Join Date: Aug 2012
Location: Side of a mountain in New Hampshire
I grew up on a cattle ranch. I pitched bales up into haywagons from dawn to dark all the summers of my youth and pitched bales out of haywagons to feed them damn cows at 4 in the morning all winter. They kicked at me, bit at me, run at me, I had chiggers, moccasin bites, barbed wire scars up one side and down the other, cleaned up after the live ones and cleaned up the dead ones, thrown into dip, burned by branding irons, skunked, trampled, peed and shat upon and stood up by the pretty girls in town for the hick I was.
I hate cows, I eat cows with a satisfaction that only revenge can deliver. I wear cow parts as much as society will abide and I swear that it was the epiphany that wearing cow hide was acceptable for and expected of motorcyclists that convinced me to spring for my first street bike. Well, that and scoring with the pretty girls in town.
Anyway I got nothing against those that want to take advantage of space age materials in their motorcycling attire. I would wear that stuff too if the manufacture of kevlar included the murder of cows.
Cross Country Tour.
We can't help it
We just keep moving
It's been that way since long ago
Since the stone age chasing the great herds
We mostly go where we have to go
That was written by James McMurtry