Rides and Tales

Observations From Behind Bars

Heads and tale.

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I had gone through a couple shiny ignition switch covers before I discovered that it was not heat that ruined them, they had been beat up by an owners club medallion I’d been using as a key fob. As I haven’t been a member of that association for a number of years, I removed the coin and cast about for something else to put on my key.

I settled on a bone bead that is carved to resemble a skull. I think of it rather like a
“Day of the Dead (Dia de los Muertos)” token for a friend who  rides in the Land of Souls.

My missus braided a bit of buffalo fur from the calf called, “Tatanka Wakan
(Sacred Buffalo)”, and added it.

Finished, it’s pretty inconspicuous but I can still feel it in my pocket and, best of all, it won’t beat up my ignition switch cover.

The new key fob was in use for some months when I got a call from my oldest compadre, offering coffee and pie if I’d meet him at the café on the other side of the Laguna Madre. It’s a sin to turn down hospitality, and the waitresses there are very pretty, so off I went on the big yella bike. I parked in my favorite spot, a regular parking slot partially blocked by the marina’s plywood sign, making it unusable for cars, but perfect for a motorcycle you don’t want anyone to back over.

On the return trip, I decided I’d stop at Sunny’s Texaco and top off the tank before the daily price increase.

The weather was perfect, lots of sun and light wind, the traffic on the causeway was also light and I was rolling along at, or near, the suggested speed. Oddly enough, my mind got to wandering toward my key fob. I thought about the carving on the smooth skull bead and the texture of the buffalo hair where it was braided and how the loose end felt. In mind’s eye I could see the way the braid was attached to the bead and the bead to the key. It wasn’t just a passing thought, but one that persisted the seven miles to Sunny’s.

As I pulled up to the Regular pump I knew I’d take a moment to admire my unique key fob before opening the gas cap. Imagine my dismay to find the ignition switch nekkid as the day it was manufactured.

If the key had fallen out on the causeway it was gone, but I made for the one place it might possibly be recovered: the café. Pulling into my parking spot, I looked down past the ignition lock and there, grinning up at me from the pavement, lay my fob.

I’m not sure why the key dropped out, that hasn’t happened since, but the way the image of the fob stayed in my mind intrigued me and I related the incident to my missus. She suggested that the spirit of the buffalo was calling to me. I have no other explanation, strange things happen.

”And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

~ Hamlet


Written by fiddle mike

July 30, 2012 at 3:47 pm

Posted in culture, motorcycle

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