Two-Strokes Past Midnight- Booze, Fireworks, and Mopeds

Discussion in 'General Questions' started by Edward, Jun 12, 2007.

  1. Edward

    Edward Guest

    Its Saturday evening, I've scored some raw materials from a local hardware store to close up my carb air leaks and am putting them to good use while some hillbilly dog breeders mess with their victims in a couple of white windowless vans. Mopeds are chained to the poles holding up the second story walkway outside of virtually every room on the first floor. As I'm squatted down the yapping of the poor creatures tugs at the edges of my empathy, but I've got bigger fish to fry. I need my machine to make it to "The Party" rumored to be in a warehouse out in the industrial park. I've got a rough aproximation of where to go but details are sketchy and hard to come by. My plan is to wait for a group to leave and fall in. The darkness will be my friend. In the rolling kennel next door, I hear a lady complain about all the bikes blocking the sidewalk and how the smell of gasoline is making it hard to breath, in between deep drags on her cowboy killers. I glance at the four foot corridor of space between peds and the wall. Then I chance a glance at her vast expanse of stretch pants in stress and realize she's got a point there, turning sideways wasn't going to work either. I moved the OCC to the outside of my pole and cleaned up my mess.
     

  2. Edward

    Edward Guest

    As the sky darkens from the coming night and drizzling clouds, the flourescents flicker on outside the rooms. People begin to emerge from their dens leaving doors open, beer and tools begin to work their magic. The reports of airsoft weapons slowly increase in rapidity, I duck down near a fellow in a white T-Shirt and Buddy Holly glasses. The back says "Im not in Mission 23" and the front is emblazoned with a "Don't feed a dead horse" and a cartoon dead horse. I ask the guy next to me where he's from and he says
    "New York".
    So I'm thinking "Oh, Mission 23."
    He says "No I'm not with Mission 23, I'm one of the founders but now I'm not."
    Ah politics. Apparently the group schizmed and the attempt to get the new group recognized was thwarted by the original club. Nice. Can't get involved in internecine warfare though, have my own agenda to push. The guy was adamant that our club had to attend another club's event to even be considered for membership.
     
  3. Edward

    Edward Guest

    I'm offered beer from folks and politely defer, alcohol and navigation in a strange land at night might lead to disaster. The happy voices rise in volume as this family reaffirms its bonds, a red one gallon gas can marked "Time Machine Fuel" begins to make the rounds, with the braver ones taking swigs from the spout.
    "What is it?"
    "Whiskey."
    "Ahh No thanks."
    A group of ten riders start to head for their machines as "Hippy" gets thrust bare assed out of the oppening two doors down. There was no lone gunman in this plaza and very few missed their mark before he was able to claw his way back into the room yelping the the whole way. I take this as a sign and mount up and pedal out onto Westnedge behind the ten bikes fleeing the madness.
     
  4. lotsa_mpg

    lotsa_mpg Guest

    Ed, that's some mighty entertaining reading...great writing style...Do you have any books out? If so, I wanna buy one.

    Pete
     
  5. Edward

    Edward Guest

    We shoot down the hill and onto Park, the immediate incline digs deep into my available torque and it takes me a while to get rolling. Theres a guy and girl immediately ahead so I rocket into formation. The girl's bike starts to sputter and dies, she coasts over to the curb and I stay with her while she coaxes it back to life. Her companion comes back and we set out again and it is discovered that the fellows at the lead of our group were the ones who knew the way. After some meandering we got on the right track only to have the guy's ped die. The unmistakable sounds of moped fury is heard and here come the Creatures of the Loin with their white battle flags flying. They pull over to offer some expert advice and after the guts of the muffler shoot out with a bang about twenty feet away, the guy stashes the ped and mounts up double on the girl's bike and the group sets off.
     
