The Way Home

On the way home I noticed an awful lot of motorcycles coming the other way. I believe a common practice for bikers in Phoenix is to ride up to Prescott for the day, and I imagine the dark thunderhead of noise that this produces over Prescott all day really pleases the locals.

I tried to imagine what a conversation between some of these people would be like.

"Don't you love the serentity and peace of the open road?"
"What?"
"I said, Don't you love the serenity and peace of the open road?"
"Man, I can't hear you, my tympanic membranes are toast."
"What?"
"I said, Man, I can't hear you, my tympanic membranes are toast."
"Man, I can't hear you, my tympanic membranes are toast."
"What?"
"I said..."

Count me in.