The soldier just compared his love for me to crotch rot.

“It gets in you,” he said. “You don’t even know you have it - It has spores.”

P stared, poker faced.

“Do you know what I mean?” he asked.

::stare::

“Don’t put that on your blog.”

“Yeah.”

On a less amusing but more heartening note, the soldier has been here full-time just over a week and it seems like years and I mean YEARS. Yesterday we went for a bike ride, both of us stoopid happy.  We were riding abreast…

“Remember when we were our own (motorcycle) gang? We’re doing it again,” I said, grinning wide.

“Yep, this is a geezer bike gang…”

If you’d have seen us you’d have thought us on drugs. We are that happy.

That’s our Kawasaki pictured from back in the day. It was ultimately my first car. We actually pulled up in front of biker bar on that thing, two teenagers, both of us skinny twigs.

We proceeded to walk in the place and start yelling at all the bikers: “KAWASAKI IS THE BEST BIKE IN THE WORLD AND ANYONE WHO IS ANYONE DRIVES ONE!!!”

Things have not changed much. You see us geezers out there on the bike path, ya better yield damn it!! Because we’re both ready and rarin’ to go at all times.

(’Cept when we’re eating and you reeeeally don’t want to interfere with that! ;))

Skip to part 2 - Love And Crotch Rot