Hog Heaven

I always find it funny how I stumble across new things to write about without even looking for it.

For instance, take this past Saturday.

The day started innocently enough. It's garage sale season, and as you know, I'm running full force ahead with my new antique/junk collecting obsession. I'm picking up little treasures here and there. You know, fun stuff...stuff that you don't need, but somehow, can't live without. Stuff like this:

I can't help myself. I'm drawn to the gaudy and impractical. This summer, I have learned the true meaning of One man's trash is another man's treasure! Not that there's anything at all whatsoever manly about this painting.

Anywho, one garage sale lead to the next, and before I knew it, I was buying a 3 dollar crystal bowl while my hubby talked to the seller about the Harley dealership down the road, and how they were open that day, and how, Hey! He knows the owner! We should stop in!

Huh?

I told my husband that I didn't want to turn this into an all day thing. Famous last words. I grabbed my checkbook on our way to the dealership. After we changed into appropriate clothes to test drive a few bikes. Just had a hunch. Plus, if I would have told hubby that I didn't think it was a good idea to go look at bikes, he prob would have looked at me like I kicked our diva cat, Roxy. And I'm no cat kicker!

This is what happened:

See, told ya I had a hunch. Good thing I brought the checkbook with me, eh?

My husband is in hog heaven. Fine, we both are. Did you know that the term "Nice hog!" came from the fact that Harley Davidson used to use a pig as it's logo, when the bikes first became available for purchase? What can I say. I learn a lot while watching American Pickers. It's my fave show!

I have a few points to this post, trust me.

1). You never know when a day of yard sale shopping will turn into an all-day experience at a Harley dealership.

2). Always carry your checkbook, just in case.

3). 90 degree day + tank top + no sunblock = sunburned shoulders.

Seriously though, there is something so pure and freeing about being on a bike. The smell of wildflowers floating through the country air. The way your skin cools when driving beneath a canopy of trees on a winding road. A thrill, an excitement that no one can touch because it's all your own.

Life can be hard. But feeling bad-ass on a Harley can certainly help.

xoxo

-K