Skip to main content

I'm Not the King of Kool

Fellow BFE riders, from left, Carrie, Cool Neighbor Tim and Dave.
Our bikes, from far end to closest: Mike's, Kevin's, Tim's and Dave's.

You know how some people are just cool? They probably work at it but they have perfected it so well that it looks effortless. Neighbor Tim is cool. He looks cool. He acts cool. He talks cool and I think he's one of those guys who was probably fairly cool, or on the way to cooldom even when he was 13.
Well, I agreed to go on a poker run yesterday. Its one of those things where you sign up at a bar and then travel to 5 or more places and get your card stamped at each stop. Along the way is the enjoyment of riding a bike, having a little adult refreshment, maybe a little food and lots of camaraderie. At the end of the ride (back at the bar you signed up at, they have some food and drink and you draw a poker hand. Best hand wins and so on.
Well, I am not cool. Never have been. Way too shy, way too backyard, way too uncool. My first oh-so-not-cool move was to insist on wearing my helmet. Now, you see, we bikers are aware of the high-risk nature of riding these machines. Some, or rather a few-OK, so I was one of only 3 out of 30 bikers wearing a helmet, consciously decide to risk the snickers of our fellow bikers. Oh, they'll politely say, "No,man, that's cool." Which means that it is not. Wearing one may get you a safety award but in the Harley world of biking, helmets are for newbies, bankers, football players, or the truly square.
So from the start I was a marked biker. Nice bike, cool bike, but the rider might as well have been Pee Wee Herman.
My next slick uncool move was to forget that Kawasaki built in to these machines a mechanism that will not allow acceleration if the kickstand is down. Of course I have known this for years. Had a 96 Kawasaki for 6 years and have had this one for almost as long. But every once in a while I forget.
Our first stop was in Mathersville and after we got our cards stamped we revved our bikes and pumped the handle to hear our pipes. And then we follow the leader, one-by-one out into the street. Only the goofy looking rider with the helmet seemed to be having a tough go with his bike. Wouldn't accelerate. Rev it up, put it in gear and then it dies to a whimpering stall. Much concern from the other bikers, muttering things like, We'll stay here with ya," and "we won't leave you here alone." And then, Cool Neighbor Tim comes over and gently whispers, put your kickstand up. See what I mean about cool Tim? Of course that was the problem and off we all go. I swear I could see shoulders bouncing up and down with laughter from the others, but then maybe it was my imagination. Either way when you aren't cool and then feel silly, it makes for a tough uncool day. By the way, at the first stop sign after that debacle, Cool Neighbor Tim comes up alongside me and says, "Hey, Mikey, I've done that before." Yeah, I'll bet he has, but then he would have done it in such a cool way.
Anyway, we all had a great time, it was a nice day and no, nobody in our party won anything. Didn't really have to since it was a fun time.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Flashback Friday

Class, Or Lack Thereof The Dwight Vice gravestone in Oquawka, Illinois. I bring this old chestnut out every so often just to remind me that class is classless.  Dwight Vice was killed in his home near Oquawka in 2001.  It was one of those things that can generate crime:  two guys thought Dwight had a lot of money stashed at home because of his pot-selling sideline to supplement his fishing job.   Not really one of those big drug deals gone-bad things.  Marijuana was, according to the trial, about the only stuff Dwight sold.   But these two guys barge into the house and killed Dwight and attempted to kill his 11 year old kid, Darryl, before they took off with what money they could find.   His son, now 23, was stabbed in the back and left for dead.  He survived and is wheelchair bound and has undergone several surgeries to repair his wounds.  He will be paralyzed for life.   None of this is pleasant.  Reading the f...

The Mary Davis Home - Part 2

None of these pictures were taken by me,  they came right from the MDH website.  I am posting these so that friends who have never seen inside where I worked can gain access.  After 27 years I have many stories, tales and acquaintances.  But, I wouldn't know how to express them appropriately in a few paragraphs.  I enjoyed 98% of my stay there and hope I made a difference in the lives of a fraction of the kids who entered.  The original MDH at this site was just the front part.  The large red-roofed area in back was added on in the 90's. This is the Jerry Carlton library.  It was unofficially named after one of the counselors who truly loved the place.   He passed away around 2002, I think.  Mr. Farber looks like he is explaining a few things to a client. The classroom. Activity area with the gym behind the windows. Another shot of the classroom. It was a little different area to teach since we had 2 classes and 2 teachers i...

Flashback Friday - Cold Case - Part One

53 years ago today, Gordon "Peel" Duncan walked into the dark post office in Seaton Illinois and was brutally assaulted by an individual or individuals.  He died two days later.  The murder was never solved.     Gordon Duncan was one of the publishers of the Seaton Independent, a weekly newspaper in town that started in the late 1800's and stopped publishing in the 60's.     We  boys were just young children when this took place, but we have been fascinated by it ever since.  The imagination of kids, I suppose or maybe the fact that it was unsolved.  Regardless, this was a big deal in our little lives.  For our parents it tended to shatter the idea that Seaton, our town, was safe.  That it could fend off the forces of evil in the world, that in our little universe we would be impervious to harm was gone forever.  For us kids I don't suppose we were old enough to know real fear.  Fear for us was not getting our list ...