Veayaygrah

Somewhere outside of Hella, we were at a traffic circle when we spied an oncoming something that made us pause. It was so unusual and stunning and disturbing, we were both were a little slow to react. "What WAS that?"

It appeared to be a motorcycle. There's not too many bikers in Iceland, but those that are there are extra-tough characters. I mean, come on. You have a motorcycle and you live very close to the arctic circle. You win biting nails in half competitions all the time. In fact, your favorite breakfast cereal probably involves rusty nails and its laced with some cogs and mini-maces. Nom.

Still.

"Was that a horse skull on the front of that bike?", I asked, with a trembling voice. We couldn't agree. It came at us so fast around that traffic circle, and it was so much like something out of mirage or a Mad Max movie. It was terrifying. "That looked like a human skull on the back". I didn't like this one bit. This is horsemen of the apocalypse or something. Fleeing was the safe bet.

Bryan couldn't let it be. He spun the car around so fast, we left tracks.

And then he proceeded to chase the Mad Max biker and his gang of slightly less-threatening but still a little scary by association biker friends through the countryside.

I was really squirming in my seat, but after a couple miles of possibly breaking the speed limit, we started to catch up to the post apocalyptic biker gang.

They turned onto the only road for miles. We were able to glimpse the pack leader once again.

I was trying to get a good enough picture from the car to sate Bryan's curiosity enough so that he would turn around and we could continue on our way.

Not good enough.

Nope. Still not good enough.

Bryan was not happy about things until we followed the biker gang into their hideout, which was a rather nondescript driveway.

At which point, Bryan stopped the car and approached them. For real.

The owner, in a breathy Icelandic accent filled with pride, exclaimed, "His name....is...Veayaygrah".

"You mean...Viagra?"

"Yes. Veayaygrah."

The horse skull, with the mane still attached, with bit and bridle. The saddle being an actual saddle. The weird scalp-things that's a horse tail hanging off the back (and not a human skull, like we first thought).

The overwhelming sense of relief I felt when the bikers didn't kill us and use us to decorate their next arts and crafts project.

This is why I travel.