This thread is now about motorcycle Haiku!!!
Twin pots sticking out
From each side of the bike's core
Chugging down the road
Fiberglass, plastic, rubber
Handcrafted with soul
No chain to be lubed
No radiator to fill
The airhead awaits
Moderators - where are you?
My delicate sensibilities are being offended by this discussion. Send this to the doghouse immediately. I will never read or post on this forum again. Please apologize profusely and beg me to stay.
And I have a piece of property in Brooklyn that I'd like to talk to you about.
Aparently nothing happend...
June the 4th, 1973, was much like any other summer's day in Peterborough,
and Ralph Mellish, a file clerk at an insurance company, was on his way
to work as usual when Nothing happened!
Scarcely able to believe his eyes, Ralph Mellish looked down. But one
glance confirmed his suspicions. Behind a bush, on the side of the road,
there was no severed arm. No dismembered trunk of a man in his late
fifties. No head in a bag. Nothing.
For Ralph Mellish, this was not to be the start of any chain of events which would not, in no time at all, involve him in neither a tangled knot of suspicion, nor
any web of lies, which would, had he been not involved, surely have led
him to no other place, than the central criminal court of the Old Bailey.