I am not a fashionista. Sure, I believe one must use a discerning eye when selecting the proper concert T. Also, any irreverent humor printed on cotton better be worth more than a subtle chuckle and should only be understood by approximately 23.5 % of the general public. And I am not quite at the point where I let my wife pick out my shirts and pants but she does pick out my boxers from time to time. That said, I do have a weakness. I succumb to the power of the kit. I never thought I’d consider spending a c-note on a shirt. But recently, as I shopped my favorite online “Mamil” site, there it was calling my name. With a heavy Italian accent, kind of like when I was 8 years old hearing la mia Mamma calling me home for spaghetti dinner.
HEAVY EDDY RIDES 
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