A D B L

And his wife ride into the sun­set to­gether?

Savvy - - Adam & Peeve -

Af­ter years of pin­ing for a mo­tor­cy­cle, I fi­nally de­cided to buy one again. Mau­reen (the wife) en­dorsed the idea of a twowheeler but in­sisted on a non-geared scooter. Her logic, “It’s so con­ve­nient to trans­port gro­ceries and big bags by plac­ing them in the front.” Gina (our teenaged daugh­ter) sec­onded the idea as it would be easy for her to bor­row and ride.

Thank­fully, Ja­son threw his weight be­hind me and we pur­chased a Royal En­field; ‘It’s a man’s bike!’ - af­ter all.

I de­cided to take ‘her’ (bikes are al­ways girls) out for a nice, long ride and men­tioned this over din­ner. Mau­reen was all ex­cited about the idea and piped up, “Soooo, where should we go?” Aaaaaar­rrrgggg!

Con­cerned, I said, “This is a two-wheeler and it’s nei­ther safe nor com­fort­able. I sug­gest you sit this one out.” The con­cern in my voice was gen­uine - but I was more con­cerned about spoil­ing my ride than the in­con­ve­nience or dan­ger to Mau­reen.

Early next day, the three of us (bike, Mau­reen and I) started out. Rid­ing re­minded Mau­reen so much about the time we were dat­ing and ‘madly’ in love. She kept up a steady flow of chat­ter and kept say­ing how much she was en­joy­ing the ride. Aaaar­rrgggghhh!

When we hit the high­way, I speeded up and thank­fully could not hear her. This, of course, didn’t stop her from talk­ing. She sug­gested I slow down so we could have a leisurely chat. Aaaar­rrggghhh!

K CWe re­turned late night af­ter a leisurely joyride ac­cord­ing to Mau­reen, and a stress­ful en­counter ac­cord­ing to me. Too many breaks for cof­fee ‘ n’ sand­wiches… and too many in­ter­rup­tions in my con­ver­sa­tion with my brand new baby. Aaaar­rrggghhh!

Mau­reen ex­cit­edly sug­gested we buy hel­mets with blue­tooth or wired con­nec­tions so we could con­tin­u­ously chat on our next ride out. Aaaaar­rrggghhh!

While Mau­reen ex­cit­edly planned our next trip, I was plan­ning on sell­ing my bike. The best laid plans of men come to naught when women in­ter­vene.

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