I need a girl

I've spent a fair amount of time riding in the rain this week, and it has renewed my appreciation for the old fenders I recently put on the commuter bike. I had forgotten how much they can make wet rides reasonably enjoyable.

OK, part of me still feels like I should have my glasses taped together over the bridge of my nose when I ride with those things on my bike but, hell, they're just so damned practical that I don't care.

Still, I'd like to be a macho bike geek and bond with my brothers on the road. You know, real men, like truck drivers. Those guys with big belt buckles and even bigger bellies. The kind of guys who eat a lot of cholesterol and have old Army tattoos. The kind of guys who drink beer from cans and proudly have Dale Earnhardt's "3" carved into the hair on their backs.

This is my dream. Don't judge me. I want a mudflap girl.

See, my fenders actually have little rubber mudflaps, yet I lack the manly accoutrement of a chrome-plated babe with bodacious ta-tas to decorate my steed as I cruise the open roads of this Great Land.

The problem is, she can't be more than a couple of inches wide. I've always liked short women, but this is ridiculous. Someone, somewhere must know where I can find a tiny metal babe to place on the back of my manly mudflaps. Help me, fine readers. If you know where this treasured item can be acquired, you must tell me of such a place. Money is no object, as long as it's cheap.

One day soon, people will observe me riding to work in my flourescent yellow jacket and funny pants, and then they will see my mudflaps and know what kind of rough character they're dealing with.