Times Past felt a few minutes ago....

Posted by MuskRat on May 25, 2011 at 12:19 PM Comments comments (0)

Times past, felt a minute ago....By Freebird914 (aka MuskRat)

As the wrench slowly turned he heard the creak of the bolt breaking from years of being tighten.

He knew he was on his way.

He stepped back and looked at the engine it had taken him this far and he couldn't let go of a good friend now.

The smell of gas, grease, and solvents filled the air.

Music in the background ...

That"s the song...

It reminded him of a time long ago...

As the memories flood back to the night

A cold sweat comes across his body

He was young again laughing and joking

You remember now

was it in Charleston?

So long ago..

SO many nights...

It started as most nights

meeting at the Bar

sharing a few drinks and laughs

The smoke filled room

the smoking area out back

but it was time to ride

The engines fired to life

Heading out

Running thru downtown

nothing happening here

Over the Cooper

Isle of Palms

Gentle Sea breeze

As we backed the bikes in

we all start to laugh

Though a short ride

The time well spent,  was worth it

This was the beginning of the end

Soon we would all be going our seperate ways

Some going home,  others making new homes

but for one  it would be the last night we spent together.

We never knew what would happen that night

Our fate was hidden but she waited for one of us

WE laughed and shared a few drinks

Sitting on the Deck the WindJammer

It felt like home some nights

other times it was a tourist trap.

Tonight it just felt right.

Looking out to the sea

we remembered

the silence was shared by a cigarette

as we stared at the waves breaking.

Laughter broke the silence

We all looked at each other and smiled

Life was good....

It was time to go

we all cranked the bikes

the breeze felt cool

the lights of the city shined bright

as we crossed the Cooper

How many times had we been under the Bridge

Sailing to the Sea

I saw it coming but it was to late

WE where going too fast in the turn

I watch as the rear tire

started to slide, and you tried to save it

I saw you try to turn the bars

trying to control

The brake light showed me you panic

I watch as you as a last ditch threw your foot down

The asphalt pulled you off as the bike slid out from under you

I watched

as I saw the force of the stop twist your body

as you tumbled toward  the guard rail

Brakes where on

our friends where turning around

Barley getting the kickstand down trying to get to you

I reached you and tried to speak

but tears filled my eyes

training was taking over

check for a pulse

breathing and bleeding

I held you looking

into your eyes

A deep breath

Blood coming from your mouth and nose

I saw the look and knew it was time.

I held you close till the Medics

Arrived

but it was to late

and I cried...

The old man felt that night as if it was tonight.

He wiped a tear from his eye

and looked at the bike

It wasn't this bike but one like her

Sometimes the only relief

The old man feels is turn

A wrench and feeling the wind..

 


"Sex on the Beach"

Posted by iwmcnation on May 23, 2010 at 10:10 AM Comments comments (2)

This 'Road Story' was sent to IWMC Nation via email, lengthy, but a great read that I'm sure you can all relate to in some fashion.  Typical, good natured, IWMC behavior.


About seven or eight years ago, a few of my IWMC brothers decided that weneeded to make a road trip to the beach on our scooters.  Work had beenintense for everybody and we needed a few days to unwind.  There isnothing that can unwind you better than jumping on a fire breathing HarleyDavidson with the Gulf of Mexico as yourdestination.  We were going to meet some of our brethren from the SweetHome Alabama Chapter in Dothanand just chill out for a few days.  As our decision to ride was lastminute, we didn't make any lodging arrangements before we left.  Everybodythrew a few things in their saddlebags, and off we went.

It was a beautiful spring day as we started down U.S. 331.  Drop Daddy,Breeze, Heavy, and I were in high spirits as we flew down the countryroad.  Heavy's wife, Ashley, and her friend Lisa followed behind us in acar.  Breeze and I led the way for a while, until we made a couple ofwrong turns and were relegated to the back of the pack.  Our road tripstake longer than the normal driving time, as we always make frequent beer stopsalong the way.  We figure if you are going to the beach, you might as wellprepare yourself for alcohol consumption before you get there.

We arrived in Ft. Walton about noon, and reveled in the warmthand brilliance of the Floridasun as we thundered along the Gulf of Mexico,the azure water glittering and winking its welcome to us.  We located ahotel with a vacancy and pulled in.  As it was between spring break andthe summer vacation boom, the manager offered to give us the penthouse suitefor the price of a double room.  We readily accepted and were amazed atthe opulence of the suite that was ours for the weekend.  It was onthe top floor of the building, and just about encompassed the entire topfloor.  There were four large bedrooms, a big kitchen, great room, andthree baths.  It was very elegantlydecorated; not what you would expect for leather and blue jean clad bikers.

