Saturday, 3 November 2012
"HAPPY DAYS AND THE MEATHEAD MINDFUCK PSYCHOSIS" . . . . IT WAS A NICE ENOUGH MORNING FOR A THRASH THROUGH THE BACKWOODS OF THE GOLD COAST TODAY . . . . OVERCAST WITH THE THREAT OF RAIN, GUSTY, ALL OVER THE SHOP WINDS AND TWENTY EIGHT DEGREES OF PRE SUMMER HEAT . . . . THE PUPLE PENIS THROBBING SWEETLY BETWEEN MY WELCOMING, SPREAD LEGS . . . . THEN . . . .
. . . . THINGS TOOK A TURN FOR THE STUPID, CARE OF ONE FUCKTARD GORILLA ON AN ACCIDENTAL SEARCH FOR SOME EJAMAKAYSHUN REGARDING LIFE, THE UNIVERSE AND THE MIND EXPANSION OPPORTUNITES YOU NEVER EXPECT, CARE OF YOURS TRULY . . . . I HONESTLY HATE AGRO, HAVE MY ENTIRE LIFE, BUT I SUCK AT BACKING DOWN AND RELISH A VERBAL JOUST . . . . ESPECIALLY WITH IDIOTS.
I'd pulled off the highway feeling tip-top-of-the-world-ma to get a packet of smokes before I began the ride in earnest, literally in and out was the plan. As I rolled up to the forecourt of the servo there's a trio of big fellas, all younger than me, standing around their bling mosheens having a coffee, all eyes on the solo dude approaching them. I pull up, turn the vibrator off, undo and remove my lid while minding my own business and walk into the shop, buy my fags and come back outside to the bike, now the centre of the mini mob's attention . . . . 'nice bike' says large chap #1, 'cheers buddy' says me in response, at the same time as I'm unwrapping the cellophane from the Marlboro reds, I slide one free of the pack, stick it between my lips and light it up when big chap #2 suddenly blurts out in a tone that goes straight up my nose and into the attack gland, 'whadayagotTriumphonyajacketfor?'
Be cool Dog, says I to myself, [because that's the name I've had for the last thirty five years] don't get too nasty just yet . . . . 'because I can' is my slightly ammended, flat, stick it up your arse response, 'butyourideaHarley' retorts barely intelligible, genius observer boy . . . . now the adrenalin starts pumping toward the hypothalamus, I fucking detest retarded giblet sniffers like this dick, he's angling for a reaction and he's about to get one . . . . 'no, really, shit, it was a '69 Bonneville when I left home half an hour ago' . . . . at this point silent chap #3 intervenes with something along the lines of 'come on whatever-his-name-was leave it alone', which I figure is a good idea, an ugly scene at half eight on a Saturday morning is not my idea of fun.
Without saying anything more I start putting on my lid and doing up the strap, chap #2 is clearly still in the mood to be learned a little as he repeats his opening gambit about the Triumph patch as he's being steered back to his ride by happy chap #1 and silent chap #3 . . . . the best I can muster at such short notice and without the morning caffeine injection under the belt is 'I just like fucking with peoples heads mate and it seems to be working just perfectly' . . . . as I jab the go button on the Purple Penis, Brain Boy is getting obstreperous with his two restraining buddies but I'm away and on the road before he can break free of their grip and question me further, the old ticker is racing and I can feel the sweat on my forehead as I accelerate up the road to the Hinterland . . . . once again my all purpose fuckwit magnet has operated at peak efficiency and led to another of life's little moments . . . . if only I could learn to not react, but that shit ain't ever gonna happen.
For what it's worth, that now frayed and grimy Triumph patch has been on the sleeve of my jacket since about 1993, it wasn't the 'real' Trumpy logo I wanted but it was all I could find at the swap meet back then to go on my then brand new jacket, it's now a whole bunch tighter but it still does the job and the patch will be staying exactly where it is . . . . just because I'm now riding Milwaukee's finest doesn't mean that the love of Trumpys and all other forms of two wheeled wonders has diminished any, I like bikes, just as I like music, cars, booze, chicks, art, literature etc, etc, etc . . . . life is way too short to let narrow minded tunnel vision fuck with maximising your enjoyment quotient . . . . or dealing with meatheads without a clue.
The rest of the day on the road was a hoot . . . . just as it always is and always should be, live to ride, ride to anywhere . . . . just ride the shit out of it . . . . be safe homiez, have a good weekend !!!