I have a long-time friend, JB, who is a local motorcycle police officer. We grew up in the same neighborhood, went our separate ways after high school, then met at a mutual friend’s party about 11 years ago. My friend once had his own personal bike, but like most cops, he found that he was not riding it and sold it.

However, a month ago JB pulled me over (he loves to scare the crap out of me) — he was on his police motor — and told me, “I just bought a new (personal) Harley!”

Of course, I congratulated him and said the usual things like, “let’s ride sometime.” Then restarted my motorcycle and went on my way.

Tuesday afternoon, soon after I arrived home after work, I heard the familiar rumbling sound of a Harley’s engine in my driveway. JB had stopped by to show me his new personal motorcycle. Sweet! Nice bike!

But what was on his feet? Arrrggghhh!
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