I dreamed I rode to Kansas City

biknut

biknut

Well-Known Member
Last night I dreamed I rode my MB to Kansas City. I arrived at somebody named KC something or others, and I had a flat tire. We seemed to know each other from the forum. He looked to be about 12 years old. He and his older brother took me to Wally World to buy a new inner tube. After I fixed my bike I headed off down the rode toward home. Only 500 miles each way LOL.

cvlt1
 
some dreams are best kept to ourselves, you drove 500 miles to see a 12 year old ? :)

That dream could go either way ,LOL Just saying
 
Kansas or Nebraska? Did you have a basket on the back, with a little dog named Toto in it? Were ya lookin for a Whizzer(d)? laff

Yeah, dreams can lead to really crazy movies, if ya put your mind to it!rotfl
 
I'm going to have to cut back on the peanut butter and bologna sandwiches before bedtime.
 
peanut butter and bologna sandwiches huh that just dont sound right

dreams are awesome they are completly unpredictable
 
pretty wild BikNut. Bare with me, I think the 12 yr old was some how you and MBs are a vehicle returning you to some thing unsettled if only the childhood wish to put an engine on a bicycle. A metaphor pertaining to the increasing responsibilities of growing? His older brother (guessing here, the voice of reason and responsibility?) advised you on some thing, might be the you who out grew it. "here" reintroduced you to old conflicting thoughts and required revisiting.

Or, I am just full o' sheep dip and it was just a rambling dream. lol, prolly the later. (but stuck in your head to the point of thinking about it at length)

I find most mornings I wake thinking about MBs. How to do some thing, build or how to make a bracket for a jet. Just the normal MB sort of stuff.
 
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There was a kid I knew when I was about that age who had an older brother. In those days I had become interested in small gas .049 COX engines. I had a line controlled plane, and he had a race car.

I was having a very hard time figuring out how to get it started. When I met him he was running his race car in the street. It had no control what so ever. You just started it, and let go till it hit something and wrecked. It had the same .049 engine I had. His brother had taught him how to get it started, and so he taught me. The secret was in how much priming. Not too much, not too little. From that day on I've always seemed to have a green thumb for gas motors.

The only thing is we were here in Dallas. I have no connection to KC.
 
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