Baby, We Were Born To Ride

Look. At. Me. And Stella. We're on a boat!

Instead of our usual ride down Eastern, over the Southgate Bridge and to Graeter's in Newport, Dean suggested we mix it up a bit this weekend.

So we headed down Eastern, across the Southgate Bridge and kept on going, y'all. All the way down River Road to Anderson Ferry.

We were winding around downtown on Mehring Way when suddenly Dean stopped and kind of looked around.

"We didn't end up where I thought we would," he said, looking at Stella. "We can do this, right?"

"Totally. We can do this." I said this with complete and utter confidence. I had no idea what he was worried about. To me it looked like we were just getting ready to head down a country road. Stella can only go about 37 mph, but hey, this wasn't our first rodeo, you know.

We flipped our helmet shields back down and took off.

It was about, ohhh, 30 seconds later when I realized that the country road we were facing suddenly turned into the 6th Street Expressway. Four lanes of highway.

"Ohh, shit." I said it outloud, into my helmet.

I pulled Stella's throttle all the way back and whoa, y'all, we took off like a freakin' rocket.

Uncle! I cried to myself.

Outta my way beeyotches! Stella yelled.

It was downhill a bit, so we must have been going at least 39 or 40. And fortunately it was only a quarter mile or so to River Road, so I didn't pee my pants that much.

Here's Dean and me on the ferry, post-terror ride down the expressway...





...and me posing with Dean's scooter, Buddy. (Dean's scooter has a lame name.)



After winding our way through Kentucky on Route 8 you'll never guess where we ended up... Graeter's in Newport! Who'd have thought. Dean treated me to a chocolate scoop in a waffle cone, I think because he felt bad he nearly got me seriously maimed.

Needless to say, it was the best ride yet.

In other scooter news, I've noticed a new phenomenon lately. Most scooter riders wave to each other when they pass. It's like acknowledging your tribe or something. But lately, I've gotten several waves from motorcycles as well. Men, women, Harleys, crotch-rockets. There doesn't seem to be a pattern.

How fab is that.