  6. AND....AND...... gotta have more!
     
  7. Edward

    Edward Guest

    I keep the throttle maxed out to keep up with the Creatures, their bikes in tight formation, inches between handle bars. The drizzle pouring down on us has made the streets slick and one screw up will take out more of us than I want to even think about. The misting tapers off as we shoot through a neighborhood of decaying older houses that fade into decaying older industrial buildings with chained gates and overgrown weeds. As we round a corner, a shower of sparks and a red fireball arches overhead casting a red glare on a small bar with gravel parking lot sprawled like a bitch with a litter of a hundred steel pups crowding up to her bounty. We are welcomed by the mob with open arms and add our machines to the glistening lines. People are everywhere, having discussions of wipeouts, oils, kits, and tires. I ease through the crowd to the door of the bar and walk past the private party sign taped to the door. There's small stage to the left and about six tables, hip hop is blasting from the sound system and several couples are already doing the "white suburban bust a move"
    where the girl makes like shes grinding the pole for dollars and the guy tries to remember the last dance video he saw.
     
  8. gone_fishin

    gone_fishin Guest

    tho i may not always comment, i'm loving the "fiction" (as in "truth is stranger than")...you're a very entertaining writer 8)
     
  9. Edward

    Edward Guest

  10. Edward

    Edward Guest

    At the bar I order my usual, pepsi straight in a cup, this is no time to be wasted and singing "Margarittaville." The kids wouldn't understand. I make my way back for the door as the place was feeling crowded. Out in the parking lot some bigger roman candles and a few large rockets with skybursts add their special magic of sparkles, light, and the scent of burning sulfur. Here and there in this crowd of mostly men, are the intriguing ladies of the moped world. Their looks are varied, some with tatoos, piercings, some fashionistas and others functional sweatshirts. They are very friendly and conversational throughout the evening. In one of these conversations I hear of a petite blonde girl who is from Kansas. As part of my activities for the rest of the night, I spoke to many petite blonde girls, none of whom turned out to be from Kansas. Somehow I wasn't disappointed.
     
  11. Edward

    Edward Guest

    I run into the "not Mission 23" t-shirt guy, he's small with Buddy Holly glasses and longish brown blonde hair. He's holding court with a couple of ladies and I join in, making pleasantries, when a dark swarthy fellow, a full head taller steps in with a cadre of dragoons. These were the "Mission 23" and a conversational joust began. The little guy valiantly stood his ground, I glanced around for his bunch but they were not to be seen. The larger guy would make for an excellent prosecutor, digging for the specifics of the little guys personal complaint. The defense, it must be explained, rested upon the details of a commercial transaction, whereupon the margin of profit was deemed, in the little guys opinion, to be excessive and the trade-in allowance too paltry. The fact that the ped in question was sold for $400 and the non-running ped, led me to believe I was laying eyes on an honest to god socialist. More politics. Not wishing for a buzz kill to erupt, I went and found our host Dan. As co-founder of the Moped Army his word carries some weight and the little guy was rescued from his impending doom.
     
  12. quay1962

    quay1962 Guest

    cool writings

    Hi edward,

    Very cool writings even tho they are real stories, you could go off on several different tangeants, and have them turn into vampires and rule the underworld! you should write a story about something cuz your good.
    any other good tales to tell real or not?
    Anyways what kind of bike do you have? i used to own a moped lol...
    Happy trails :shock: :cool: :grin: ps not petite and not blonde lol..GL
     
  13. Edward

    Edward Guest

    ( Thanks for all the encouragement, I'm not a writer, I work in a salvage yard, I drive a limo, I take flying lessons, and I play in a 1850's band, in my spare time I build bikes and ride with my gang. My intention with this account is to give a taste of what it's like to be at a large rally, as we motored bike people are spread thinly across the country and are greatly under represented at some of the venues that we have every right to attend. We are the inheritors of a tradition that began with the Roper Motorbike in the 1870's and created the foundation of all motorcycles, mopeds, and scooters. Yet the tradition of combining a bicycle with a motor has continued on a parallel and distinct course with its descendants not filling its place in the hearts of the artists who would work in steel and fire.) Meanwhile back at the ranch....
     
