The undersigned, while not disdaining the outputs in groups, is generally a solitary traveler who looks little in the mirrors, who at sudden crossroads, who eats when he remembers, and who often stops to take pictures, an excellent excuse between the other to mask gaits now irretrievably from lame sloth. However, either one is a street hermit, or when he is in the company some compromise must accept him even if there are things that hurt his nerves, for example, these three unbearable behaviors.
Like we all meet together to go for a ride, and even if the meeting is prudently set at dawn to try to leave by noon, there’s never any time to respect the time. That in addition to the chronic latecomers there is the one who must change the visor, the one who must smoke the Giacchino, the one who has to call the ganza, the one who loses the keys (shut up, no one dares to open his mouth!). But above all, that is what, once everyone finally has their helmet on their head, their headlights on even during the day and the first gear, says: “At the first gas station let’s stop being in reserve!”.
During the stops at the porchetta kiosk it often happens that someone approaches you to the bike to chat, and so far ok, that it is a habitual friend of folds or a stranger met at the moment is always nice to exchange a few words on an accessory of which you are proud of on the “thin shirt” of the girl behind the sandwich counter. Except that sometimes you get those that at some point begin to touch the brake or clutch levers as if to control the game, or you move the keyring that you keep in a strategic position so as not to scratch the dashboard, or you rotate the knob of the gas of that half-millimeter that sends you into paranoia. But above all, and here as far as I am concerned, Gandhi’s teachings on non-violence go to women of easy virtue, with their feet they begin to tap tap on the front rubber! Madonna what anger! But what have you got from tap tap are, do you want to check the pressure? Are you guessing if it’s tubeless or not? Are you aware of how it matures like fruit shops with watermelons? I tell you, to the next I put on gloves, those with titanium protections on my knuckles, and tap tap I do it on my head. But strong!
The socialists (in the sense of social)
In a perennially connected society, in which the steering plates are full of screens like the CNN control room, and in which on the mountain passes we are more concerned with the field of mobile phones than with the views, not even should we call Trump to ask how to deactivate the procedure started after inadvertently pressing a red button with the word “FIRE!”, also the language of motorcyclists has changed genetically. I don’t know about you, but when I hear “I changed my baby shoes” I wonder: what problems did they have when they were children? And those that “my savoring”? But don’t wive girlfriends and concubines take them for a beat? Not to mention the phenomena that “I closed the tires”, wow! Some days ago there was one who all proudly showed curled shoulders and scraped platforms, crumbled practically, consumed almost up to the joint. But a suspension system no eh?
Then there would also be those who “bathed the baby”, but in this case, I tend to be more indulgent: it depends on the child (I know from this, this is more sexist than the “savoring”, so much so to say du ‘biserrate )