whadmin

Second Childhood

I passed into my second childhood a while ago, (like 40 years ago),
(I'm 68), and I find I derive wicked amusement from doing all sorts of really stupid sh*t. I have no idea why. It's just this odd compulsion to quietly cause as much chaos & consternation as I possibly can.
It probably reflects some kind of philosophy of life, but I'm sure it's neither exemplary or 'so' terribly 'phisticated'.

I discovered a neat Harley Davidson trick a while ago, and I've refined it now to a fine example of 'senile old fart skulduggery' at its best.
Here's the way it works. It's a bit technical, but the theme is easy.

So the side stand on the newer Harleys have a fail-safe feature. Provided you put it down smartly, there is a 'tab' and as long as it is located between two 'shoulders', you may rest assured that the side stand WILL support your expensive bike. But…
Here's the yummy bit. The bike WILL tend to roll forward just a fraction. It LOOKS terrible, as if a catastrophe is imminent. But it's harmless.

Now you have to combine that with this strategic advantage. Although I've knocked up 28,000 motorcycle chicks in the last two years, I'm getting stiffer. Hold it.
(Did I write “chicks”?  I meant 'Clicks'. As in MILES.)
(Not the noisy, ever squawking, impossible-to-please gaggle).
So anyway, being older, and stiffer, (rolls eyes) (language is SO confusing) I am cautious how I erect myself.
There I go again. Change verb. I'm cautious how I CLIMB on the ladies. (Oh, Gads). (Meaning, my bikes!!)

So to paint you the picture. Busy bar, road house, people sitting outside on chairs. Up the road comes loud bike, travelling quickly.
Everybody looks. Red Road King pulls in. (That's the bike, not the dangerous old geezer riding the bitch).
Pulls to a stop, switches off. People aren't looking, but… they are really. So the Old Guy proceeds with the act. Slowly remove helmet & goggles, and hang 'em from the mirrors. This reveals harmless, bearded old freak.
He smiles. Wishes everybody a good day. Now it's polite for everybody to stare. Big smile. Gotta HOLD the audience.
Now swing down the side stand. YOU know it's locked 'safe'.
But… (whispers).
THEY don't.

Time to further lead your new found buds up the Primrose Garden path. Speaking very slowly, I announce:
“I'm getting to the age, where RIDING 'em is the easy part….”
(smiles)
“It's getting ON and OFF I have to watch…”
(smiles all round)
Guaranteed full attention. Now you gotta move real slowly, swinging your right leg with apparent d-i-f-f-i-c-u-l-t-y over the seat.
(sympathies from audience) ( you can throw in a quiet little groan if you like).
Then… let go of the bars. With your back to the bike.
Obligingly, the Beast WILL lurch a few inches forwards. All on its own.

(Screams, alarm,  wide eyes, people gibbering, jumping up)

I've had the sweetest Clicks, weighing 78 pounds max, darting forward to try and 'catch' an 800 pound Behemoth…

It's fun being an old varmint.