We took in the view of the Gulf from the balcony for a few minutes, thentalked Ashley and Lisa into making a run to the liquor store to acquire therequisite liquor and beer that would be our staple for the next few days. I got in touch with Little Willie, Diesel, and Tank who were still en route tothe beach and told them where to come. Before long, I heard the deep rumble of their hogs as they came downU.S. 98 and turned onto the island.

As they pulled into the hotel, I noticed that Little Willie indeed had awoman on the back of his bike, but she was not the supermodel that he had describedto me earlier.  This woman was short anddumpy, with a very large head.  I lookedon Diesel and Tank’s bikes to see if Willie’s beauty queen might be riding withone of them, but they were both riding solo. Willie got off his bike and hugged me. I quietly asked him, “Who is that bucket headed woman on yourbike?”  He looked kind of shocked.  “That’s my girlfriend that I told you about!”  Oh.  Heasked, “Do you think she has a bucket head?” I back peddled quickly, “No man, I was just kidding.  She’s beautiful.”  Little Willie looked at me in a pained sortof way.  He had obviously picked up on mylack of enthusiasm for his beauty queen. I hugged Diesel and Tank, and introduced myself to Bucket Head.  As we made our way to the penthouse suite, I noticedthat Little Willie kept looking at his girlfriend in a scrutinizing sort ofway.

As soon as we got to the room, all the guys popped open beers, and the womenopted to go sunbathe on the beach.  Thewomen all changed into their swimsuits, and made their way out the frontdoor.  There was a collective gasp fromall the men in the room for two reasons: One was that Lisa looked like a fitness model in her ultra small bikini.  None of us had seen her in anything but veryconservative, severe business attire before that day.  Every man to the last sucked his gut in asshe strutted past us with her large bosom and ripped abdomen.  The second reason was for Bucket Head:  She walked out in a small bikini, but theabundance of extra, over cooked skin that hung over her bikini panties, andwobbled on her body made us all feel slightly seasick.  I looked at Little Willie and saw himsquinting his eyes tightly as he watched his date for the weekend jiggle outthe door.

The guys sat around and drank and joked for awhile until the women came backfrom the beach.  Unknown to us, they hadacquired drinks on the beach, and were slightly tipsy when they returned.  I was out on the balcony, smoking a Marlboroand drinking a Budweiser when Lisa made her way to where I was leaning againstthe railing.  She snaked her arms aroundmy neck and planted a big kiss right on my mouth while smoke still dribbledout.  I was surprised at the turn ofevents as she had never shown the least bit of interest in me.  Drop Daddy had apparently picked up on thiswhen she returned, because he had gone into one of the bedrooms and wasattempting to crawl around the concrete column (Spiderman style) to see whatwas going on the other side of the balcony. I heard some scraping behind me, and just saw Drop as he was desperatelytrying to negotiate his way back to his balcony while steadily losing his grip.  We were ten floors up, and his Spiderman wallcrawling powers were not quite up to the task. We both were amused by the daring voyeur.  I told her to go get ready.  We were all going out on the town.

We all jumped on our bikes,  Little Willie looking more and moreuncomfortable as Bucket Head crawled behind him.  As we were heading for the Hog’s BreathSaloon, Heavy’s Sportster started making a terrible racket.  We bypassed the Hog’s Breath, and slowlylimped to the Harley dealership.  Heavyhad something major league wrong with the bottom end of his engine, so we hadto leave his bike at the shop.  Breezehad left to find some places for us to go that evening.  He came roaring up and proudly announced, “Ihave found the rockingest bar in town! We are going to have a blast!” What we should have realized at the time is that Breeze is a karaokefiend.  “Rockingest bar” means the barthat Breeze can rock with his own crooning.

Heavy had to get on the back of the Gray Ghost with me since his bike wasdown.  His wife Ashley and Lisa were inAshley’s car.  At the time, Heavyoutweighed me by about two hundred pounds. It had to have been a comical sight to see the two of us on my bikeriding through the busiest parts of town, but Heavy had to take it up a notch,and every pretty woman we would pass, he would lean down and kiss me on theneck, or wrap his legs around me.  I hadto laugh, but I knew that I would be ruined if anybody recognized me.  People were already beginning to wonder if wewere an alternative lifestyle club.

