I don’t want a pickle

This was one of a handful of songs I remember being played constantly at me (for education, torture or both) as a child by my Father. I never went much deeper than knowing this song in many versions and hearing one other of his songs -> Alice’s Restaurant. The latter I remember from a long drive in a very slow pickup truck I had in my early twenties driving back from Nowra to Sydney.

The Motorcycle Song is one of those obtuse traditions that gets handed down from your parents in a way no other learning can do. Sometimes if causes flashbacks to fear and embarrassment, sometimes it just pops into your head when everything else is broken.

Today was one of those days.

If only he had taught me the Jesus Prayer instead 😉

 

And, I do like to ride my motorcycle.

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