Motorcycles

Don’t ride the line. The closer a motorcycle hugs the dividing line….the dumber they are. You don’t belong on the road at all. Get the the fuck out of the Black Hills. Your poor family gets asked how you died….”two-wheels made them feel immortal and king shit of who-cares-about anybody but me.” Your ignorance or confidence, hard to tell which, at your ability to not cross over the line doesn’t comfort anyone, you piece of shit. Don’t come to Sturgis. Don’t come to South Dakota, to exercise your death-wish-desires. Fuck you and your mom and the dumb faberge egg you rode in on.

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