APE HANGERS AND FAST CHARGING BAGGERS.

[boxcarOkie]

Here is something for those who appreciate it.

Staring thru my windshield, I study the road before me intently and wonder, “Have we ever been on this highway before?” 
The old bus purrs like a well kept woman in the dark, and she seems to want to run fast today for some reason.  All her gauges read ...  “normal” temps are low, and no smoke ... I am a fortunate pilgrim indeed.

Checking my numbers I see that I am again exceeding the posted speed limit and I slowly pull my foot up and back out of it.  Having spent too much money lately, it is ill advised to receive a “Safe Driving Award” from Smokie that I cannot afford.  Strange ... The old Hoopie most always, wants to run faster on the back-haul home.  Must be some obscure unwritten rule of the highway or something like that.

Some two weeks out, I find myself knocking down mile-markers faster than a small well organized group of good intentioned ravenous over-eaters.  Who are incidentally, easy to spot this time of the year.  Bobbing and weaving thru the crowds. scarfing down corn-dogs and deep-fried Twinkie's at the annual State Fair.

Sorry, I digress, back to my bus related fantasy.

Glancing to my immediate left I see them.  In my drivers mirror I observe a small band of bikers, the chrome plated Flying Dutchman of our culture, approaching the back of the coach.  I watch them grow larger on my mirror’s horizon.
 

“Bikers!”

I call it out to no one in particular, the youngest grandson runs forward and inquires, “How many are there Grandpa?”  I count six, and report the number to the grinning child. The boy knows what is coming next (this is not his first Rodeo with Grandpa) and in anticipation, he hugs my shoulder, straining to get a glimpse of them in the big mirror. His warm breath on my neck, we both wait in somewhat abated excitement of the dirty deed about to unfold on these unsuspecting Ape-Hanging Baggers, some fifty or sixty-feet back.

The bikers approach, slowly closing the gap, taking their time, occasionally swinging out, looking for an opportunity to pass.  Meanwhile, back at the ranch, we sit in the cat birds seat, my grandson and I, hand on the switch, setting the watery trap.  (Hosing down bikers is one of my favorite endeavors in life.  One of those small quirks of traveling which will cure, temporarily, the boredom of the day.)   

Granted this profoundly strange practice is not much, but it will have to do for right now.

Together the youngster and I watch the Bikers approach the left rear corner of the bus, I reach down and turn on the switch for the misters, and wait for the water to run the 1/2 “ pipe.  In a second or two, the images in the mirror get real busy, I note hands going up to rub eyes or foreheads, women leaning forward to yell at the spouse.

We both laugh (the grandson and I) as they suddenly accelerate and race by looking up at the turnpike window, giving me a dirty look.  Some even saluting a one finger bus tribute in the early afternoon.

Might be worthy of note here, that we all have a responsibility in life.  Being a dues paying member of the Senior Generation, like it or not, is a passage of time.  So for the record:  “Teaching a small child the wonders of life, and at the same time being a grandparent, is an awesome responsibility and I relish it.” 

The sign reads:  “Good Eats!  We have diesel.” 

Thirty-seven miles to the next fuel stop.  Labor Day and fuel again has become a semi-valuable precious commodity in this country.  I will cautiously check the pumps and parking lot for some Harley’s and guys wearing snot-rags on their heads, if they are not there, I might want to pull in and top it off. 

We are as the writer said ... “Miles from Home.”

Leaning up against my Pig Iron Pony who is now gulping copious amounts of fuel and emptying my wallet at the same time, I survey the day.  Not too hot, nor cold, just about right.  Indian Summer the eventual end of summertime is here in the Fly Over States, America’s often forgotten Heartland.  There is the slight whiff of change floating on the air.

Funny how things sneak up on you when you are not really paying attention.

Suddenly I realize that summer has already started to fade in my world.  Even tho I am secretly pining for some winter type weather (cooler temps and shorter days) I am somewhat sad to see summer go.  It has been, after-all, a good year.

