“Choppering” Part 2

Met up with Jordan and KBass to ride for the weekend but missed the departure. Wound up doing the first 150 miles solo. Finally caught up with everyone only to run out of gas somewhere between “you got a purdy mouth” and “hey fuck you”.

As I pulled over and stepped on the brake I realized we had bigger trouble. No brake pressure! Turns out my steel brake line had somehow snapped off below the flare and all the fluid ran out. Brought the bike to a stop just across the road for some public golf course.

I decided it was Miller time so I walked across the back 9 and found the club house. Everyone in their Titleist hats and me in sunglasses stinking like a gallon of spilled gas. I couldn’t stop smiling over the strange occurrences that had just brought me smack into the middle of their world. It was fucking hysterical to know that all these grown ass men were obviously uncomfortable with me in the room but too square to say or do shit about it. They didn’t want me there but there I am. I drank until I’d had my fill. Tipped the blonde and went back out to the road feeling like I own the place. Eventually the truck showed up with me sitting sunburnt and grinning like a fool in the ditch grass.

Choppers, man.