With throttles pinned, in their wind cheating tucks, heads full of determination (or a lot of beer), attachments as big as grapefruits, neither man willing to lose (and the bikes safely tied down) the fearless riders scorched the slippery salt (totally static in the parking lot at Davenport) sending their flaming exhaust notes screaming into the virgin ears of the unsuspecting spectators who watched in awe, drowning in their own envy.
1 comment:
Looks dangerous, be careful guys.
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