Wind In My Hair
Forgot how much I love riding a scooter in this town. The wind in your hair, the sun on your face, browning your forearms, whipping at your ballcap. Everywhere you go it's green and flowers and old houses. Wide streets and pedestrians. Conch Tour Trains and Old Town Trolleys. Jaywalkers. Aggressive drivers. Slow drivers. Dangerous scooter drivers. Shaky bicycle riders. Chickens crossing the road. Why? Cock a fricking doodle, that's why. Nothing like getting out there and moving through the thick... Sign in to see full entry.