Eastern Market

I went to Eastern Market this morning to pick up some eggs. I also like to look around and see if anyone is selling used tools. While I was poking through the booths I rounded the corner by the donut stand and saw a stunning girl with a small stand selling what looked like vintage clothing. She was sitting in a chair reading a book and never looked up. She had long wavy blond hair, and powder-white skin. She was wearing a white cotton dress, much like the ones she was selling. I knew the guy at the booth next to her and have bought a few things from him in the past, so I lingered for a while making believe I was browsing his wares. All I was really browsing was her. I don't know what I was holding, maybe an old fishing reel, when I caught myself staring. "Move on" I thought "Nothing to see here," A few months ago I would have walked right over, picked up a dress and held it up to my chest, anything to start up a conversation, but not this morning.

I made my way to the egg guy and asked for a dozen brown eggs. The vendor cracked a few jokes, egg jokes, I suppose, something to do with bringing back the empty carton and he would give it back to the hens to fill. "What the hell are you talking about?", I think I muttered half aloud. I paid for the eggs then perused the fruit. After a few minutes I found myself back at her booth.

I walked by again, slower this time, and checked out what she was selling. Earrings, a few plastic necklaces, maybe a couple of scarves, and more of those wispy white dresses lined up on a rack. "What are you going to do, ask if she has anything in a 32 waist, or a 16 neck?"

Here's the point, no matter how good you have it there is always someone else, someone different, to look at. Booth girl was beautiful, but so were fifty other women at the market today. Am I not capable of being with one girl, a girl that I really like and that seems to like me? Is there a girl out there that if I was with her, I would not look at other women?

She looked up for a second, "Oh shit." I scurried away, back to the fishing reel. "Oh, this will be great for all the fishing you do, IN THE CITY." The vendor said "That's for deep sea fishing, I got a rod here that it would fit on". He held up this short, fat rod, clearly designed to catch a whale "Yeah, that would do it. I'm going to look around some more. Thanks." From where I was standing I could now see her legs. I had been hoping her thighs were chunky so I could get back on the bike and go home. But they were thin and super-toned. To make matters worse (or better, depending on how you look at it) she had on those "woven rope" high heel shoes, which I think are really sexy.

My friends father had a saying "When you get married you can look at the dessert menu, you just can't order from it." This was a tasty looking dessert and I'm not married.

Ultimately I decided to go home, no sense in torturing myself.

Later in the afternoon my friend Chuck and I took a very spirited ride on our bikes up towards Potomac, MD. I was behind him on the Clara Barton screaming along in first gear at 12,000rpm, I looked at the digital speedo, it read 67mph. I had never been on this road before and figured it was crawling with cops looking for clowns like us, so I didn't get too crazy. Chuck's hand came down to his left and he waved me past him, he must have heard me or sensed I was on his ass. I shifted up to second and cranked my wrist down. So much for not getting crazy. In two seconds I passed him at 97mph, almost double the speed limit. At that speed your vision narrows, all you see is the road in front of you, your peripheral vision goes dark, like being in a tunnel. The white dashed lines in the road elongate and become one white stripe. But I could smell flowers, leaves, and freshly cut grass. You feel the most minute changes in temperature or humidity. Your senses are heightened at this speed. It's a cliche, but you really do feel more alive when you're this close to death.

These bikes will easily do 150mph, 195 if you nurse the gears. It's insane, for $10,000 you can buy a stock Japanese bike that will whip any car from Italy. I kept it in second gear to keep my speed "reasonable". A sharp right curve was coming up fast, I looked back down at the speedo, 106mph. I flipped my right wrist forward, the engine gurgled and the bike's nose dipped down hard. V-twin's are nice like that, you can use the engine to brake. I slid to the right in the seat and flared out my right knee, pressing it towards the pavement. I passed a Volkswagen SUV like it was standing still, not much more than a dark blur to my left. As I passed it the sound of my exhaust bounced off the car and sounded twice as load. I apexed the curve, my knee a few inches from the pavement protected only by a thin layer of denim. "Damn, that girl was hot." Generally I don't think about much except the road when I ride, but I was a little distracted. A small patch of sand or gravel caused my front tire, then the rear, to lose their hold on the road and I drifted off my line. "Wooooops, pay attention dumb-dumb!" I didn't have to do anything, these high performance rice-burners are basically self-correcting. The front tire grabbed hold of the road and I never left my lane. I got back on the gas and rode on until the yellow gas light flashed on signaling it was time to refuel.

I took it easier on the rest of the ride and got Eastern Market girl out of my head.

Kay is a good girl, and good for me. I need to stay focused.