So I was asleep last night (of course), and dreaming that I was getting a motorcycle, which I could ride to work and ride down the Pacific Coast Highway and all that. It seemed a perfectly reasonable and desirable idea, although I remember Greg H. in my dream criticizing me for wanting some a fancy, larger BMW before starting out on a smaller
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Long ago, when he was still alive (of course) I had a friend named Eddie. Eddie was 5'2" and had lived most of his life in The Bronx before moving to SF. He fancied himself quite the butch thing. (As I once told him, “Honey, you'll die with the secret.”) One night, he had a dream of riding a motorcycle.
So he signed up for lessons. Oh the hoopla! Oh the preening! Mr Man was gonna be a hot motorcycle stud.
Then he learned one very important prerequisite: you have to know how to ride a bicycle first. Apparently they don't even state that in the prerequisites. HI-larious.
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