Before you know it, it will be summer again.  Providing things work out well, we should be back.  Taking up space and making new friends.  Look for us on the two lanes devoid of trucks, hunting beer guzzling bikers Sturgis bound, free parking at the casino in Lead. 

Wave when you fly by us parked off the road, eating Mama’s fried chicken, or enjoying a slice of watermelon at a picnic table full of flies, in some obscure Rest Area in who knows where.

So here I sit, end of the day, listening to my old bus “talk to me” and all it sez is: I can hardly wait, bring it on. 

Summer fades and time marches on.

Watch those right-handers*.

BCO

*Been gone almost one full year, on my self imposed exile, I note that only four are ignoring me and some actually miss me.  Now that is news right there, yeah, no joke.  Absence does make the heart grow fonder, imagine that.  So, in case anyone is wondering, “there truly is life after Bus boards and the Internet.”  Do not be afraid boys and girls ....  Dive right in ... Come on over to the dark-side, we have chocolate.

[luvrbus]

Welcome back it's been a year and a few days since Sonnie's death and I needed a pick me up

thanks

[boxcarOkie]

Welcome back it's been a year and a few days since Sonnie's death and I needed a pick me up

thanks

Hey, you old coot, how are you doing?  (hahahahaha)  I miss Sonnie too, think of him often and remember the times we shared.  Mike Crouch called just last weekend, said he wanted to check on me (after exhausting all of the ER's in the immediate area). 

Our best to Sonya.

BCO

[Geoff]

What is so great using your radiator sprayers on innocent bikers?  Riding a bike you are in the elements and considering they did absolutely nothing to you in your comfortable bus I can only say you are an asshole, no matter how many friends you have on this board.

--Geoff

[Red Rider]

Great to hear from you BCO. I am one of those poor souls who appreciate your posts.

[Dave5Cs]

Good to hear its still tickin Don. I appreciate your Grandsonish Humor. I can see the sparkling eyes just waitin for the release, LOL
Take care Dave

[RJ]

Welcome back, Don!

Glad to hear that 10S keeps you and your grandson's heart singing!

[Jon]

What is so great using your radiator sprayers on innocent bikers?  Riding a bike you are in the elements and considering they did absolutely nothing to you in your comfortable bus I can only say you are an asshole, no matter how many friends you have on this board.

--Geoff

My guess is Okie has written a piece of fiction. Usually misters are sprayed at the radiator where the water vaporizes, so it appears some literary license has been used to suggest a stream of water was directed away from the coach toward the bikers.

Regardless, calling people names is childish.

[Oonrahnjay]

Great to hear from you BCO. I am one of those poor souls who appreciate your posts.

    Me too.  Good to see you writing, Oke!

[luvrbus]

I just read it as a Don Smith story little fact and a lot of fiction.His writing,jokes and phone calls helped me through a tough time in my life a few years ago and he is my Friend.
Don spends a lot of time and effort trying to make people smile and laugh he deserves credit it cannot always be all about the serious side of life and buses ,lol and I know he has biker friends too huh Van

[TomsToy]

Good to hear from you BCO!  Just checked your web site Tuesday.  Had to chuckle as usual.

TomsToy 

[bevans6]

Earlier this summer a group of Hell's Angels and associated criminal club members were in an accident.  They decided to pass an RV that was waiting to turn left into a campground in rural New Brunswick.  They went to pass as a pack, the way they often ride, one had a whoopsie and nine bikes crashed in the pile-up.  One hit the camper and the rider died.  Driver of the camper was not charged.  Packs of bikers often make silly decisions.  I once saw a pack of around 100 bikers roll past a stop sign.  There were so many of them they naturally stopped traffic, so they just ran the stop sign.  There was a traffic cop down the road pulling them all over.

I've been a motorcyclist (not a biker) for close to 45 years now.

I liked the story, but it reminded me of a too much fact, I guess.  Funny how the mind goes sometimes.

[eagle19952]

Geoff, in real life the story would have had a different ending.

[luvrbus]

Geoff, in real life the story would have had a different ending.


That's true and was just a story 

[Lin]

The story would have been funnier if both he and the grandson were drunk!