Rides and Tales

Observations From Behind Bars

Cool Kids

with one comment

Cruising the Slab

Nurse Jo and I had determined to ride to a nearby town and check out the rally action.
Soon after I put the big yella bike in motion we realized that 70°F (21°C) doesn’t seem all that toasty to folks who’d seen months of nights in the 80s.    I guess it didn’t help that the sky was overcast and we were getting a pretty good damp breeze out of the north.    Still, we’d dressed the best we knew how and between that, the bug catcher and engine heat, we were in pretty fair shape.
Besides, God don’t like whiners.

The rally site looked bereft of vendors, thwarting Jo’s growing determination to shop for some “bad-ass chaps” so, rather than enter the gate, we pulled to the side of the road.    There, we spoke with a Vulcan rider from our town who told us he hadn’t seen any bikes on the way over. We’d seen about fifteen: five on the road and ten at the Harley dealership.
After hearing that the food vendors were reputed to be highway robbers I remarked that perhaps we, too, should have ridden to the Harley shop and availed ourselves of their supply of fresh donuts.
I heard, “Whoa! Going to the Harley shop is not my idea of a ride ”.

I reckon she can forget ever being accepted by the cool kids.
I reckon I can forget that, too.

Cruising the Ether :

There’s a news website I like that is also something of a social network. I’ve pretty much stayed away from the message board since the regulars seem to be, mostly, keyboard bikers and herd mentality dickheads  (not to put too fine a point on things).

I say I’ve stayed away “pretty much” since I did horn in when a fellow with a classic import asked for mechanic advice; the responses were largely along the lines of “scrap the that junk and get a real bike”, “real bike” meaning something with the socially acceptable H-D label on the tank (and some Triumphs).

What can I say? Southerners love an underdog, so I suggested that the respondents carried on like a bunch of RUB snobs with misplaced values and that the original poster had been treated pretty shabbily.

Well, I found out tout de suite (damn quick) that taking shit from a bunch of yahoos is what they pass off as “paying dues”.
I’d thought that dues got paid when you made a stand for principles regardless of their popularity, or when you got personal with a caliche road on a rainy night.
The concept seems cheapened when it’s used to promote cheesy elitism, but what do I know?
Further, I was informed that if I rocked the boat there was every chance I’d not be “accepted”.
My first thought was “Fuck! That means I won’t be able to date the cheerleaders!” but after that moment of panic I remembered that I hadn’t lived for acceptance by the cool kids in real high school.

bullshit 2

But, that’s enough of all of that. I blew it off, went back to reading the news and left the message board to the OGs.
Heck, I just wrote that stuff down because the only extraordinary thing to occur in the real world, lately, happened Friday night when Nurse Jo and I  narrowly, very narrowly, escaped  being run down by a speeding truck.

When I told her I hoped that wouldn’t discourage her from throwing her leg over the coochie couch (her term) she looked at me like I’d called her a name and colorfully assured me that it would take more than a drunken redneck in a truck to do that.

She’s alright, for a girl.



Written by fiddle mike

October 22, 2009 at 2:32 am

One Response

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  1. Good goin,Tex.I’m a novice keyboard biker jocky
    myself but at least I don’t try to intimidate by
    speaking out my smelly ass. I wouldn’t even call
    them dickheads as that’s suppose to be the best
    part of a man and would give them a compliment.LOL

    Denny O.

    October 22, 2009 at 11:10 pm

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