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Shootin’ the Breeze
by
Bummer
Email:
bummer@abate.com
I am writing this after just
receiving an Email from an outraged female who took exception to
a column I wrote for the October issue of this magazine. Every
year for the past 5 or 6 years I’ve written a Halloween story.
This year I neglected to mention that it was just a story. I am
not only saddened by her assault on my abilities as a
responsible journalist [joke], but also surprised that anyone
could have possibly gotten so upset over a harmless Halloween
ditty about a gang of vampire bikers! [serious]. So, to you my
readers statewide and beyond I’d like to state that 1.It was a
fiction written in the spirit of the season. 2.I’m just an old
fat guy from Newton Falls, Ohio and not a member of a band of
blood drinking, flesh eating, vampire bikers, and 3.As I’ve
stated before on numerous occasions, though most
events are genuine, my column is written for entertainment only
and not intended to offend. I’m like the funny
page....Harmless fluff in a world of trouble, confusion, pain
and agony. [joke].
I think the person in
question kinda over-reacted when she threatened to quit ABATE if
I didn’t apologize, but being the avid ABATE supporter that I
am.....I apologize! OK? Now get over it.
A person joins an
organization like this and becomes active, [or simply maintains
membership] to help do something about keeping and expanding our
rights as motorcyclists, to stay informed of the latest
developments concerning our lifestyle, and to support and
enhance any efforts making those interests safer and more widely
known to the non-motorcycling community.
One should not join
ABATE because you like to read my column, because the state
patch matches your genuine biker jacket or because you think it
looks cool to ride with a pack. We are a serious, effective,
viable influence on what happens with your rights as a
motorcyclist, and your best hope against government
repression. And if you think I’m full of it, take a look at
what happens to other states who don’t have our political
know-how.
Also one shouldn’t even
consider quitting simply because one doesn’t like what he or
she reads in the magazine, what any individual officer has to
say, or something even more absurd like what bands play at our
state party.
Regarding my column,
if ever you even think you are beginning to be
offended, simply turn the page! If ya don’t know how to do
that, find someone to help ya figure it out. If however, I get
enough complaints I will gladly cease doing this because I
receive no pay nor do I have an expense account. So, obviously,
you may rest assured that your dues have absolutely nothing to
do with me.
Now, having said all that,
[and probably boring most of you to tears], I’ll see what kind
of trouble I can get myself into this month......
We in Region Zero had a
weekend event held just south of Canton this past summer at a
place called Bear Creek...Being the lazy old fart that I am, I
rented a golf cart from a vendor on the premises for the
weekend. My only chore for the event was to be in charge of the
uh, anatomy contest, a task I’ve done many times and enjoy
doing. Since my job wasn’t security, I was able to party down.
So, most of the time I was free to cruise the 100 acre facility
on my four wheeled machine visiting with old and new friends.
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As I did my duty emceeing the uh, anatomy contest I let a
buddy use the cart. He ended up getting it stuck in the only mud
hole on the whole 100 acre site! When he returned it to me it
was covered in slime and filth.
Later that evening after consuming much Yukon, I took the
cart for a ride, hosed it down a little with water and soon
found myself again hauling a bunch of more buzzed than me
partyin’ folk. As we were riding along somebody on the back
yelled," Turn here!!”, and without being able to see well
in the dark I pulled a 90 degree turn into a deep ditch at full
speed, dumping drunks all over the place!
Since it’s a known fact that God watches over drunks and
fools, nobody was hurt.....but my poor, cart! The steering
column bracket was broken, but since I could still steer the
damned thing we continued on our way and rode around til the wee
hours.
As the sun rose hot and bright the next morning I stumbled
out of my tent, threw some water on my face and went to the cart
for some smokes. Wow!....The front was kinda screwed up, the
steering column just kinda leaned and there was mud all over it.
I was thinkin’, ’Somebody must have stolen my...no..wait! It
was me!!..OH crap!’ And feeling like a fool I rode the thing
back to the vendor smackin’ myself in the head saying stuff
like,”What an idiot!” and “This is gonna cost me a
fortune!”
Fortunately he only charged me an extra $35 after calling
and finding out how much the steering bracket was gonna be. As I
walked away he was shaking his head and mumbling, “Damned
bikers!” I later made sure he wasn’t really mad and found
out he plans on doin’ the same thing next year.
The moral of this story is ya shouldn’t drink and drive
kids, and also maybe watch out when ridin’ those golf carts
unless yer wearin seat belts and helmets! Maybe we should try to
get a law passed! [joke]
**NOTE:**
On October 18th, a good friend, dedicated member, and officer in
ABATE went on his last ride. About 100 bikes rode in his
procession on a cold rainy Tuesday afternoon. Whenever a hand
was needed at a meeting, a function, or just to help keep our
region and county chapter of ABATE movin’ along down the road,
he was always there.
Shorty,
EVERYBODY liked ya! And that says so much my brother. We’re
all gonna miss yer bad jokes and know we’ll be ridin’
together again someday. What time is it up there old
buddy?....You will be missed.
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