Pretend the motorcycle is my car.

So last night Wifey and I go out to shop for a painting.

We find said painting.

Said painting is large.

Said painting doesn't fit in my back seat.

Said painting doesn't fit in my trunk.

I'm about solutions.

I tell Wifey to drive as I get in back seat.

Window down. Me facing the side of road holding said painting.

Said painting is just canvas and frame.

Said painting is not heavy.

Said painting flaps and goes airborne at around 25 miles an hour.

Wifey is amused as she goes about 28 miles an hour.

Cars behind us not amused.

Every so often Wifey has to pull over to the side of the road to let cars pass.

Did I mention it was cold out last night?

My hands are starting to cramp up.

"PULL OVER!"

I put gloves on.

Wifey is laughing at me. At the situation.

Heavy-footed Wildebeast likes to go fast.

Heavy-footed Wildebeast thinks it's funny when painting starts Orville-Wrighting down Lyman steeet.

"SLOW DOWN!"

Painting settles back down agaisnt car.

Hand cramping.

My neck kinda hurts from the odd angle I'm sitting.

I feel foolish.

The road we are on has more curves than Jayne Mansfield.

The painting keeps taking flight.

Somehow we make it home without me dropping the painting.

SO TO SUM UP:
You thought for sure this was gonna end with me dropping the painting, din'tcha?