In August I was at Eddie's birthday party in Ohio. One of the folks
there was Roger TCW, who as you probably know lost his battle with
cancer shortly thereafter. Now Shaggy notifies us of a friend of his
that is gone. To say it is all a bummer is an understatement. Anyway, I
told you that so I could tell you this.

Shortly after I heard of Roger TCW's passing I read a story written by
my favorite author, Patrick F. McManus. He writes humorous stories about
hunting, fishing and camping. In his latest book, "Kerplunk," he wrote a
short story called, "A Creek To Far." It struck a chord with me, so I
sent an e-mail message to Mr. McManus and asked for permission to use
his storyline so I could write a similar story about motorcyclists
instead of anglers. He blessed the idea and I sat down at the 'puter.
This is what I came up with. It isn't professional by any means, but I
think it gets the idea across. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with
the story, but when I read Shaggy's post I thought I'd share it with the
folks in here.

<clink> To Roger, to Shaggy's friend, and to all of our friends and
family that have gone before us.
-------------------------------------------------------------------

Crank and JB met at the gas station as planned, and once they filled
up, they lit their bikes and headed west on the rural blacktop road. A
handful of clouds and a warm sun greeted them as they roared into the
wind. JB marveled at the lack of bugs that normally plagued riders this
time of year. No big splats on his forehead to wipe off on this trip.
The air carried the scent of fresh mowed fields with the occasional
aroma from a passing thicket of cedar trees. He watched Crank ahead of
him as they cruised through the sweeping curves. Back and forth they
leaned as they wove their way along the snaking highway.
After a couple hours of pleasant riding, JB pulled up next to Crank and
indicated that he'd like to stop. Less than a mile later they came upon
a little home-grown gas station and they pulled in.
"Dang, that was handy. Kinda like it was put here just for us." Crank
said as they dismounted.
"No kidding. I don't really need fuel, but I was thinking about
something to drink. You want something?"
"Yeah. Let's go."
They sauntered into the building and found an old chest-type pop
machine, the kind where you open the lid, maneuver the bottle you want
to one corner and pull it out after depositing your coins.
"Well I'll be!" JB said. "They have Grape NeHi! That was my favorite
when I was a kid. I didn't think they made that stuff anymore."
He pulled it out and downed a good 1/3 of the bottle in one swig. He
drifted back to his childhood and the days when he and his buddies on
their bicycles would ride to the gas station on a hot summer day, much
like this. Crank found his favorite soda, as well. Together they stood
outside and sipped their drinks as they silently reminisced.
Their thirst satisfied, they threw their legs over their saddles and
got ready to ride. Looking at his gas gauge, Crank said, "I'm getting
the best mileage I can ever remember. We musta rode a hundred miles and
I'm barely off the full mark."
"Me, too. Let's just head out and keep riding. It's a perfect day,
ain't it?"
"Doesn't get any better, if ya ask me. This is the best riding I can
recall."
They motored on for another few hours, taking in the sights and scents
of the countryside. They finally arrived at their campsite and rolled
in. The grass was green and cool, trees provided shade, and there was a
fire ring with a stack of firewood piled up next to it.
"Somebody was thinking of us when they put this place together." Crank
said as he looked around.
"No kidding. It's perfect. I'll pitch my tent over there."
Within about 20 minutes they both had their tents up and were ready to
relax. Crank got the cooler that was bungeed to the back of his bike and
they both popped the cap off a beer.
"Ya know, JB...that was the easiest time I ever had putting up that
stupid tent. Usually I have to wrestle the thing for an hour, and then
it still sags and blows around in the wind."
"Yeah, me, too." Crank added. "I guess we're just lucky today. Seems
like everything is going our way. You notice how cold this beer is? Sure
tastes good, too."
They had a couple more brews before starting the fire. Once it was a
good, roaring fire, they sat back and watched as the sky began to
darken. The smoke was carried away from them, yet the aroma of burning
cedar filled their heads. JB grabbed a couple thick steaks from the
cooler and tossed them on the grill. He sat back on the picnic table and
thought, "This is the life!"
"You're right." Crank said.
"Whadya mean, 'You're right?'" JB said.
"The life. This is the life."
"I didn't say that."
"You did too. I heard you say, 'This is the life.'"
"Nuh uh. I just thought it."
"Well, that's stupid. How could I hear it if you just thought it?"
JB shook his head and laughed. "Maybe you read my mind."
Crank said, "Yeah, but it was light reading."
They both got a chuckle out of that one. Crank could come up with a
good one like that every so often.
They ate, consumed a few more beers, told a few more lies, and they
both decided it was time to hit the sack. They cleaned up their campsite
and then retreated to their respective tents. The next morning they
gathered at the fire ring, which was still a bed of hot coals.
"You have some breakfast in that cooler?" JB asked.
Crank retrieved some eggs and bacon and tossed them into the frying
pan. After a few minutes of listening to the breakfast sizzling, Crank
said, "I didn't hear you snore last night. Usually you snore like an old
grizzly bear."
"Man, I slept good last night." JB replied. "Haven't slept like that
since I can remember when. The ground didn't seem as hard as usual,
either. Almost soft. Kinda weird."
"Yeah, I know what you mean. I had probably the best night's sleep in
decades. And do you notice that the weather is so nice? I mean, it
hasn't been too cold or too warm since we took off yesterday. It's
always been just right."
"Hey. Don't jinx us. Let's just take advantage of the perfect weather.
If we talk about it, it'll surely turn bad on us."
Crank giggled a bit and said, "Well, it hasn't been a perfect trip.
Remember yesterday when we started out and we rounded that curve and met
the logging truck coming at us in our lane?"
"How could I forget!?!? I'm still picking bits of my saddle out of my
butt."
Crank paused, then asked, "How in the heck did you get out of it's way
so fast, anyhow?"
"Don't know for sure. It happened so quick. I remember throwing out the
anchor and doing some fancy maneuvering, then the next thing I know
we're past it and cruising down the highway again. It was obviously due
to our superior riding skills," JB said with a chuckle.
"All I can tell you is that is scared the life out of me."
After a few minutes of silence, JB said, "Too bad Roger didn't come
along with us. He always enjoys a trip like this, with the good food and
drink and all the lies we tell around the fire."
Crank looked at JB. "You mean Roger the Chrome Whore?"
"Yeah...why do you ask?"
"He died," Crank said. "Roger died."
"No kidding? Why didn't somebody tell me? Geez, ol' Roger's gone?"
"Roger was a magician on that bike of his. And it was loud, too. You
could always hear him a mile away and know he was almost here."
"Damn," JB muttered. "You sure he died, Crank?"
"Well, pretty sure. It made it a whole lot easier to bury him."
JB asked, "What happened to him? Was it the Big 'C?'"
"Well, that's what the doctors claim, but I think it was really a
deficiency of riding," Crank said.
"Uh oh," JB stated firmly, "I'm not going to let that happen to
me...the deficiency of riding thing, that is."
Crank raised his cup of coffee and said, "To Roger!"
JB did the same, and then they were silent for a short while.
Finally JB spoke up and said, "Man, I don't think I'd ever get tired of
this. Good roads, sunny skies, good food and good friends. This is my
idea of heaven."
Crank raised his cup to JB's and they toasted again. He finished off
his coffee and thought to himself, "JB's right. This is the life."
JB looked at him and said, "I'm glad you agree."
Crank sat up and pointed at JB.
"There. It happened again! This time you heard what I thought! Now this
is getting weird."
JB whistled a few licks of the theme song for the Twilight Zone before
he said, "Actually, there is a perfectly good reason for all this. We've
hung around each other for so long that we know what the other on is
gonna say before he says it. We've said it all a thousand times before."
They both heard another motorcycle in the distance getting louder and
closer, but JB continued. "And for the rest of it, like the great roads,
good mileage, lack of bugs and the perfect weather, I'm sure there's a
simple explanation for that, too."
They glanced towards the road and the approaching motorcycle.
"Hey, look," JB said. "Here comes Roger."



