Tales from the Sidecar…

So a while back, Greg gave up on trying to get me on the back of his motorcycle.  I just don’t want to do it.  It would have to be the direst of circumstances to make me climb up on one of his bikes. 

  I mean dire as in this scenario:

Say, Godzilla has escaped from the local high security prison say, Azkaban, for example, and has knocked over the nearest nuclear power plant.  Then he decides to come after us with a radio-active rod in each hand and he is turning onto our street and the only thought in his mind is to kill all the people whose last names start with the letter “H” because he hates the letter “H” and all it stands for and the only way for us to escape is on the back of one of Greg’s motorcycles…I mean THAT dire.   Even as this is happening and the evil lizard is bearing down on us, I would probably still try to talk Greg into taking my Prius to make our escape as it is a more practical and much less frightening ride.

But the wheels in Greg head are constantly turning.  And I mean that both literally and figuratively.  He came up with a solution.  If I wouldn’t get on the back of his bike, maybe I would ride along side in a sidecar.  Thus, Irena, the Ural, came into our garage and family.  I have taken a couple of rides to date and I am okay with it.  It’s much less scary than being on the back of a bike even if it does put one a little up close and personal with roadkill. 

Here our friend Ed and his son Conor demonstrate the proper attitude to adopt when dealing with a Ural:

Greg took our friend Maria for a ride.  Note the look on Maria’s face…priceless:

This is what the road looks like from the sidecar.  See what I mean about being up close and personal with roadkill?

But I managed to get a couple of nice shots as we tooled along: