Rides and Tales

An employee had tipped me off to metric bike show to be held this past Saturday over in town (as we say), at Cycle Plaza. She said the event was to benefit PALS. Neither of us knew what the acronym ”PALS” represents. We considered, ”Pets Against LesbianS”, but figured that was just not politically correct (as well as being, perhaps, a little silly). All the same, I put the event into the data bank and, Saturday afternoon, snagged a box of kitty chow with which to buy raffle tickets, and got my scram on.

Nationally, Cycle Plaza is rated as a top dealer so I wasn’t surprised at the successful turn out, even though staff and management were taken a little off guard. I stood eyeballing the crowd, looking for somewhere to put my kibbles, when I spotted a smiling face I could put a name to.

The name is Samantha and the face is this one:

Samantha is a friend of the family, as well as a competent salesman, lady rider and ray of sunshine, so I side-tracked her for a minute to chat. She was the event’s official videographer, a wise choice as she is passionate enough about video to have enrolled in film school.
Break a leg, Samantha.

Having said hello and stopped by the donate table, I began enjoying the motorcycles. The judging categories were, ”originality”, ”cleanest design” and ”most insane design”. I’ve been out of the loop, I guess, I’m not familiar with insanity as a design concept, but then, I wasn’t showing a bike so, WTF.
Of course, my eye was immediately drawn to this great old Triumph, neither original nor insane, but certainly clean.

This motorcycle was a little before my time but was turning up as beautiful customs when I was a lad.

Cycle Plaza is a  Yamaha, Kawasaki and Victory dealer but other marques were represented at the show, as well.

This is definitely not your granny’s Intruder.

Now, if you don’t know that sport bikes are a for-real part of America’s motorcycle scene, you just haven’t been down to Sonic Drive-In on a Saturday night. The boys and girls are dead serious customizers, too. This bike took several awards, including most original.

Personally, I like the elegant simplicity of this entry.

The nice stainless and chrome accents didn’t hurt none, either.

That’s right, that’s a laughing gas bottle. If you are not familiar with NOS gas, it is injected into the engine of an already blindingly fast motorcycle to make it so quick that only Buddhist monks can contemplate it’s existance.

Not as fast, and a little closer to home (but, not real close) was this Royal Star with bold finned truck stacks that fairly shout, “I’m from Deep South Texas!

I wandered around rubbernecking and howdying till Wild Bill waylaid me and we went into the dealership showroom to check out the Victory Vision, “the first American Luxury Tourer to come along, etc. etc.” The General Manager came by an told me to go ahead and try it for fit.

I don’t know… I think it makes my ass look flat.

Along about this time something told me I hadn’t eaten for a while so I said my adioses and found my mount. As I was preparing to leave I waited for this Hyonsung 650 to go by.

Yeah, that’s just the kind of guy I am.

Oh, by the way! When we were in the mall, last week, this circus girl in a tutu, plug hat and white face started messin’ with me (in a fun way). Not knowing what was up, I messed back and she ended up giving Jill and me tickets to Cirque du Soleil, for Saturday night. We were seated above VIP but below ”nosebleed”, about where I’d have chosen, given the choice. The circus was wonderful!

Then we went home and I didn’t get laid. I felt young, again.

Friday p.m. the luckiest girl in Flour Bluff parked her Honda Magna and told me it hadn’t started when she was ready to leave Port A and had to be jumped. I went to the shed to remove the battery for charging and found that baby making noise that indicated that hot gas was escaping from an opening that shouldn’t exist. As they say en Espanol, “Es no buena por chit”.

Saturday a.m. the Yellow Pages fell open to Dynamo Cycle. I took that as a sign and called. I was told, “Its your lucky day”. They had a Magna battery in stock they’d let go for 109 US simoleans (plus tax). I thought, “Jeez, that don’t sound very lucky”, then the salesman went on to tell me that they had a warranty return that tested good (they suspect the bike has charging system problems). I could have it, as we say in Espanol, “pilon”, that is, for only the cost of the ride across town in the sunshine to pick it up.
Which I did.

On the way to Dynamo I noticed a bunch of sport bikes in a mall parking lot and made a point of returning that way and check it out.
Sport bike club, Cyclone Riders MC, two of whose members (I was told) are custom painters, had a show and club fundraiser happening.

Right out the chute, I ran into a fire fighter friend who owns a Firefighter Edition Harley-Davidson, as well as sport-touring Triumph. He liked this bike. Maybe it will be the next FF bike.

While he was admiring the motorcycle I chatted with representatives from one of the sponsors.

I wondered around and checked out some custom paint jobs, some more fancy, some less, but each making a statement about the bike’s owner.

Then, I spotted this baby. Three cylinder, two-stroke 750cc motorcycles are a blast from the past, seen more in shows than on the streets, these days. You can see this one on the drag strip.


While I’m in the past:
Back in the day, green paint was considered bad mojo, a hard luck color. Times has changed, I guess.
This beauty was one of a handful of Harley-Davidsons shown.

Someone hollered and bedamned if it wasn’t Wild Bill and Kay, from out in the Bluff. We did some catching up while we rubbernecked the motorcycles and people watched. One of custom paint jobs we thought was pretty slick was on a bike not in the show.

We wandered past the dynamometer truck, which was dynamometing pretty steady.

About this time, a stunt demonstration began, and we had to check it out.

I was enjoying the afternoon but my conscience got to dogging me about the Magna battery in my saddlebag so I shook and hugged, put on my hat and gloves and skinned it back to the big Bluff.

I installed the battery, pushed a button and the starter turned so fast that only dogs could hear it. In less time than it takes to think about it Jill’s Magna fired up just like God and Soichiro Honda intended.

That gal just lives right, you know?

Saturday found some folks wondering if their gasoline had thawed out, but found others in flip flops, out in the shed, doing a little maintaining on the big yella bike. I was just killing time, though, no scootering for us, today. The sun was out and the wind had laid down, but the temperature still wasn’t predicted to top 70°. Besides, we were bound for town and the Texan Bar to play music for a benefit. The Texan isn’t very large, but has a roomy informal kind of patio out back. Our friends in “Johnson Grass” were already there making the bikers and kickers tap their toes when we arrived.

                                                                       
This was our initial performance with English Pete and the first time in many years we played with a drummer. Mary was our percussionist and had a hand in getting the benefit off the ground, as well, so she was busy as a one-armed paper hanger, today.

Our first gig went well, especially considering it was out of doors with unfamiliar equipment. The bunch down at the Texan are a little less reserved than the Gold Wing group and more fun than a barrel full of prostitutes, so the afternoon was a hoot.
Between the poker run, barbecue plates and 50/50 sales (plus, excellent music), the day was considered an unqualified success.

A good time was had by all. Its just the kind of guys we are.