Andy aka Big Stinkie BS#252 SLOB#3

Andy aka Big Stinkie <andythe@earthlink.net> wrote:
> In August I was at Eddie's birthday party in Ohio. One of the folks
> there was Roger TCW, who as you probably know lost his battle with
> cancer shortly thereafter. Now Shaggy notifies us of a friend of his
> that is gone. To say it is all a bummer is an understatement. Anyway, I
> told you that so I could tell you this.

> Shortly after I heard of Roger TCW's passing I read a story written by
> my favorite author, Patrick F. McManus. He writes humorous stories about
> hunting, fishing and camping. In his latest book, "Kerplunk," he wrote a
> short story called, "A Creek To Far." It struck a chord with me, so I
> sent an e-mail message to Mr. McManus and asked for permission to use
> his storyline so I could write a similar story about motorcyclists
> instead of anglers. He blessed the idea and I sat down at the 'puter.
> This is what I came up with. It isn't professional by any means, but I
> think it gets the idea across. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with
> the story, but when I read Shaggy's post I thought I'd share it with the
> folks in here.

> <clink> To Roger, to Shaggy's friend, and to all of our friends and
> family that have gone before us.
> -------------------------------------------------------------------

> Crank and JB met at the gas station as planned, and once they filled
> up, they lit their bikes and headed west on the rural blacktop road. A
> handful of clouds and a warm sun greeted them as they roared into the
> wind. JB marveled at the lack of bugs that normally plagued riders this
> time of year. No big splats on his forehead to wipe off on this trip.
> The air carried the scent of fresh mowed fields with the occasional
> aroma from a passing thicket of cedar trees. He watched Crank ahead of
> him as they cruised through the sweeping curves. Back and forth they
> leaned as they wove their way along the snaking highway.
> After a couple hours of pleasant riding, JB pulled up next to Crank and
> indicated that he'd like to stop. Less than a mile later they came upon
> a little home-grown gas station and they pulled in.
> "Dang, that was handy. Kinda like it was put here just for us." Crank
> said as they dismounted.
> "No kidding. I don't really need fuel, but I was thinking about
> something to drink. You want something?"
> "Yeah. Let's go."
> They sauntered into the building and found an old chest-type pop
> machine, the kind where you open the lid, maneuver the bottle you want
> to one corner and pull it out after depositing your coins.
> "Well I'll be!" JB said. "They have Grape NeHi! That was my favorite
> when I was a kid. I didn't think they made that stuff anymore."
> He pulled it out and downed a good 1/3 of the bottle in one swig. He
> drifted back to his childhood and the days when he and his buddies on
> their bicycles would ride to the gas station on a hot summer day, much
> like this. Crank found his favorite soda, as well. Together they stood
> outside and sipped their drinks as they silently reminisced.
> Their thirst satisfied, they threw their legs over their saddles and
> got ready to ride. Looking at his gas gauge, Crank said, "I'm getting
> the best mileage I can ever remember. We musta rode a hundred miles and
> I'm barely off the full mark."
> "Me, too. Let's just head out and keep riding. It's a perfect day,
> ain't it?"
> "Doesn't get any better, if ya ask me. This is the best riding I can
> recall."
> They motored on for another few hours, taking in the sights and scents
> of the countryside. They finally arrived at their campsite and rolled
> in. The grass was green and cool, trees provided shade, and there was a
> fire ring with a stack of firewood piled up next to it.
> "Somebody was thinking of us when they put this place together." Crank
> said as he looked around.
> "No kidding. It's perfect. I'll pitch my tent over there."
> Within about 20 minutes they both had their tents up and were ready to
> relax. Crank got the cooler that was bungeed to the back of his bike and
> they both popped the cap off a beer.
> "Ya know, JB...that was the easiest time I ever had putting up that
> stupid tent. Usually I have to wrestle the thing for an hour, and then
> it still sags and blows around in the wind."
> "Yeah, me, too." Crank added. "I guess we're just lucky today. Seems
> like everything is going our way. You notice how cold this beer is? Sure
> tastes good, too."
> They had a couple more brews before starting the fire. Once it was a
> good, roaring fire, they sat back and watched as the sky began to
> darken. The smoke was carried away from them, yet the aroma of burning
> cedar filled their heads. JB grabbed a couple thick steaks from the
> cooler and tossed them on the grill. He sat back on the picnic table and
> thought, "This is the life!"
> "You're right." Crank said.
> "Whadya mean, 'You're right?'" JB said.
> "The life. This is the life."
> "I didn't say that."
> "You did too. I heard you say, 'This is the life.'"
> "Nuh uh. I just thought it."
> "Well, that's stupid. How could I hear it if you just thought it?"
> JB shook his head and laughed. "Maybe you read my mind."
> Crank said, "Yeah, but it was light reading."
> They both got a chuckle out of that one. Crank could come up with a
> good one like that every so often.
> They ate, consumed a few more beers, told a few more lies, and they
> both decided it was time to hit the sack. They cleaned up their campsite
> and then retreated to their respective tents. The next morning they
> gathered at the fire ring, which was still a bed of hot coals.
> "You have some breakfast in that cooler?" JB asked.
> Crank retrieved some eggs and bacon and tossed them into the frying
> pan. After a few minutes of listening to the breakfast sizzling, Crank
> said, "I didn't hear you snore last night. Usually you snore like an old
> grizzly bear."
> "Man, I slept good last night." JB replied. "Haven't slept like that
> since I can remember when. The ground didn't seem as hard as usual,
> either. Almost soft. Kinda weird."
> "Yeah, I know what you mean. I had probably the best night's sleep in
> decades. And do you notice that the weather is so nice? I mean, it
> hasn't been too cold or too warm since we took off yesterday. It's
> always been just right."
> "Hey. Don't jinx us. Let's just take advantage of the perfect weather.
> If we talk about it, it'll surely turn bad on us."
> Crank giggled a bit and said, "Well, it hasn't been a perfect trip.
> Remember yesterday when we started out and we rounded that curve and met
> the logging truck coming at us in our lane?"
> "How could I forget!?!? I'm still picking bits of my saddle out of my
> butt."
> Crank paused, then asked, "How in the heck did you get out of it's way
> so fast, anyhow?"
> "Don't know for sure. It happened so quick. I remember throwing out the
> anchor and doing some fancy maneuvering, then the next thing I know
> we're past it and cruising down the highway again. It was obviously due
> to our superior riding skills," JB said with a chuckle.
> "All I can tell you is that is scared the life out of me."
> After a few minutes of silence, JB said, "Too bad Roger didn't come
> along with us. He always enjoys a trip like this, with the good food and
> drink and all the lies we tell around the fire."
> Crank looked at JB. "You mean Roger the Chrome Whore?"
> "Yeah...why do you ask?"
> "He died," Crank said. "Roger died."
> "No kidding? Why didn't somebody tell me? Geez, ol' Roger's gone?"
> "Roger was a magician on that bike of his. And it was loud, too. You
> could always hear him a mile away and know he was almost here."
> "Damn," JB muttered. "You sure he died, Crank?"
> "Well, pretty sure. It made it a whole lot easier to bury him."
> JB asked, "What happened to him? Was it the Big 'C?'"
> "Well, that's what the doctors claim, but I think it was really a
> deficiency of riding," Crank said.
> "Uh oh," JB stated firmly, "I'm not going to let that happen to
> me...the deficiency of riding thing, that is."
> Crank raised his cup of coffee and said, "To Roger!"
> JB did the same, and then they were silent for a short while.
> Finally JB spoke up and said, "Man, I don't think I'd ever get tired of
> this. Good roads, sunny skies, good food and good friends. This is my
> idea of heaven."
> Crank raised his cup to JB's and they toasted again. He finished off
> his coffee and thought to himself, "JB's right. This is the life."
> JB looked at him and said, "I'm glad you agree."
> Crank sat up and pointed at JB.
> "There. It happened again! This time you heard what I thought! Now this
> is getting weird."
> JB whistled a few licks of the theme song for the Twilight Zone before
> he said, "Actually, there is a perfectly good reason for all this. We've
> hung around each other for so long that we know what the other on is
> gonna say before he says it. We've said it all a thousand times before."
> They both heard another motorcycle in the distance getting louder and
> closer, but JB continued. "And for the rest of it, like the great roads,
> good mileage, lack of bugs and the perfect weather, I'm sure there's a
> simple explanation for that, too."
> They glanced towards the road and the approaching motorcycle.
> "Hey, look," JB said. "Here comes Roger."



