Motorcycle humor hit my life at the very moment of purchase

After all, it had to be motorcycle humor. Otherwise, what biker in his right mind would go to Sturgis, South Dakoa, to buy a SUZUKI? Sure, the Sturgis Rally is open to all riders whether their scoots are made in Milwaukee, Japan, Germany, or cobbled together with a welder in somebody's garage.

But we all know Harley Davidson is King at the Rally. The other bikes are tolerated, not really celebrated. So I had to laugh at myself, even as I signed the purchase papers for my new Suzuki 1400 Intruder. Though that Suzi was an awesome bike my hardcore Harley-lovin' wife made SOUND a bit like an H-D, it was definitely rice burner all the way.

The biker humor gods weren't done laughing at me yet, though. Not by a long shot. It was only twenty-five miles between the store and another, larger facility in Rapid City where I intended to buy a windshield and a few other things.

Cloudburst all the way.

No leathers, no goggles, freeway slick with oil and rain, my first time on a bike in nearly ten years, and a hitchhiker on the back. Yowza. Just surviving that was enough to make me want to giggle hysterically.

Did I mention I'm certifiably insane?

The next incident occurred at a truck stop. As I pulled in, I noticed a young lady lounging outside the cafe. She asked for a ride, which I was willing to provide...except that it turned out I was not going in the direction she'd hoped for. Cash donation? No way. I offered her a meal, though, and she accepted. Or so I thought.

(For supplements to help you feel like riding forever, click on the Intruder!)

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You stood there at the truck stop
Looking friendly, looking good
Asking for a ride or cigarettes or even food
You gladly tagged along when I headed for a booth
Then you headed for the restroom
That's the last I saw of you

You said your Daddy waited
At a truck stop down the road
And he'd be disappointed
If you never even showed
I can understand your Daddy
If he had to deal with you
I've known you twenty minutes
And I'm disappointed too!

What's your story? Where'd you go?
Did they flush you down the drain?
Is there any way to know
What's going on inside your brain?
Did you meet a UFO or a dealer in cocaine?
What's your story? Where'd you go?
Don't try to blame it on the rain!

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Publisher's note: The above poem actually started out as a song. In fact, it was the song our band used (when I had a band) to open our first set on our gigs. Why did the young woman take a powder? Was it truly motorcycle humor, such as her being afraid to ride the bike as a passenger in the rain, or something else?

I'll never know.

Thanks for reading,

Fred

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