Biker Bitch

Strange that my second time ever on a motorcycle (thanks to Sir Ian)
was my first time as a passenger. I'm sure there are very few people who can make that boast, fewer who would ever boast about something so stupid, and even less that had this first experience tearing down the straight’n lonesome roads of rural North Dakota.
<----(Actual Picture) Is it really necessary to say rural North Dakota, or is that implied? Regardless, there is no doubt that my first motorcycle experience elevated me to the rare air of Rough Rider Badass of the North Dakota Badlands, whereas my second experience, huddled behind a Colombian Marine on the back of his new 650cc Honda bike firmly established me in the category of bitch.
I won't say which designation I find more appealing, but there is no denying the pleasure I experienced cruising through the Barcelona streets, eaking through impossibly narrow spaces between cars, and feeling the snot of freedom flow from my liberated nose. My desire to buy a Moto for myself received a healthy injection of urgency, though it would be pointless to do so before Christmas break.
Thanks Ian, you're my favorite Colombian Marine at IESE.