なべ
It's Iwakuni Gotohashi's yancha-type batch. It is made by the black malted rice which is a prerequisite for distillation of shochu or awamori in high temperature Kyushu and Okinawa. It must produce a lot of citric acid to form microfloridomics in the high temperature, but the taste is not as sour as I thought. It's that rich, seductive juice feeling of the most deliciousness concentrated between the flesh and rind of the grape. Wildness.
Bias from the label, but the drudgery and vibrancy of the V-twin engine? It's not the silky-smooth blowout of the electronically controlled direct-injection multi-cylinder inline, but rather a classic mechanism that dares to make the rider and horse feel like one.
Hot burnt and cracked Route 66, faded posters of Elvis, and an overdue refueling pump. Lunch at the diner with a burger with a red-yellow Heinz W and a bite to it. Instead of asking for a beer here, I'll try to decide if I want a milkshake or a five bridge. Nah. The Route 66 magnet in the fridge conveniently distorts and revives memories of our old visit. My favorite car for the trip is not a Harley, but a tired Ford rental car from around Florida, and my drink is a Diet Coke. I'd like to travel the Grand Circle at will again someday. I don't think the Five Bridges is for sale.
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