The Most Obnoxious Sound

Harleys everywhere, it's like some sort of motorcycle convention or something. It's not, really. It's just that Cameron and Livia can't have a conversation while walking without being drowned out by the bone rattling rumble of Harley after Harley. Out of nowhere. It's not the warmest night of the summer by any means but it's like they all sat by their phones and simultaneously sent out the bat signal and then blam! Thunderous, abominable, deafening pipes bleating up and down the street. And why do they have to be so LOUD? Cameron knows "loud pipes save lives". He's seen the bumper sticker, he gets it. But there's loud and then there's jet engine, intestine shaking, ear drum annihilating   loud. How the heck do they keep their scrotums from shaking off into shrivelled little bags of dried beans? Livia snorts with laughter over this one. She figures they all have incredibly small packages at this point, either through the enforced ownership ritual or due to the sheer vibrational damage that one must incur while riding such an overbearingly obnoxious bike. They don't come that way, either; back when Cameron thought long and hard about getting a motorcycle he did some research and learned that the cherry bombs and muffler alterations are all custom. So people actually make choices to ride this way. A volitional, accountable, expensive choice. Livia pulls Cam's sleeve and points south- let's take a left here, re route ourselves. Their nightly powerwalk was the one hour they got to escape the computers and phones, to put everything on hold. Markets could wait, producers could wait, kids could wait and whine then tune into illicit programming they weren't allowed to watch with the parentals in the house. Their walks are supposed to be soothing, a physicalization of the day's grievances which turn into walking mediations to clear away the stress. Having gut wrenching, teeth shattering, lousy motorcycles swarm the neighbourhood is antithetical to the entire exercise. Bloody bikers. Livia hopes they're all just passing through and tonight is an anomoly. If not, time to break out the serious guns. Set up road hockey nets and invite the boys' team to shinny outside the house. Good old canadian roadblock. Suck on that, Harleys.

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