Armadillos. I have but one story.

When our idiot governor closed down the state of Minnesota, during COVID, it dawned on me that it was a perfect time for a road trip. My son and I went to Missouri to procure a 1989 FJ1200, because, of course we did. Throw sand in the gears of the machine whenever possible. There was no better time to consider the trip then when our cowardly moron of a governor was peeing himself and exceeding his authority.

We actually had a blast, although we learned Siri’s navigation limitations. Picked up a trailer in Columbia, tied the old girl down, and headed back to Minnesota. Along the way, we started seeing dead armadillos, many of the little buggers. It occurred to me that this was perhaps a teachable moment, and we should stop and pick up as many as we could, to toss them from the truck in Minnesota, and breathlessly report the coming climate change apocalypse to the media, after dark, when we got home. How many opportunities does a guy with a son have to point out how easy it is to cause turmoil for the idiots on the left who have run this state for decades, and provide a fun and foolproof example of exactly how to do same? The rain we were traveling in washed most of the blood off the little varmints, seemed like a bunch of easy smiles.

Alas, it was not to be. It was a long way home, in a driving rain at about 40 degrees in Missouri, and the temp steadily dropped all the way home, where it was perhaps 35 degrees and ice was forming on the edges of the road. The pony trailer might have been just a bit undersized for a mighty FJ1200, and the 600 pounds of bike was a handful behind the truck in those conditions.

Would have been cool.


[Linked Image from i.ibb.co]

Best,
Ted