> Andy aka Big Stinkie BS#252 SLOB#3


Nice story, Andy. Have a round on the house.

--
George BS235
Owner, rmh VB&G

Andy aka Big Stinkie wrote:
> In August I was at Eddie's birthday party in Ohio. One of the folks
> there was Roger TCW, who as you probably know lost his battle with
> cancer shortly thereafter. Now Shaggy notifies us of a friend of his
> that is gone. To say it is all a bummer is an understatement. Anyway,
> I told you that so I could tell you this.
>
> Shortly after I heard of Roger TCW's passing I read a story written by
> my favorite author, Patrick F. McManus. He writes humorous stories
> about hunting, fishing and camping. In his latest book, "Kerplunk,"
> he wrote a short story called, "A Creek To Far." It struck a chord
> with me, so I sent an e-mail message to Mr. McManus and asked for
> permission to use his storyline so I could write a similar story
> about motorcyclists instead of anglers. He blessed the idea and I sat
> down at the 'puter. This is what I came up with. It isn't
> professional by any means, but I think it gets the idea across. I
> wasn't sure what I was going to do with the story, but when I read
> Shaggy's post I thought I'd share it with the folks in here.
>
> <clink> To Roger, to Shaggy's friend, and to all of our friends and
> family that have gone before us.
> -------------------------------------------------------------------
>
> Crank and JB met at the gas station as planned, and once they filled
> up, they lit their bikes and headed west on the rural blacktop road. A
> handful of clouds and a warm sun greeted them as they roared into the
> wind. JB marveled at the lack of bugs that normally plagued riders
> this time of year. No big splats on his forehead to wipe off on this
> trip. The air carried the scent of fresh mowed fields with the
> occasional aroma from a passing thicket of cedar trees. He watched
> Crank ahead of him as they cruised through the sweeping curves. Back
> and forth they leaned as they wove their way along the snaking
> highway. After a couple hours of pleasant riding, JB pulled up next to
> Crank
> and indicated that he'd like to stop. Less than a mile later they
> came upon a little home-grown gas station and they pulled in.
> "Dang, that was handy. Kinda like it was put here just for us." Crank
> said as they dismounted.
> "No kidding. I don't really need fuel, but I was thinking about
> something to drink. You want something?"
> "Yeah. Let's go."
> They sauntered into the building and found an old chest-type pop
> machine, the kind where you open the lid, maneuver the bottle you want
> to one corner and pull it out after depositing your coins.
> "Well I'll be!" JB said. "They have Grape NeHi! That was my favorite
> when I was a kid. I didn't think they made that stuff anymore."
> He pulled it out and downed a good 1/3 of the bottle in one swig. He
> drifted back to his childhood and the days when he and his buddies on
> their bicycles would ride to the gas station on a hot summer day, much
> like this. Crank found his favorite soda, as well. Together they stood
> outside and sipped their drinks as they silently reminisced.
> Their thirst satisfied, they threw their legs over their saddles and
> got ready to ride. Looking at his gas gauge, Crank said, "I'm getting
> the best mileage I can ever remember. We musta rode a hundred miles
> and I'm barely off the full mark."
> "Me, too. Let's just head out and keep riding. It's a perfect day,
> ain't it?"
> "Doesn't get any better, if ya ask me. This is the best riding I can
> recall."
> They motored on for another few hours, taking in the sights and scents
> of the countryside. They finally arrived at their campsite and rolled
> in. The grass was green and cool, trees provided shade, and there was
> a fire ring with a stack of firewood piled up next to it.
> "Somebody was thinking of us when they put this place together." Crank
> said as he looked around.
> "No kidding. It's perfect. I'll pitch my tent over there."
> Within about 20 minutes they both had their tents up and were ready to
> relax. Crank got the cooler that was bungeed to the back of his bike
> and they both popped the cap off a beer.
> "Ya know, JB...that was the easiest time I ever had putting up that
> stupid tent. Usually I have to wrestle the thing for an hour, and then
> it still sags and blows around in the wind."
> "Yeah, me, too." Crank added. "I guess we're just lucky today. Seems
> like everything is going our way. You notice how cold this beer is?
> Sure tastes good, too."
> They had a couple more brews before starting the fire. Once it was a
> good, roaring fire, they sat back and watched as the sky began to
> darken. The smoke was carried away from them, yet the aroma of burning
> cedar filled their heads. JB grabbed a couple thick steaks from the
> cooler and tossed them on the grill. He sat back on the picnic table
> and thought, "This is the life!"
> "You're right." Crank said.
> "Whadya mean, 'You're right?'" JB said.
> "The life. This is the life."
> "I didn't say that."
> "You did too. I heard you say, 'This is the life.'"
> "Nuh uh. I just thought it."
> "Well, that's stupid. How could I hear it if you just thought it?"
> JB shook his head and laughed. "Maybe you read my mind."
> Crank said, "Yeah, but it was light reading."
> They both got a chuckle out of that one. Crank could come up with a
> good one like that every so often.
> They ate, consumed a few more beers, told a few more lies, and they
> both decided it was time to hit the sack. They cleaned up their
> campsite and then retreated to their respective tents. The next
> morning they gathered at the fire ring, which was still a bed of hot
> coals. "You have some breakfast in that cooler?" JB asked.
> Crank retrieved some eggs and bacon and tossed them into the frying
> pan. After a few minutes of listening to the breakfast sizzling, Crank
> said, "I didn't hear you snore last night. Usually you snore like an
> old grizzly bear."
> "Man, I slept good last night." JB replied. "Haven't slept like that
> since I can remember when. The ground didn't seem as hard as usual,
> either. Almost soft. Kinda weird."
> "Yeah, I know what you mean. I had probably the best night's sleep in
> decades. And do you notice that the weather is so nice? I mean, it
> hasn't been too cold or too warm since we took off yesterday. It's
> always been just right."
> "Hey. Don't jinx us. Let's just take advantage of the perfect weather.
> If we talk about it, it'll surely turn bad on us."
> Crank giggled a bit and said, "Well, it hasn't been a perfect trip.
> Remember yesterday when we started out and we rounded that curve and
> met the logging truck coming at us in our lane?"
> "How could I forget!?!? I'm still picking bits of my saddle out of my
> butt."
> Crank paused, then asked, "How in the heck did you get out of it's way
> so fast, anyhow?"
> "Don't know for sure. It happened so quick. I remember throwing out
> the anchor and doing some fancy maneuvering, then the next thing I
> know we're past it and cruising down the highway again. It was
> obviously due to our superior riding skills," JB said with a chuckle.
> "All I can tell you is that is scared the life out of me."
> After a few minutes of silence, JB said, "Too bad Roger didn't come
> along with us. He always enjoys a trip like this, with the good food
> and drink and all the lies we tell around the fire."
> Crank looked at JB. "You mean Roger the Chrome Whore?"
> "Yeah...why do you ask?"
> "He died," Crank said. "Roger died."
> "No kidding? Why didn't somebody tell me? Geez, ol' Roger's gone?"
> "Roger was a magician on that bike of his. And it was loud, too. You
> could always hear him a mile away and know he was almost here."
> "Damn," JB muttered. "You sure he died, Crank?"
> "Well, pretty sure. It made it a whole lot easier to bury him."
> JB asked, "What happened to him? Was it the Big 'C?'"
> "Well, that's what the doctors claim, but I think it was really a
> deficiency of riding," Crank said.
> "Uh oh," JB stated firmly, "I'm not going to let that happen to
> me...the deficiency of riding thing, that is."
> Crank raised his cup of coffee and said, "To Roger!"
> JB did the same, and then they were silent for a short while.
> Finally JB spoke up and said, "Man, I don't think I'd ever get tired
> of this. Good roads, sunny skies, good food and good friends. This is
> my idea of heaven."
> Crank raised his cup to JB's and they toasted again. He finished off
> his coffee and thought to himself, "JB's right. This is the life."
> JB looked at him and said, "I'm glad you agree."
> Crank sat up and pointed at JB.
> "There. It happened again! This time you heard what I thought! Now
> this is getting weird."
> JB whistled a few licks of the theme song for the Twilight Zone before
> he said, "Actually, there is a perfectly good reason for all this.
> We've hung around each other for so long that we know what the other
> on is gonna say before he says it. We've said it all a thousand times
> before." They both heard another motorcycle in the distance getting
> louder and closer, but JB continued. "And for the rest of it, like
> the great roads, good mileage, lack of bugs and the perfect weather,
> I'm sure there's a simple explanation for that, too."
> They glanced towards the road and the approaching motorcycle.
> "Hey, look," JB said. "Here comes Roger."
>
>
>
> Andy aka Big Stinkie BS#252 SLOB#3

