Yesterday I photographed a motorcycle get-together and there were hawgs as far as the eye could see...and leather halter tops...and bike week t's stretched to invisibility over waxing bellies.
The day's strangest couple award goes to unnamables who I photographed for my column.
Her: blonde, petite, expensive sungoggles, Marilyn Monroe fetish - why their street custom bike features "Marilyn" on fenders and gas tank. However, there's an interesting twist to "Marilyn": her features have been melded with the petite blonde features of the wife.
Him: Overly-accessorized and he "cuts hair," so obviously gay yet married. He told me three times that he "cuts hair" as if this was a cue that he's a flamer biker. He was too tan, and art directed his wife who I had sprawled on the Marilyn bike.
Talked to some cigar-chomping bikers from outta town, met up with some people I know who I slargled hard lemonades with before my great escape from Muffler Madness.
Last night: great set by Simon and the Bar Sinisters who were playing three sets to a small yet appreciative gathering. Between sets he had some hard-luck, heart-wrenching tales about bar owners not wanting to pay the rock trio, his voice getting ruined by second-hand smoke, his other woes. Very sad, very sad racket is rock & roll.