But before we went our separate ways I noticed his Illinois tag and as usual I was forced to wonder why do people do this. Rude? Really?
I met up with the motorcycle by chance at the gas station at the end of my street 27 miles away. That happens a lot in the Keys where driving choices are limited. You keep meeting the same vehicles, and in this case I suddenly discovered why the absurd specialty tag suited this rider.
I am not fond of people who cock block gas pumps while they are busy inside the inconvenience store doing some light shopping. It took a few minutes to fill the Bonneville but Rude Boy was nowhere to be seen. Living down to his name inside the Shell station.
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