Somewhere the night sky hangs like a blanket

Yesterday Alyssa and I went up to Coney to grab a quick bite, as we usually do on a typical weekday night. As we pull in we see Jim Gross sitting on the curb playing an acoustic guitar, and some dirty looking kid laying on the hood of his car next to him. We get out of my car, after we finish jamming to Whiskeytown, and say "Hi." I probably haven't spoken more than 2 words to Jim since the days of party at Ryan Brisse's first apartment over at Lakeside Village, before I knew what was good for me. I then notice this hothothot low rider Harley in a parking space next to us and start ooooogling over it, and talking about how the next motor vehicle I buy will be a motorcycle similar to this. The dirty kid on the hood of the car, perks up and says, "wanna go for a ride?" I scoff and laugh at him and say, "uh huh, suuuuuuure!" because I highly doubt this is hisssss ride. He gets rather offensive and proceeds to pull the keys to said motorcycle out of his pocket and says, "lets go!" I set down my purse with Alyssa and Jim on the side of the curb and hop on the back of this hothothot motorcycle with my shorts & high-heels on. He took me for a short ride & honestly, there's no better way to enjoy summertime than feeling the wind hit your face and being completely exposed to the elements. He smelled like a mixture of whiskey and earth. It's sort of how a guy who drives a motorcycle should smell. I liked it. Moral of the story, I reallyyyyyyyyy need a motorcycle - or just a boyfriend who drives a hothothot motorcycle, asap.