Damn .
--
Snag
'90 Ultra "Strider"
'39 WLDD "Popcycle"
Buncha cars and a truck

On Sat, 25 Oct 2008 14:05:51 -0500, Andy aka Big Stinkie
<andythe@earthlink.net> wrote:

<reluctant schnipp>

>They glanced towards the road and the approaching motorcycle.
> "Hey, look," JB said. "Here comes Roger."

And 240 Gordy, and Irish, and Bitchin', and Dickhead, and Ralph, and
Big Bob Anver, and Al Kapone, and Easy, and Dog, and Max Colbath, and
David DeMartini, and Pan Dan, and Pops, and Butchy Boy, and Grandma
Betty, and Wildman Craig, and Mitch, and... holy shit, look at 'em
all. ParTay time!

Thanks Andy.

Snarl... brought a tear to m' eye

On Sat, 25 Oct 2008 14:05:51 -0500, Andy aka Big Stinkie
<andythe@earthlink.net> backed into a tree whilst ridin inna park then
wrote:

>In August I was at Eddie's birthday party in Ohio. One of the folks
>there was Roger TCW, who as you probably know lost his battle with
>cancer shortly thereafter. Now Shaggy notifies us of a friend of his
>that is gone. To say it is all a bummer is an understatement. Anyway, I
>told you that so I could tell you this.
>
>Shortly after I heard of Roger TCW's passing I read a story written by
>my favorite author, Patrick F. McManus. He writes humorous stories about
>hunting, fishing and camping. In his latest book, "Kerplunk," he wrote a
>short story called, "A Creek To Far." It struck a chord with me, so I
>sent an e-mail message to Mr. McManus and asked for permission to use
>his storyline so I could write a similar story about motorcyclists
>instead of anglers. He blessed the idea and I sat down at the 'puter.
>This is what I came up with. It isn't professional by any means, but I
>think it gets the idea across. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with
>the story, but when I read Shaggy's post I thought I'd share it with the
>folks in here.
>
><clink> To Roger, to Shaggy's friend, and to all of our friends and
>family that have gone before us.
>-------------------------------------------------------------------
>
> Crank and JB met at the gas station as planned, and once they filled
>up, they lit their bikes and headed west on the rural blacktop road. A
>handful of clouds and a warm sun greeted them as they roared into the
>wind. JB marveled at the lack of bugs that normally plagued riders this
>time of year. No big splats on his forehead to wipe off on this trip.
>The air carried the scent of fresh mowed fields with the occasional
>aroma from a passing thicket of cedar trees. He watched Crank ahead of
>him as they cruised through the sweeping curves. Back and forth they
>leaned as they wove their way along the snaking highway.
> After a couple hours of pleasant riding, JB pulled up next to Crank and
>indicated that he'd like to stop. Less than a mile later they came upon
>a little home-grown gas station and they pulled in.
> "Dang, that was handy. Kinda like it was put here just for us." Crank
>said as they dismounted.
> "No kidding. I don't really need fuel, but I was thinking about
>something to drink. You want something?"
> "Yeah. Let's go."
> They sauntered into the building and found an old chest-type pop
>machine, the kind where you open the lid, maneuver the bottle you want
>to one corner and pull it out after depositing your coins.
> "Well I'll be!" JB said. "They have Grape NeHi! That was my favorite
>when I was a kid. I didn't think they made that stuff anymore."
> He pulled it out and downed a good 1/3 of the bottle in one swig. He
>drifted back to his childhood and the days when he and his buddies on
>their bicycles would ride to the gas station on a hot summer day, much
>like this. Crank found his favorite soda, as well. Together they stood
>outside and sipped their drinks as they silently reminisced.
> Their thirst satisfied, they threw their legs over their saddles and
>got ready to ride. Looking at his gas gauge, Crank said, "I'm getting
>the best mileage I can ever remember. We musta rode a hundred miles and
>I'm barely off the full mark."
> "Me, too. Let's just head out and keep riding. It's a perfect day,
>ain't it?"
> "Doesn't get any better, if ya ask me. This is the best riding I can
>recall."
> They motored on for another few hours, taking in the sights and scents
>of the countryside. They finally arrived at their campsite and rolled
>in. The grass was green and cool, trees provided shade, and there was a
>fire ring with a stack of firewood piled up next to it.
> "Somebody was thinking of us when they put this place together." Crank
>said as he looked around.
> "No kidding. It's perfect. I'll pitch my tent over there."
> Within about 20 minutes they both had their tents up and were ready to
>relax. Crank got the cooler that was bungeed to the back of his bike and
>they both popped the cap off a beer.
> "Ya know, JB...that was the easiest time I ever had putting up that
>stupid tent. Usually I have to wrestle the thing for an hour, and then
>it still sags and blows around in the wind."
> "Yeah, me, too." Crank added. "I guess we're just lucky today. Seems
>like everything is going our way. You notice how cold this beer is? Sure
>tastes good, too."
> They had a couple more brews before starting the fire. Once it was a
>good, roaring fire, they sat back and watched as the sky began to
>darken. The smoke was carried away from them, yet the aroma of burning
>cedar filled their heads. JB grabbed a couple thick steaks from the
>cooler and tossed them on the grill. He sat back on the picnic table and
>thought, "This is the life!"
> "You're right." Crank said.
> "Whadya mean, 'You're right?'" JB said.
> "The life. This is the life."
> "I didn't say that."
> "You did too. I heard you say, 'This is the life.'"
> "Nuh uh. I just thought it."
> "Well, that's stupid. How could I hear it if you just thought it?"
> JB shook his head and laughed. "Maybe you read my mind."
> Crank said, "Yeah, but it was light reading."
> They both got a chuckle out of that one. Crank could come up with a
>good one like that every so often.
> They ate, consumed a few more beers, told a few more lies, and they
>both decided it was time to hit the sack. They cleaned up their campsite
>and then retreated to their respective tents. The next morning they
>gathered at the fire ring, which was still a bed of hot coals.
> "You have some breakfast in that cooler?" JB asked.
> Crank retrieved some eggs and bacon and tossed them into the frying
>pan. After a few minutes of listening to the breakfast sizzling, Crank
>said, "I didn't hear you snore last night. Usually you snore like an old
>grizzly bear."
> "Man, I slept good last night." JB replied. "Haven't slept like that
>since I can remember when. The ground didn't seem as hard as usual,
>either. Almost soft. Kinda weird."
> "Yeah, I know what you mean. I had probably the best night's sleep in
>decades. And do you notice that the weather is so nice? I mean, it
>hasn't been too cold or too warm since we took off yesterday. It's
>always been just right."
> "Hey. Don't jinx us. Let's just take advantage of the perfect weather.
>If we talk about it, it'll surely turn bad on us."
> Crank giggled a bit and said, "Well, it hasn't been a perfect trip.
>Remember yesterday when we started out and we rounded that curve and met
>the logging truck coming at us in our lane?"
> "How could I forget!?!? I'm still picking bits of my saddle out of my
>butt."
> Crank paused, then asked, "How in the heck did you get out of it's way
>so fast, anyhow?"
> "Don't know for sure. It happened so quick. I remember throwing out the
>anchor and doing some fancy maneuvering, then the next thing I know
>we're past it and cruising down the highway again. It was obviously due
>to our superior riding skills," JB said with a chuckle.
> "All I can tell you is that is scared the life out of me."
> After a few minutes of silence, JB said, "Too bad Roger didn't come
>along with us. He always enjoys a trip like this, with the good food and
>drink and all the lies we tell around the fire."
> Crank looked at JB. "You mean Roger the Chrome Whore?"
> "Yeah...why do you ask?"
> "He died," Crank said. "Roger died."
> "No kidding? Why didn't somebody tell me? Geez, ol' Roger's gone?"
> "Roger was a magician on that bike of his. And it was loud, too. You
>could always hear him a mile away and know he was almost here."
> "Damn," JB muttered. "You sure he died, Crank?"
> "Well, pretty sure. It made it a whole lot easier to bury him."
> JB asked, "What happened to him? Was it the Big 'C?'"
> "Well, that's what the doctors claim, but I think it was really a
>deficiency of riding," Crank said.
> "Uh oh," JB stated firmly, "I'm not going to let that happen to
>me...the deficiency of riding thing, that is."
> Crank raised his cup of coffee and said, "To Roger!"
> JB did the same, and then they were silent for a short while.
> Finally JB spoke up and said, "Man, I don't think I'd ever get tired of
>this. Good roads, sunny skies, good food and good friends. This is my
>idea of heaven."
> Crank raised his cup to JB's and they toasted again. He finished off
>his coffee and thought to himself, "JB's right. This is the life."
> JB looked at him and said, "I'm glad you agree."
> Crank sat up and pointed at JB.
> "There. It happened again! This time you heard what I thought! Now this
>is getting weird."
> JB whistled a few licks of the theme song for the Twilight Zone before
>he said, "Actually, there is a perfectly good reason for all this. We've
>hung around each other for so long that we know what the other on is
>gonna say before he says it. We've said it all a thousand times before."
> They both heard another motorcycle in the distance getting louder and
>closer, but JB continued. "And for the rest of it, like the great roads,
>good mileage, lack of bugs and the perfect weather, I'm sure there's a
>simple explanation for that, too."
> They glanced towards the road and the approaching motorcycle.
> "Hey, look," JB said. "Here comes Roger."
>
>
>
>Andy aka Big Stinkie BS#252 SLOB#3


