My dad’s home from le hospital. Now, instead of nurses poking him with needles around the clock while his ass hangs out, he gets to wear pants and go in to have his blood drawn every few days. Major improvement. Still not ideal, as his knee is ginormous and unfixable until they get the blood clots resolved and he’s off the blood thinner. Not exactly the news an active 63-year old likes to hear. (By active, I mean like rides a bicycle on purpose over mountain passes just because they’re there. It’s probably why he survived the clot passing through his heart, and why I would have dropped dead.)
It’s also why Bob and I got to take my parents’ Goldwing for a joy ride to fill it up with gas before winterizing it for my dad. There was a chance it would be a bit chilly on the ride, so I borrowed my mom’s leathers, including her assless chaps. (Are there assful chaps? I’m guessing not. Wouldn’t those just be leather pants? Answered my own question right there. Alrighty then.)
My main job on the ride, aside from wearer of assless chaps, was to take pictures from the back of the motorcycle.
First, a self portrait.
My pilot, during a pitstop in Downieville where we scoped out an OHV location. His true passion is offroad, not on. Although, riding the parental units’ Cadillac o’ bikes did make him long to add a commute-bike back into the garage.