11/6/10

Finger Food Friday - Trippin'

Hey all you weirdos, freaks and lurkers the king weirdos back again... So it must be Friday.

Well I've got a fucking brain cramp this week so I'm going to shoot this one of the top of my poisoned brain.

Riding in the early 80's were jam up times for this freak. The harder, louder, faster, the weirder it was - I was in. Pulling up to a gin joint jamming the brakes on and power sliding to a stop made the squares jump for their lives. Skidding to a stop at a stop sign or red light always got the attention of the guy in the cage next to you. Burn outs and wheelies were great for downtown city streets. Rattling your pipes off the tall buildings making the birds fly the coop. I was a true gear banging, wheelie pulling, burn out king. We used to put those little ringer bells from bicycles on our choppers... brake slide up to some chick walking down the street all while ringing the bell - I picked up a bunch of good looking chicks like that, trust me.

That was all kool then but what I remember the most was trippin' every Memorial Day, 4th of July and Labor Day. Trippin' - thats what we use to call it when we all would get together and trip out to some camp ground and take it over for the weekend... draggin' up and down the park streets till the man came an yelled at us. We would just laugh at him.

One of the most memorable Trips.... So, me my brothers Don, Lumpy, Kevin, F & W, Lapper, Richie and any one who could make it were planing a big trip for weeks we all met at Chixey,s Station in the ghetto to plan this event. Well, it took us so long to all agree on were to go we couldn't find a camping spot - they were all booked up. My ol' man worked for the city tourism department so I rang him up and he hooked us up with a little known camp ground run by Indians. We rolled in with about 4 or 5 choppers and these kats were really diggin us. I thought, we'll see if they still like us tomorrow. All we had was one tent and a couple sleeping bags. No booze and no dope. The chicks were getting things set up while me, Don and F & W took a walk.

While we were out we came up on some hippies... all set up... they invite us in. Man, these freaks had it going on. Big tent, fire, booze, dope and clams. Man, I'm digging the scene.. smoking their dope, eating their clams.. when one of them asks me if I like Jack - well fuck yeah! They were eating clams with a shot of Jack on them - good shit man. After a little while hanging with the hippies, we head back to our little corner of this world and I load up my chick and take her for a putt around the park. While we're out we run into a couple of Injuns. I'm surprised but they are both diggin on my chopper. One of the asks me if I get high... what do you think I said? Fuck yeah man! Next question is "You like coke, man?" Fuck yeah! So, he turns us on to a couple of lines... good shit, too. He says you want any let me know. I couldn't say it fast enough "shit, swing by our spot in the woods on your way back through" I told him.

At about drunk-thirty the drunken biker games began - burn outs, wheelies all the favorites... We had about twenty or thirty people at our spot and it was all good UNTIL the reservation cops showed up from over the hill. Seems they could hear us over there and were not happy about it at all. They told us we had to stop what we were doing right then.

We gave the camp site a little break and decided we'd hit the local town. In the midst of all the drunken stupidity my ol' lady passed out so I packed a hippie chick, in her place. The town bar was really happening... there were bowling lanes, people were dancing like Fred and Ginger... then my new found hippy chick looks at me and says "you want to do some acid?" My standard answer - fuck yeah, man! I eat the blotter and wait for the ride to begin. It's about a 45 min ride back to the camp and I'm still not getting off yet.... until about half way back... then it hit. I start feeling the effects of the blotter right about when everyone starts racing for the finish line. We are doing about 65 mph when I missed a turn and hit the shoulder and lost traction in the rear, with the hippie chick stuck to me like a fly on my glasses we go down. This fucking wacko chick won't let go of me its not until we come to a rest on a hill that she loosens her grip on me. I jump up run to where my chopper was heading.... At this point everyone realized what happened and they are looking around for me and what's her name. I thought to myself I got em now. Like a mad man I jump out of the woods screaming at the top of my lungs. I scared the living fuck out of them all. It's at this point that I realize that when your trippin' and you get an adrenalin rush you don't sober up you get higher. We, or should I say my brothers surveyed the bike for me because everything was just too funny for me to look concentrate. The hippie chick comes stumbling out of the woods crying and bleeding, Oh, this aint good I rember thinking, but it turned out to just be a small cut on her forehead. Somehow we loaded up and I made it back to the camp site even though everything was wacky....

When we finally get back to our spot in the woods, I find out from the others that stayed behind that my ol' lady split - fuck her! The only problem was that she had all the cash - great. Oh well.... So I bed down the hippie chick for the weekend, go home and pack my shit and split from my now x-ol' lady.....

Just another Trip....

Gear bangin', rubber burnin', wheelie king

FINGERS

For me I'm all for the cause, let's keep it alive and if I dont see you in this world, I'll see you in the next and don't be late...................



2 comments:

lifeisfuct-diekruzen HEAVY KLOTHING said...

RIGHT ON!

GeekDublD said...

yeah fingers, dig these stories man, keep em up.