Have one off the top shelf on me Andy...Hell, have two. That was a
great read!

danl

snarl@trippin.com wrote:
> On Sat, 25 Oct 2008 14:05:51 -0500, Andy aka Big Stinkie
> <andythe@earthlink.net> wrote:
>
> <reluctant schnipp>
>
>> They glanced towards the road and the approaching motorcycle.
>> "Hey, look," JB said. "Here comes Roger."
>
> And 240 Gordy, and Irish, and Bitchin', and Dickhead, and Ralph, and
> Big Bob Anver, and Al Kapone, and Easy, and Dog, and Max Colbath, and
> David DeMartini, and Pan Dan, and Pops, and Butchy Boy, and Grandma
> Betty, and Wildman Craig, and Mitch, and... holy shit, look at 'em
> all. ParTay time!
>
> Thanks Andy.
>
> Snarl... brought a tear to m' eye
>

Goose bumps!

Joe Mamma....

<clink>

Ryder Rick wrote:
> snarl@trippin.com wrote:
>> On Sat, 25 Oct 2008 14:05:51 -0500, Andy aka Big Stinkie
>> <andythe@earthlink.net> wrote:
>>
>> <reluctant schnipp>
>>
>>> They glanced towards the road and the approaching motorcycle.
>>> "Hey, look," JB said. "Here comes Roger."
>>
>> And 240 Gordy, and Irish, and Bitchin', and Dickhead, and Ralph, and
>> Big Bob Anver, and Al Kapone, and Easy, and Dog, and Max Colbath, and
>> David DeMartini, and Pan Dan, and Pops, and Butchy Boy, and Grandma
>> Betty, and Wildman Craig, and Mitch, and... holy shit, look at 'em
>> all. ParTay time!
>>
>> Thanks Andy.
>>
>> Snarl... brought a tear to m' eye
>>
>
> Goose bumps!
>
> Joe Mamma....
>
> <clink>

Mudshark ...

<clink>
--
Snag
'90 Ultra "Strider"
'39 WLDD "Popcycle"
Buncha cars and a truck

Andy aka Big Stinkie [mailto:andythe@earthlink.net] writes:

> I wasn't sure what I was going to do with the story, but when I read
> Shaggy's post I thought I'd share it with the folks in here.

Nice work! Drinks all around on me tonight, and <clink> to those that
aren't with us any longer.

Uncle Meat

Andy aka Big Stinkie wrote:

> They glanced towards the road and the approaching motorcycle.
> "Hey, look," JB said. "Here comes Roger."
>

> Andy aka Big Stinkie BS#252 SLOB#3

Good on ya for postin' that Andy.

-al

Andy aka Big Stinkie wrote:
> In August I was at Eddie's birthday party in Ohio. One of the folks
<snip, please go back to the original post for a great read>

Thanks, I enjoyed that thoroughly. Speaking as someone who writes for the
sake of writing from time to time, I don't know what else I can say to tell
you how much I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it thoroughly.

