Born To Ride News

I suppose that when I was a little kid, I like most other people of that tender age looked forward to the Christmas Holiday with great expectation. There was always something exciting about the possibility of receiving some sort of toy or game or other item that I really wanted; and the gratification of displaying that item to my peers was the ultimate feeling of satisfaction. But I soon found out that my friends and peers really didn’t get much thrill at looking at my socks and underwear – especially when I would drop my pants just to show em off. Damn, I should have been born a girl! Then everyone would want to see my socks and underwear. That statement is based upon some of the magazines that I have seen at the local 7-Eleven. I was there the other day, talking to my friend Habib who works there. He was showing me a series of photos in one of those magazines that featured a very attractive girl posing in her underwear. She was even wearing socks. Ok, well I guess they were stockings, but it didn’t matter because she was simply captivating. She was also sporting a Santa hat but I don’t believe that anyone (including myself) would have ever noticed that hat. Not with that beautiful set of large perfectly rounded uh – eyes – staring back at me. I started thinking that, not only is it cool to look that good in your skivvies, but it must be really nice to get paid for it! I came to the conclusion that models get paid when I tried to remove the magazine from the store without paying for it. Habib said “No you stinky biker bum – you pay, you pay! Book not leave store without you pay for it loser!!” I just put it back on the counter, because I had already spent all my cash on a pack of smokes, a 16oz Bud and a lotto ticket.

Ahhh those memories! As my thoughts journeyed back to when I was a kid, I lit a smoke and savored the aroma of the toxic materials I was exhaling. I took a swallow of the ice-cold beer, and leaned back against the glass on the front of the store. Man, it was cool to be young and have expectations and dreams, and every day was a new adventure. Sometimes you got what you wanted, and sometimes you didn’t, but you always woke up with wide-eyed expectation. I heard the door open and out walks my pal Habib. He lights up a smoke and sits on the ledge next to me. He says “Ohhh man look at that filthy motorcycle you bum, you should wash! And them clothes you wear, man you stinky Craven, you dirty stinky, you should wash!” “Shaddup buttwipe” I replied. “What makes you think you are so much better than me?” “Ohhh Craven I got job, I make money, you just stinky biker bum, but I still like you!” “You don’t like me Habib; you just wish you were free like I am! I got nowhere to go, nothing to do, and nothing to prove!” He doesn’t reply but stares off into space for a few minutes, tosses his cigarette into the parking lot and walks inside. As I swigged down the last of my beer, I thought that perhaps my friend was thinking about what I said. Maybe he had some sort of expectation or some dream in a way off desert tent or something. I don’t know, maybe he didn’t have a Christmas tree or presents to open – heck he probably doesn’t even celebrate Christmas in whatever place he originally came from. Or maybe he, just like me, really has no place to go or nothing to do after he gets off work. Maybe he has nothing to prove and no expectation of happiness. Either way, it didn’t really matter at that particular moment. I just got up, threw the empty can into the trash and walked over to my motorcycle. I had a funny thought when I threw my leg over the bike – you know, what would it be like to throw your leg over a camel, and drive it home from work. Or worse, maybe one of them stinky braying jackasses like they ride around on in Mexico. I actually rode one of those smelly things when I was down there, and my pal Habib thinks I’m stinky – HA!! Anyhow, I just fired up the bike, and I was getting ready to leave when Habib runs out the door. He’s waving a bag at me and he comes up and says “Here Craven, I want you to have this magazine, you like it so I make present to you for it. You still a bum but you are my friend!” “Thanks man, I appreciate that!” I replied, as I rolled up the book and stuffed it into my jacket. Then, I dug around in my other pocket and found a pass to the gentleman’s club down the highway. I handed it to him and said “Here man, you may enjoy this!” His eyes got sorta wide, and said “Ohhh man, Showgirls club, I go there, I like! You a good friend Craven even though you bike bum!” “Yeah you’re a good friend too, so Merry Christmas Habib!” “Merry Christmas!” he hollers as he runs back inside.

As I ride down the road, I started thinking that maybe even though we’re not young anymore there are still some things that we can expect that still please us. Things that are bright and shiny, whether new or old, dusty or dirty, probably dreams, possibly fantasies, maybe even the simplest of rewards or gifts could never replace the basic art of friendship. It’s a good thing to exchange this Christmas.

The things I don’t like about Christmas. …

I don’t like those little antler things that you put on your dog. I don’t like those little Santa hat things for your dog either. Your dog doesn’t like it I don’t like it, and I will come to your trailer and teach your dog to bite you if you don’t quit doing it! No, it’s not even cute for that one photo that you want to put on the front of your Christmas card. If I was your dog and you did that to me, I would eat your favorite slippers and crap them out all over your shag carpet. Your dog is supposed to be your best friend. Why would you do that to your dog? Just stop it!

Now that we have that straight, I do want to say thanks and Merry Christmas to ALL my dedicated readers who endure my rants and raves month after month. I enjoy writing for this magazine, and really do appreciate all of you that come up to me and say “I like your articles!” Or “I hate your articles” or whatever. I really sincerely do appreciate it. Thanks again my friends, and speed safely out there!
Oh yeah, Hey Santa! I do need some new socks this year, but forget the underwear, I’m goin commando!