Rides
Yesterday, I saw a little girl riding her bike.
She was very young, probably five or six years old. Her bike was purple and had spotless white handlebar grips. Coming out of the grips were ribbons, and the ribbons were covered in silver glitter. The back of her helmet had glitter on it, too.
The bike was immaculate, like she washed it down after every ride so there wouldn't be a speck of dust. She sailed down the sidewalk, living her best life, with a wide smile.
She reminded me of one of my favorite songs:
Diamond in the back, sunroof top
Diggin' the scene with a gangsta lean
William DeVaughn would have approved.
This morning, Eli 22.0 was driving us to the golf course and I saw an F-150 beside us. Well, I heard it first, because it had custom tailpipes so it would be as loud as possible. You know, Dude Who Must Always Be The Center Of Attention.
The truck was lime green.
"So let me get this straight," I said to Eli. "This guy spends thousands of dollars to customize his truck, then picks a color that makes it look like a slab of Jell-O?"
It was immaculate, though.
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