--
Don
Concede to idiot cagers. Right of Way is irrelevant during the
collision. No bozo to reply

Terry Coombs wrote:
> Ryder Rick wrote:
>> snarl@trippin.com wrote:
>>> On Sat, 25 Oct 2008 14:05:51 -0500, Andy aka Big Stinkie
>>> <andythe@earthlink.net> wrote:
>>>
>>> <reluctant schnipp>
>>>
>>>> They glanced towards the road and the approaching motorcycle.
>>>> "Hey, look," JB said. "Here comes Roger."
>>>
>>> And 240 Gordy, and Irish, and Bitchin', and Dickhead, and Ralph, and
>>> Big Bob Anver, and Al Kapone, and Easy, and Dog, and Max Colbath,
>>> and David DeMartini, and Pan Dan, and Pops, and Butchy Boy, and
>>> Grandma Betty, and Wildman Craig, and Mitch, and... holy shit, look
>>> at 'em all. ParTay time!
>>>
>>> Thanks Andy.
>>>
>>> Snarl... brought a tear to m' eye
>>>
>>
>> Goose bumps!
>>
>> Joe Mamma....
>>
>> <clink>
>
> Mudshark ...
>
> <clink>

Sean

<Clink>
--
Beej

On Sat, 25 Oct 2008 14:05:51 -0500, Andy aka Big Stinkie
<andythe@earthlink.net> wrote:

<snipped for brevity>

Thanks Andy. I even read that one aloud to my wife.

Andy aka Big Stinkie wrote:
>
> They glanced towards the road and the approaching motorcycle.
> "Hey, look," JB said. "Here comes Roger."

Good writing! Good reading!
Thanks for doing that.

Your drinking on my tab tonight.

To all who have passed..... <clink>

--
(^oo^) AH#120 SENS NEWT#11 BS#188 MISFIT DOF#YES
(_0_) RMH FAQs - http://rmhfaq.com
BEAR Reply-To: gtodd at eye_ex dot netcom dot com

Andy aka Big Stinkie wrote:
> In August I was at Eddie's birthday party in Ohio. One of the folks
> there was Roger TCW, who as you probably know lost his battle with
> cancer shortly thereafter. Now Shaggy notifies us of a friend of his
> that is gone. To say it is all a bummer is an understatement. Anyway,
> I told you that so I could tell you this.
>
> Shortly after I heard of Roger TCW's passing I read a story written by
> my favorite author, Patrick F. McManus. He writes humorous stories
> about hunting, fishing and camping. In his latest book, "Kerplunk,"
> he wrote a short story called, "A Creek To Far." It struck a chord
> with me, so I sent an e-mail message to Mr. McManus and asked for
> permission to use his storyline so I could write a similar story
> about motorcyclists instead of anglers. He blessed the idea and I sat
> down at the 'puter. This is what I came up with. It isn't
> professional by any means, but I think it gets the idea across. I
> wasn't sure what I was going to do with the story, but when I read
> Shaggy's post I thought I'd share it with the folks in here.
>
> <clink> To Roger, to Shaggy's friend, and to all of our friends and
> family that have gone before us.
> -------------------------------------------------------------------
>
> Crank and JB met at the gas station as planned, and once they filled
> up, they lit their bikes and headed west on the rural blacktop road. A
> handful of clouds and a warm sun greeted them as they roared into the
> wind. JB marveled at the lack of bugs that normally plagued riders
> this time of year. No big splats on his forehead to wipe off on this
> trip. The air carried the scent of fresh mowed fields with the
> occasional aroma from a passing thicket of cedar trees. He watched
> Crank ahead of him as they cruised through the sweeping curves. Back
> and forth they leaned as they wove their way along the snaking
> highway. After a couple hours of pleasant riding, JB pulled up next to
> Crank
> and indicated that he'd like to stop. Less than a mile later they
> came upon a little home-grown gas station and they pulled in.
> "Dang, that was handy. Kinda like it was put here just for us." Crank
> said as they dismounted.
> "No kidding. I don't really need fuel, but I was thinking about
> something to drink. You want something?"
> "Yeah. Let's go."
> They sauntered into the building and found an old chest-type pop
> machine, the kind where you open the lid, maneuver the bottle you want
> to one corner and pull it out after depositing your coins.
> "Well I'll be!" JB said. "They have Grape NeHi! That was my favorite
> when I was a kid. I didn't think they made that stuff anymore."
> He pulled it out and downed a good 1/3 of the bottle in one swig. He
> drifted back to his childhood and the days when he and his buddies on
> their bicycles would ride to the gas station on a hot summer day, much
> like this. Crank found his favorite soda, as well. Together they stood
> outside and sipped their drinks as they silently reminisced.
> Their thirst satisfied, they threw their legs over their saddles and
> got ready to ride. Looking at his gas gauge, Crank said, "I'm getting
> the best mileage I can ever remember. We musta rode a hundred miles
> and I'm barely off the full mark."
> "Me, too. Let's just head out and keep riding. It's a perfect day,
> ain't it?"
> "Doesn't get any better, if ya ask me. This is the best riding I can
> recall."
> They motored on for another few hours, taking in the sights and scents
> of the countryside. They finally arrived at their campsite and rolled
> in. The grass was green and cool, trees provided shade, and there was
> a fire ring with a stack of firewood piled up next to it.
> "Somebody was thinking of us when they put this place together." Crank
> said as he looked around.
> "No kidding. It's perfect. I'll pitch my tent over there."
> Within about 20 minutes they both had their tents up and were ready to
> relax. Crank got the cooler that was bungeed to the back of his bike
> and they both popped the cap off a beer.
> "Ya know, JB...that was the easiest time I ever had putting up that
> stupid tent. Usually I have to wrestle the thing for an hour, and then
> it still sags and blows around in the wind."
> "Yeah, me, too." Crank added. "I guess we're just lucky today. Seems
> like everything is going our way. You notice how cold this beer is?
> Sure tastes good, too."
> They had a couple more brews before starting the fire. Once it was a
> good, roaring fire, they sat back and watched as the sky began to
> darken. The smoke was carried away from them, yet the aroma of burning
> cedar filled their heads. JB grabbed a couple thick steaks from the
> cooler and tossed them on the grill. He sat back on the picnic table
> and thought, "This is the life!"
> "You're right." Crank said.
> "Whadya mean, 'You're right?'" JB said.
> "The life. This is the life."
> "I didn't say that."
> "You did too. I heard you say, 'This is the life.'"
> "Nuh uh. I just thought it."
> "Well, that's stupid. How could I hear it if you just thought it?"
> JB shook his head and laughed. "Maybe you read my mind."
> Crank said, "Yeah, but it was light reading."
> They both got a chuckle out of that one. Crank could come up with a
> good one like that every so often.
> They ate, consumed a few more beers, told a few more lies, and they
> both decided it was time to hit the sack. They cleaned up their
> campsite and then retreated to their respective tents. The next
> morning they gathered at the fire ring, which was still a bed of hot
> coals. "You have some breakfast in that cooler?" JB asked.
> Crank retrieved some eggs and bacon and tossed them into the frying
> pan. After a few minutes of listening to the breakfast sizzling, Crank
> said, "I didn't hear you snore last night. Usually you snore like an
> old grizzly bear."
> "Man, I slept good last night." JB replied. "Haven't slept like that
> since I can remember when. The ground didn't seem as hard as usual,
> either. Almost soft. Kinda weird."
> "Yeah, I know what you mean. I had probably the best night's sleep in
> decades. And do you notice that the weather is so nice? I mean, it
> hasn't been too cold or too warm since we took off yesterday. It's
> always been just right."
> "Hey. Don't jinx us. Let's just take advantage of the perfect weather.
> If we talk about it, it'll surely turn bad on us."
> Crank giggled a bit and said, "Well, it hasn't been a perfect trip.
> Remember yesterday when we started out and we rounded that curve and
> met the logging truck coming at us in our lane?"
> "How could I forget!?!? I'm still picking bits of my saddle out of my
> butt."
> Crank paused, then asked, "How in the heck did you get out of it's way
> so fast, anyhow?"
> "Don't know for sure. It happened so quick. I remember throwing out
> the anchor and doing some fancy maneuvering, then the next thing I
> know we're past it and cruising down the highway again. It was
> obviously due to our superior riding skills," JB said with a chuckle.
> "All I can tell you is that is scared the life out of me."
> After a few minutes of silence, JB said, "Too bad Roger didn't come
> along with us. He always enjoys a trip like this, with the good food
> and drink and all the lies we tell around the fire."
> Crank looked at JB. "You mean Roger the Chrome Whore?"
> "Yeah...why do you ask?"
> "He died," Crank said. "Roger died."
> "No kidding? Why didn't somebody tell me? Geez, ol' Roger's gone?"
> "Roger was a magician on that bike of his. And it was loud, too. You
> could always hear him a mile away and know he was almost here."
> "Damn," JB muttered. "You sure he died, Crank?"
> "Well, pretty sure. It made it a whole lot easier to bury him."
> JB asked, "What happened to him? Was it the Big 'C?'"
> "Well, that's what the doctors claim, but I think it was really a
> deficiency of riding," Crank said.
> "Uh oh," JB stated firmly, "I'm not going to let that happen to
> me...the deficiency of riding thing, that is."
> Crank raised his cup of coffee and said, "To Roger!"
> JB did the same, and then they were silent for a short while.
> Finally JB spoke up and said, "Man, I don't think I'd ever get tired
> of this. Good roads, sunny skies, good food and good friends. This is
> my idea of heaven."
> Crank raised his cup to JB's and they toasted again. He finished off
> his coffee and thought to himself, "JB's right. This is the life."
> JB looked at him and said, "I'm glad you agree."
> Crank sat up and pointed at JB.
> "There. It happened again! This time you heard what I thought! Now
> this is getting weird."
> JB whistled a few licks of the theme song for the Twilight Zone before
> he said, "Actually, there is a perfectly good reason for all this.
> We've hung around each other for so long that we know what the other
> on is gonna say before he says it. We've said it all a thousand times
> before." They both heard another motorcycle in the distance getting
> louder and closer, but JB continued. "And for the rest of it, like
> the great roads, good mileage, lack of bugs and the perfect weather,
> I'm sure there's a simple explanation for that, too."
> They glanced towards the road and the approaching motorcycle.
> "Hey, look," JB said. "Here comes Roger."
>
>
>
> Andy aka Big Stinkie BS#252 SLOB#3

