An old seventy turns to fuel injection. I couldn't believe it. She'll sit on the head of a pin just to be with me. It's not that way now, the wet one. They resurrected the bike. You could bring it right in and pipe wrench, tear it apart. I'll keep the big cow here when I have to put my bride on the back, take her to the moon. That thing is like a spaceship, just go. I was here at four. He was up sucking coffee, had the house blue smoking cigarettes. I'm going to John the barber, get my hair cut short. Let her grow back. Nip down tight. It's windy again, a little breezy, not a sixty mile an hour gale like two racks of ribs. I sat in the garage and drank a couple of beers. Drunk, we are, all of us, tucked in grease. I'll ride down to Oscoda, have that GI cut me. He knows how to do it. Have I bored you already? I’ve got to get outside, see the day. One thing after another. I would like a couple more of them sleeping pills.
Joy in the Morning