As of of you know who have viewed my profile I ride a Harley. I love Harley. I have owned 17 Harleys. I have restored 7 Harleys. I have customized numerous Harleys because as well know a Harley is a work in progress no matter how long you own her. I have owned many other bikes including a Hurricane 1100r that was impounded by the FEDS (long story and not gonna go into it here) and a few European bikes. I do 90% of the work on these bikes myself and take great pride in doing so. I am no master mechanic but I can and will figure out a way to get her home more often than not without the aid of a truck or trailer. I do not believe anyone should own a bike without A: a good motorclub affiliation B: a Workshop Manual and the knowledge to be able to understand it C: The needed tools to be able to do routine maintenance on the bike yourself (no one will take care of your bike like you will). I preach these things to anyone who asks my advice before or after they buy a bike no matter what the brand is. This is a story about a guy without a clue.

I went to an indoor bike show last year here in Evansville hosted by The Wild Ride ( should change the name to The Yuppie Starbuck's Cruising Assholes because that is what founded it) and went nosing around to find deals, leathers, and take some pictures. I was craving being on my bike and due to the weather (snow, freezing rain, and ice - not cold temps because I will throw my leg across a bike at 32 degrees if I feel the need to ride) I was'nt going to be riding anytime soon. A buddy of mine went with me and had recently purchased a V-Star after not having a bike for over 20 years and wanted to pick up some custom stuff for his ride and in search of a deal we went. I am a camera hound, if there is a good lookin ride or a pretty lady around I will fill up a memory card on camera faster than a nympho can change the batteries in her vibrator. I was workin on my need for photos when I got behind a couple "good ole boys" checkin out the paint schemes on some bikes and overheard thier conversation. Now I am not one to eavesdrop but the way they started their conversation out I hadda stick to it.

"I own a GoldWing, I never check the oil; only them dirtbags on them Harleys have to do that" This brought a lil good old fashioned pride to the surface and I wanted to shove a set of forks up the guys ass and shake his hand but I kept my cool. "I have ridden more miles on a Honda than most of these cocksuckers ever will on a Harley and have had fewer breakdowns than their rattle traps could ever get by with" At this time I had graduated from a set of forks up his ass to the nearest power plant in the swap shop area. "I just ordered a new Shadow and had it fully set up with everything on it you can put on one of these jerkoff's bikes and paid half as much. Gonna do a custom airbrush on the tank that says Hardly A Davidson and see what these cavemen think then." At this point I was ready just to grab the nearest bike and plant it on him like a deer on a hood ornament but I stopped and just kinda shrugged it off. People have opinions and they are entitled to them just as I am and besides the roller girls had made it out on the show floor and nipples were hangin out everywhere. I started chasin tail instead of assholes.

Like Ron White says "I told ya that story to tell ya this story", I was riding this past summer on a particularly beautiful day and everybody and their brother was out on scoots and in the wind. I used to work off-shore rigs so I love the water and always end up at the river or an area lake for my mid-ride break. Being that it was a beautiful day and the Evansville Boat Plaza is usually covered with lovely ladies running, walkin, jogging, or just laying in the sun I went there to girl watch and drink my Dew and smoke...life was good. I had been at the river about 20 minutes when I heard a few bikes coming and by the sound of it none of them were Harleys and one of them was sick. I try to be a good guy and help whenever I can (usually turns out bad for me but what the hell I believe in being a good neighbor) and figured if they stopped near me I would help. The bikes came down the ramp and into the parking lot and ended up about 20 feet from my Harley and parked. All of them got off and was checking out my bike but one guy who was scratching his head and trying to figure out why his bike sounded like it was about to explode internally.( I mention at this time just for giggles none of his buddies seemed to interested in helping him they were too busy checkin out my bike and fondling themselves). Having finished my Dew and my smoke i walked over to the old boy and asked if he needed a hand. As soon as I heard him speak I recognized his voice as the "better then the Harley riding dirtbag bastards" asshole from the bike show. This was gonna get good, thank you God with moments like these I know you exist. H etellsme his bike just started making funny noises and he can't figure out why the bottom of the motor sounds like a woodchipper with a Buick in it. I chuckle to myself and ask "not to sound like an asshole but have ya checked the oil level?" "Yepp, just had it serviced this morning and I rode it from the dealer to home and then to here so somewhere in the neighborhood of 30 miles I guess" "Did you actually pull the dipstick and check it though after they serviced it?" "Pal lemme tell ya something, I ride a Honda I don't have to check the oil every 20 minutes like the guys on Harley's do." I said okay and started gigglin inside and felt all warm and fuzzy, anyone who has ever had a bottom end come apart on them will never forget the sound it makes and hears it in their nightmares. I acted like I was truly concerned and curious as to why it was grenading and looked over the bike for 20 minutes looking at stuff that had nothing to do with the actual engine and intentionally calling the parts by the wrong name to see if this guy would catch on or not. He never did, and I laffed inside til I peed a lil. I finally pulled my rag offa my head and scratched it trying to look as un-intelligent as Cooter on the Dukes of Hazzard and told him as staright faced as I could "I dunno". I lit a smoke offered him one and then offered him my zippo with a huge pewter Harley emblem on it. He enever noticed the lighter and that added to my enjoyment of the whole situation. I stood and smoked my cigerrette and stayed as straight faced as I could while watchin him fume over his buddies checkin out my bike and every other Harley parked in close proximity and touching themselves like death row inmates with a new Hustler.

I could'nt take it anymore and showed him he was out of oil and had just baked his engine to a crisp and reminded him of his conversation at the bike show that I had been witness too. I patted him on the back walked to my bike pulled the dipstick and checked my oil and said as loud as I could "Hey pal mine is full" fired my bike up and rode off into the sunset. Sometimes the smallest things mean so much like watching him kick his bike in my rearview and more than likely break his toe....Gotta love them tennis shoe wearin riders on them Hondas.......

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