He was wearing a pair of cut-off denim jeans, shoes, and a helmet. His blonde hair was just long enough to be visible an inch below his helmet. He was driving this neon-green sport motorcycle; the kind that looks dangerously fast. On the back was a girl wearing a helmet matching the driver's, a pink bikini top and a thong of the same bright pink. Since she only had six inches to sit on and had to lean forward she wasn't leaving much to the imagination. She wasn't helping the traffic situation either.
I pulled up next to them and, after making sure he was looking at me, I mouthed the word "nice". He smiled behind his face-sheild and nodded to me as if to say, "Yeah she's a beauty isn't she? I just got her last week. And the bike's not much older."
I found myself thinking that they wouldn't be so beautiful if the bike slid out from underneath them.
