Feeling a tad nostalgic this evening and found The Cult meandering down memory lane. I’ve always loved this song in equal proportion to all the hedonistic acts that took place while listening to it – privately, in night clubs, and two live performances. Unsurpisingly, The best memories were made behind closed doors.
Well, most of them. Because then I found this video and remembered Bike Week, 1995. It was a ‘working vacation’ for yours truly, but that never stopped me from having a good time. Bike Week was always crazy, probably still is, but 95 was the most insane trips to Daytona I ever made.
I don’t remember ‘every detail’ of that trip…However, I do remember being picked up by a high-octane blonde who rode a Ducati Monster and had a thing for hardcore punk and skinny white boys who weren’t pushy. She preferred to be the pushy one. That, and she loved to ride fast.
Really. Fucking. Fast.
God Bless motherfucking America – I was a happy boy for three days.
Anyone who says ‘youth’s wasted on the young’ simply wasn’t doing it right in the first place. Because what I remember of those years will always be goldmines for fiction and a bit of comfort in my lonelier moments.