small brush shouldn't fuck with big timber

Death's Door, the view from the Spanish announcers table: <strong>Power to the people and baby steps in the hood</strong>

Monday, September 20

Power to the people and baby steps in the hood


Friday my mother and sister dropped into the Cane for a brief visit. It was my dear mother’s sixty-seventh birthday, and her and some of the family had been out to dinner. I’m inside the bar and the head doorman walks up and tells me that my mother just called and that she’s coming in. “The hell”? So the old girl got to meet some of my friends and as the whack baggy pants wearing kids would say, “kick it for a while”. She enjoyed herself and I got to prove to everybody that I wasn’t found as a small child in a van down by the river eating beef jerky. Saturday night I was once again sitting in the Hurricane checking things out when every few minutes I’d see this huge bus pass by the front windows. It was all gaudy looking with the words vote Republican and GOP.com all over it in huge letters. And of course with Murphy’s Law being the way it is, the big muthafucker decided to park right in front of the Hurricane, which if you must know is run by one of the most fanatical democrats I know. Musicians, bar staff and those of us that knew some shit awaited the inevitable explosion of uber stressed vegan flesh to come erupting from the basement offices as soon as a certain person caught sight on the security camera’s what had landed at his doorstep. Well he was actually pretty cool. He walks up to the bar, then outside to check the bus out. He comes back in and looks at me and shows me the stack of “MoveOn.org" stickers in his hand. I grab a few, a female friend grabs a few, and the three of us walk outside and commence to slapping stickers all over the back of that big muthafucker. And you wanna know something? It really felt good, I mean really fucking good. Hell, it felt so good that I walked back out to do the driver’s side but some Kenny G looking muthafucker stopped me, and with me being the good law abiding person that I am, I did. And of course Kenny G being the fine republican that he was removed all the stickers in his line of sight which must’a stopped at his waist due the stick in his ass preventing him from bending over. Cause the mullet-wearing bastard missed all the ones we slapped on the bumper.

Sunday I went over to play on my bike again. My game plan was to ride it up and down the street without any mishap and shit. But before I did the deed I went and filled up a gas can so as to make sure the bike’s tank was full. But somehow between filling up the tank and trying to start the thing I flooded her out real bad and killed the battery trying to get her started. So like fuck, what to do now? I let her sit for a while to see if the battery would build back up but it never got strong enough. And I didn’t want to try jumping her with my car cause I wasn’t sure if the voltage and shit was compatible. I was just ready to throw the cover back over her and head home when out of frustration I kicked the side of this thing I’d been leaning against for the past three hours. I heard the satisfying chunk of my foot against metal and as I looked down at what I had kicked I suddenly shouted get the fuck out’a here cause what I had kicked was my mother’s riding mower. I looked at the riding mower and saw that it was a key start which meant............... that…….....?......yes! I popped the seat up and there it was……a battery which I knew was similar to the one on the bike. So after popping the seat on the bike, I grabbed some jumper cables and ran em from the mower to the bike and after a few hits on the starter button she rumbled to life! Goddamn, I love it when a plan comes together! I hopped on and after putting on my helmet (safety first) I actually made it from the back yard to the street in just a couple of tries. But now that I was on the street it was like what does the dog chasing the car do when he catches it? Well, I’ll just ride it down the street and she how shit feels. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. No riding partner here to heel me in, and what looked like everybody on the block out on his or her front porch waiting to watch me blaze down the street. Or die, a muthafucker just never can quite remember how things were back in the day. It's that good kid, mannish kid thing. But anyway, after sitting there common sense kicked back in and I just kind’a let her coast in first gear till I stopped at the bottom. Well, that went ok, now if I can just get it turned around facing the other direction. This time I had to go uphill so I had to use the gas. I lit a smoke to calm my nerves and after smocking it down I kicked her into first and actually made it up to the end of the block where a bunch of cats I grew up with were hanging out. I rolled up and after turning her off I took off my helmet expecting to hear the obvious. But it never came, all I heard was how big the bike was and it’s cool that I’m taking it good and slow. Then again, these are the same cats that remember me way back in the day slamming my father’s new 750 into the big tree at the end of the block. So I guess they can dig my wanting to take it easy and not being in any kind of hurry and shit. Baby steps in the hood.
"and the monkey flipped the switch"

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