So the old ball & chain tells me that we're going on a family vacation with her folks this year to the beach. No sweat, her brothers like beer, the kids love the beach, and I don't mind getting away (I like to have a motorcycle with me if I can help it...or at least rent a scooter for that hair in the wind feeling). They hook up a house in Myrtle Beach that's big enough to hold an entire family and all of the shit that you have to haul to the beach with a bunch of germ pod children. A house is booked, vacation days are planned, and here we come...oh, but wait...that week is Black Bike Week. Awesome.
While I could probably have a better time at Black Bike Week than any of the PBR beardfest events that I go to, I don't think it's the kind of place that you parade around a group of 1-4 year old children in search of a quiet beach vacation. I want my three year old daughter to be a strong, independe...blah blah blah, but I don't want her to think that parading around the house in nothing but her princess panties is also acceptible street attire. Not that I have anything against galavanting around town in your skivvies, but as with any retarded guy with a kid of his own you think, "haha, awesome, but I don't want my kids doing it." It has to do with some kind of monkey DNA that is still latent in all of us that also keeps us from eating our children or something...I think I read that on Wikipedia once or something...maybe it was Urban Dictionary...or an episode of 48 Hours that my wife was watching trying to devise the perfect plan to finally get rid of me.
Okay, that was a tangent. Sorry. But, this whole deal got me thinking...we should do a Black Bike Week ride! That shit would be bananas. Who's in?