Born To Ride News

Why? Why do they say that? I must be missing something here or there … or, perhaps not. I’m just not sure at the moment. I was simply sitting on the side of the road, next to my inoperative motorcycle. While you are just sitting, many miles from a shop or a cold beer, you think about a lot of crap. Like why did I buy the thing in the first place? Yeah, it was my typical ride of choice – a nice little FLH Police Special thing, with a lot of dealer added toys, which do not in any sense of the word improve the ride – but certainly increase the bottom line at signing. But nothing I could have purchased at the time could have guaranteed that the final drive belt wouldn’t break in the middle of nowhere on a really nice 100 degree-day. (Remember when I said miles from a cold beer?) Well it gets worse. … It seems that I had already spent my cell phone payment money on a good night at the Gentleman’s club so there was no way that I could call anyone to come way the hell out here to get me. Most of the people I had numbers saved for, in the now useless piece of plastic I had stashed in the tour pack, wouldn’t have had the truck or trailer or even the fuel money for a charity rescue. So needless to say I was stuck … for a while anyway. …

It must have been an hour or so, but it felt like longer than that, when a friendly redneck girl who happened by was kind enough to stop and see why I was just sitting on the side of old Hwy 17 in the middle of the afternoon. After a few minutes of conversation she called her uncle, who has one of them roll-back wrecker things, to come out and get me. At the time, I knew that I only had fourteen dollars in my pocket, which probably exceeded her tooth count by ten, so to say the least I was skeptical. It was truly a mystery. First of all, why would this well worn trailer park breeder even stop to see why I was just sitting here on the side of the road, especially after me seeing her drive by in her dilapidated ’72 Camaro three times? Then, why would a person of her obviously (or similarly) drained financial status even offer to help an old broken down scooter tramp in the first place? Of course I was looking for a free ride, but there was no way I was going to cop-out to the fact that I didn’t have any money! And thirdly, where the heck did she get one of those fancy cell phones that have pictures and stuff on them looking like she did? Ahhh but the mystery is not yet revealed, and I doubt that it ever will be. …

“Heck, it’s only Once in a Blue Moon that I seen one of them belts break” he said as he climbed out of the cab of the wrecker. Evidently her ‘uncle’ was at one time in his life, perhaps even now, a biker. A rather large and ruddy looking man, he stood about six two with tattoos covering the better part of both of his tree-trunk sized arms and at 300 sweaty pounds, I was thinking that even at his apparent sixty plus years, I may have a bit of a problem explaining to him that I wouldn’t have enough cash to pay for the tow charge. But, for some reason the issue of payment never came up. At the time, I just wanted to get off the side of the road. As the antique hydraulics screamed in agony, and with an unsung   miracle, “Uncle” slowly lowered the bed of the rather worn and greasy wrecker.   “Now get over here and hep-us get this thing loaded up April eh?” he yelled at his niece. She complied by doing a shuffle up the oil covered bed, and grabbed the cable that would help us get the bike up on the bed. It was easy enough, and in just a few minutes we had the bagger loaded up and strapped down on the back of the aging rig. I started thinking that she really didn’t look all that bad from the rear as she bent over to get the straps connected up. But that mouth. … Oh well – anything’s better than the side of the road. … “Look here boy, why don’t you jus ride with little April here, and we will get you back to town and see if we can get you fixed up.” “Uh well, OK” I replied, but with some reservation. “You wanna drive?” April said as she tossed me the keys, and as I watched the bagger disappear into the dust on the back of that old wrecker, I said “Hell yeah!”

Once in a Blue Moon my butt, I thought as I fired the old Camaro up. I looked over at April as she flashed me a checkerboard grin, and thought about my plight, and – wait a minute – this worn out old car runs like a scaled-ass ape! “Hey Craven, crank up the AC.” “What??? Hey, how’d you know my name?” “Well you know yer kinda famous around these parts” I fumbled with the controls and in seconds had the air conditioner blowing cold, and the windows were rolled up. “Well that don’t explain anything, I’m not exactly from around here!” “All of us over here know about you from that BornTo Ride thing you are in. It’s the only biker news we get out here.” At this moment I’m in clear view of the uncle’s wrecker, and my bagger still sitting perfectly upright on the back. I had to take a moment to think. This is still a mystery. Once in a blue moon, No, I heard about that a few months ago, I even took a picture of it. The news said it was a Blue Moon. That friggin’ moon wasn’t even close to blue, it was as full and white as those dudes that I met that wear them white sheets. But that’s another story. Then I remembered when the Ol Lady got a gift certificate from the Outback Steakhouse near our trailer park. She ordered our stuff to go, and my filet was supposed to have Bleu Cheese crust on it. When I got back to the trailer, the crap on my steak was GREEN not BLUE! So, I called the restaurant and asked the woman that worked there if the OL Lady had paid her to give me some poison stuff on my steak – you know – so I would die. She assured me that she didn’t know the OL Lady, and sometimes Bleu Cheese was Green. I remember that I was confused and that alone is still a mystery. At this particular time however, I figured it was time to quit thinking and keep driving.

April had propped one of her legs up on the dash, and I was trying to rack my mind as to how I was going to get out of this situation. She was still looking my way suggestively, and I was still amazed at how this completely depleted automobile ran so much better then anything I had ever driven before. It was incredible. That is until we approached a small town. “Oh Craven, you know, you don’t have to worry about anything. Uncle Billy is a real big fan of yours too, but I didn’t tell him it was you on the side of the road. I jus told him it was another broke dick-biker he could make a dollar off of.”  “Oh yeah, that’s real reassuring – thanks! And while we’re on the subject, how’d you know I’m broke???” “That’s easy, over here we all follow your life through the magazine, and it isn’t everyday that we get to actually see people like you in person.”  It’s still a mystery to me. I may never figure it out. …

I’m now in Podunk, and after a quick right turn, we follow the bike into a fairly large industrial looking complex. I shut down the car, and jump out. Uncle is getting out and beginning the same agonizing song of lowering the roll-back bed. Before he gets it all the way down, he yells at April to “Open the door.” She complies, and I swear to you, when I saw the facility, I could not believe that it was even real. Remember now, I wasn’t drinking or partaking in recreational pharmaceuticals, so I just could not believe my own eyes! This was a shop like you would see in a major town like L.A. (Lutz Area), or maybe downtown St. Petersburg, or maybe even Seattle. (I don’t know, I ain’t never been to Seattle, but they say it’s a big town.) Needless to say, this was going to be one of those days or possibly weeks. … Perhaps next month, the mystery will be solved, but I doubt it.

Until then, speed safely, and stay tuned to Born to Ride.