Angels in the Outpost

Driving through town we encountered a swarm of motorcyclists, all bound, Hells Angel like, in similar direction.

They weren’t riding sleek Harleys (they were on livid coloured Chinese bikes with – from the experience of owning one ourselves once – stickers on the seats that warn of the dangers of drinking wine, not alcohol, wine, pre-mounting) and were not dressed in leathers.

Where on earth are they all going? I asked bemused husband as we watched stream of solemn riders turn at a junction whilst we waited.

It wasn’t until the tail enders came into view that we guessed: they were members of a long wedding procession; we found ourselves behind two ample figured bridesmaids, riding pillion and dressed in green.


4 Responses to “Angels in the Outpost”

  1. minx Says:

    I wonder who got bitten on their wedding night?

  2. mzungu chick Says:

    Goodness Mem, I can’t believe you caught a picture of my twin sister on that bike. Damn, and I thought my bum looked fab in that frock!

  3. R. Sherman Says:

    Born to be wild, eh?


  4. Kola Amodu Says:

    Sure got some nice pix here. And the natural African flair on those damsels on the bikes too…Makes me feel like being home.

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