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

[Edward]

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.

 

[quay1962]

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 ps not petite and not blonde lol..GL

 

[Edward]

( 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....

 

[Edward]

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.

 

[mickal1025]

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

 

[Edward]

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.

 

[Edward]

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.

 

[Edward]

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.

 

[Edward]

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.

 

[FatPete]

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