he road beckons, I can see the twisting ribbon of asphalt that bends and rises up the canyon like a surfer’s perfect wave. Yes, the pavement paradise sends out a siren song just outside the window, as does my heavily juiced canyon carver waiting on its stand. The road and my machine call to me, but so does Aunt Maria. “Bring me a cannoli and please be a dear and dance with your cousin Rose to get the single men interested.”
     Family weddings, good food and lots of pinches on the cheek from the veiled familia matrons, as if I were still five years old. My cousin Vinnie is tying the knot, poor bastard. But it worked out for me; his new bride made him sell his last bike, a half restored BSA 650 Lightning. I picked it up for a literal song, I have to sing at the wedding, a little Sinatra and the Lightning is mine. I’m going to put the engine in my old Track-master frame and turn the BSA into a Street-tracker. I make a mental note to order an Icon Vintage Flat Track jacket to hearken back to the days of Mann and Lawwill.
     Cousin Rose is a nice kid, but off limits since we’re first cousins. So, I’ve got my eye on the brunette bridesmaid. A dance or two then I’ll take her for a ride on the Ducati. Luckily for me I’ve got a spare Icon Mainframe helmet in the lock and a “just in case” ladies Bombshell Go Go jacket and Tuscadero gloves in the Icon tank bag.
     Things are working out, my targeted bridesmaid catches the bouquet and I catch the garter. We dance and take one of those “prom” photos together then she asks if I’d like a drink. “Nope,” I say, “got to ride my scoot. That’s how I party.”
“Really? I’d love to go for a ride,” she says.
     Badda-bing. She’s given me the green light and I drop the clutch on this race. “Give me a minute to get out of this monkey suit and into my Icon riding gear and we’ll carve the crest. It’s for angels, Angel.”
     She gives me a smile. “I’ll change too,” she says. “I’ve got my Icon Bombshell Chaps and boots in the trunk of my car along with my Rogue jacket and Mainframe Hooligan helmet. I never go anywhere without ‘em, just in case I get a chance to go knee dragging.”
     It’s winter and cold on the road. But I was smart enough to wear my Icon Insulated Canvas Jeans because I ride year-round. The big deal here is the removable and washable insulated lining, which gives you the choice: ultra-toasty, or cool and loose. The outer chassis is heavy canvas with integrated Aramid reinforced knee and hip panels, all blended together with some trick urban styling. The Insulated Canvas jeans can’t warm your tires before you set out, but they will keep your knees from knocking against the tank.
     The bridesmaid comes out wearing tight-fitting Icon Insulated Denim jeans. She looks even better in her Icon gear then she did in the lime-green, puffing sleeved train-wreck of a dress the bride chose for her.
“I see you’re wearing Icon Insulated Denim jeans?” I ask.
“Oh yeah,” is her reply. “The Denim is basically the same deal as the Insulated canvas you have on, but in a 14-ounce Denim chassis. I like to ride all four seasons of the year.”
     She eyes the tires on my Duke and nods approval that they’re scuffed all the way to the edges. Then she directs me to her place where she pulls a Ducati Tri-Colore out of the garage and fires it up.
     Just before she flips down the Icon RST Dark Gold Proshield on her Mainframe helmet she winks and says, “Try to keep up player, and if I lose you just meet me at the Rock Store. Riding makes me hungry.”
     I’m hit and I never saw it coming. I’ve heard about the thunderbolt, but was always able to dodge the lightning. What a woman. I snick my machine into gear and go after her.
     Even though the temperature is in the 50’s, I’m warmed by that last wink, and my Icon Insulated Jeans. As I watch her lean into a sweeper in her Icon gear I think that there might be something to this whole monogamy thing. After all, if Icon can commit to the street and only the street, then maybe I’ve got a shot…