Irony? and fauna

So today, for the first time in twelve years, I rode my motorcycle in full body proper attire: helmet (duh, governor says I must or he'll sick his henchman on me {apparently it's an issue for certain doctors [and mothers], too. What is it with the people who care about me and helmets?}), reinforced gloves (and silk liners - it's dang cold riding sixty {ok, seventy [ok, ok, eighty]} miles an hour at forty degrees ambient), tall leather boots, leather jacket, and chaps.

Yup, the kind without an ass.

As I set out I thought to myself, "Self. Would it be ironic if, today with this unprecedented level of protection, I dumped my bike at speed for the first time?" I have trouble with irony. We've made it way more complex than the dictionary definition: "result which is unexpected".

Half an hour later (it's a long, long road to work) I saw a beautiful buck from a distance of approximately half a highway lane. I'd tell you all about how pretty he was, but I was unable to count his points due to the distraction of the doe on the other side of me that I could have, without hyperbole, (yes, I can work without it sometimes; just don't like to) touched with my left hand.

That was good for the ol' adrenal glands.