On my FaceBook account, I have a profile picture that has generated some questions. Some think maybe I have been caught in a compromising situation. Others think there must be some comedic explanation due to the proximity of the duck and the fact that I am reclining with a peculiar look on my face.
The story is as follows. Kind of boring, but here goes. Several of my biker friends had rode last summer on one of the Wednesday night rides, and we had decided to have a post-ride cookout. Ed, Bobby and I had rode 20 something miles with Bronda and Simone. Sandra, Terrie, and Roman met us afterward, and had hotdogs grilling. Yum!
I had a cold one or two, and although the pavement was warm from a day or 90ish degrees, it felt good to stretch out. I had just popped a top on my 2nd, and from the Arkansas River some 300 yards away, this duck was walking over to us. He had a hurriedness in his step, and knew exactly where he was going.
He met Ed and I, and like a dog begging for table scraps, he let it be known that he wanted some of our food. He ate a couple of buns, some chips, and even half a frank. I was sure he must have been thirsty, but he had no interested in our beer, even the nice wheat beer that I had brought.
After he had his fill, he hung out with us for a few minutes, and then waddled back to the river.
Now you know the REAL story.
The story is as follows. Kind of boring, but here goes. Several of my biker friends had rode last summer on one of the Wednesday night rides, and we had decided to have a post-ride cookout. Ed, Bobby and I had rode 20 something miles with Bronda and Simone. Sandra, Terrie, and Roman met us afterward, and had hotdogs grilling. Yum!
I had a cold one or two, and although the pavement was warm from a day or 90ish degrees, it felt good to stretch out. I had just popped a top on my 2nd, and from the Arkansas River some 300 yards away, this duck was walking over to us. He had a hurriedness in his step, and knew exactly where he was going.
He met Ed and I, and like a dog begging for table scraps, he let it be known that he wanted some of our food. He ate a couple of buns, some chips, and even half a frank. I was sure he must have been thirsty, but he had no interested in our beer, even the nice wheat beer that I had brought.
After he had his fill, he hung out with us for a few minutes, and then waddled back to the river.Now you know the REAL story.
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