  14. Edward

    Edward Guest

    In the street out front several mopeds are rolled out and the rear ends are assisted into the air while the riders rev the engines to a shreik. The rear ends are then lowered and the smell of burning rubber blossoms out with the fog of smothering smoke enveloping the parking lot. A cheering crowd pushes around the little machines churning out the acrid clouds. At this point Hippy appears on the roof resplendent in a grey metallic spandex body suit and a head band in his long curly locks. He is cheered like a rock star for a few moments before self preservation kicks in and he descends back to his adoring fans. As I make my way back towards the door for another drink, I am shot in the ass by an airsoft pistol. I turn to find the shooter is a beautiful lass with dark eyes, dark hair, and striking ruby lips with a devil made me do it smile. I smile back and wink. Then continue on my way. I'm older now and not every flower has to be plucked to be enjoyed.
     
  15. mickal1025

    mickal1025 Guest

    great stuff. keep it coming. are you sure you dont want to write for a living? ive paid good money for worse.
     
  16. Edward

    Edward Guest

    The next installments will deal, gentle readers, with the two incidents of violence which occured on this night of the festivities. In both I will refrain from using the names of those involved, the first out of propriety and the second out of ignorance, but the gists of the matters will be laid out for examination to the best of my abilities.
     
  17. Edward

    Edward Guest

    Over on the left side of the bar parking lot, there is a twenty by twenty white canopy tent draped with white christmas lights, erected as a plan B if the rain came. A verbal confrontation is brewing between a guy on one side and a guy and girl on the other. They part ways and I recognize the guy as an aquaintance. The year before he gave me a cold beer outside 1977 Mopeds, a friendly gesture well remembered. I ask him whats up. He explained that he had been getting a drink for a girl in the bar. A guy was in there getting overly friendly with a girl while dancing and she was not into it. When he pulled her down, my friend intervened and got the damsel up and away. At this point the rejected paramour confronted my friend and in an alcohol fueled haze insulted him twice. In the light of day he surely would have seen the error of this course but when a skinny white guy gets ten feet tall and bulletproof, reality has a way of reducing you to an altitude measured in inches. Which is what occured. The one second "Shock and Awe" old school.
     
  18. Edward

    Edward Guest

    After he had gotten outside he had noticed another guy in the same gang as the paramour, ducking down next to my friends bike. Of course he stepped up and the guy had stood up and started gazing at the stars. Which were, of course not visible. Then the guys girl had, in his words "Totally co-signed for him and they both started gazing at the f-ing stars." He told them both that if anything happened to his bike this weekend, he was coming looking for him.
    A drunken girl from the guy's gang came up screeching about blood and how f-ed up her friend's face was. He stood tatooed arms crossed smiling and listening. She paused for a moment and he looks over at me and says"Where are all the psycho girls in our gang?" She then launched into a slurred tirade about how he needed to get out of her face while launching her own upwards trying to get to eye level. He calmly told her, "He was not moving forwards or back, he wasn't moving." This made no progress and both verbal positions were repeated often. A large wall of a guy slid between the pair in a point guard stance. The girl was led away by friends and an uneasy peace settled. After a few moments I moved through the crowd where the other guy, looking not too worse for wear, had cleaned up and was explaining to all and sundry that it was all just a misunderstanding and that everything was cool. To puncuate the point small flaming balls of fire started flying through the crowd.
     
  19. Edward

    Edward Guest

    I'm blending having a good time conversing with people, a really cute dark haired blue eyed girl asks if I would like to share a beer with her as the can is too large for her. In the interest of preventing the dangers of alcohol poisoning, I take a few swigs. Its my duty. A couple of ladies come strolling by wearing tight jeans and fetching striped french style off the shoulder shirts. One makes a comment about wrestling and puts the other in a headlock and the other counters with leg hold and spin. They hit the muddy gravel rolling, in the process knocking over the #77 show ped. Some of us freak and get it back upright. Others pose in front of the wrestling french babes for photos. (They're out there). They seem to really be enjoying themselves and do not slide into the actual combat. When they rise up out of the mud, it is to rousing applause.
     
  20. FatPete

    FatPete Guest

    Most people would say you should get a hobby, but I guess you aready have one. Thanks for the Yarn.
     
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