I Am Jealous After All

While I was in my backyard working on one of my wife’s godawful honey-do projects, a couple of mostly bald, scroungy pony-tailed, noisy and blatantly incompetent Hardly goobers fell over in the driveway of the abandoned dump next door. For some reason, one of the geezers felt the need to adjust something, probably his truss, in this very large and pretty damn flat driveway and instead of parking he decided to fall over “Laugh-In Tricycle” style. The other Willy Nelson-wanna-be followed his bro into the driveway, bumped into the first downed bike and fell over in the opposite direction with his pony tail dangling well into the outside tire track on our country road. I listened to them bitch and moan and struggle to get out from under their hippobikes and after about ten minutes they were back in Greasy Rider mode and on their way to the nearest bar. Not only did they not look even a little embarrassed during the whole episode, but they kinda had that arrogant, biker-badass scowl on their faces as they wobbled down the road.

I, for one, am jealous. If I were that oblivious to how ridiculous I look, I’d fuckin’ wear a Speedo to the damn grocery store. Nothing else. My wife said if she had that kind of self-confidence she wear a see-thru blouse and a mini-skirt to City Council meetings. These guys really think people are looking at them thinking “Wow! That dude sure is cool!” Trust me, they aren’t especially if they have shout to hear themselves think.

I know bikers think I look like a “fuckin’ spaceman” in my Aerostich gear, but who cares what they think? They are more often bloody grease spots littered all over our country roads and city streets, so their sense of style is mostly a comedy act as best I can tell. But it is hard to top that kind of oblivious confidence.

This entry was posted in aging, biker culture, cruiser, motorcycle, noise. Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to I Am Jealous After All

  1. Doesn’t sound like they’ll be wrapping up the tasks and knowledges questionnaire for their “Responsible Motorcycling” merit badge*, to turn in for review by their Scoutmaster anytime soon. With their neckerchief properly ’round their neck, and scout cap folded, once, laidnon their lap…

    Tim

    * There wasn’t such a merit badge. But, I did happen to pick up and re-read the 1949-issued “Bicycling” merit badge booklet from the BSA last month, and was left sighing at how far we’ve slid from “responsible citizenry” to “self-centered consumerism” as a social order. Bet those two “riders” don’t know their knots, either. Except for the ones they tie themselves up with in excuses**.

    *Most apropo definition of late: Excuse. The skin of a reason stuffed with a lie.

    Liked by 1 person

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