couldn't snip a bit Andy, thanks

--
Pete
BS198
93 - XLH1200
96 - FXSTS

Andy aka Big Stinkie wrote:
> In August I was at Eddie's birthday party in Ohio. One of the folks
> there was Roger TCW, who as you probably know lost his battle with
> cancer shortly thereafter. Now Shaggy notifies us of a friend of his
> that is gone. To say it is all a bummer is an understatement. Anyway,
> I told you that so I could tell you this.
>
> Shortly after I heard of Roger TCW's passing I read a story written by
> my favorite author, Patrick F. McManus. He writes humorous stories
> about hunting, fishing and camping. In his latest book, "Kerplunk,"
> he wrote a short story called, "A Creek To Far." It struck a chord
> with me, so I sent an e-mail message to Mr. McManus and asked for
> permission to use his storyline so I could write a similar story
> about motorcyclists instead of anglers. He blessed the idea and I sat
> down at the 'puter. This is what I came up with. It isn't
> professional by any means, but I think it gets the idea across. I
> wasn't sure what I was going to do with the story, but when I read
> Shaggy's post I thought I'd share it with the folks in here.
>
> <clink> To Roger, to Shaggy's friend, and to all of our friends and
> family that have gone before us.
> -------------------------------------------------------------------
>
> Crank and JB met at the gas station as planned, and once they filled
> up, they lit their bikes and headed west on the rural blacktop road. A
> handful of clouds and a warm sun greeted them as they roared into the
> wind. JB marveled at the lack of bugs that normally plagued riders
> this time of year. No big splats on his forehead to wipe off on this
> trip. The air carried the scent of fresh mowed fields with the
> occasional aroma from a passing thicket of cedar trees. He watched
> Crank ahead of him as they cruised through the sweeping curves. Back
> and forth they leaned as they wove their way along the snaking
> highway. After a couple hours of pleasant riding, JB pulled up next to
> Crank
> and indicated that he'd like to stop. Less than a mile later they
> came upon a little home-grown gas station and they pulled in.
> "Dang, that was handy. Kinda like it was put here just for us." Crank
> said as they dismounted.
> "No kidding. I don't really need fuel, but I was thinking about
> something to drink. You want something?"
> "Yeah. Let's go."
> They sauntered into the building and found an old chest-type pop
> machine, the kind where you open the lid, maneuver the bottle you want
> to one corner and pull it out after depositing your coins.
> "Well I'll be!" JB said. "They have Grape NeHi! That was my favorite
> when I was a kid. I didn't think they made that stuff anymore."
> He pulled it out and downed a good 1/3 of the bottle in one swig. He
> drifted back to his childhood and the days when he and his buddies on
> their bicycles would ride to the gas station on a hot summer day, much
> like this. Crank found his favorite soda, as well. Together they stood
> outside and sipped their drinks as they silently reminisced.
> Their thirst satisfied, they threw their legs over their saddles and
> got ready to ride. Looking at his gas gauge, Crank said, "I'm getting
> the best mileage I can ever remember. We musta rode a hundred miles
> and I'm barely off the full mark."
> "Me, too. Let's just head out and keep riding. It's a perfect day,
> ain't it?"
> "Doesn't get any better, if ya ask me. This is the best riding I can
> recall."
> They motored on for another few hours, taking in the sights and scents
> of the countryside. They finally arrived at their campsite and rolled
> in. The grass was green and cool, trees provided shade, and there was
> a fire ring with a stack of firewood piled up next to it.
> "Somebody was thinking of us when they put this place together." Crank
> said as he looked around.
> "No kidding. It's perfect. I'll pitch my tent over there."
> Within about 20 minutes they both had their tents up and were ready to
> relax. Crank got the cooler that was bungeed to the back of his bike
> and they both popped the cap off a beer.
> "Ya know, JB...that was the easiest time I ever had putting up that
> stupid tent. Usually I have to wrestle the thing for an hour, and then
> it still sags and blows around in the wind."
> "Yeah, me, too." Crank added. "I guess we're just lucky today. Seems
> like everything is going our way. You notice how cold this beer is?
> Sure tastes good, too."
> They had a couple more brews before starting the fire. Once it was a
> good, roaring fire, they sat back and watched as the sky began to
> darken. The smoke was carried away from them, yet the aroma of burning
> cedar filled their heads. JB grabbed a couple thick steaks from the
> cooler and tossed them on the grill. He sat back on the picnic table
> and thought, "This is the life!"
> "You're right." Crank said.
> "Whadya mean, 'You're right?'" JB said.
> "The life. This is the life."
> "I didn't say that."
> "You did too. I heard you say, 'This is the life.'"
> "Nuh uh. I just thought it."
> "Well, that's stupid. How could I hear it if you just thought it?"
> JB shook his head and laughed. "Maybe you read my mind."
> Crank said, "Yeah, but it was light reading."
> They both got a chuckle out of that one. Crank could come up with a
> good one like that every so often.
> They ate, consumed a few more beers, told a few more lies, and they
> both decided it was time to hit the sack. They cleaned up their
> campsite and then retreated to their respective tents. The next
> morning they gathered at the fire ring, which was still a bed of hot
> coals. "You have some breakfast in that cooler?" JB asked.
> Crank retrieved some eggs and bacon and tossed them into the frying
> pan. After a few minutes of listening to the breakfast sizzling, Crank
> said, "I didn't hear you snore last night. Usually you snore like an
> old grizzly bear."
> "Man, I slept good last night." JB replied. "Haven't slept like that
> since I can remember when. The ground didn't seem as hard as usual,
> either. Almost soft. Kinda weird."
> "Yeah, I know what you mean. I had probably the best night's sleep in
> decades. And do you notice that the weather is so nice? I mean, it
> hasn't been too cold or too warm since we took off yesterday. It's
> always been just right."
> "Hey. Don't jinx us. Let's just take advantage of the perfect weather.
> If we talk about it, it'll surely turn bad on us."
> Crank giggled a bit and said, "Well, it hasn't been a perfect trip.
> Remember yesterday when we started out and we rounded that curve and
> met the logging truck coming at us in our lane?"
> "How could I forget!?!? I'm still picking bits of my saddle out of my
> butt."
> Crank paused, then asked, "How in the heck did you get out of it's way
> so fast, anyhow?"
> "Don't know for sure. It happened so quick. I remember throwing out
> the anchor and doing some fancy maneuvering, then the next thing I
> know we're past it and cruising down the highway again. It was
> obviously due to our superior riding skills," JB said with a chuckle.
> "All I can tell you is that is scared the life out of me."
> After a few minutes of silence, JB said, "Too bad Roger didn't come
> along with us. He always enjoys a trip like this, with the good food
> and drink and all the lies we tell around the fire."
> Crank looked at JB. "You mean Roger the Chrome Whore?"
> "Yeah...why do you ask?"
> "He died," Crank said. "Roger died."
> "No kidding? Why didn't somebody tell me? Geez, ol' Roger's gone?"
> "Roger was a magician on that bike of his. And it was loud, too. You
> could always hear him a mile away and know he was almost here."
> "Damn," JB muttered. "You sure he died, Crank?"
> "Well, pretty sure. It made it a whole lot easier to bury him."
> JB asked, "What happened to him? Was it the Big 'C?'"
> "Well, that's what the doctors claim, but I think it was really a
> deficiency of riding," Crank said.
> "Uh oh," JB stated firmly, "I'm not going to let that happen to
> me...the deficiency of riding thing, that is."
> Crank raised his cup of coffee and said, "To Roger!"
> JB did the same, and then they were silent for a short while.
> Finally JB spoke up and said, "Man, I don't think I'd ever get tired
> of this. Good roads, sunny skies, good food and good friends. This is
> my idea of heaven."
> Crank raised his cup to JB's and they toasted again. He finished off
> his coffee and thought to himself, "JB's right. This is the life."
> JB looked at him and said, "I'm glad you agree."
> Crank sat up and pointed at JB.
> "There. It happened again! This time you heard what I thought! Now
> this is getting weird."
> JB whistled a few licks of the theme song for the Twilight Zone before
> he said, "Actually, there is a perfectly good reason for all this.
> We've hung around each other for so long that we know what the other
> on is gonna say before he says it. We've said it all a thousand times
> before." They both heard another motorcycle in the distance getting
> louder and closer, but JB continued. "And for the rest of it, like
> the great roads, good mileage, lack of bugs and the perfect weather,
> I'm sure there's a simple explanation for that, too."
> They glanced towards the road and the approaching motorcycle.
> "Hey, look," JB said. "Here comes Roger."
>
>
>
> Andy aka Big Stinkie BS#252 SLOB#3

