Leather is not Ookie

*** continued from previous post  ***

"I don't think that we can put a piece of luggage on the bike that comes from a sporting goods store. It's not that I mind, you understand, but I believe it's a law. And not a State law, but a Federal law with long prison terms and vicious consequences. And at the end of the day a guy named "Bubba", if you know what I mean."

"Yeah. I'm not buying that. I'm sure we can find a duffel bag, or nylon sack of some kind."

"But. . .", I stammer, "that will look . . ."

"Yes?" she asks.

"Well, it would look . . . ookie."

"Really?", she says and places one hand firmly on her hip. "This from the man that put neon green light-up valve stem caps on the bike tires because, and I quote, "It looked real purty at night?"

Your Mother is a worthy adversary. Touche' woman, touche'.

Time to change tack. Brimming with confidence that we would find nothing suitable at the Sporting goods store, I offered the enthusiasm of someone convinced that the other is completely, and totally wrong, but more than willing to let them find out on their own and still look good for my steadfast unconditional support. "You have a point. I'm sure we can find something that will work. You ready to go now?"

Mom looks about the room. I know what she's up to - she's looking to make sure she has everything she needs. I would like to assure her that third-world armies are less well supplied but I refrain because I really would like this to be a good vacation. Besides, the real battle will come later when we actually pack the bike. "Seems like I'm forgetting something. . ." She studies the piles and hesitantly prods the mountain of items closest to her with a tentative toe, much like one would do should they stumble across a body in the woods and a pointy stick is nary to be found. "Well, whatever it is I'm sure it will come to me. Yeah, let's go."

So, it's a jump in the truck and off to the Sporting Goods store we go! This will be fun! I love field trips!

*** the journey continues tomorrow