shop, started it up, and slowly rode around the quiet streets. However, it was such a big bike, that I could barely touch the ground with my feet. I’m riding down an alley, and suddenly a police squad car approaches me from the other end of the alley. I slowly swerve to let them pass, and they ignore me, thank God. A while later, at maybe 5 to 10 miles per hour, I slowly take a left turn around a corner, and I wipe out in a pile of sand. The fork of the bike was bent, making it unrideable as I tried to get up and leave. I had a small road rash. So I walk the bike back to the shop, and leave it outside. The next day I contact the shop, and ask them to fix it up again. The owner angrily asks me, “Do you even know how to ride?” I say no. He says, he’ll fix up the bike, if I have a licensed rider pick it up for me, and I contacted a friend, who did that for me after I paid for the second repair. We took the bike back to my house, and then I brought the bike to a college during my Motorcycle maintenance class, and we got it working real good. I remember the instructor happily riding it around the garage. I took it home again, and as I had no license yet and hadn’t yet transferred the title all this time, my sneaky sister sold it to someone else and shared no profit with me, after all of that time and money I put into the bike. Oh well….LOL!
ImageUploadedByBrownCafe1436472562.009794.jpg
 

Big Arrow Down...D

Leave the gun,take the cannoli
Hello pickup, Regarding me being a writer….thank you for the compliment!….here’s a true story:

In the late 1980’s, my older sister gave me a hand me down Honda motorcycle. I took it to a shop, and paid for a tune up. However, I didn’t have a license or riding lessons. Nonetheless, I picked it up at the shop when it was ready. It was a lovely summer evening, dark outside, so I walked the bike away from the shop, started it up, and slowly rode around the quiet streets. However, it was such a big bike, that I could barely touch the ground with my feet. I’m riding down an alley, and suddenly a police squad car approaches me from the other end of the alley. I slowly swerve to let them pass, and they ignore me, thank God. A while later, at maybe 5 to 10 miles per hour, I slowly take a left turn around a corner, and I wipe out in a pile of sand. The fork of the bike was bent, making it unrideable as I tried to get up and leave. I had a small road rash. So I walk the bike back to the shop, and leave it outside. The next day I contact the shop, and ask them to fix it up again. The owner angrily asks me, “Do you even know how to ride?” I say no. He says, he’ll fix up the bike, if I have a licensed rider pick it up for me, and I contacted a friend, who did that for me after I paid for the second repair. We took the bike back to my house, and then I brought the bike to a college during my Motorcycle maintenance class, and we got it working real good. I remember the instructor happily riding it around the garage. I took it home again, and as I had no license yet and hadn’t yet transferred the title all this time, my sneaky sister sold it to someone else and shared no profit with me, after all of that time and money I put into the bike. Oh well….LOL!
Did you hit your head?
 
Top