A Broke Ass Tale: The Adventures of Camper Bike
Holy shit. Well, on this beautiful Friday afternoon, I sit here indoors, nursing a baby hangover from last night’s partying thinking about the Mad Decent block party tomorrow
and photo shoots and dinners and my date to go see District 9 tonight
and the fact that Reno 911 was just cancelled.
These are all exciting things worth blogging about. Butttt… as I’m going through my emails, specifically the bottom of the Mean Red blast, I see something that changes my mind and makes me feel like a kid again with a one way ticket to Imagination Land. Yes, kids, that’s right. I’m talking about the Camper Bike.
I can’t even really ride a bike that well, I mean I’m proficient, so to speak, but fuck, you couldn’t pay me to ride all around the city. But within the framework of these qualms/misgivings of mine, lies the perfect answer: the Camper Bike. Yes, bunnies, yes. First off, it’s technically on three wheels (something needs to hold the camper bit up), so that solves my incompetence and it’s too huge to ever conceivably drive on the street in New York so I can rest at ease.
This is the bike for me! It’s like a giant tricycle with a bed attached. I really am just going crazy thinking about what the inside must look like. Or what it could be made to look like. Damn, I need one of these, bad. Does it get any better? I think not. Now I’m off to dream about riding my camper bike through South Africa, picking up friendly robot-aliens along the way! Hi ho, Silver!!!
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xoxo
-Pebbles van Peebles
