Yee-hah!
FREE UNION—I’m heading out to meet some folks at Camp Albemarle, the old 1941-era Works Progress Administration 4-H camp that provides a summer home for hundreds of kids and I can’t think of a better day.
Cool breeze, warm temperature and the wind in my helmet. Nope, nothing like blasting the bike down the backroad, leaning into turns that get that tickle going in the middle of the stomach and give the sense of flying, except now I have to turn onto the driveway. No problem. The Blast is a small bike and this is just a dirt driveway with a few dips and rolls and about two feet deep of fresh gravel.
Argh! She’s bogging down. Scottie, give us more power!
Arrgh! She’s sliding to starboard. Less throttle, Scottie!
Arrrgh! She’s falling over, she’s falling over. More throttle! More throttle!
Arrrrgh! She’s going port side! Back it off! All ahead stop!
All ahead stop? What the hell does that mean?
Don’t matter! Just keep it upright!
Wow, that was exciting. It’s even better being as we’re not moving and the painted side is still up. Unfortuantely, the back wheel is buried in gravel and digging me a hole. This is going to be tricky: I’m going to have lift my sorry tukas off the seat, take a Larry Craig-like wide stance and slowly twist the thottle to let the back end lift and slide a little out of the depression. Too fast and I’ll take out my leg on the right and go down on the left. Too slow and I go nowhere.
OK, here it goes. I’m closing my eyes: I can’t watch this.
Hey, I’m out! Dang, I should run motorcross next week, maybe do some of those airbone suicide stunts moves. Or maybe I’ll just creep up the driveway and avoid more gravel traps so I can keep my day job.
It pays for health insurance.
Posted by Bryan McKenzie at 02:23 PM. Filed under: Lunatic Fringe •
