Beyond the edge is the unknown. Here be Dragons
- Reaction score
- Kansas City Mo.
One day I decided to go to the Wounded Knee cemetery. The dirt road up the hill was pure ruts and I knew the front would get caught and I would crash if I tried it, so I went up the hill beside the road through the grass, hill climb style. Somehow the bike stopped halfway up the hill but I got it started immediately again with the electric starter (which I hadn't removed, you idiots who remove them) and made it to the top. At the top was maybe a dozen N.A. sitting around like beggars. Maybe waiting for tourists although there were none around. Such is desperation. One of them said "You almost didn't make it." I said "almost only counts in hand grenades". I had honestly forgotten I had two hundred pounds of crap strapped on the back or I wouldn't have tried it. The N.A. melted away for some reason. Some reason I don't know. I tipped my hat at the cemetery. I noticed a dirt road down that didn't look quite as rutted so I tried it. I got caught in a rut and fell over. A '73 station wagon full of N.A. made a dust cloud up the hill like they'd been waiting for this, and while I was unstrapping the kitchen sink from Trigger to make her light enough to put upright, an upright young N.A. woman just picked her up and set her on her wheels. Then they just as quickly made a dust cloud back out of there. I'd marry her if I knew who she was. Worthy. Truth.
It broke my left mirror off and when I got to Sioux City I saw a machine shop sign and borrowed a tap there to try and straighten out the mirror socket. I knew what size to ask for. Don't ask me how. It wasn't happening so the guy there installed an insert but not without tapping for the wrong thread size first, blaming a guy who put the tap back in the wrong place (probably him). Then he tapped it for the right size right on top of that, at the end was incredulous that it worked. We all still bear the scars.
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Too bad you don't still own a bike... then you wouldn't have to keep reposting these tired old reruns.