Weather is starting to get cooperative, and I am surely ready. Kind of nice being able to tool around town with the window down. Wintertime In Oklahoma sucks, and I am truly hoping this is my “last winter here” (more on that later) and I don’t have to endure this —- anymore.
Friday night in the Big Town, Payday, Tight-shoe money night.
Ran into a couple of “Hott Mama’s” at a stoplight last night. We are sitting at the stoplight, me and Cup Cake, and I hear the distinct ka-thump-Ka-thump Harley sound. There is just something about the sound of the V-Twin Harley a distinctive sound, like no other.
A low rumble that resonates in the night, in this case, it was not a Harley, but rather a “Harley Clone” (A Jap Bike of some sort). At one point in time, Harley Davidson actually sued the makers of Harley Clones, and claimed that the sound a V-Twin and the distinctive sound it made, was copyrighted and belonged to them and no one else. Unfortunately, they did not win, and the case was tossed.
Ka-thump-Ka-thump slices the night air. The scooter having pulled up beside our truck, I glanced over, fully expecting to see the usual, rag tag biker, long hair, beard, ear rings, dirty levi’s and what I refer to as the “uniform.”
Instead I see two girls, who were decked out in the usual rag tag biker, ear rings, dirty levi’s and the uniform. Both were wearing shirts with the sleeves cut off, exposing ample portion of breast and no bras. Now as I am a man, and I am a pig, this was a nice change of pace for me.
I was not expecting that. Wasn’t expecting that at all.
Looking down at the motorcycle I am peering at these tiny led lites that she has mounted under her fuel tank and she says to me, “Something wrong?” and I answer back, “Naw, just looking at those lites, are they led’s?” and then she says, “You bet. They change color too.”
“Cool” … I was flabbergasted to say the least, and did not have a suitable reply, then out of nowhere she offers up something I wasn’t ready for.
“My name is Trisha and this is Patty, her husband is my boyfriend.”
This came from the head-girl, the self proclaimed leader of the pack, who had that I just been rode hard and put up wet look about her.
“We are on our way over there to do him”
And I just sort of took this freely offered unsolicited information in, and then said, “Yeah? Really?”
Not fully sure as to what to reply, and then again she says, “We all get together and party on the weekends, he is so cool, we got him a hat.” I looked in Patty’s hand and sure enough, there was one of those little cardboard crowns that Burger King gives out to kids.
“Nice” I say, “He will most likely be overjoyed at that.”
Then they both roar with hearty laughter.
“That is where we are going, over there to give him his hat, and anything else that OUR KING might require tonight.”
“TMI,” I say, “Too Much Information” and then add, “I was just curious about the lites, I am not looking to bond with anyone this evening.”
To which these two, who have already started to party on the weekend early I suspect, once again roar with laughter.
Must be one of those new progressive marriages I am always hearing about or this thing, “Friends with benefits” or something like that. Back in the old days it was called a Menge-a-Trois (I cannot spell that. A delicious triad of implied favor might be one way to put it) one of those French bedroom experiments that every man secretly dreams of, before you are married of course.
When you get married, most of your dreams stop, that is, if you know what is good for you.
Times change and life moves on. I am pretty sure that in the future we might have utopian society ruled by women and there will be peace and joy for all. Many men of course will still act like pig’s and still won’t have a clue. Oh well, at least somewhere tonight, this night, a man is going to be treated like a “King” and he is going to get lucky, twice as lucky as a matter of fact, than the rest of us.
Another strange encounter at a stoplight with one of those wonderful people you meet in life a girl with a quiet, inner confidence, one of those people who doesn’t need to make themselves necessarily look good, or be “right” all the time, who almost always try to steal the glory.
My kind of woman.
Oklahoma in the spring time. There you go, 875 words on the weather-beaten pages of time. One more babblative speculation on life … Sisters of the Highway … Children of the wind.
Don’t forget to monkey with the clocks tomorrow, time change again, wouldn’t it be nice to set it back to say nineteen-sixty-five, yeah that would be good… 5 more days and Creative Endeavors will be one year old.
Time flies when you’re having fun.
OOO
