Tag: motorcycle

Mer Rouge (part 7)

Oren floored it northbound, or possibly westbound, out of the Mer Rouge outskirts and onto the moonlit delta bayou. The road signs were riddled with bullet holes and graffiti and failed to provide any sense of direction. Despite this, to the best of his knowledge, he was making a beeline towards the Arkansas border. Yet the priest, noticing the futility of this path as the breeze swept back his greying hair, used the barrel of his .38 to tap on the rearview glass. Keeping his eyes on the road, Oren reached back to slide open the window. “In about 8 miles,” the priest shouted over the wind, “you’ll see a dirt road on the right! Kurtzy Road!”

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“I’m here to save you buddy!”

Behind them, down the straight and narrow road, a gaggle of lights began to flicker. The priest’s eyes narrowed. “If you can get this piece of shit to move any faster, I’d do it!” he told Oren. 

“It’s topped out!”

Then Oren looked in the rearview mirror and saw the lights zero in. There was no outgaining them. From the bed of the Honcho, seeing what they saw, Hutch grabbed the priest’s cassock. “Do you have another gun?!” he begged the holy man.

“No, but we have the upper hand,” he bullshitted Hutch. “If they try to board us, just kick them off!”

But bullets began ricocheting off the bed and the thunderous roar of a legion of motorcycles overwhelmed the cool night air. Hutch and the priest fell flat on the bed and the priest reloaded the .38 chamber. As the bikes drew closer, the hell riders drew their clubs and chains to begin their assault.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Crotch rot

So I was riding my Kawasaki Ninja H2R 7000cc Turbocharged supercharger twin turbo engine V12 down the 605, while lane splitting on a wheelie, when the ass-end of a parked semi crashed into me.

“Hey buddy,” the trucker yelled, “you fucked up my tractor trailer!”

I got up after collapsing on the ground due to internal injuries and shouted back. “Look here asshole!” I said. “I was LEGALLY weaving in and out of traffic when your 18-wheeler was parked on the shoulder! It’s gonna cost $75,000 to repair all the plastic on my bike plus I’ll have to replace the chrome fuel injectors and transmission! A motorcycle like this just can’t take that kind of impact!”

“Fuck your bike!” he shouted back.

Right then, CHP pulled up. “What seems to be the problem here?” the officer asked.

“This mother fucker rammed into my parked semi!” the trucker responded.

I shook my head. “Officer,” I said calmly, “in the state of California, it is plainly legal to operate a motorbike on a suspended license. This gentleman just doesn’t want to take responsibility for jeopardizing the lives motorists like me.”

The officer scratched his head and adjusted his belt. “Well, It appears as though you were driving at speeds that exceeded 200mph,” he replied.

“Don’t you know anything about bikes?!” I retorted. “My RPMs never exceeded 17,000! Meaning that I can achieve a speed of up to 240mph! So I was doing 190, tops! Don’t lecture me on the capabilities of a Kawasaki H2R 9500cc Turbo supercharged turbo twin V12 engine! This isn’t a Honda CBR or a Yamaha R7! Why would I do 190 would when I can easily do 240?!”

Fucking idiot. So watch out for motorbikes on the interstate! My safety is YOUR responsibility!