Loop Roma Motor Club
The bikeriders are back, loops are a hole, and a very Italian birthday.
As one might imagine, post motorcade escapades, The Garage was high on my list of priorities. I was going to take the car to some place out on the nether regions of town but Mr. P had a guy who was somewhat closer to the office, hence I spent a cold twenty minutes on their forecourt first thing. In these situations, I generally try to say as little as possible so as not to make it ever more patently obvious the degree to which my knowledge and/or skillset as it pertains to car stuff is close to a zero sum game. My father would remind me about the screen fluid and explain what that is and where to put it and how much. In turn, I would like to say I remember these valuable life lessons but am unsure of where precisely to file these discrete, presumably quite essential packets of knowledge.
Memories as if from some kind of terrible fever dream have been coming back to me this past week, particularly those that relate to that time nearly five years ago and what I was doing/writing about in the lead-up to shuttering the first incarnation of TNA. It’s strange thinking back to that time, mostly because it was a strange time but also because the space between then and now feels like it’s somehow occurred in far less time than physically possible. There have been…at least two seismic upheavals in the intervening years, a whole lot of stuff that went double down and an equally large quota of shit that got picked up and summarily let go, for one reason or another.
