Oakdale, California

They ride. Never mind they started six episodes into season one, or that those helmets are the ones the dealer told ‘em they’d need if they wanted to fit in, or that a fifty mile radius around Main Street still stands unchallenged. At first, the bike was just a religiously DVR’ed plasma screen idea. Now, it’s steel and rubber and chrome and leather and chitinous shrapnel hitting their cheeks and yellow guts on the the leading edge of their Levis and—the one time they gave that V-twin a proper wrist cracking out on 120 just after sunset—the powerful grit-wake of an oncoming Peterbilt. Now they feel it. There are many layers to all of this, and maybe they've found theirs. Who am I to argue?

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Note: This is a photo of a nice couple on a Harley Davidson. Characterizations are wholly speculative, and NOTHING negative is implied. Oakdale is better than Petaluma. I would not say this if it weren’t true, so believe it.

Post and photo © Pseudocognitive All rights reserved, forever.