Hog and Husband

I should have had it written in our marriage contract. But I didn’t think I needed to do it. My conservative husband poked fun at the people who rode motorcycles in black leather. He would look at me and say, “That’s looks so miserable. The heat, the weather, the bugs in the teeth, be thankful I won’t ever do that. Besides, they are so dangerous.”

“I am very thankful,” I would respond from the deepest part of my soul.

(Oh, my husband is a State Farm Insurance agent.) He knows safety stuff.

Years tumble —same remarks. Same thankful wife.

Then five years ago, Mr. State Farm, conservative husband announces he wants to buy a Harley motorcycle—a Harley Hog.

“But what about the danger?”

“I’ll be safe. I promise to wear a helmet,” he says.

“But what about the miserable weather? What about the bugs?”

“They’ll add protein to my diet,” he says with a grin.

“YUCK!”

It was no use. In his mind, he “needed” a Harley... and so, he purchased his bike. He became a full-fledged HOG—Harley Owner Group.

Oh, and with the Harley, he bought me a helmet, too! The saga continues tomorrow.