Sometime, in late may or june, when sissy bars are sooo last year and more bobbers lurch out of sheds, (got to be period guy, is it a pan?), the time machine and I will have an adventure, tooling along the blacktop, through sun drenched avenues, she's purring 'good times', her pipes announce our passage through scented valleys, as we meander the wooded hills above Nice and along to Antibes ... and fuck t h e w o r l d.
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