By the time Indiana thawed out enough to allow travel, we sent Grandma Jean home to where she lived at the time in Indianola, Iowa. We then jumped int... our 1973 Chevrolet Chevelle Laguna four-door pillared hardtop and drove like hell for the Gulf States. We liked what we saw out there, we knew we were in our new home state when we saw a herd of Harley riders cruising on Interstate 8 between Casa Grande and Gila Bend. They were all wearing T-shirts, jeans and biker boots—no gloves or jackets.. “Oh did we?” I asked, an innocent look upon my face. “Well, maybe we could... forget ... again.”He resisted my attempts to lift his shirt up, and gestured to the milkshake once more.“Please,” he said, “sis...”I pouted in protest, and it wasn’t until he leaned in close and whispered “I came in it” that my face lit up. Next thing I knew, I was guzzling the milkshake down as fast as I could - I swallowed most of it, but a tiny bit spilled onto the copious amounts of cleavage that I had. More

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