Deer In The Headlights - Part II

Deer In The Headlights - Part II - A Ride In The Clouds

Sheriff Lowell stopped his Jeep one hundred feet from the cabin. He sat and stared straight ahead. After more than twenty years he still found himself spending many sleepless nights after performing this part of his duties.

As he approached the door, Susan, a forty three year old ex-dancer appeared in the doorway. Sheriff Lowell started to speak “ I don’t know how too…” Susan held up her hand and stopped him. “Yes, I know “ she said. “I felt it”. Susan motioned for him to sit on one of the tree stumps next to the door. She explained that she had meet Shotgun twelve years ago while working. She rode with him to his cabin one night and they had stayed together ever since. It really wasn’t much of a cabin. Two rooms and a woodstove. But it was all they had needed.

Sheriff Lowell had listened in silence. He was still trying to make sense of what had happened. As he started to speak he noticed a very peaceful look on Susan’s face. “We’re still not sure what happened,” he explained. “When we arrived at the scene, the motorcycle was almost literary wrapped around a tree. There was a pile of bloody clothes on the ground”. He looked at Susan, but her expression remained calm and peaceful. Continuing, the Sheriff said, “But the strange part is there was no body. No bones. No nothing”. We brought the dogs out and they found nothing either. The only thing we found were deer tracks on the soft shoulder. Two sets. Probably a Doe and her Fawn”. The sheriff paused and looked again at Susan. Still no change. “The investigators think that animals took him. I’m sorry Miss”. Susan just smiled and thanked him.

After several moments of silence, Sheriff Lowell said his condolences and headed for his car. Susan sat on the stump and watched as he vanished down the road heading away from the cabin. After the Sheriff was out of sight, she stood and walked toward the cabin. Susan stood in silence, smiling as she watched Shotgun roll the brand-new 53’ Chief, fully packed for the road, out the door and rest it on the kickstand. “Get into you riding clothes” Shotgun said. “We’ve got a three thousand mile ride to do”...

Having served many years in the military, mostly in communist countries, Shotgun was appalled at how Man could treat Man. When he got out he vowed to never harm anyone or anything that could not defend itself. When he saw the deer’s in his headlight, his decision was made. The only way out was blocked by a tree. Shotgun instantly made his peace with himself and headed toward the tree…

As Shotgun approached the Pearly Gates, the Gatekeeper was so taken with his act of unselfishness, that He gave him two options. Option one: He could stay there and ride the clouds for eternity. Or. Option two: Shotgun could return to Earth. But the Doe must take his place, thus making the Fawn an orphan. Shotgun took option one. The Gatekeeper hesitated a moment studying Shotgun, then said, “ Option three it is”. Before he could ask, Shotgun found himself engulfed in a blinding light. Moments later he was in his cabin next to Susan, sitting on his new bike.

The "Last" Thanksgiving

T’was the morn’ of Thanksgiving,
And all through the land,
The chickens were happy,
The turkeys in the pan.

The wigwams were warm,
The children were snug,
The blankets infected,
With the White Mans flu bug.

There arose on the Great Plains,
Such a deafen clatter,
They sprang from their Tee Pee’s,
To see what’s the matter.

They rode on great horses,
All gleaming of steel,
“We are the Pilgrims”,
“And we've got a deal”.

“We are the Natives”,
“And we’ll take your deal”,
“But first won’t you join us”,
“We’ll make you a meal”.

They sat and they ate,
The Medicine Man stood by,
He had such a smile,
A gleam in his eye.

The magic would work,
He had done it before,
The Pilgrims would be turkeys,
Just gobblers on the floor.

The Pilgrims did eat,
They cussed and they laughed,
The turkey was poisoned,
It gave them much gas.

The Pilgrims felt funny,
They couldn't be sure,
They had not seen magic,
No, not nowhere before.

The feathers did grow,
The wings they did sprout,
The Pilgrims were now turkeys,
That’s what Thanksgiving’s about.

There's always one sicko in the bunch. I have no problem volunteering .

Deer In The Headlights

Shotgun knew he was in trouble. The steady spray of oil from the front pushrod tube was a bad omen. He should have replaced the seals weeks ago. But ridding back and forth to work wasn't a issue for a minor leak. Besides, riding was better than wrenching. But this was different. This was a matter of survival. He hadn't planed on running the old Shovel at 100 mph for 35 miles at night with no option of stopping. Shotgun thought about his situation and wondered how in the hell it had happened...

Just another Friday. Get off work. A nice easy putt down to P&G's for a few cold ones and a couple games of 8-ball. Pulling into the parking lot he saw four or five bikes he recognized. After parking, Shotgun noticed about a dozen bikes parked together behind the bar. Walking in the side door he made note of the out of state plates on the unfamiliar bikes. Standing in the door a minute, he nodded to the bartender. The out of state riders were grouped around the pool tables. Shotgun took a stool at the end of the bar with his back to the wall. Ordering a cold one, he sat back to watch the action.

He had never heard of the M/C the strangers wore on their vests. He did notice they all had "OUTLAW" and 1%er patches. After three beers the call of the pool tables finally got to him. The game went pretty quick and Shotgun had won, as usual. The trouble started when the stranger he was playing said Shotgun had cheated and he wasn't paying the ten dollars they had bet. Just then he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Shotgun turned in time to see a fist coming at him. He sidestepped the sucker punch and swung his pool cue. He felt the cue connect and was sure he had broken someones jaw...

