Dirt Biking

“Fucking right I’m into dirt biking. I was third in a contest just last week. Don’t worry about what contest, it wasn’t huge or anything, but I was the only girl in the whole thing and I kicked fucking ass. I was going hands free and shooting my legs out right off the launch. You guys should come watch me sometime. Not anytime soon though, my bike is fucked after that shit. Got to buy new break discs, and probably spend the next month working on it. My dad could do it in a week, but he’s so stoned he never gets to shit. It’s fun though, I get all zen and the art of dirt bike maintenance about it, not that I’ve ever read that book, but my dad goes on about it forever when he gets stoned. Anyway, I get pretty into the zone when I’m fixing my bike. Engines are fun to fix and they’re awesome — loud, mini-explosions; the greatest thing humans have ever invented. They’re so important and wicked that I fully believe canoes should die out of respect for them. If we run out of oil and gas then fine, they can be revived, but paddling should just die while engines exist out of respect for their epic awesomeness, like when samurais commit suicide to save face and shit.”

Sam, bottle of vodka in her hand, jumps to her feet: “I am so, so, so mad at you. That was the worst thing you have ever said to me, that seriously…but, but, I don’t care. Actually Kate I feel sorry for you, because you’re missing out on so much. It’s great that you’re into sleds and bikes, but that you’ve blown them up into these things that you think are the whole universe, like, that’s just blinding. That’s just closing yourself off.”