Check out Mike’s latest epic failure my BTR friends
Check out Mike’s latest epic failure my BTR friends. Craven invites Mike and me over to the Moorhead compound to check out his state-of-the-art theft deterrent system. Mike was all up for that as he is always looking for new ways to protect me from being stolen.
We cross the big bridge and wind our way through the darkest parts of Temple Terrace and pull into the trailer park. Mike rolls up to the entrance of the Moorhead lot. The driveway is filled with trucks missing wheels, a van missing the back doors, and a couple of motorcycles missing various parts. Craven is on the porch standing in front of a refrigerator—missing its doors. He yells out, “Park it at the fence line but don’t. …” Revving up the engine, Mike pulls the Fat Bird forward. Before shutting the engine off, he sets the kickstand down. The gravel starts to give way and he reaches over to grab the fence and gain control. That’s when all hell breaks loose. …
Due to the dramatically increasing burglaries in the trailer park, Craven installs his latest ingenious idea. It’s a 6 ft. fence with an electrical wire running along the top. Actually, he picked up the biggest cattle charger Tractor Supply had and rigged it to run off of 220 amps from the nearest electric pole. Its original use was for 26 miles of fence at 60 amps. He then used an 8 ft. long grounding rod, and drove it 7.5 ft. into the ground. The higher amps and a deeper grounding rod are the keys to making the system work better!
Craven was on his way to flip the switch off when we pulled up. Mike is now standing there, he’s got the motorcycle running between his legs and the live fence in his hand. Lucky for me, I was spooked by the falling scoot and flew off his shoulder. For Mike, time stood still.
After regaining consciousness about an hour later, he gave me this description of his last thoughts and feelings when he grabbed that fence. “My eyes rolled back into my head, my ears curled downwards and I could feel the motorcycles ignition firing in the backside of my brain. Every time that 96 CID motor rolled over, I could feel the spark in my head. I was literally at one with the engine. It seemed as though the fence charger and the Fat Bird were fighting over who would control my electrical impulses.”
“Science says you cannot crap, pee, and vomit at the same time. I beg to differ. Not only did I do all three at once, but my insides emptied three different times in less than half a second. It seemed like there were minutes in between, but in reality the time was so close together it was like the exhaust pulses from the V-Twin Harley at high idle.”
“At this point, I’m about 30 minutes (maybe 2 seconds) into holding onto the fence. My hand is wrapped around the wire, palm down so I can’t let go. The 8ft. long grounding rod is now accepting signals from me through the permadamp soil covering the leaky septic tank. Now I’m thinking the end is near. The Harley is starting to run rough. It has settled into a loping pattern as if it had some kind of big race cam. Covered in poop, pee, and vomit on my chest I think ‘oh god please die … pleeese die.’ But noooo, it settles into the rough lumpy cam idle nicely and remains there, like a pro stock Harley motor waiting for the twist of the throttle.”
“I honestly don’t know how I got loose from the fence. Craven finally woke me from my electrically induced sleep and I now realize a few things: all my fillings have melted. I now have spasms in the bottoms of my feet and my left butt cheek (not the right, just the left). Poop, pee, and vomit when all mixed together, IS the worse smell in the world. My right eye will not open. My left eye will not close. I have three fingernails left and I can turn on Craven’s TV by farting while thinking of the number of two!”
“That day change my life. I now have a newfound respect for all things electrical, I take time to let people finish their sentences, and I always shut the bike down first and triple check to make sure the kickstand will hold the scoot upright. The good news is that if a burglar does try to come over Craven’s fence, I can clearly visualize what his security system will do to him, and THAT gives me a warm and fuzzy feeling all over.”
After hours on the couch and turning the TV on and off a dozen times, Mike finally gets up and says to me, “Damned lucky you’re not fried chicken! Let’s make like lightning and bolt outta here!” With that said, he awkwardly picks me up, walks slowly to the scoot, and places me behind the windscreen. Mike then gets my wings in the wind and the Fat Birds’ wheels down the road.
SPYKE