Pulled off to the side of Route 3 - the first shade I've seen in miles. Sitting there was a mtorcyclist named Tim, trying to pack his bags more efficiently. Nice guy, this Tim. Imagine the actor Chris Cooper with a well-trimmed Fu Manchu.
Boy does he ever have a sweet ride, a nice sleek BMW cycle. He said he bought it four months back, and hasn't gotten on his Harley once since. I told him about our trip, how everybody's been generous and welcoming to us, and he got a real kick out of it.
Back in '78, after he got out of high school, he drove his motorcycle from his hometown in Missouri out to Texas. He referred to this time, sarcastically, as "the good ol' days," back when you got the evil eye if you rode a motorcycle and/or had longish hair.
This one time, he wasn't even on a bike - he had bought an old beater of a station wagon, and was driving across the Panhandle with some friends, "smoking dope and seeing the country".
But then a cop car came up behind him and popped on the cherry lights. Tim pulled over, and the cop sauntered up to the window, hefting up his belt, and called to his partner, "Looks like we got some hippies here!"
The officer made him get out of the car, and gestured to a yield sign behind them. "I don't know how you hippies do it in Missouri, but here in Texas we stop at stop signs." "Yessir," Tim replies, "but that's a yield sign."
"I said, that's a stop sign!" the officer shot back, putting his hand on his holster.
Present-tense Tim says to me, "Now, I was stoned, but I wasn't stupid. I said, 'I do believe you're right. How much do I owe you?"
Forty-five dollars, cash.
The end.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment