My friend almost died this weekend on his motorcycle.

We're tooling around the cross county parkway, whatever it's called, and I'm on my fucking

awesome triumph Bonneville that I just paid $500 getting totally revamped and it runs like

it runs like an electric car.

It's just, it just purrs.

I actually don't like going very fast on it.

That's the thing about being 48.

You're kind of a pussy.

So six more than 65 miles an hour and I start to poop my panties.

I've noticed it with heights too.

I never gave a shit about heights, but now if I'm like we went to this water park in Orlando

and we were really high up like the top of a building high up and I could see down to

the cement way the fuck down there.

I could see for miles and miles and I was kind of sketched out.

And then my son, there was sort of a long like eight foot diameter pipe that was sort

of 40 feet from us just sitting there in the middle like a big, big tall pipe that just

ended.

I don't know, maybe they're building more on it or something and it was very incongruous

looking just sort of this big cylinder.

It was maybe, you know, 15 stories high.

And then my son goes, how much would you have to be paid to stay on that top of that

thing for 24 hours?

...