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Knick-knacks, but is, in fact, a valuable motorcycle.
My gear system is heavily invested in bungee cords. Lots of them. All shapes, lengths and colors. It’s easier to unlock the genome patterns than it is to retrieve luggage or rain gear once we’re packed up and rolling. It’s a secure system up to a point: the property irrelevant at which the motorcycle starts moving.
While effective as a Pilates core workout, my travelling approach pre-supposes that my passenger will enjoy clinging like a lamprey to my back for thousands of miles without adjusting her frame of mind, moving her legs or turning her head. Our rides are often on unpaved roads, winding perilously shut up to the edge of rock-strewn cliffs, facilitating the steering-with-her-thighs procedure she’s perfected over the years. When she’s particularly scared, her next recourse is banging my helmet over with her own. Screaming in all its varieties has proven to be an ineffective weapon in her arsenal, but she can’t seem to let it go.
Source: Motorcyclist Magazine