I recently purchased my first motorcycle. I am now the proud owner of a Honda Sonic. Although, right now, it's more of an anti-Sonic. It's another excruciatingly hot Saturday morning, and I'm in my garage working on my ride. Ride. That's a laugh. At least, it would be my ride if I could ever fix the burned out clutch. Fans are scattered about the place, but they're just straining to circulate more of the stale, heavy air. The stereo is loaded with a few CDs of my favorite music to accompany my intermittent cursing. Duke, my old hound dog, lies on the concrete floor in front of one of the fans. I suspect what he'd like to do is dig out a cool spot in the yard under some shade. He knows better. Occasionally, I break from my task, sweat dripping from the end of my nose, and we'll share a knowing look. He won't offer much more than a raised eyebrow, though. This time, however, Duke lifts his head and pulls back his ears. There's a pause, and suddenly he scrambles to his feet and bolts out of the garage. Howling as he runs past the driveway and down the sidewalk. I shout after him, "Duke! Duke! Duke!". I don't get past my driveway before I see what he's excited about. It's Jeff, my best friend since elementary school. He's in a band and just returned from a tour around the world a few days ago. Apparently, Duke missed him. "What are you listening to?," John begins. "A little Maiden, a little Sabbath. You know. The usual." "Excellent! Missed you at Moe's Tavern last night. I met this girl who is just your type." "Hispanic?" "Por supuesto," he laughs. "And?" "So, I see her sitting with a book and I walk up and ask her what she's reading. She says, 'Macbeth. We're studying it in my British Lit. class.' Naturally, I tell her I just returned from England and got to see Shakespeare's home. One thing leads to another, and she's agreed to meet me again tonight." "That's great. You're in town a few days and already back at it." "Don't hate. I'm a drummer. The girls can't resist a musician." He adds the creepy smile to give the full affect. "So, you wanna go with me tonight. She's bringing some friends." Here we go. This is where he tries to convince me to tag along. In my typical noncommittal way, I say, "Maybe." "Maybe?" "No." Redoubling his efforts, "Come on, man, her friends are gorgeous." "That what she said?" "She showed me pictures on her phone. I had to vet them first." This is my life. It seems like we yo-yo back and forth like this every time. I'm much more of the home body and he's the social butterfly. The yin to my yang. It's not so bad, though. Without him prodding me, I might not have a social life at all. Still, I insist, "I'm really wanting to get my bike running this weekend." I go into excruciating detail about how I found the bike, bought it, got it into my garage and torn apart. He patiently allows me to deliver my protestations. He knows in the end, he'll win. He always wins. [to be continued]
She said, as her hair rolled gently with the wind. "You're a Scooter", I replied. She went all I asked her," how did she fit into those jeans". She ghettocheeze faced me and said it was none of my business with a smirk. I was blown away by this beautiful creature, she effortlessly wore a Rockets(circa2k) shirt. Wondering who she was, I asked why she had just gotten dropped off in a van with Casey spray-painted on the sides. She said, "no worries", and handed me the pipe.
