Ah, June in the Mojave Desert: what a beautiful time of year! Just you and miles and miles of open sky. The desert stretches out before you like an endless sea. The land is a light, sandy brown and the sky a deep, vibrant blue. Many a mile passes easily beneath the wheels of the trusty jeep. The vibrations add a very enjoyable jiggle to my passenger's chest as we drive. Every so often, a rabbit will bound out for some sagebrush, and a short- but- fun chase ensues as we pursue the rabbit cross-country. The rabbit always wins, but the chase in the jeep is enjoyable and challenging. Then it's down one arroyo after another. We are far from the beaten trail. We eventually come across Death Valley, a quaint spot that nobody in the 19th century actually died in. Nope, they died right after they got out of it, after traveling its vast, waterless expanse. From scenic Death Valley, we turn southwest and head off into the open American wilderness. First one dry lake and then another. We pass a stagecoach stop of the 1890's with the still-fresh graffiti of the 1890's on the rocks. We go by places where Indians ground corn next to a lake during the last ice age. There we can see rock-drawings from the same Indians. We see an old tank. We see an A-10 coming in for a strafing run. WE SEE AN A-10 COMING IN FOR A STRAFING RUN??!!

Crap, did it again, blundered onto Leach Lake Bombing Range on the north side of Fort Irwin. Don't you just hate it when your candy blue 1946 jeep is mistaken by some jet jockey to be an olive drab burned out M-46 target tank? I can tell you I DO! It was pedal- to- the- metal time. The 50- year- old four- banger engine roared. The jeep pert' near jumped with the sudden increase of power; all four wheels screamed while tearing at the desert floor to gain speed. It wasn't two shakes of a coyote's tail before we hit a draw, and our errant jet jockey was deprived of his MOVING target. (Maybe he figured out that burned-out target tanks don't move?)

I laughed softly as I realized that yet again the USAF had failed to get me. To this day, I still don't understand why they are after me. I laughed out loud as the significant other cried. My laughing stopped when I saw that the jeep was crying too. This was very perplexing; jeeps don't cry. But right there by the headlights, tears were flowing. Tears? I tasted them; yeah, salty -- but kind of a greasy-- taste; you know, like anti-freeze. Yeah, anti-freeze! The USAF missed, but the Mojave hadn't, and a rock had been thrown through the radiator during our dash for cover.

Great. We were over 50 miles from the nearest road, and it was 120 degrees in the shade. Lucky us, though: we were in the shade. Even if we made the 50 miles to the road, it would just be an auxiliary road, not heavily trafficked. It was a three-day walk to a road, and it might take a couple of days to get picked up once there. This was shaping up to be a bad time for Bad. To show my solidarity with the significant other and my jeep, I sat down and cried with them.

The day was turning out just dandy. To add icing to the cake, a thunderhead cloud mass appeared to the east. Great, stuck down in a draw, and now a potential flash flood is on the way. Well, at least the jeep didn't weigh much. It wasn't much of a grade, but crap, you just don't want to push a jeep when its 120 degrees out! On the other hand, I wasn't going to let my jeep get sucked down a wash by a flash flood. That level of effort in that kind of heat does not do your senses a lot of good. By the time we got the jeep to high ground, the thunderhead was on top of us, and I was hearing music. Not harps, but rather Wagner, Ride of the Valkyries, to be precise. Then there before me landed a Valkyrie. Great: besides audio hallucinations, I was having visual hallucinations as well. What could I do?

"Nice traveling music," I said

"I am Diana the Valkyrie. You are in trouble," she said, stating the obvious.

"Yes, I have a blown radiator and a blown mind," I replied.

"Your radiator shall be as it was. Your mind... well, sorry, but I am just a Valkyrie," said Diana. She then took the tip of her spear and inserted it into my radiator. There were sparks and lightning bolts; the metal twisted and squealed; the hole in the radiator vanished.

"That is amazing! Where, oh where does such power come from?" I asked.

"It's very easy to find out. If you want to see women of strength. If you want to see and read the tales of such. If this is the knowledge you seek, then come to my website to learn about Diana the Valkyrie and her fellow Valkyries' and/or Amazons' dealings with mortal men," said Diana.

"Thank you, I shall go there. But, well, a radiator without fluid is going to leave us just as stranded," I said, trying not to seem ungrateful.

"You are right. Fortunately, I run another website called Ladybumps. This site is dedicated to...well...two large features of women. I shall use the powers from that site to help you." said Diana, and then she vanished, again to the tune of Ride of the Valkyries.

I was wondering what she meant by that when my significant other squealed. I thought that was odd; maybe it was a rattler or something. I spun around, ready to draw down on the varmint. I was surprised to see my significant other grabbing frantically at her chest. Her hands were being pushed rapidly back, while her shirt appeared to be inflating. She started screaming something about getting it off. It took me a minute to figure out that she meant her bra. I never did need a second invite to do that, but this was weird. By the time we got her shirt off, it was plain that her A-cup bra wasn't up to DD-cup duty, and it let go with a loud twang. Her breasts now rapidly expanded, larger and larger. She sat down in the jeep. Her breasts grew out and over the windshield that was tied down to the hood. She grew larger and larger. There aren't sizes to explain how big she was getting. Then it stopped. Just for a minute though. She looked at me and said this wasn't good. Then they started swelling and stretching. She began yelling that they hurt, and her nipples turned brown. About the time it looked as if they had become two flesh colored beanbag chairs, they stopped expanding. She just sat there moaning about the pain, telling me that she felt like they were going to explode.

I was a little slow, but I figured it out. I maneuvered her to the front of the jeep and got the windshield and hood up. There I positioned one of her nipples over the radiator cap. I grabbed the base of her breast and started applying constant pressure down and towards the nipple. By the time I got there, a full stream of milk was spurting into the radiator, and her breast was decreasing in size. First one breast, and then the other. About the time they both returned to an A-cup in size, the radiator was filled to capacity. We got in the jeep and headed home. With all that milk in the radiator, the jeep purred like a kitten.

We owed our rescue that day to Diana the Valkyrie. There is much we all can learn from her. If you want to learn about strong women, then go to Diana the Valkyrie at http://www.thevalkyrie.com.
Or, if your interest is in two of the softer aspects of a woman, you need to go to Ladybumps at http://www.ladybumps.com. I know both places helped my life. Why don't you go see what they can do for yours? While you're there, say hello to Diana. She can really provide you with help.

:-P
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