Whilst on the road one must always be prepared for any eventuality such as a break down stranding you in the middle of the desert with no pie! Why what would you eat then? What if you met another stranded biker and you had no pie to offer them?Well we discovered Hardee's fried apple pies in Cross City, Fl. and became convinced that they are the ultimate biker food. Heat, cold, living inside a leather vest, nothing could destroy them as they made their way cross country and back home to Florida. Yes mi amigos, they put Twinkies to shame.
We missed taking pics of them in Florida, Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana and Texas for two reasons,
1. We forgot they were in our vest, and
2. Why would we?

They wanted to go for a ride on Pikes Peak so we said well lets ride.
Alas, the guy and the booth said, we are closing the road due to winds.
Which we understood, because the 50mph winds with 70mph gusts
blew us off the cycle. The Pies survived.

Here the pies and Biker Chihuahuas visit Garden of the Gods. Note the dog leash sticking straight out. That is from wind.
We would have took another pic, But we dropped a dog.
Here we are at four corners. It too is closed. Is there a message here.

Could it be biker pie discrimination? I didn't see any construction.
Unfortunately neither did the pies. But they were there!
We took the pies to the grand Canyon too. No we are not dumping in the canyon. We dropped our pies.

Wonder where them pies went. Oh look, pretty rocks

Oh there they are. Hmmmm however will we get them. That's a big hole.
Well as you can see, they survived the canyon. Hmmmm, did we find the dog? Oh, apparently so.
Because here we all are at San Diego Bay
Where a wedding was taking place and the pies wanted to give their blessing
Note, nobody from the wedding is giving the pies blessing. In fact this was the last wedding pic we were able to take. This because we became involved in a long discussion with the wedding people about pies.
They did not seem to appreciate the miraculous nature of pies able to withstand a cross country trip. Nope, not at all
So the pies went to Coronado beach
Which has all kinds of rules about what you can and can not do at a California Beach. The life guard did not understand that the pies were not in need of saving. Silly lifeguard.


So the pies went to a party where they discovered this toilet.
Well oh my gracious they had never seen such a toilet. It was remote controlled with automatic seat lifter and warmer and two squirty thingys that hits two specific areas at speeds of mist to hold on, damn it's freaking fire hose. hmmmm, wonder what those specific areas might be?
I highly recommend the fire hose option.
Oh No.... Don't flush MR. Biker Pie!
And so off to Mexico the pies went. But the pies did not cross the border. Oh no, too many people advised against it.
Beside we have crossed here before. It wasn't a good place to cross then
either.
Especially when you read that little part about no ammo. See my lady once accidentally did that. Not a good thing. Ever fill up a Mexican toilet with ammo and try and flush?
So we really didn't want to chance it with pies.
See this picture. Taking this picture for some reason really offended the border agents. The American ones? The Mexican ones could care less.
The American ones wanted to see our passports? Passports? For what? We never crossed the border. But ah they said, we couldn't see you, so we don't know if you crossed our not. Besides, we want to know why you were taking pictures of the "port". Wait a second, didn't you say you couldn't see us??????????
Which of course we understood as you can see how crowded it is.
But rather than further upsetting Mr. Border man and risk having the Biker Pies thrown in an "American Prison" for being mistaken as some sort of ammunition we decided it would be best to head north!
5000+ miles later the Biker Pies returned to their native Florida. It is our considered opinion that these pies can whip any Twinkies ass any time. In fact we eat them today were it not for the bond we established on the ride. Nope instead a box is, as we type, being crafted as a resting place for them in our little shop/dungeon/tatt place/sanctuary where they will reside forever giving testimony to the genius of American gastronomical innovation.Add to Technorati Favorites






