When riding becomes dangerous

My insurance agent is going to kill me.

As some of you know, I went on a motorcycle ride with my younger brother, his friend and my father during the Fourth of July weekend.

Well, during that ride, I was in charge of taking the photos because I was riding “tail” out of the four of us.

It was a beautiful ride; one I will never forget.

We rode up to Flaming Gorge and through Evanston, Wyoming with the intent to purchase a few fireworks for our family’s celebration on the Fourth; sometimes referred to as “The Cul-de-Sac of Fire” — not to be confused with the stadium.

Unfortunately, those plans were extremely altered when we got caught in a nasty thunderstorm as we neared Evanston. We, very literally, were drenched. It was if we had all jumped into a pool.

Soaked to the bone. Not an inch of us was dry.

Not going to lie… it was a little scary. I don’t ride my motorcycle in the rain — ever! I didn’t have much of a choice this time. We were caught unaware.

Suffice it to say, we had a blast; eventually dried off; but, never purchased our fireworks. (I don’t think we would have been able to get them back dry.)

This entry was posted on Wednesday, July 15th, 2009 at 4:08 pm and is filed under Day in the Life of.... You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.