Up and at it for the last day.
Radar shows rain in patches but nothing you can't blast through. Dig through my brother's bag that he keeps with the bike and find his rain/insulated pants. Only problem is that he bought them during a fitness/sobriety craze so they don't fit my fat ass. Ah, fugk it. I just leave them open.
I know there are no big towns between myself and my brother's shop. Only bad side to this morning ride was Sammy Hagar was a Mother's Day guest host on Ozzy's Boneyard so I had to continuously switch the XM radio. Sammy Hagar is a boring dumb fugk.
Anyway, clutch out, hammer down. 240 short miles later...
I greet him with a "Here's your POS bike you cock sucker" or something to that effect.
Morning beers, they was a flowin'....