It was still afternoon, so we decided to make the traditional stop bySammy’s Go Go Lounge.  As we werecruising along, I heard a loud female voice hollering, “Breeze!  Stop!” We pulled over, as a very tall, attractive blonde haired woman ran up toour group.  She ran up to Breeze andasked if she could ride with him.  Breezeintroduced her as the daughter of the chief of police of a large metropolitanpolice department with which he did business. Breeze runs in higher circles than the rest of us.  He told her to jump on.  She did and we started off again.  We had not gone two blocks till Breeze’s newpassenger started yelping and laughing, and pulling her top up for all thepedestrians we passed.  Breeze had a lookof shock on his face, as he saw a potential disaster looming with the daughterof one of his biggest clients flashing the public on the back of his bike.  We rode post haste to Sammy’s.  When we gotthere, we were politely turned away because we were wearing cut off teeshirts.  They had to be kidding.  We couldn’t come into a go go bar onthe beach because we had cut off tee shirts.  Of course they offered to sell us tee shirts with sleeves for $25.00.  We politely declined.

We tried the Viet Cong go go jointaround the corner, but were met with the sameresistance to our cut off shirts.  Wasthis Americaor not?  Since when can an American notgo to a bar of this caliber without sleeves on his shirt?  We were dismayed, but not beaten.  Breeze piped up, “Let’s go to that bar I toldyou about earlier.  It’s the best placein Ft. Walton Beach.”  We all agreed and went to Breeze’s newfind.  The whole way there, Breeze’s newrider kept whooping it up, and exposing herself to anybody who cared tolook.  I was riding beside Breeze as helooked at me and mouthed the words, “What am I going to do?”  I started laughing, because it washilarious.  It was if the woman waspossessed.  We laughed all the way toBreeze’s new nightspot. 

As we pulled up, we noticed a distinct lack ofvehicles in the parking lot.  There werea couple of older Cadillacs, and a handicapped equipped minivan pulled up tothe building.  Breeze was excited andhurriedly entered the building.  The restof us were more circumspect as we walked inside the dimly lit bar.  After my eyes adjusted to the gloom, Inoticed that there were two elderly gentlemen drinking at the bar, four elderlywomen sitting at two tables, and a very elderly gentleman singing a ConwayTwitty song with the karaoke machine. Not one person in the place was under the age of eighty.

Breeze was not dismayed.  He started talking up everybody in the placeas if he was a game show host and they were all the contestants.  He immediately signed up for some songs andstarted singing and walking around the room like a lounge singer.  The old folks in the place livened up to hisantics, and a couple of them even got up and attempted to dance.  I anxiously watched the old women doing thetwist, expecting one of their hips to break at any given moment.

I looked at Drop Daddy and Heavy, and we all brokeout in laughter.  No, it wasn’t what weexpected, but this was still fun.  Breezewas so into his role as the night’s entertainment that he started flirting withthe old gals.  They were loving it.  He actually talked one of the old blue hairedgals into flashing us.  I about choked onmy drink when she turned towards us and pulled her top up, her ancient breastsdropping to her waist.  This would be anight to remember.

I looked at Willie, who was still lookingunhappily at his date.  She wasn’t havingmuch fun, and was complaining to Willie that she wanted to leave.  He was trying to make the best of a badsituation and asked her if she would dance with him.  She declined to his dismay and continued topout.  Finally, he told her, “You reallyneed to lighten up your attitude.  If Ihad a bucket head, I would be the friendliest person around.”  Once again, I nearly choked.  The look of shock on her face was almostcomical.  Her shocked expression turnedinto one of acid hatred.  She jumped up,called a cab and left.  Willie found outlater that she took the cab all the way to Enterprise, Alabama;a trip of about one hundred miles.  Ican’t imagine what the fare for that ride might have been.

The rest of the night was fun despite the drama.  We all got up and danced with the old girls,and laughed ourselves silly as they all got up and did the “Electric Slide.”  Breeze was right; this was the rockingest barin Ft. Walton Beach.  We partied with the old folks until late, andthen made our way back to the hotel. There were just about enough rooms for everybody, except me.  I crawled onto the couch and drifted off tosleep, an amused smile on my face.  Neverwill I forget being flashed by a woman old enough to be my grandmother, nor thejoy on their faces as they partied with the biker gang.  I titled this blog “Sex on the beach”.  It wasn’t about sex, but I bet it caught yourattention and made you read it, didn’t it?  IWFFIW.