I'm trying to piece together the events of yesterday. Actually, I recall it with full clarity, it's just gonna be hard to describe it adequately. Let's start with sound. It was loud in Hulett yesterday. Very loud. There were more hogs and muffler thunder and beer-clutching, leather-clad humanoids whooping and hollering than I've ever seen or heard in one place. The smell was one of leather and sweat, exhaust and roast pig. And speaking of pig, there were lotsa cops and they didn't let the day go by without stopping by Duke for a look-see. The smell they claimed to have gotten reports of was, well.. you guess. Three guesses and the first two don't count, as they say. I couldn't believe it, and I told them so. I looked each cop straight in the eye and said, "I DO NOT smoke marijuana." It's easy to do that when in fact you don't.

I even told them they could run their dog through the car for all I cared because I DO NOT smoke marijuana. Well, my conviction must have impressed them, that and the dizzying litany of anecdotes about Duke that I spouted off to derail their thinking, for they didn't search. The cop actually said to me, "Well, we're not gonna send the dog in there because we can see you have a lot of delicate things in there and he might break something jumping around and wagging his tail." What a life I lead.

Seven comes on the radio just now and says lets stop in Billings at a supermarket "so Duke can get that fish stuff." Typical Seven linguistic eloquence. At our last stop in Somewhere, WY, I said I might like to pick up some salmon steaks to grill for supper. Fish stuff. Well, they didn't have any salmon at the store we stopped at, so Seven bought beef.

The other thing he said just now on the CB is that he wants chocolate milk. I say to Tex, "Him and his chocolate milk." Tex says he figures a man in a wheelchair on a long trip has gotta have his little pleasures to keep him happy. And then he says, "speaking of which," and reaches into the cooler for a beer. I don't know what the laws are here about having an open container, but from everything I'd ever heard from Jill about MT I ain't gonna worry about it. The speed limit here is "Reasonable and Prudent" during the day, and according to Jill whenever her bad-boy little brother got a ticket it was for $5 or $10 at the most. Cool state. South Dakota was the only place that worried me, especially around Sturgis and with Seven getting pulled over and all. In Wyoming we were encouraged to open a beer and hit the road.

Anyway, back to Hulett. There were bared breasts by the bozen, er.. dozen. Women were actually given discounts at the various vendors for showing their breasts. It was the first time I'd ever had women pose for bare-breasted shots atop Duke's trunk tower, and not just once but repeatedly and we even made a little money off it. And speaking of firsts, it was the first time Duke has ever been paid to appear at a biker rally.

There was one bare-breasted girl in particular worth ample mention. Miss Ashley the stripper from Casper, the blonde dog-musher beauty in the silver Barbarella bikini and not much else. Bronze tanned belly, a flesh white nickel-sized Playboy bunny in reverse-tan on her left breast, a freckle for an eye. Miss Ashley was the shits, one hell-fire buxom blonde with a solid punch, muscles like a wrestler and a quite sharp wit. Here was Holly Golightly in a killer blonde quarterback's body and she was smitten with me. Of all the things.

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Last update April 1, 2004