Sidecar Snow Plow

Motorcycle Misadventures has posted an interesting picture on her web site showing a motorcycle sidecar snow plow in the middle of Ohio. The blog author, Carla King is an avid motorcyclist, with riding adventures under her belt that go as far as China, India and some other interesting parts of the world. Yes you guessed it, Carla is also a journalist and a published author. A good read for anyone interested in riding and long road trips as well as the challenges presented/solved on these. I would encourage you to read some of here writings (Posted on her web site) and judge for yourself.

Some of Carla's writings

The affair.......

A married man and his secretary are having an affair. They decide to leave the office early one day and go to the secretary's apartment for an afternoon of lovemaking. They fall asleep and don't wake up until 8PM later that night. They quickly get dressed and the man asks his secretary to take his shoes and go rub them in the grass. The secretary thinks this is pretty weird, but she does it anyway.

The man finally gets home and his wife meets him at the door. The wife is very upset and asks him where he has been.

The husband replies, "I can not tell a lie. My secretary and I are having an affair. We left work early today, went to her place, made love all afternoon, and then we fell asleep. That's why I'm late!"

The wife looks at him, takes notice of his shoes and says, "I see those grass stains all over your shoes. You've been playing golf again, haven't you!"

Important notice....!

Due to recent budget cuts and the rising cost of electricity, gas and oil,
as well as current market conditions, the Light at the End of the Tunnel
has been turned off.

We apologize for the inconvenience.

Madeira M'Dear - Flanders and Swann

She was young, she was pure, she was new, she was nice,
She was fair, she was sweet seventeen.
He was old, he was vile and no stranger to vice,
He was base, he was bad, he was mean.
He had slyly enveigled her up to his flat
To view his collection of stamps
And he said as he hastened to put out the cat,
The wine, his cigar and the lamps:
"Have some Madeira, m'Dear!
You really have nothing to fear.
I'm not trying to tempt you, that wouldn't be right;
You shouldn't drink spirits at this time of night.
Have some Madeira, m'Dear!
It's so very much nicer than beer.
I don't care for sherry and cannot drink stout
And port is a wine I can well do without.
It's simply a case of "chaçun à son goût".
Have some Madeira, m'Dear!"

Unaware of the wiles of the snake in the grass
And the fate of the maiden who topes,
She lowered her standards by raising her glass,
Her courage, her eyes and his hopes.
She sipped it, she drank it, she drained it, she did
And quietly he filled it again
And he said as he secretly carved one more notch
On the butt of his gold-handled cane.
"Have some Madeira, m'Dear!
I've got a small cask of it here
And once it's been opened, you know it won't keep
Do finish it up, it will help you to sleep.
Have some Madeira, m'Dear!
It's really an excellent year.
Now if it were gin, you'd be wrong to say yes,
The evil gin does would be hard to assess
(Besides it's inclined to affect my prowess)
Have some Madeira, m'Dear!"

Then there flashed though her mind what her mother had said
With her antepenultimate breath:
"Oh my child, should you look at the wine which is red
Be prepared for a fate worse than death!"
She let go her glass with a shrill little cry.
Crash! Tinkle! It fell to the floor.
When he asked "what in Heaven?" she made no reply,
Up her mind, a dash for the door.
"Have some Madeira, m'Dear!"
Rang out down the hall, loud and clear,
A tremulous cry that was filled with despair
As she paused to take breath in the full midnight air.
"Have some Madeira, m'Dear!"
The words seemed to ring in her ear
Until the next morning, she woke up in bed
With a smile on her lips, an ache in her head
And a beard in her earhole that tickled and said:
"Have some Madeira, m'Dear!"

Ha-ha-ha! Mmm..

An American Literary Legend passes on....

John Updike passed away at the age of 76 after a bout with lung cancer. He was born in Pennsylvania in 1932 and was the offspring of a modest school teacher.
His novels depicted every day American life and more particularly described life in a small, protestant, middle class American town.
His first novel was published in 1959..”The Poorhouse Fair”, but the “Rabbit” is what made him famous...Harold “Rabbit” Armstrong's sex life, education, affairs, marriage, ups and downs in life were described in vivid details in these chronicles.
John Updike attended Harvard and spent a year or so at Oxford. He worked briefly for the New Yorker Magazine prior to becoming an established and well known writer