Written Aug 2001.
Saturday the 28th of July was a rare day for me and my shovel. Everything was working, nothing needed repair, the sky was blue, and the my lady wanted to ride. As every item I just mentioned can go to hell in a couple a minutes, I didn’t mess around. Off to Whiskey Dick’s we went for the Bike and Car Show. It threatened rain that morning and did actually sprinkle on me in the driveway. That moisture made a lot of bikers and car owners puss out at the ice house. We didn’t get a drop though.
Why I relive this weekend is based on an article I just read of Gypsy’s. I have read her often in the free motorcycle rags found in the bike shops. When you read someone for awhile, you begin to feel like you know them. At least a little. Her burnout statement had made an impression. I was introduced to Gypsy, unbeknownst to her, at Whiskey Dick’s by a red head named Alex or Lexx, or Alexia. Now, Lexx, is your typical red headed- model- writer- music- editor- biker- babe. She was very talkative and friendly as she pressed L2R propaganda on us. I also had the pleasure of watching Fat Robert take a picture of her as she straddled one of the beautiful bikes. A beautiful pair man! I’m speaking of her and the bike of course.
Oh, back to Gypsy. I never actually met this woman as she seemed preoccupied and busy, like she was on a mission or something. After reading her article, I realize now that she actually was. I don’t know what I expected but Gypsy is a knockout! A lot of guys forgot what they were doing for the moment in time it took for her to walk by. A bunch of dumb bastards frozen in position from scratching their ass to polishing their bikes. Did time stand still? I don’t think I’m the one to ask as I blanked out with the rest of the them. She was wearing this bikini top too.......
Anyway, me and the group I was with were slamming long necks and jostling for position around the fans. Whiskey Dick’s has no ceiling fans so we had to make do with about 5 floor fans. They were those big round 4 foot tall bastards you find in mechanic shops. The bar had just about half of what was necessary to actually keep us cool. Then again, maybe staying cool was impossible that day. Every time we would hear a new bike roll in we had to run out side to stare at it. Did I mention that there was a bike show going on? And a car show? We would be standing in front of Buster’s Leathers admiring these insane rides when heat stroke would near overtake us. Buster’s woman would then spray us down with this mist thang. Then, feeling momentarily human again, I would buy beer for us all. Don’t know how many times this happened. Heat, mist, beer. Over and over. Twilight Zone, only with a good ending.
In the midst of this self-induced sun trauma some glib talking bro managed to convince two bikini clad cuties to wash cars. What kind of car? Who cares! Did I mention that these two were wearing bikinis? I do remember in the wavering heat that these two poor beauties were having to wash a black vehicle. Sheesh. Like trying to wash a hot muffler. Then, a burly biker hurryed by talking about a wet t-shirt contest. I grabbed my camera and joined the stampede into the bar. I was distracted by two rather buxom young ladies stepping into this wading pool by the building. I don’t know about the other men present, but I was dumbfounded as it dawned on me that I was about to watch two, for real, bathing beauties battle it out in this over size wading pool. They circled each other warily then flounced, I mean pounced! The war was on!! I didn’t think my poor camera could keep up. These beautiful Amazons straining the very seams of their scant clothes pummelled and tossed each other about brutally. I kept my camera ready for the impending explosion of breasticles to come. One poor guy, enthralled by these feminine wrestlers got a little close and was threatened about having his favorite appendage removed by a dark haired wrestler’s teeth! Needless to say we all backed up. The two battlers, finally winded and generally pooped, clung to each other for long minutes and climbed slowly from the pool and went into the bar to find a fan and rest. I was left standing there with my camera throbbing, I mean smoking. How they managed to be so seductively violent and acrobatic and NOT LOSE THEIR TOPS will be a mystery I will sadly ponder for years.
We all ran inside and gangbanged fans. Did I mention that I loaned the blond wrestler a pen and she bought me a beer? Next time I’ll bring a typewriter to loan out.
In the midst of all this they began the loud bike contest. Not sure who won as I couldn’t understand a word anybody said for quite awhile after that. I drank more beer to clear the ringing outa my ears. Amazingly it worked! As I was taking my new ear medicine the judges gathered and began to choose the best of the best in their categories. While they were doing their nit picking I met a lithe young lady with a white custom dresser with 76,000 miles on it. It just goes to show, you can’t judge an iron butt by its cover, or something like that. How these judges choose between two seemingly perfect custom bikes baffles me. They even had a single rat bike to look at! Don’t see many of them anymore.
After they handed out the plaques to all the winners the place began to thin pretty fast. We were pretty much baked through and through by that point. We gathered ourselves up and began to consider where to go next. Never did see where Gypsy got off to. Maybe she entered the wet T-shirt contest but I doubt it. She was probably on the sidelines somewhere doing her reporting thing. She ain’t very tall so we probably just lost her in the crowd. Maybe we should have invited her to run with us that evening. My group had a large time of it mainly because we don’t do it as often as we would like. It’s a pleasant change from our daily grind. To others it is the daily grind and I hate that for them. We traveled to two other bars that evening and made our way home pretty late. The only mishap being the loss of low beam on my headlight. I pretty much blinded my bro all the way home. Oh yeah, I could have ridden in the front but he’s so picky about that little bit of oil I’m blowing. Hey Dirk, it wipes off!
Till the next one.
Green skies, blue lights.