Nice Andy, we've lost some good friends and acquaintances this year, just
lost 3 in this last week.
A friend of Jackie's was riding from Heber Springs and hit a deer on the way
home, he was wearing full face helmet and leather, that fact didn't help him
when a car struck him after landing in the road after hitting the dear.
Jackie's still afraid to ride to work even in the car, late last week 2
teens lost their life in Cabot when a car turned left suddenly in front of
them, tragic loss of life.
Now over the weekend; Greenland mayor John Gray is in critical condition
after a weekend motorcycle accident. The Morning News reports that Gray was
riding his motorcycle to Jasper when he lost control, struck a guard rail
and went into a ravine.
The newspaper says a spokesman at Greenland City Hall says Gray suffered a
broken pelvis, a broken leg and lost a large amount of blood. He is being
treated at Washington Regional Medical Center.

he was riding the pigtrail to Jasper, a road you have to really pay
attention to.

to all who's lives have been lost <clink>


--
Pete
BS198
93 - XLH1200
96 - FXSTS

They sauntered into the building and found an old chest-type pop
machine, the kind where you open the lid, maneuver the bottle you
want
to one corner and pull it out after depositing your coins.
"Well I'll be!" JB said. "They have Grape NeHi! That was my
favorite
when I was a kid. I didn't think they made that stuff anymore."
He pulled it out and downed a good 1/3 of the bottle in one
swig. He
drifted back to his childhood and the days when he and his buddies on
their bicycles would ride to the gas station on a hot summer day,
much
like this. Crank found his favorite soda, as well. Together they
stood
outside and sipped their drinks as they silently reminisced.


I can't believe those guys didn't put some peanuts in their Nehi

other than that, nice story

kickstart

kickstart wrote:

> "Well I'll be!" JB said. "They have Grape NeHi! That was my
> favorite
> when I was a kid.

> I can't believe those guys didn't put some peanuts in their Nehi
>
> other than that, nice story
>
> kickstart

We used to call them sodas, Grape Nehi "belly washers".

<snarl@trippin.com> wrote in message
news:fa67g4hk3fq92npvcqu4ahbvfpv0gi8ihq@4ax.com...
> On Sat, 25 Oct 2008 14:05:51 -0500, Andy aka Big Stinkie
> <andythe@earthlink.net> wrote:
>
> <reluctant schnipp>
>
>>They glanced towards the road and the approaching motorcycle.
>> "Hey, look," JB said. "Here comes Roger."
>
> And 240 Gordy, and Irish, and Bitchin', and Dickhead, and Ralph, and
> Big Bob Anver, and Al Kapone, and Easy, and Dog, and Max Colbath, and
> David DeMartini, and Pan Dan, and Pops, and Butchy Boy, and Grandma
> Betty, and Wildman Craig, and Mitch, and... holy shit, look at 'em
> all. ParTay time!
>
> Thanks Andy.
>
> Snarl... brought a tear to m' eye

Well shit, Dorinda and I were just talking about Bitchin yesterday at
lunch. Seems the topic of Goldschlager came up!


Dale R

On Tue, 28 Oct 2008 20:42:02 -0500, "Dale R"
<nospamdreitz@dsoelectricwb.com> wrote:

><snarl@trippin.com> wrote in message
>news:fa67g4hk3fq92npvcqu4ahbvfpv0gi8ihq@4ax.com.. .
>> On Sat, 25 Oct 2008 14:05:51 -0500, Andy aka Big Stinkie
>> <andythe@earthlink.net> wrote:
>>
>> <reluctant schnipp>
>>
>>>They glanced towards the road and the approaching motorcycle.
>>> "Hey, look," JB said. "Here comes Roger."
>>
>> And 240 Gordy, and Irish, and Bitchin', and Dickhead, and Ralph, and
>> Big Bob Anver, and Al Kapone, and Easy, and Dog, and Max Colbath, and
>> David DeMartini, and Pan Dan, and Pops, and Butchy Boy, and Grandma
>> Betty, and Wildman Craig, and Mitch, and... holy shit, look at 'em
>> all. ParTay time!
>>
>> Thanks Andy.
>>
>> Snarl... brought a tear to m' eye
>
>Well shit, Dorinda and I we