Harley Davidson Boots Kept Us Going

We where about three hundred miles from El Paso, hadn’t slept in almost three days, and at last count, we were wanted in three states and eleven parishes. Would you believe me, if I said we were innocent. Well, don’t then. At this stage I can’t blame you. Looking in at this entire situation, it would be difficult to expect someone to believe us.

But listen, not to be rude, I have other things on my brain. Sherrie was pretty sick and I wasn’t in the best shape either. We were almost out of gas, out of places to go, and I had about twenty eight bucks and some small stuff, and a mean fever. Not to mention my Harley Davidson Sidestripe boots were wearing through at the heel and ankle. I need some new ones soon.

I pulled into this local tavern, it appeared like a place we would blend in good, hogs parked around the place like you could imagine in some movie or something. sticking out from the saddle bags of one of the motorcycles was, what seemed could be a pair of Harley Davidson boots. I’d think about that on the way out, if we made it out.

Queenie, that was what I called Sherrie, needed a doctor soon. I knew alot of these biker clubs had there own doctors, for wounds and such that couldn’t be treated at the local hospital. It might just be wishful thinking, but we where desperate. Queenie woke up, just as we headed into the parking lot. How she could remain on the back of my bike, being that sick and sound asleep was a mystery to me, but she did it like it wasn’t a big deal at all.

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