When I was about 10, I named my bike. It was the “Rock Chopper Six”. I don’t know why six was included. No records exist for models one through five. I drove that fucker over many Viet Cong, Germans, wild animals and nuns. I rode it up Sister Rosalia’s ass. In a totally non-sexual but enormously satisfying way. Satisfying for Sister.
I’ve done this and talked about it for years. I liked to take a walk. I’m not weird about it: If their drapes are open and it can be seen from the street or walk, it’s fair game. I won’t go in a yard or stand on the hydrant or anything. There are traditions to be upheld.