Buns on Bikes, or, the Day My Daughter Turned Into a Budweiser Clydesdale

June, 2007. Rocky and her moms are enjoying a quiet evening, just finishing up dinner, when something strange happens . . . the ground begins to tremble . . . a low rumble can be heard in the distance, growing louder, louder, finally so deep and loud that it can be felt in the bones. The moms look at each other, smiles spreading across their faces. The all jump in the car and head downtown. It’s their favorite time of year! Pride? Pshaw! It’s time for . . .

. . . ROT!

(the Republic of Texas Biker Rally.)

Harleys of all shapes and sizes – choppers, hogs, all shiny chrome and custom art, some with horrendously large monster truck engines, some with steer horns across the front – plus the few very brave drivers on Japanese crotch rockets. Biker women in bright pink string bikinis, chaps and leather bandanas. Scary-looking dudes with old German helmets, fat black boots and head-to-toe tattoos. Did I mention women in bikinis and chaps?

Sorry, I was afraid to stare at them, much less take a picture.





Oops – did I just blog buns?

When the sun goes down the bikes are parked all the way up the middle of Congress Avenue, as far as you can see, almost up to the capital building. For one weekend a year, gritty, salty bikers from all over the Great Nation of Texas are everywhere you go, from Ginny’s L’il Longhorn Saloon to Starbucks. Every corner of the city resounds with the roar of Harley engines.

But the real highlight of this year’s ROT rally (god, I effing LOVE Texas) was watching Rocky watching the Budweiser Clydesdales, who led the bike parade.


And now, the story of a girl who turned into a horse.

She was a horsie-girl from a very young age. To see a horse, her eyes would glow with wonder.


But to PET a horse, an enormous, beautiful, magical horse, elicits profound awe and boundless delight.

The next morning, having received as a gift the ribbons from the tails of the famous beer-touting equines, the child emerges from her bedroom a magical fairy horse.

“I’m NOT a horse, Mama. I’m a Budweiser Clydesdale.”

And she remains a Budweiser Clydesdale for weeks. Endless, endless hours of “you be a mama Clydesdale Fairy, and I’ll be a baby Clydesdale Fairy, and lets gallop with the motorcycles, OK, Mama? OK? Just one more time!”

“What does the Clydesdale Fairy want for breakfast?”
“Green sea turtle pancakes!”
“Um . . . ok.”

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8 responses to “Buns on Bikes, or, the Day My Daughter Turned Into a Budweiser Clydesdale

  1. Thanks for writing the ROT post I could have only dreamed of writing (without the addition of a Budweiser Clydesdale, of course!). Personally, I find this particular expression of masculine energy quite confusing. Doesn’t interest me in the least…

  2. Wow! Awesome green sea turtle pancakes! They’re beautiful. What’s your recipe?

    Tree Frog

  3. Epiphony,

    yeah, but bikinis and chaps . . . wait a minute, haven’t I seen that combo on Leslie?

    Tree Frog,

    1/2 cup white flour, 1/2 cup whole wheat/cornmeal mix, 2-3 tablespoons green protein powder, 1/2 teaspoon salt, 2 teaspoons baking powder, 1 tablespoon sugar or something sweet, 1 egg, 2/3-3/4 cup milk, and 4-5 drops green food coloring. Shape like Kemp’s Ridley Sea Turtles, smother in butter and applesauce and enjoy!

  4. Cool! Thanks, Blue.

  5. Fresh Loquats

    i wuv you! vroom vroom! by the way, rocky came over and made white bean-clove-sunflower seed-protein powder-lemonade soup yesterday. it was a smash.

    rocky and yer wifelet knocked on the door just after my vigorous friend autumn (see photos on Fresh Loquats) came over. making soup is the only way autumn truly fulfills her creative ambitions.

    when they left, rocky said, “goodbye, autumn. it was very nice meeting you and playing with you.”
    um…is she three yet?

    the family should stop by more often.

  6. Will do, Abacus.

    Oh, and I can’t help but notice, the more I look at it – that woman in the little blue outfit straddling the blue bike? Is it just me, or is that TOTALLY hot? And she likes blue . . .

  7. Blue! Please do your readers elsewhere the excellent service of making a post about Leslie! I would love to see you apply your razor-sharp wit to said humanoid.

    A few years back, Leslie was living in someone’s condemned house out in Westlake, where I work, and my bosses would occasionally see him trudging down Bee Caves Road. We decided that “Keep Westlake Weird” just didn’t seem to have a good ring to it. 😉

  8. Leslie is definitely worth writing up. Maybe someday I’ll take on the task.

    For those of you outside the Austin sphere, Leslie is a famously brazen Austin “homeless” transvestite (do I have it right, fellow Austinites?) who sports such outfits as sequined tube tops, thong underwear and high heel shoes. Nothing else. All around town. Clutching a short-handled purse to his bosom. There’s even a magnetic “dress Leslie” fridge-doll set you can get at the indie coffee shops.

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