We pretty much sit around on the porch of the bunk house all day long Friday and most of Saturday watching the attendees roll by. There were a few biker games played. One was called the Biker Triathlon, were a person had to run on foot a few yards, then hop on a bike and race to the river, where they exited the scoot and dove into the icy cold water and swim about 100 feet to a waiting canoe. It was pretty evident who would be winning this contest as was entered the little muscle man himself, Flip. But wait a minute, a late entry that we all know and love signs in, it’s Bean’re.
This could get interesting. Sure enough, these two won their heat races, with Bean’re crashing his motorcycle (high sided it) right before the water entry. He was going way to fast and had to lay the bike down to keep the 700pound vehicle from taking a plunge into the dark waters, but in his effort to keep his faithful steed out of the brink, it high sided and threw him off. Bean’re about made the exit look cool until his cowboy boot got caught on a slab of concrete, thus tripping him and causing him to do the old “parachute roll”, which caused our buddy to break his thumb. As he looked back at his still running bike, laying on it’s side with a fresh new dent in the gas tank, he said “That doesn’t look good”, and then he jumped into the river and swam out to the rubber boat.
I reckon because Bean’re went through all that, Flip and the other heat winners decided to declare him the champion. Yep, he deserved it for sure.
We did get off the porch long enough to take a ride into a small town to check out the local bar scene, and happened up on a place called Donald Ray's Brother's Place (that was the actual name) selling $2 PBR’s so we camped out there for a couple of hours, and got buzzed up enough to leave in a cloud of glory, like maybe 80 MPH front tire to rear tire for about a mile, when we passed a local policeman head on. Needless to say he wasn’t happy. As Jeremy and Willie slowed down for the inevitable azz chewing and ticket, Tinman and I went on, (honestly we never saw the man).
After following the two for about 4 city blocks, the cop decided it wasn’t worth it (I guess) and turned off, allowing everyone back there to breath a deep sigh of relief, and of course we learned our lesson and stayed pretty close to the boundaries of the law on the way back to camp.
After we took back up our perches on the porch we kind of got a kick out of watching these real young dudes constantly circling the campgrounds, which was about a 1/2 mile in circumference. These cats just kept riding around in circles and then they would tote another dude with them, and I mean this went on all day, always going in a counter clock wise path. The funny thing to me was they all looked like Amish people. Weird hats ontheir heads, beards but no mustaches, brogan shoes. I mean they could have loaded up in a horse drawn buggy and put on some handmade denim pants and shirts and fit right in with the Amish folks I know in Ky.
But as the booze begin to affect their sense of direction, that decided to ride the well traveled road in the opposite direction, clock wise. We sat there and watched as they first begin riding in the new direction solo, then two up, then at times three up, and the darker it got the more confused they became as they decided to add a little speed to there “buzzing” the campground, and that was a mistake.
They missed one of the turns and about crashed into all of our bikes, sitting in front of the bunk house. Now a few of our sleds are real nice rides (excluding mine), and before I knew it Buttas and a handful of my buddies were chasing down these wild eyed Amish biker looking dudes, of course all my friends had to do was jog across the field (about 50 feet) to catch them. I mosied on over to watch the fireworks, which wasn’t much, but I think the younguns learned a lesson and then settled down to just listening to the music for the rest of the night. All in all they were very, very cool.
I left Sunday morning to come home and it was a good ride. Again I rode the back roads and stopped at the Mom and Pop’s gas stations and eateries. I could write more I guess, but I figure you get the drift of how I like to roll. Though health issues have slowed me down some, I am always looking for others of like mindedness that want to leave our zip code, to take a trip. Keep me in mind the next time you pull out for a “good” ride.
God Bless, Cochise