Buddy Struble, eat your heart out. After wandering from Mainz to Frankfurt to Mainz-along-the-Rhine with poeT who's staying with us for a few days while on his 2+ month tour of Europe, we heard some Green Day playing in the near and thought to investigate this abnormality in the strain of classic rock in the German roll.

So rev that reading engine 'cause what we cobble-stumbled on was the oh-man-I've-got-a-buzz-on-and-can't-ride-my-chopper-home portion of a day long Harley rally on the banks of our fair river. Leather was king in Mainz tonight, folks, wafting from booth to booth to check out bikes, bandannas, and beers.

I, for one, always have my rally cap on, as did D and T tonight to boot. We stuck around to make some memories by the main stage where a promising upstart from Dusseldorf head-banged like any serious biker should: missing helmet and regard for the laws of harmony:

Great thing most Mainzers there had their chaps prepared as this group, as you see, made the crowd move in ways that would make any ordinary attendee limp away with roadburn. But I'm not claiming they crashed. They had the chemistry to make any mild-mannered English instructor light fire to their passport, shape their paper-grading hand into the devil's horns, and start a life of flossing for bugs at the end of a night's long ride.

The only part that brought me back to a leatherless reality was the thought that I really don't sport the shoes to make it work just yet. D, however, is on the balcony listening to the lure of the Autobahn (she says it means "freedom" in German). T is at the moment lengthening his beard.