tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8333594380363882958.post8893264723516691638..comments2023-08-28T03:19:34.617-07:00Comments on It's Nelly's World: Gratitudes: Part IIMelissa Holbrook Piersonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15617752678155038816noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8333594380363882958.post-40189191941572100612008-04-29T02:40:00.000-07:002008-04-29T02:40:00.000-07:00Bill, congratulations. That mindless staring, loo...Bill, congratulations. That mindless staring, looking, but not looking, at the engine as you sit on the curb-well, that's one way to discover oil leaks. But it's also the way to Nirvana. You got there. So few people do.Melissa Holbrook Piersonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15617752678155038816noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8333594380363882958.post-64526801664570514582008-04-28T02:26:00.000-07:002008-04-28T02:26:00.000-07:00Twisties are fun. That's OK, I suppose. Perhaps ...Twisties are fun. That's OK, I suppose. Perhaps better would be an hour of cold rain and passing trucks. <BR/><BR/>I like smoking with numb fingers that could barely remove my chin strap. I smoke and stare at my bike and the road. I'm hungry and tired and I start the engine.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8333594380363882958.post-85341968459904294982008-04-24T16:16:00.000-07:002008-04-24T16:16:00.000-07:00Bill, the reason you aren't dreaming of riding is ...Bill, the reason you aren't dreaming of riding is because . . . you're riding in real life. You want both? Greedy, greedy. (Motorcycles have a way of making one greedy for all their riches and then some, though, so it's not your fault.) <BR/><BR/>Someday soon it'll be my turn. I think that, on the way to the grocery store or the library, I just might be able to find some twisties. How's that?Melissa Holbrook Piersonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15617752678155038816noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8333594380363882958.post-63753048521416058932008-04-24T02:18:00.000-07:002008-04-24T02:18:00.000-07:00you write:* my dreams, for their ability to permit...you write:<BR/><BR/>* my dreams, for their ability to permit me to re-visit a happy past, especially in the form of a white motorcycle by the name of Lario, which for these nights is back in my possession (actually running!) and under me and sounding as beautiful as she ever did<BR/><BR/>Dear Ms. Pierson:<BR/><BR/>I'm not one to say something isn't fair or to be jealous of one or another. But I do want to dream of motorcycles. Your motorcycle dreams actually include its sound. Now, I'm jealous. Your post prompted me to step outside on my smoke break and start my bike. I even re-started it for others that stepped out later. <BR/><BR/>In several hours I'll be riding home with the rising sun directly behind me. Before me the sun's effect will wash over hundreds of miles of Colorado mountains. And below me the perfect vehicle makes the new sun and the old mountains a song to sing.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com