One day I got myself into a bit of trouble on rec.motorcycles.harley and accidentally inferred that Red was old enough to be my mother, which she isn’t.

Owing her a substantial compliment, I posted the following:

Your playfully flirtatious personality is seductively packaged in luxurious red hair and a curvaceous shape that looks great in chaps. You are not, however, a powderpuff, annually putting more miles on Jezebel than most of us put on our cars.  You speak with a light Texas drawl and aren’t ashamed to drink a beer straight from the bottle. Your smile is nearly constant, no matter whether you’re in a rainstorm in a mountain pass, or telling a story around the campfire.  You’re as generous as the day is long, and will fly to a foreign country just to attend a good party (and you’ll bring beer).

In short, you’re the ideal woman, and if you’d have me, I’d be there in a second.

For full nostalgic effect, you can read the entire thread.