First, if you read posts from the top down like I do, scroll down one and read An Angry Old Broad's post. Are you back? OK, read this one.
Since AOB's kinda The Brain's adopted Mom/den mother/warden, and on the theory that "if Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy!", I figured I'd go quietly and play "Better Know a Blogger" too. Then too, since Fixer's gone for the day, "when the cat's away, the mice will play".
Re Sturgis: Officially known as the Black Hills Motor Classic but commonly known as the
Sturgis Motorcycle Rally, it's one of the two or three biggest 'sickle get-togethers in the country, and one of the oldest. The first one was in 1938 and was sponsored by the
Jackpine Gypsies Motorcycle Club. If ya like bikes, those links'll thrill ya!
I was a Harley-Davidson mechanic for half of my ongoing 30+ year career in the motorcycle biz, both at o-fish-ul dealerships and independent shops ("scab shops" to the dealers. Snooty bunch!). When it was time for a big run like, say,
The Redwood Run, I'd go the other way. I worked on the damn things all week, and if I ended up at the same run as my customers, which happened a coupla times before I wised up, somebody'd always snitch me off and I'd end up working on the sleds of guys who were too cheap to bring 'em into the shop
before they actually broke down. On my days off. For free. Swell. If I refused, then of course I was a money-grubbing asshole and not a true "bro" etc., etc., so I'd let myself get suckered in for the sake of my employer who depended on these guys for a living.
Anyway, I developed a technique for when someone'd hit me up to spend my weekend working on their load for free, sitting in the dirt, with whatever tools I (never
them) could scrounge up, no parts or handcleaner for miles, in amongst a buncha drunks who didn't seem to mind if I didn't get to party too: I'd get ahold of a hammer, the bigger the better, swing it around in my upraised hand, pretend to be knee-walkin' drunk, and launch myself at the 'sickle kinda slurrin', "Sure! You betcha, bro, glad to! Lemme at the sumbitch! I'll fixsh it up good fer ya!". It got my message across and they thought better of it, just in case I really
was that drunk. Everybody had beer on their breath, so who could tell? I only actually did that once, but it worked. I quit goin' on runs after that.
I try not to work on Harley-Davidsons these days. When folks ask me why, I tell 'em, "Oh, I hit myself in the head with a hammer and forgot everything I ever knew about 'em." They'll usually say, "Oh, that's too bad" and I'll reply, " The worst part was how many times I had to hit myself in the head before I found the
right spot!"
The demographics of the riders, and the whole scene, has changed to where it just isn't fun for me anymore. F'rinstance, in my younger days, the point of a run was to
ride, then party around various campfires, camp out when you'd had enough, then wave goodbye and
ride home the next day or whenever. These days, there's as many guys who tow their trailer queens behind their motor homes as actually ride there. You can party uninvited at a stranger's campfire and make new friends. Try that in a stranger's $100K motor home and watch what happens. In my day the crowd were
motorcyclists, first, last, and foremost. These days, they're pretty much weekenders in on a faddish trend. Kind of an exclusive trend as well. Go price a Harley-Davidson and you'll see what I mean. It's a big money deal now, and it kinda wrecked it for this dyed-in-the-wool ol' broke 'sickle tramp. Us dinosaurs just can't catch a break anymore.
By the way, I own a couple of H-Ds, but in my always-in-the-saddle younger days I always rode a Triumph. Before "electric legs" they were easier to start, and lighter and faster than Hogs. Cheaper and more reliable, too, if you knew what you were doing.
In those days, if you couldn't fix it, don't travel on it. We would take off on a weekend ride with ten bucks, maybe less, in our pocket. Nobody had a credit card, and if the damn thing broke, we'd fix it on the spot if we could, or throw it in the run truck if there was one, or whatever it took as a group effort. Today, the bikes don't break near as much, and when -no,
if- they do, the riders whip out their cell phones and call their tow service and then cuss, or maybe
sue, their mechanic for not anticipating the problem with their $30K machines. Like I say, things have changed.
Enough snivelling. That was fun!
I hope Mr. AOB has a good time. I just know he'll be so sick of seein' scantily-clad tattooed big-titted blonde gals that he'll be glad to get home.
Husband,meet thin ice
Now, where was I? Oh, yeah...
1)What's your favorite childhood book or story?
I used to really like the WWII potboilers for kids. The war hadn't been over all that long then, and there were a lot of them left over. The ones I remember usually featured an RAF Spitfire (
never a Hurricane, perish the thought!) pilot with a name like Rex Upright-Studley or some such, who was always in the process of giving it all for King and Country, dogfighting the Hun, always outnumbered, canopy, landing gear, control surfaces, radiator, parachute, ten cylinders and a third of his prop all shot away, low on ammo ("I gave the FW-190 a two-second burst from my dwindling supply..."). He always won, nursed his ship home to a pancake landing, ran to a new plane and went at it again. No wonder we won!
I was a good reader early on, and read a lot of stuff that was above my age level. I like Westerns, detective stories, Sci-Fi, history and historical novels, almost anything, but these days there's so much non-fiction that I feel I have to read just in order to keep up that I don't read anywhere near as much fiction as I'd like to. Someday, when The Madness has abated...
Having said that, I never miss a new Harry Potter!
2)What's your favorite thing to eat in the summertime?
Ice cream. I loved Oregon Blackberry but Baskin-Robbins quit making it after about fifty years, the bastards! Chocolate, French Vanilla, Coffee, all OK. With caramel topping.
3)Favorite black and white movie?
Grapes of Wrath without a second's hesitation, followed by
Sands of Iwo Jima (I liked the colorized version too) and
Dr. Strangelove. I like
b-westerns as well.
4)Whatcha Readin'?
Leatherneck Legends by Dick Camp. Follows the careers of several famous Marine Generals from WWI up through Vietnam. Some of those old boys were still in the Corps when I was. They should be proud!
Water and the California Dream by David Carle. Fascinating to this native Californian. Traces the history and greed/growth of my state from Spanish days 'til the present. If you only read one book about California in your life, read this one. As Mark Twain said, "Whisky's fer drinkin'. Water's fer fightin' over!"
One book I should have read and haven't is
Special Operations by Richard H. Wood, which I got as a Christmas present from the author. It's quite the weighty tome and I haven't read it because I'm afraid the damn door will slam shut!
5)If failure was off the table,and impossible,what would you do with your life that you aren't doing now?
Run for President or Vice-President on a ticket with Fixer. Not everybody'd like us, but everybody else would. We'd tell some uncomfortable truths, right a lot of wrongs, hang a lot of people who deserve it, comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable, boy would we ever!
When the country was back on the right track, I'd get me a Civil War surplus forty acres and a mule and grow hemp and pot, which would be legal to do by then. I'd style around in a screamin'-motherfuckin'-yellow, or maybe red, '59 El Camino that I imported from Free Cuba. I might wear out, but I'd never rust.
Thanks for comin' up with this deal, AOB. It was fun. We won't miss a thing - The Madness will still be there when we get back to it.
Happy Anniversary, too.
