You tell ‘em Pinky! Helmets are for pussies! All the protection you really need on a 600lb Harley is a cute pink t-shirt, a matching headband, and a leather vest. Really, you don’t even need health insurance because that’s just the man trying to stick it to you.
Besides, if you actually wore a helmet you might someday have to swerve to avoid some idiot and end up cracking it and your skull like an egg against one of those ubiquitous limestone mailboxes that represent the apex of Hill Country design overkill (yes, we get it Pulte, you had some extra bricks, but who even gets snail mail anymore?) and end up in a coma in Seton for the rest of your life but hey, you pay your taxes just like everyone else.
Badass motocyclists like this woman shouldn’t wear helmets because they slow down the process of natural selection. She gets it. She’s obviously brushed up on her Darwin – unlike those bleeding heart safety Nazis who try to pass helmet laws that don’t do anything but mess up motorcyclists hairdos. When this chick rumbles up to the parking lot at Weirdos the kielbasas probably swarm her like Piranha. Why? It’s not those shitty Wal-Mart jeans. It’s her awesome, wind-blown, do ragged blonde tresses. Breathe ‘em in fellas. It’s like taking a nose hit off a Peterbuilt exhaust pipe.
I just want to buy her a t-shirt with a back that says, “If you can read this t-shirt, the bitch fell off.”
LuvDoc Fashion Index: 8.5 (9.0 if you’re into rough sex)
This article appears in July 27 • 2012.
