small brush shouldn't fuck with big timber

Death's Door, the view from the Spanish announcers table: <strong>FBBSG. fat black biker support group</strong>

Monday, September 13

FBBSG. fat black biker support group


I got a few free minutes before the Man jams his foot back up my ass, so I’ll relate what my weekend was like. After work Friday I decided that as soon as I got in my car I was going shopping for a motorcycle helmet. But less than a mile later I said fuck it, and turned around and headed back to the relative safety of the Hurricane. I can’t stand rush hour traffic. What is with muthafucker’s driving home from work on a Friday that they all have to be there now? As in “move bitch, I need to get home and kiss my raggy saggy titted fat assed wife and hug my four stinkin assed screaming kids as soon as I can”. I can’t handle that kind of manic shit so I didn’t, I’ll go helmet hunting later when it’s safer. I get to the Cane and ran into Corey and Sara. I ended up getting into a discussion with Corey about bikes and what we had planned for Saturday, which was to help me learn my way around my bike. We also decided to head out early Saturday morning and go hunting for helmets since Sara needed one too. After a few hours they decided to leave and head over to another club for a fundraiser being put on by the local female rugby team. I could’a gone but to be truthful and shit, watching rugby chicks wrassling around in the mud just didn’t get me that excited. I mean it’s not like it was the local chapter of Hooter waitress mud wrestling and shit. It was rugby chicks, so I called it an early night and went on home. As soon as I got home I started playing back the messages on my answering machine and apparently I missed out on a lot. One was from Michelle who reminded me that I was supposed to call her from the Cane cause she wanted to hang out and why didn’t I? Hmmm, I was sure I’d hear about that slip-up later. Another was from another female friend who wanted to have a drink and hang out. Then there was some chick who was so drunk that I couldn’t make out her name. The shit I miss out on huh? Saturday morning with Sara in tow and following Corey and Brock on their bikes we all started hitting bike shops looking for helmets. The first was a shop called Alter Ego where I ran into one of my old bouncing buddies who worked there, after some small talk he showed me some helmets but I found nothing diggable. Left there and headed over to a Kawasaki dealership where I found a full face helmet that fit me right but I didn’t want to meet it’s asking price. So we ended up at this shop in Merriam, Kansas where I found a black half helmet I liked and picked it up for around seventy bucks including tax. Of course once out in the parking lot I got dick hands and dropped the son-of-a-bitch on the fuckin pavement.
And you know those “special” kids who ride the short bus that wear the helmets because they have this bad habit of freaking out and smacking their fuckin heads on walls and shit? Well give me a snow cone and put me on the bus, cause that’s what I look like.
Not pretty but then again being safe isn’t about being pretty is it? Later that afternoon Corey met me over my mother’s house where I had the bike parked. Between him and Brock they had worked out some baby step things for me to start out on. And can I say before everyone, thank god for Corey being there. Cause after about an hour of walking the bike, which is where I sit on it and just practice working on my clutch and throttle coordination, which was goddamned hard by the way. I knew that without Corey there to keep me grounded, I would’a done something stupid like hopping on the big muthafucker and trying to ride it on the street. Which would have gotten my ass hurt or worse or fucked the bike up. Believe me, it didn’t take me long to realize that trying to ride it right off the bat would’a been the wrong fuckin thing to do. Moving it from the back yard to the front drive took forever cause I kept killing the thing, but once on pavement it seemed to go smoother. I’m trying to feather the throttle but just cracking it a hair sent the revs up the scale. But after a while I seemed to get better at it and actually made it across the parking lot and back with out any mishap. Taking it slow and not getting fucked up. Yup, sounds like a plan to me.
"and the monkey flipped the switch"

1 Comments:

Blogger satyavati said...

I'm glad you're being sane about it all.. I have worked with too many people who weren't. And don't forget to take the RSS course because it'll lower your insurance. Be careful and stay safe..

5:30 PM  

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