The Wheat and the Chaff
03.04.07
One Saturday, a while back, having had lunch with the daughter and little woman in Port Aransas, I decided to ride around the bay and see what was what, and what was not what. As I was waiting to turn onto the ferry landing a couple of over burdened metrics pulled in ahead of me. I pulled up next to one, nodded, howdied, and commented on the glorious weather. After a mere nod the fellow pulled away from me and up next to his bud. Hmmmm….
Now, I don’t look like some movie archetype of the death dealing motorcycle bad guy, so why the snub? After all the stuff I’ve read about “real” bikers-riders-motorcyclists lately, I guess I just expected a little camaraderie.
As we pulled onto the ferry I noticed Illinois tags on the bikes. Well, snowbirds aren’t known for being the warmest people (pardon the pun), so I blew if off and followed their big slow asses into Aransas Pass. There, we turned in different directions and I got into enjoying the ride back to town.
[The passing of a few hours found our hero in Corpus Christi, waiting on a traffic light, hugging the center stripe.]
So, I’m waiting for the light to turn when I hear the unmistakable rumble of a Harley-Davidson engine coming up the street behind me. I’m waiting for an appearance in my rear view when she rolls up next to me, instead.
Bedammed if her pilot wasn't one of the homeboys, bottle cap helmet, tats up both arms and big grin on his face.
He obviously knew just how great it is to be alive and in Texas and riding a motorcycle, in his case, a slick H-D.
That scoot was shining like a diamond in a goat’s ass as he pulled up, looked over at my dusty Honda Valkyrie and said, “Man, that’s a beautiful bike!” I felt that it would be less than neighborly of me not to compliment his ride’s eye-pleasing metal flake paint (“Dragonfly”, he said it was).
Since we were both turning right, when the light changed I told him to go first. Watching him hard gunning the bike toward a side street while giving me a backward wave made me think that perhaps this wasn’t his first rodeo.
I rather feel there’s a point, here, somewhere.
