the girls who ride bikes do not ride it like the models in the ducati website, silly.

“so, i cannot wear a denim shorts and slippers?” i asked, shocked.

“nooooo!” zsolt’s voice was even more shocked than mine. “you have to wear gloves, a jacket, and pair of boots and jeans. the law requires a helmet. for safety, baby.”

it was the longest- and i am not exaggerating- minute i have experienced in a long time. all the daydreaming of hopping behind zsolt on his CBR and running wild around the city in denim shorts and flip flops and shades with my hair being blown back, away from my face scattered like broken glass on the floor.

seriously.

it was one of the things i looked forward to. apparently, i seem to still live in my fairy tale world. of course, Australia would require both the rider and the companion to wear helmets at all times when riding. i was hoping i could get away with it but was quite solved to the idea of wearing one, anyway. the shock was more on the fact that not only would i have to wear a helmet, i also have to wear a biker’s jacket, a pair of gloves, and boots! i haven’t worn boots for a long time and there was a good reason why! “i don’t have any of those!” i cried.

“just bring jeans. i have a helmet here, and a girl’s jacket, gloves, and boots.”

“what are you? why are you stocking a women’s motorbike apparel?”

he smiled sheepishly; one of the few moments that zsolt actually blushes. “you’ll never who would want a ride.”

“i am not going to wear those. i don’t have no idea how many women wore those before me. hmmph.” i told. oh well, i cannot help it, i am a crazy bitch.

he shook his head. “no, it was just one.” he answered. i thought: it couldn’t be lil, she has her own gear. now, who the fuck made him buy all those stuff? (oh, god, am i unbelievable or what?) “and none for the boots.” he grinned again.

“does a motorbike boot look anything like the diving boots? because the diving boots are UGLY. and the only place i can tolerate wearing it is underwater.” i told him.

he chuckled. “oh, hey, i have it here. look.” he said and showed it on cam.

“oh my God, that’s a huge boot.”

he raised a brow. “it’s just about the size of my palm.”

“it looks really thick.” i told him and almost died.

do not get me wrong. i am not like most girls. i do not wear make up. i only have three pairs of shoes. i do not wear jewelry and do not like them either. i am not even fond of restroom breaks between dates. but i am very particular with what i wear. i avoid all clothing that makes me uncomfortable. and the cut of motorbike jackets and the shape of motorbike boots are one of those cut that i was never comfortable with.

and i was looking forward strutting Sydney in my light flowing dress, or my denim shorts, or my miniskirt. i am not the jeans girl when i am on a holiday. and i haven’t worn a closed shoe for a long time.

but zsolt prefers riding his bike than driving his van. and i could understand why. he look hotter with the former. he reasoned it is more convenient. yeah. yeah. yeah. of course, convenience has always something to do with it.

and so, if we go around Sydney in his bike, there is no way he will let me on it unless i am in jeans, i am wearing a jacket, a pair of gloves, and OMG motorbike boots. he thinks i will look smoking hot (beats me what visuals he has in his head). i am guessing i would look like an overaccessorised midget in it.

“you look cute when you are concentrating.”

“i am shocked.” i grinned at him. “i need the jeans not long enough to touch the ground but just as long and wide enough to cover the boots.” that is also another thing.

he blew me a kiss. “it will be alright.”

i am sure it will be alright. when i get there, i am sure these wouldn’t matter. but for the meantime, its scaring me half to death. oh my God, zsolt has this crazy idea that i should get an aprilia. and now, i cannot even get past the boots.

would have been so much easier if he had a scooter. 🙂 🙂 🙂

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