Meet Mr. Dribbles

*** continued from previous post ***

Here was some fun: Our extra bag, our 'absolutely 100% guaranteed waterproof' bag, was a pain. No matter how I tied it down, I would turn my back and find the cursed thing dribbling off the luggage rack of the motorcycle's trunk. The Houdini of soft-side luggage. Oh, what could the answer be? More bungee cords to the rescue!

I know I've asked it before but I will ask it again - who thought putting a metal hook on the end of a huge rubber band was a good idea? Probably the same people that invented lawn-darts back in the '70's. That's back before people tried to protect the young and were still allowing various mass-produced consumer products to thin the genetic herd. ("Here Timmy, go long and I'll hurl this large, winged projectile with a sharp, 3 inch metal-tipped spike at your head. Extra cookies if you catch it in your mouth!")

True to form, I almost put out my eye with a bungee cord. It's God's and my little joke. The scratched cornea went surprisingly well with the welts on my forehead from the day before.

Somehow I managed to lash "Mr. Dribbles" securely, and with our luggage attended to, our belongings stowed, and our protective gear zipped, buckled, and sometimes stapled, we climbed on the bike and prepared to bid farewell to our new found friends in Galway Bay, vowing never to return. At least for a year or so when the memory of our night spent here would lose its sharp edges and become simply, "That lovely little town just over the border."

In all honesty, it might take more than a year. It might be the next life.

Those thoughts could wait until later. For now all we knew is that we were really, really hungry. Surely we would find a charming restaurant just up the road.


*** the journey continues ***