The World

 I ride, that's what I do. I love it; my favorite thing in the world! I love my bike; my other favorite thing in the world. Sunday, 2/20/2011, I rode with The Chaney Gang to the world. Oh yes, we rode to THE WORLD!

 In the biker community, when you ride with a group of folks you don't know, it's different than say, being stuck in an SUV with 5 other people for two hours with no stops. You're not with the guy who farts incessantly or that bitchy woman who won't shut the **** up. No, none of that, you are on your own ride. Just you and your passenger; if you happen to bring one. It makes for a great day and better friends. Think about it, in the car with two people you do know for a few hours has it's awkward moments. Traveling in close quarters with some you don't could make for a miserable trip. We've all been there. I think that's why bikers are...Bikers! 

 Women always have to pee and bikes need gas. It's a rule. So,we pit frequently. You get to know one another at each stop. It may be sharing a traffic story or scooter malfunction that happened along the way. (And yes, I had my yearly malfunction on the Chaney ride; my saddle bag popped open in 75mph ass heavy traffic; at least I didn't drop the bike this year). We mantasize over the chrome on our scoots. We trade money saving tips. The more we talk the more we get to know one another. 

 Our right foot would land in the Vicksburg National Military Park. This is an awesome place. It has an aura about it. Every time I visit I get a feeling as if the park reaches out and touches my soul as I ride past the fortifications and trenches. A bike backfire sounds like a 50 .caliber shot from 149 years ago, the bullet whizzing into the future past my ears.

We soldiered past the monuments and toured the  U.S.S. Cairo. That mighty ironclad gunship; the Union vessel that was going to be the final solution to Vicksburg met it's match on the Yazoo river. The first gunship in history to be destroyed by electrically detonated torpedoes. Now preserved for all to see, this impressive beast is still a marvel of human ingenuity.

As we sat on the wall of the Cairo museum, we met another one of our two wheeling brothers, The Park Ranger. He was a cool dude, Slay is his name look him up if you go.

Bikers have to eat. It's the other thing we love to do; well that and drink! So across the Mighty Mississippi River into Cajun Country we haul ass to our feedery. I had no idea where we were going. When I go with the Chaney Gang, I don't ask questions, I just go for the ride and enjoy. We take an exit off I-20 and less than a quarter mile, next to a rail road track, sits a metal shack with a gravel parking lot full of bikes. This, this ramshackle shed, is our eathouse...holy shit, this could be very ugly.

(drum roll)

My Friends I give you

THE WORLD

  Inside this metal building, with it's unfinished, untaped sheetrock walls; all of them scrawled with thousands of names and verses of other bikers before us, is our food. Damn fine food at a damn fine price! Hamburgers $4.25, add cheese; another quarter. Fried mushrooms, onion rings cheese sticks, Kabobs; all the trappings of a good burger joint. The main course, the big reason they probably call this place 

THE WORLD; ribeye steaks!! Oh yes!! Up to 16oz and at least an inch and a half thick! 

My Lord, this is THE WORLD!! 

 Beer stacked along the walls, pool tables in the back, NASCAR on T.V.! It's Biker Heaven! No Frills, No Bullshit. Just Food, Beer, Friends and Fun. That's all we need on a perfect day like this one. Old friends talking about rides past, new freinds planning a ride to come. I watched as people filed in and out of the front door. Biker buds greeting with a hand shake and the bro hug. Women with the big hugs and kisses. Not what you would expect if you were just driving by in your cager. No, you'd think we were sacrficing sheep in here, not hugging like them! 

 We laughed, ate and drank beer for a while till the bills came. It was time to leave THE WORLD. Like little kids, we all made sure we hit the can before we left. We all shuffled out, heads bowed, none of us wanting to go back to the Real World we knew we had to face come Monday. 

 We saddled up, left THE WORLD and rode home.

Re-evaluation

So, there it is on my cd littered desk; the latest issue of 393 Magazine. The premier, social magazine around town.

 This months issue: Surviving Heart Disease / Furnished With Love

Inside these glossy pages are photos and stories from charity events, plays, and some ice memories we'll not soon forget. Plus, a wedding that had the best beer in the world. (Thanks Mr. & Mrs Gibson).

There are great articles about some of the more unique people in our area making a difference. Page 23, The 411, is graced by the beautiful Ashley Hill. She saves dogs...all of them!

Pages 12-17; Heart disease survivors and the doctors that made it possible. 

Page 43; the surgeon who makes furniture. 

People who gave blood, folks who ran for Hope Village and more. 

All contributors to the well being of our fair city.

Then there is page 10:

The other 411 page. Yup, this dude...me. 

I'm certainly honored to be in this publication; I didn't expect a whole page. However, as a radio broadcast entertainer, I've been trying to figure where I fit into this fine cavalcade of givers. 

I do give, by way of voice, money and some time; to as many as possible. None the less, I feel compelled to give in a more complete way as of late.

Thanks for allowing me to be a part of this issue Joy. 

Everyone in it has inspired me.

I think it may be time for a re-evaluation.

Fire Gypsies

   I love my fireplace. I really do. Like most men, I sit for hours and stare. I enjoy the warmth, am mesmerized by the flames and can think of the important things that need to be thought of for hours. It is a peaceful thing.

  But today, all I see in my fireplace are Belly Dancing Gypsies. Yup, gyrating, undulating, twisting, flickering, hip swinging, Belly Dancing Gypsies; like seductive hot flames!

The entire room shimmers from the jewels and coins that bedazzle their Bedlahs; shaking, snaking, and vibrating as they reach for oxygen to the top of the fireplace.
Each spark a chime from finger cymbals. Each crackle a clap of  hands. Each pop a stomp from feet.
Their chiffon skirts, veils and capes rise and fall creating new flames until their stage is burnt to embers and they can dance their Gypsy Dance no more.

   Of course, if you have gas logs like myself, the dance can go on as long as the fuel is plentiful...and I don't plan on running out any time soon! So, dance Gypsies Dance!!

The Amish Don't Die

Aunt Tina's Car-Iowa

My Aunt Jerri called from Ottumwa, IA  to report she is "Surviving The Monster Storm Of 2011!"
     Like most of the U.S., the Corn State is covered in snow; armpit deep and rising.
    She told me how the drifts are coming over the Christmas Chior in the front lawn (still not removed because of the last snow). She didn't figure she would be venturing out anytime soon for the standard bread, milk and eggs because the vehicle is stuck and is sure to become lost in a drift so, she's snowbound.
     We reminisced about back in the day snows. Like the time we all went sledding down hill on a car hood...Oh yes, you think Southern Rednecks are crazy, just wait till you meet their Northern counterparts! (We lived in Iowa till I was 10 then moved to Texas).
    At the end of our conversation, she said she would take some pictures of all the snow and mail them. I told her she should get a computer and join us in this century.
"Naw", she replied "I like the last century".
"Last century!?!" I said "what are ya Amish??"
She came back with "I'm glad I'm not one of those Amish kids, I would've froze to death this week! They don't have electricity ya know and people die in this cold!!"
    We both had a good chuckle and said our goodbyes.
  
     I started to think about The Amish and The Monster Storm of 2011. Come to think of it, you never hear about The Amish people dying in snowstorms. For that matter, when The Big Summer Heat Wave comes and we're dropping dead like a bunch of menopausal women at a Keith Urban concert, The Amish don't...
Maybe Malachi, Ezekiel and Hiram are on to something with their simple, green, no car, no electricity, grow it yourself, make your own clothes and furniture lifestyle. They don't succumb to bad weather but, we do. Yet, we have all the advances they don't. Go figure.
Simply put: The Amish don't die.