Bacon in the morning
I was primarily raised on a farm
We cooked on a wood stove.
We raised our own hogs
We cured our own bacon
There was and is always a pot of bacon drippings beside the stove
The smell of bacon in the morning, is just the most welcome
I can smell it 50+ yards away outside
April 28th 1968 was a rainy spring day.
Don’t all good stories start on a rainy day?
That Monday I’d gone into the local Bultaco dealer to get a new Pursang for the upcoming racing season.
Right next to the line of bright red Pursangs was a tiny Metralla, 200ccs, 166 lbs, low bars, ironing board seat. My nostrils flared, my mind raced, zoom-zoom-zoom. I bought one of each. Why not, my wife is in drug rehab, my kids are in foster care because the powers that be decided I couldn’t care for them and work too.
Fast forward to Friday.
I finished working, put on a sweat shirt a pair of bib overalls, a rain suit, and my brand new “Bell Star” and my “Mike Hailwood” goggles. I’m ready to speed in the rain. Hoopy-Doopy. Going fast in the rain is so cool. I crossed Minneapolis, Saint Paul, up hwy 35 to Stillwater. This little son of a bitch between my legs is too damn sweet.
On the edge of Stillwater I make my last turn, one more mile to go I thought. Now I’m cold. Roll the throttle to the stop and catch 5 gears zoom-zoom-zoom. Without a moment to react a 55 ford comes out from behind a UPS style van. Throttle is still locked. Hit that piece of crap right in the middle of the left front wheel. Took the bars and part of the cables with me. Flipped through the air 200 feet, over and over like a rag doll. Landed flat on my front with those bitty bars still in front of me.
I laid there quite a while thinking, “sure takes a long time to die”. After a few minutes I think “guess I’m not dieing”, so I start checking the condition of my condition. My right arm doesn’t work too well, but I can stand up, “COOL”. I walk over and look at the bike, “turned to crap”, “front wheel is stuck up on top of the motor, below the gas tank”.
I walked over to the ford. A sort of medium nondescript girl in her early 20s is standing there. I ask why’d ya run the stop sign? She mumbles something. I say “ya half wit bitch look what ya did to my bike, and I think I’m hurt”. She starts sobbing and runs over to her house and gets her husband. He comes out and throws my helmet on the ground from the fender of his Ford. “What did you call my wife?” I say “hold up there, first pick up my hat, and second, I’m hurt not dead”. I further go on to say “I’m going to heal and you’re still going to be a stupid cock-sucker and you’ll not want me bein pissed when I get right”
About that moment a cop walks up and advises me not to go on with my threats as he’d be a witness to my utterances.
Well neither of the car owners was licensed, the car wasn’t licensed, nor insured. They didn’t have a pot to piss in. The local hospital couldn’t handle my injury. I called my brother and asked him to get us a six-pack of Schmidts beer and drive me down to the good hospital in St. Paul.
So Demerol and Minnesota “STRONG” 12% beer got me to St Paul.
Before I go on with this story, someone has to get me another drink. Who’s it going to be?
The angel on your left shoulder and the demon on your right are duking it out.
What are they fighting over?
How’s about we switch this up and say Oprah on one shoulder and Jerry Springer on the other.
Then they’re fighting for ratings.
They’re contending for the condition of my gray matter/mush.
They want my money for their particular sponsors.
They’re not fighting for my soul, I take them to Nevada City shoe repair.
My guess is that they just ran out of some place to be.
This planet is horrifically overpopulated.
Nother one of them wide open Plinky Planks
What is the purpose of getting attention:
Second helping
Money you don’t have coming
Telling someone they’ve parked on your foot
Money you do have coming
Play my favorite song
Telling someone that they might have dressed in the dark
You’re trying to catch a ride
You’re trying to hustle a drink
You’d like them to go have sex with themselves
You need medical help
You’d like their vote
You’d like to get laid
So that I could experience firsthand people sitting in them on both sides of the aisle, people in front of the aisle lying, cheating, and being disingenuous without even flinching.
Not doing what we’d like to think they are or are supposed to be doing. Guiding the United States into a really good place for all.
Oops, dreaming again.
Sorry
I cuss this place every time something breaks.
I cuss this place every time I have to shovel snow
I cuss this place every time one of my neighbors thinks they have to run a backhoe for 6 days
I cuss this place every time a neighbors dog barks for 6 or seven hours
I cuss this place
I cuss this place
It is 6 acres in the Sierra Nevada
It has a perfect west by southwest sunset
I has hundreds of 100 foot Pines, Oaks, and Perfume Cedars.
It has a resident population of white tail deer and wild turkeys and California quail etc
It is a posh penthouse overlooking Central Park.
I am a whiner
As long as we have adequate cookies we'd be ok.
If not he's going down
Fortunately mom taught me to bake cookies whilst just 8
Oatmeal
Oatmeal choc chip
Chewy Oatmeal raisin
Peanut butter
Sugar
Pecan sandies
Date raisin
Peach clips
Rum raisin
Anyone game
Me n Cookie boy will be OK
