I was making a left hand turn off exit 189 in my delicious red F250 which happens to have what’s left of its exhaust system duct taped to the frame. You ignored my crusty, yet functional, turn signal which frantically flashed its heart out. I cut you off in traffic, and you proceeded to pull out your bifocal reading glasses from your leathers and, after locating the correct button, toot that adorable horn of yours.
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As I navigated my backfiring rust-bucket into the left hand turn lane for the Everett Mall Way, you stopped and tried to share your passionate love for me. Unfortunately, I couldn’t hear you over the sound of how awesome your motorcycle was, and the sound of my misfiring 4.9L 6 cylinder engine. CCR's “Traveling Band” was playing on my dreadful stock ford radio.
After you blocked traffic, taking nearly a minute out of your time to profess your love to me and my passenger, I gave you a thumbs-up sign, you mouthed "Fuck You", then you proceeded to cut off at least 30 cars as you cut into the right hand turn lane toward Broadway. I think we really hit it off, I felt a strong connection... although I didn’t catch half of the conversation.
The idea of your beautiful machine getting wadded up underneath my leaking rear end totally gets me turned on. If you wish to rub bumpers, maybe even share a bit of paint between us, give me a honk and a nudge.
- Location: Everett
- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests