Hog Heaven

Is it real? During my 25 degree ride in to work on my Road King, with my head safe and warm in my Fulmer full face helmet, I smelled bacon. Yep! And not that thin sliced bacon, but the thick cut smokehouse bacon that hangs around in the kitchen on Sunday mornings. Well, it’s not Sunday and I’m not in my kitchen. Maybe I was in hog heaven! And the last time I checked bacon is frozen at 25 degrees and quite frankly, parts of me feel frozen as I’m experiencing this bacon aroma.

So how does this happen? With only coffee this morning and knowing I haven’t had bacon for over a week I’m confused. And where this took place there wasn’t a house for miles and not one car on the road. You know, just in case there was someone on their way to work, frying bacon with a car window down. Don’t get me wrong, I love bacon as much as the next person and the smell could put me in a coma. Bacon should be a fragrance for candles or even a perfume for women. Just picture a man sitting around in the garage with a nice candle lit while working on his bike, or the attention he would be paying to the woman in the room wearing “Smokehouse.” And at this particular moment it was nice to have the smell without the fear of grease splatter. Could it be somewhere in the back of my head I had a bad experience on my motorcycle and bacon was involved? Was bacon a sign that I was going to have a good day? Would the smell of oatmeal mean I need to stop eating bacon? So many questions…

With my leathers made of cowhide I can’t imagine where this aroma came from. I was riding my “hog” to work but no, I don’t think that was it. I wasn’t passing a pig farm and even so, I don’t think that would be far enough in the process to give me that “thick cut, smokehouse” sensation. Oh well, as quick as it came it was gone. Maybe around lunchtime I’ll smell pizza.


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