I’m exhausted… 1044 miles on the back of a Harley makes Miss Shannon feel like she’s been through a meat grinder. About forty of those miles were without a helmet, which is a bad bad thing that our good pal, Dozer, actually posted on Facebook so now our mothers know. While I have the utmost love and respect for both ladies, who are both entirely right, which I know because there’d be hell to pay if one of my kids did it…I just don’t want to hear the rigmorale. As the autonomous adults we are, we took a calculated risk for a short time on back roads. The last time I rode without a helmet, I was probably seventeen. That was back in the day when the dirty bikers were a different breed altogether… (Please note: I almost didn’t go out with Dozer because I think most MC guys are dicks.) I like my current manifestation of dirty biker much better, which includes fellows who won’t allow me to walk across the street alone at midnight on account of somebody might hurt me. Miss Shannon needs protecting, you know… It was awfully cute, never in my life have I experienced men in protective mode before I met Dozer. And it’s not just Dozer… it’s his friends, too. I really love them for it.
Our group took this trip through a thunder storm to support a brother whose son walks with angels, so we could help him cry. It broke my delicate tulip heart… This is a man I dance with regularly… his wife is someone I count as my friend. He actually came to me following the celebration of the life of his son to tell me he’d come hang my door next week. I can’t tell you what it meant to me that on the day we celebrated the life of his son, this very good man was worried about whether I was safe in my bed. These folks are who we’re talking about when we say ‘good people’…. I can honestly say that I have never experienced such comradery and willingness to give. I grew up wishing for government cheese poor… and these people are right there with the folks who will share their last bag of pinto beans with you… You need, I got… if that’s not in your world… find it. Be willing to reciprocate.
Since we were traveling as a legion, we popped on over to the local legion Post 177 in Fairfax, Virginia. They have a nice post with some fun people, a bride to be that I am proud to say I didn’t try to talk down and most importantly… they have a separate room you can smoke in. I headed back there and started making conversation with the guys playing pool. We were heading to the beach the following day… Rehoboth Beach, Delaware… You could’ve heard a pin drop. Apparently, there’s a large gay population there. Despite the fact that I have many loved ones who aren’t breeders, this has just not come up in conversation. Naturally, I found this hilarious, as did absolutely everyone who was with us except Dozer. I wouldn’t go so far as to say he’s homophobic, but he is an old white guy who is used to conservative, traditional folks. (No, people, I don’t know why this relationship works… it just does. You’ll be all right.) I decided to consider this a learning curve for him, kind of like hanging in Republican Land was a hell of a departure for me.
The beach was gorgeous… acres of beautiful sand, the ocean and a fun tourist trap kind of area. We had a lot of fun, satisfied my inner sea sprite, and ate some really good food. I wasn’t overly concerned that there would be anything that would make anyone uncomfortable… Gay people are just like breeders (aka straight people) in that they don’t commonly copulate in public, generally wear clothing and are at the beach to do the very same activities. The only time Dozer even noticed any difference was when we were walking by an entirely male populated bar, at which point he steered me in another direction with a certain level of forcefulness. I tried to tell him we’d probably have a hella good time there, but he wasn’t buying. If there were twenty lesbians there, it’d be different. That’s women together and he wants to watch… Miss Shannon is giving Rehoboth Beach two thumbs way, way up!! Dozer says next time we’re going to the Outer Banks. In the immortal words of Charlie Daniels, he’s going back where the women are women and the men are men.