Women in Lycra Running Shorts

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Ol' Mike I hate you! Nice pics though. So here's one for the Lycra crowd.
Honestly, Rob. I can't trust you with ANYthing :huh:

:kiss2:
Y'know.....Don just got that poster because it's his bike "Miss Lucy Liu" in the background. :rolleyes:

Er...Don....uhm....no "Hubba, hubba"?
Sorry I wasn't quicker Mike, had to find my heart meds! Hubba, hubba, hubba! I strained a wrist muscle trying to keep my hand on Lucy's tank; damn that was tempting!

 
I ride these roads often, and usually don't take the time to photograph the "moments" that make the trip special. Well Done!

 
Outstanding RR Michael. You should try oysters -- you might get your sex drive back. :rolleyes:

I like Fort Bragg and that area. Stayed in a motel last year on the south side of the town built entirely from one redwood tree -- fascinating, quiet, biker friendly with covered parking and clean. Food is not a strong point in that town as far as I have been able to find. Nice scenery in the area when you look. Thanks for the memories that came back.

I'm not sure why I enjoyed this particular RR of yours over some others, as they are all good. Maybe it is the fine photography in the middle of Winter doldrums, but wonderful my friend.

 
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no-whining.jpg
 
A Eire poem for our Brother Mick McNamara, from Old Michael and BeemerDonS! Written by Irish Patriot Bobby Sands in Long Kesh Prison - Ulster, died May 5, 1981:

Back Home in Derry

In 1803 we sailed out to sea

Out from the sweet town of Derry

For Australia bound if we didnt all drown

And the marks of our fetters we carried.

In the rusty iron chains we sighed for our wains

As our good wives we left in sorrow.

As the mainsails unfurled our curses we hurled

On the English and thoughts of tomorrow.

Oh Oh Oh Oh I wish I was back home in Derry.

Oh Oh Oh Oh I wish I was back home in Derry.

I cursed them to hell as our bow fought the swell.

Our ship danced like a moth in the firelights.

White horses rode high as the devil passed by

Taking souls to Hades by twilight.

Five weeks out to sea we were now forty-three

Our comrades we buried each morning.

In our own slime we were lost in a time.

Endless night without dawning.

Oh Oh Oh Oh I wish I was back home in Derry.

Oh Oh Oh Oh I wish I was back home in Derry.

Van Diemans land is a hell for a man

To live out his life in slavery.

When the climate is raw and the gun makes the law.

Neither wind nor rain cares for bravery.

Twenty years have gone by and Ive ended me bond

And comrades ghosts are behind me.

A rebel I came and Ill die the same.

On the cold winds of night you will find me

Oh Oh Oh Oh I wish I was back home in Derry.

Oh Oh Oh Oh I wish I was back home in Derry.

 
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I had an uncle some generations back that was killed by the Black and Tans (English) by being dragged behind a horse and dumped in a well. My family gave $ to the IRA before the Easter Rebellion. My grandmother grew up in a one room grass thatched hut and left Galway to escape poverty and found signs in the windows of New York and Boston "Irish need not apply". I have the creds.

Now can we please see more pictures of women in Lycra? Work safe of course.

 
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