The spray of oil was starting to soak through his jeans. Shotgun had no idea how he got out of P&G's in one piece. All he knew now was that he had two, maybe three miles on the pack chasing him. About a quarter tank of gas, a oil leak and thirty five miles to safety. Shit! The red flicker of the oil pressure light caught his eye. Cursing at the dark, Shotgun look up and saw the deer in his headlight...

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So, just for sh*ts and giggles I figured I'd try my hand at a short story. Being inspired by some of what I've read on the Blogs, I thought why not. I've wrote about subjects I know, but never just made stuff up ( except excuses to my wife). I started typing and this is what came out. Any and all criticism, good and bad, would be greatly appreciated. Especially from our resident authors. Thanks.

And The Nobel Peace Prize For Fiction Goes To:

Big D of BIG DADDY'S IDLE THOUGHTS!

Any of you 40 or 50 something biker types that entered this world of two wheels on the kind of great fiction that sprang from the pages of Bike Rags like Easyriders in the 70's and 80's, listen up. Even some of you young snot-noses will enjoy this.

There's a new award-winning writer in town. Check out www.bigdaddynelson.blogspot.com Big Daddy's latest work of fiction, Desert Vengeance, is packed full of bikes, babes, more bikes, good guys, bad guys, brotherhood, respect, deceit, intrigue, suspense and more bikes.

The action is fast paced. The writing is superb. The locations are familiar. The detail is amazing. The story line is 100% factual and believable. No James Bond bullsh*t.

I would recommend to anyone who enjoys a action packed read you can't put down to click over and check it out. While your there, check out Big D's older post. You'll find more amazing works of fiction.

If you've never read Big D's writing before, new to the Blogs, or just surfing the Web and you like what you read, please feel free to leave a comment. If you don't like something, still feel free to leave a comment. Constructive criticism is one of the best tools we should all have the ability to use.

Veterans Day

As this is Veterans Day, I just wanted to say "thank you" to all the Veterans out there.

Sunday Mouring Rant

I don't usually rant or bitch in a public forum, but some of this crap is really pissing me off. This bailout shit is going to far. The government has nothing except what it takes from you. First, a crap load of people sign a mortgage there is no way in hell they can pay and we have to save them. Screw them! Then, big ass banks and mortgage companies get screwed because the above mentioned idiots can't make their payments. Who the fu*k decided to lend them the money? So we have to save them too, while the CEO's are making millions. Screw them too! Now we have to save the Big 3 car makers. Why? They say to re-tool to make more efficient autos. WTF have they been doing with their R&D money? Having party's? Paying billions to the big wigs? Double fu*k'n screw them! Did Toyota and Honda just start doing business here last week? Didn't these asshole see the writing on the wall? If they can't cut it, close your doors. Let someone who knows how to run a business take over.



Would it cost jobs? Probably. Could it cost me my job? Maybe, so be it. It might take 30-40% unemployment before folks start to march on government offices and say "What The Fu*k Are You Doing In There"? Who the hell are you representing? It sure as shit isn't us.



Everybody bitches about these morons in office. So how do you explain 80-90% of them getting re-elected year after year after year? Can you think of one damm thing your Congressman or Senator has done that has made a positive impact on your life? The only thing any of them have done is become a millionaire at our expense! Representative Republic my ass. Most voters are dumb asses. Stop voting for incumbents. One term, your ass is out, period.



And yes, we are to blame also. We let this shit happen. We are just as greedy. Any of you that are union members, sorry but, the modern union is bankrupting businesses and municipalities. Work for 20-30 years. Retire in your 40's or 50's. Receive 75-100% of your pay until you die. Plus full benefits. This is unsustainable and won't last long. Cities are already filling for bankruptcy because of it. Retirees pay is the biggest part of any budget. Where's the personal responsibility's? Where's the incentive to save for yourself? Gone. Cradle to Grave.



I don't know if the American Dream is dead or alive. Or if it's even awake. But I am sure that if we don't stop worrying about every little piss ant county on the earth, and start taking care of us, the US, we're screwed. One, maybe two generations will see a new country. "The United States Of America" will become "The United Socialist States Of America".



Now go for a ride and enjoy the freedoms we still have.

Birthday Present ?

This is the "gift bag" my daughter put my birthday present in the other day. I'm not sure if she was trying to send me a message, or if it was a joke. If it was a joke, I'll have to have a long talk with her mother about where she could have gotten such a warped sense of humor. I do know that I almost could have used it as soon as I read it!

What Do The Bikes Think ?

We here at BS Performance Systems are becoming increasingly concerned that the two-timing and lustful actions of our CFO / HMFIC will only get worse. We have heard all of his reasons and excuses for this type of behaviour. But we want the other side of the story. We want to know what the bikes think.



So after a recent factory demo test ride, we had our chance. We rounded up the test bike, a '09 Street Glide named "Whore". The forsaken "Tramp", a always faithful '08 Street Glide and the cheating, snake in the grass "Dave". We went to a top secret location that no ordinary folks are ever allowed in.



We wanted to know what the bikes thought of their rider. So we interviewed Whore first, then Tramp. They were asked to be completely open and honest. We then showed both the Whore, and Tramp interviews to Dave before he gave us his comments.



Warning! Some of this is very disturbing. The heart and soul of a bike is not something to be toyed with.