Every year, when the grass starts to green up, birds start to sing, and cats demonstrate their remarkable ability to reproduce, there are certain rites that people everywhere feel obliged to adhere to. Women buy Spring dresses. High school boys borrow cars to drive to their Junior Proms. Men begrudgingly rototill gardens. And the gleam in every moto-head's eyes start to sparkle a bit brighter.
Visions of exhaust dance in the heads of the young . . .
Dad's, ironically, use dirty language as they clean carburetors.
(50 Staple Conklin)
Just wouldn't be spring, without a few new additions.
Blue for Kyle . . .
. . . Orange for Blake
Pretty girls balance horsepower and the woods.
Who doesn't love the rites of Spring?
sweet post. We've gotta do another iron horse.
ReplyDeleteWho wouldn't love the rites of spring given your description? We thought we were supposed to just be rototilling and putting in new planter boxes for raspberries. Your rites of spring are way more fun than ours!
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