Last night I had a disturbing dream and I was wondering if anyone with a background in Psychology or Psychoanalyis(or not)could give me some feedback:
The dream starts out with me at a party at my house(around this time in Minnesota, ie snowy) getting hammered with all my buddies. Then, in the middle of the night I decide to take out the old R1 for the first ride of the season! As I pull her out of my livingroom (where I keep the bike) it is snowing like a Banchee, but I am so drunk I can hardly see straight so I dont really care. I start cruising down an unplowed county road when I come across the Deeg Twins on their RR's(aka FireRR & MNerionRR) and they want to Race. Sh*t, I thought to myself, I got an R1- I can take 'em. We start hauling arse and snow/slush is flying everywhere. My rear tire is all over the place. We are neck and neck untill my clutch lever falls off. I pull over to the side of the road, and curse @ my bike for failing me. I am still so drunk that my speech is extreeemly slured. The Deeg twins circle back around and use rubberbands to half-as* fix my clutch (no clue how they did it but it barely worked). Anyways, I began riding once again, through the fridgid night air (supprisingly I am not very cold), and suddenly all moving parts on my R1 instantaniously rust solid. I go flying off my bike into the ditch and then I woke up. i think I am starting to get itchy to ride...
Sportbiking: where unimanginable skill meets inexplicable stupidity.
The dream starts out with me at a party at my house(around this time in Minnesota, ie snowy) getting hammered with all my buddies. Then, in the middle of the night I decide to take out the old R1 for the first ride of the season! As I pull her out of my livingroom (where I keep the bike) it is snowing like a Banchee, but I am so drunk I can hardly see straight so I dont really care. I start cruising down an unplowed county road when I come across the Deeg Twins on their RR's(aka FireRR & MNerionRR) and they want to Race. Sh*t, I thought to myself, I got an R1- I can take 'em. We start hauling arse and snow/slush is flying everywhere. My rear tire is all over the place. We are neck and neck untill my clutch lever falls off. I pull over to the side of the road, and curse @ my bike for failing me. I am still so drunk that my speech is extreeemly slured. The Deeg twins circle back around and use rubberbands to half-as* fix my clutch (no clue how they did it but it barely worked). Anyways, I began riding once again, through the fridgid night air (supprisingly I am not very cold), and suddenly all moving parts on my R1 instantaniously rust solid. I go flying off my bike into the ditch and then I woke up. i think I am starting to get itchy to ride...
Sportbiking: where unimanginable skill meets inexplicable stupidity.