My Days Are Numbered

I’ve been riding around for a few days now, with those yellow and black WERA numbers on my bike, and I must say I feel pretty stupid playing in traffic with freaking race numbers plastered all over my bike. And what am I going to do when I have to bring the thing in for its now very-overdue 12K service? How am I going to explain that one? Dial *113 and tell me how you like my driving? Umm… no. I was in a creative kind of mood, wanted to know if I could do it; ran out and bought supplies and happily went about my business. Sometimes, I just don’t think stuff through. More often than not, I don’t think stuff through. I just get a wild idea and run with it.

I suppose I could take the offending pieces off and when my (newly recruited) BMW dealer asks where the hell the rest of my bike is, I tell them that I am glad they asked and that “the weirdest thing happened to me on the way up here. That is also why I’m late for my appointment. Anyway, I was hungry and pulled into this truck stop at Exit 114…”

The Pirate's Got A Brand New Tail

Nice Ass!

I need to rework this. With removable and reusable vinyl, so I can just slap them on in the pits the evening before race day. Yeah right! You can’t just “slap” stuff on with them angles on that tail piece. It took me over one whole hour to get the crap to follow the lines the first time around. My lowers are too small for regulation sized number plates… wait a minute… maybe there is a way. I need to go out and measure again.

I just can’t live with those fugly numbers on my bike. First off, yellow is so messing up the theme; secondly, my douche bag factor has increased exponentially (and riding a liter bike certainly doesn’t help there *grins*); and, for some unknown reason (but I could venture a guess), the incidences of cars wanting to race me has tripled in the past week. I’m tired of bruising the egos of those poor Schmucks in their muscle cars (albeit toying with rednecks in pickup trucks gives me a deep sense of pleasure)…

I need race bodywork. Stat!


4 Comments on “My Days Are Numbered”

  1. Dandooligan says:

    +1 on Race bodywork. In the mean time, just ride ’em around town, nice and proud! You’re on an S1000RR after all… 😀 And on the off chance, maybe let a young guy in his riced out Acura or whatever win…. It would totally make his day!

    • Miss Busa says:

      I don’t know if I could bring myself to do it. But I think I could be persuaded, if I’m in a good mood. Hell, I never let my daughters win at Chutes & Ladders and kicked their little butts in Candy Land every time! *nods* I let a dude on a GSX-R600 (I think it was) win once. At the next red light, he looked back at me and gave me the “yeah, I beat your azz fair and square” nod. I about fell off my bike laughing. Was a young kid turning onto Fort Gordon. I’m all for supporting our troops. =D I think I wrote about that on this very blog.

  2. chesshirecat says:

    You’re always accusing yourself of either over-thinking…or under-thinking…tsk, tsk. Miss Busa, you are quite OK. Leave the numbers on until you are able to work out a plating system that satisfies your sensibilities. In the mean time, enjoy the fact you are being invited to a bit of fun and smoking rubber…that’s what life is about. I know you will figure out a way to affix numbers and run ahead of the pack…or take me off and run with the pack. You’re just that kind of gal. Fixate on the solution…not the “problem”. (I don’t see a problem, the girl needs speed…she’s corrected an oversight and now has the numbers to prove it!)
    (thanks for the chopped liver…yes…I do have a nice bag of onions…sauteed in butter…and heaped over the liver…blahhhh it’s still fricken liver!) :~/

    • Miss Busa says:

      I’m a vegetarian. How do think I felt when I had to harvest that liver for you? ROFLMAO The liver has yet to respond to the onions… I am pessimistic as to the opportunity of there being more fun to be squeezed out of this one…


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