Once I get through all the junk email, dozens a day sometimes, I end up with a real gem. One of those rare affirmations of your point of view on something that really ticks you off. You know how I will, once in a while, take a shot at the Dood in his shiny new leathers, jeans, boots, gloves and gleaming chrome. Worse than a Newbie in a way - the kinda guy who just got old enough to instantly buy his way into Harleys. I don't eat instant grits for the same reason...just add water and badda-bing...grits. Well, badda-bing...paste, actually.

In this case, just add money and badda-boom, Biker Dood. Granted, I was once a first-time motorcycle rider myself. It was in the mid '60's - back when nobody waved at passing bikers. It was more of a raised fist - kinda like a salute of defiance, 'til the Black Panthers ripped it off, and then nobody did that anymore. Too bad... I rather enjoyed that act of rebellion. But my excuse was I was 16, a rebel without a credit card, and well...stupid. I had my first motorcycle - a Honda 50. Not a dirt bike, a true motorcycle. I even earned the right to ride it after buying it in a basket and putting it back together after a wreck. The gas tank was caved in so I simply Bondo'd a Miller High Life bar sign to the side of it to cover the mashed-in tank. My very own Miller Machine!

Even now when I force myself to buy a new pair of gloves, ( and only because the duct tape don't hold the old ones together anymore ), I roll 'em around in the dirt, toss 'em in the washer a couple times, scrape 'em up on the pavement and let 'em sit in out on the back porch in the sun 'til the old pair totally falls apart. So, when a guy in his 40's shows up at a rally with a new shiny leather vest with one pin on it...this year's rally... I gotta wonder.

So, here it is, a chilly February morning, the tent and rain gear and sleeping bag already strapped on Ol' Huckleberry for my annual pilgrimage south. I am furiously deleting emails promising an extra 2-3 inch "enhancement" if I would only Click Here... earn my advanced degree from the University of Western Scruggs in Iowa ... or help a businessman from Nigeria smuggle millions out of his country (he'd be willing to give me half if I'd only send him my bank account codes! Cool!) I'm reading the following email, sent from Niles Winchester Kingsford, III, ( a fake name to protect the fool from certain ridicule ):

Dear Muthuh,

Now that I am one of you - a fellow biker - I wanted to ask where do I apply to go on one of your tours? I just brought home my new 2002 Road King, my first bike, and am anxious to experience the thrill of the wind in my face. My wife and I were thinking of joining you on the West Virginia Trip coming up in May. I only hope that's enough time to put the requisite 500 miles on the bike for the break-in period. I'm willing to pay whatever it takes to join the tour and be like you. Sincerely,

Niles

Heavy Sigh.....

Now, my first thought was that someone was screwing with me. But his AOL email address checked out - his profile talking about his investment banking business, linked to what looks like a legitimate web page. I doubted anybody would put up that much background to cover for a practical joke. I re-read the last line about paying whatever it takes. Hmmmmm.

Man, I was really looking forward to a biker...well, I should say a Motorcycle Owner... who was concerned about needing 3 months to put the "requisite" 500 miles on his shiny new scooter to finish out his break-in. The horror of contemplating riding with anyone who uses the word requisite was bad enough, but this guy actually sees his bad self as a fellow biker already. Listen, I ride maybe 15,000 miles a year on Ol' Huck and rarely call myself anybody's 'fellow biker'! (Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know many of y'all ride more than that - save the 'I can do better than that' mail, I'm makin' a point here.)

So, like many of you, I figure this may be fun, certainly better than going through junk mail (although that "2-3 inches" thing intriques me.) I pop out the following reply thinking I'd never hear from him again:

Dear Niles,

I am always pleased to find a Fellow Biker willing to accompany me on one of my jaunts through the countryside. You'd be more than welcomed in joining me - I only hope you can find enough time to get through the break-in period. I'd need for you to fill out the following questionaire, to ensure our compatability on this adventure.

1. Now that you are a biker, what nickname have you given yourself?
2. To save on space, I usually ask that anyone I ride with use .357 ammunition. That way we don't all have to pack separate stashes of ammo. Can you bring a box?
3. Will you send a picture of your wife?...several actually. My wife's not going to be joining us on this particular trip, and me and the other guys would like to get a look at her. We'll talk about the first-time-rider initiation at our first night's stop.
4. I only have three rooms reserved for this trip at each stop. I'll need your credit card number to make additional reservations. Please include your expiration date, Zip Code and approximate available credit limit.
5. Have you ever been convicted of a felony? I hate to ask this of you, but the provisions of my parole require that I don't associate with another convicted felon. My parole officer keeps a pretty close eye on me! Musta been that incident in Tijuana that makes him nervous, who knows?
6. If we run into a guy named Spike up there in West Virginia, I'd ask that you find some way to circle around behind him and have your Smith & Wesson ready for whatever happens. He don't care for me much and has threatened to kill me next time I come within 100 miles of his wife. He's a bit sensitive about that. You OK with that?
7. You ever have any luck with those "2-3 inch enhancement" products I keep hearing about in my emails?

Anyway, get back to me and we'll start planning our trip together!

Regards,

-Muthuh

OK... so I was fuckin' with him - it was a slow day. Turns out I gave him more credit than he deserved. I figured he'd see it for a joke and slink away. But no!... here's what I got back that afternoon:

Dear Muthuh,

I hadn't thought about the nickname yet, how does Skipper sound? Thats what the kids at school used to call me.

I don't have any ammo. Although I do have a trick belt buckle that has a .22 cal one-shot pistol in it. Can I bring that? I didn't think you were allowed to carry a gun on a motorcycle. I suppose I should go buy a box of shells for it - can you get a box of 10 shells or something like that?

Please charge my room and your fee to Mastercard xxxx-xxxx-xxxx-xxxx (even I wouldn't be so crude as to reveal this guys credit card number!)... let me know how much you charged so I can jot it down.

I've never been convicted of a Felony. Got caught shoplifting once as a teenager. Does that mean I can't go?

I'm not sure Heather would appreciate it if I sent you her pictures. She went to a calendar-girl photographer a few weeks ago - actually, I think it's supposed to be a surprise because she hadn't told me yet - I found these in her underwear drawer...she's been going back every night for about two weeks now... I guess they haven't gotten the right pose yet - so I can send you some of the poses I secretly scanned. Please don't let anyone else see these though - she'd kill me. I'll attach them to this email. She's got more, but I can't send them out - they're way too provocative. Good thing this guy is a professional photographer - I'd start to worry!

Let me know what you think,

Sincerely,

Niles

OK, so we all have to do our part to help out the Newbies..... my reply was:

Dear Niles,

Welcome to the trip!

Regards,

-Muthuh

PS. Send some more pictures of Heather!

- Muthuh

I have, since posting this letter this morning, received requests from 4 more guys and one woman to join us on this trip...should I think it only has to do with Heather?
Oh...by the way - I promised not to show anybody these pics, so don't pass them around!  

 

 
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