Once upon a time, Lisa and Adrienne worked for the same alternative newsweekly. Now, both spend their respective lives mining their creative souls and leading hermit-like lives. And so an idea was hatched. Every week, one would send the other a sketch—either in illustration or word form—and the other would make a companion to the sketch. The result would be posted on both their blogs every week, just for grins. Even if the result isn't award-worthy, the exercise makes both minds more nimble. Hopefully.
I’ve heard every joke there is about a Jew riding a Hog. Yes, it is ironic - but it would be a better set-up if I were trying to eat my bike rather than simply ride it. There are no restriction on sitting on the back of a four-legged hog and using him for conveyance. Ditto my sweet Harley. Thank you for playing.
The other bikers in my crew say I’m too hard on people, that I expect the goyim to treat me like a bad ass just because of the bike when, really, it’s really all about the joy of riding regardless of faith. But just once I want to make a hotel desk clerk nervous. Once.
All I ask for is respect. I’ve got the ride. I’ve got the beard. I’ve got the leathers and the chrome and the boots. They scan for tattoos, the big screaming skulls, the curvy bikini girls, the eagles.
But when they see my orange-and-black kippa and the fringe from my tallit, the fear is gone. I can watch it dim in their eyes as they offer me bagels and lox. Then they make a joke about the Jew on the Hog. And I die a little, inside.
Text ©Adrienne Martini; illustration ©Lisa Horstman. Until the end of time. Or something.