That's how we roll

Many of you commented on Garrett's post about a year ago, when he was yearning for a certain "Bellisima." She has arrived.


This post goes out to all of you wives who won't "let" your husband get a motorcycle.

First, congratulations on learning to control your man. I have no idea how that is done. The imagery that comes to mind is the Ghostbusters. Remember when they were in the library with that magical machine that sucked the ghost up into it? This is what I imagine most women do to their husband's wild sides. Understand this . . . I am no less powerful or persuasive than you, but as you'll recall, even the Ghostbusters eventually came up against something their little soul-sucking machine couldn't handle . . . . the Marshmallow Puff Man (meet Garrett's wild side). As your childhood memory will recall, they chose to blow the pour guy into sugary slime to keep him under control. But how could I do that to someone as charming and sweet as the Puff Man . . . . ahem . . I mean, Garrett.


Second, what is wrong with you? Have you seen your husband on an Italian designed and manufactured beauty "designed perfectly to balance sports performance, riding pleasure, and stunning looks"??? (see ducati.com if your interest is piqued) You're seeing mine right here, and we're all thinking it, so I'll go ahead and say it . . . SEXY. Have you considered the exhiliration of wrapping your arms around a muscular man in leathers and a black Shoei helmet on your way to the grocery store? Does your husband come to you when he gets home from a long day and ask, not once, but twice, "are you sure you don't have any errands you need me to run?"


Really? You'd rather keep your minivan?


Welcome to our family, Bellisima, we're happy to have you.

Ride on.