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I still bounce


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Ended up in the rainstorm yesterday on my springer. I headed down to Groton, CT. in the AM for a meeting with a client who will remain nameless except to say, if you have benefited from the wonderous effects of Viagra, you can tell Mama that I helped.

On the way home I hit reserve on I-395, so I ducked off to tank up. I'm slowing down to pull in the Sunoco and the kid coming out is nosing into the street way too sharp for me to get in. I swear that pinhead looked right at me and then just hauled out in front. I'm down a couple of gears already so I hit both binders. Too wet and slippery, ass end started rolling sideways so I put my feet down and got off. Bike fell on her side and after the rear tire hit the curb she stopped before she ended up under the car. I did a little bouncing around on the asphalt, but since, for once in my rotten stinkin life, I had my chaps on as well as my heavy leather, gauntlets and a coupla layers of riding in a cold rain stuff, I got off easy except a rectangular bruise on my beltline that is just about the size of a Leatherman case.

Nitwit has no insurance, and probly not two nickels to rub together. Left rear signal light is shot and my rear fender is bunged up but a ball pein and fresh paint will fix that. Otherwise, bike's OK, so after Zippy blubbers his sob story I kicked in his grill and called it even.

After I got back on the highway, I realized that low beam was dead, hi beam worked for a bit but after a few miles that shit out too. I got a little antsy. Raining pretty good, roadspray, and fairly thick traffic, not to mention that little old law about headlight use, but I stayed with it up to Moosup where a bud keeps a pretty good shed for his rides and sure enough he fixed me up with a bulb.

He likes bustin me about the Indian, but he was saying how lucky I was to have been on a hawg with a bobbed fender, what with less sheetmetal to get twisted. Like he said.

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Yaah, Dogg, I know. Thing is, there's about a twenty year lapse on my sheet in Connecticut which coincidentally fits with the twenty years since I changed zip codes..

I dunno if all them old judges are dead yet, but it would be my luck to land up in front of the only surviving peckerwood with enuff synapses snapping to remember my ...uhhh... past indiscretions.

Or maybe I'm just gettin soft.

B'sides, any landing ya walk away from...

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