The Hogs

Harleys and swine. It's been that kind of a weekend.

Milwaukee is inundated with rumbling motorcycles in honor of the 105th Harley Davidson Celebration. I've never seen so many bikes in my life, and I've driven the highways near Sturgis during its peak. Every sidewalk downtown is row after row of shiny chrome two-wheelers, looking like one little push and the dominoes would fall for hours. Billy's brother Mike and Mike's wife Diane have a "chopper" of their own and visited from Minnesota. The four of us partied down on Brady Street Friday night, which is a happening little area of nightlife on any summer weekend, but had become a parade of motorcycles featuring some world-class people-watching. You can actually walk out of bars with a beer in your hand and thousands of people on and off motorcycles packed the street. Squealing and a cloud of smoke announced each burn-out as another biker would trade a couple hundred bucks of good rear wheel rubber for the cheers from the crowd. It was a surreal experience.

Yesterday the steel hogs were replaced for me by the bacon kind. I joined a little family outing to the Walworth County Fair near Lake Geneva where my dad and his wife live. We toured building after building of barnyard animals. I think the people-watching experience even surpassed that of the Harley weekend here in Milwaukee. The penned beasts seemed much more civilized. What a slice of Americana.

Big man, pig man, ha ha charade you are.
You well heeled big wheel, ha ha charade you are.
And when your hand is on your heart,
You're nearly a good laugh,
Almost a joker,
With your head down in the pig bin,
Saying "Keep on digging."
Pig stain on your fat chin.
What do you hope to find.
When you're down in the pig mine.
You're nearly a laugh,
You're nearly a laugh
But you're really a cry.

MJ