I can’t decide if my Mighty Whitey looks like something vaguely Mad Max/Road Warrior-esqe, ready to run full blown open across the scorching salt plains of a dying world relentlessly pursued by maniacal half breeds on nitro bikes.
Or.
An increasingly embarrassing feeble attempt by a middle aged guy pathetically grasping hopelessly at his rapidly disappearing youthfulness.
I had no idea.
oceandoggy.com 