Spyke & Myke – Words of Wisdom
Hot diggity dog my BTR friends, it’s March and to bikers that means Daytona time! Last year Mike and I took the long way from the west coast through the forest ending up in Flagler Beach at John and Karen’s shanty on the inter-coastal. Mike and I have ridden side by side and many miles with them over the years, and we enjoy their company every chance we get. The extra-long road trip gave us plenty of time to think about what only we bikers understand and why ‘saddle time’ is so important to our sanity.
At the last gas stop along the way, we take a well-deserved break and begin our conversation. Here’s a short list of his long ramblings with my interjections commenting on his interpretations, when necessary. Sitting down and leaning back against the canopy support, Mike starts with, “All I keep thinking about is how four wheels moves my body, but two wheels moves my soul. Hear me out Spyke, I can always forget about the tragedies in my life when my knees are in the breeze and whatever is ailing me always seems to get better in the wind. This BTR gig is my reason why we work to ride and ride to work!” I squawk, “You don’t work! I do all the work. You just chauffeur me around on the Fat Bird. Take this trip to Daytona for example. Your job just consists of driving us over and parking the scoot on Main St., the Iron Horse, or Destination Daytona. Then you hang out with your friends, drink cold ones, people watch, and listen to music. I on the other hand, have to sign autographs, open beers, kiss all the girls, and pose with every Tom, Dick, and Sally for their Kodak moment. And this goes on nonstop until you fire up the scoot and we pull away. Only to repeat the procedure next time we stop somewhere else.”
Mike babbles on, “I know Spyke, but someone has to drive! Plus we know that if life throws us a curve, we lean into it and understand why a dog sticks his head out the window. Also, the reason why bikers enjoy eating bugs.” I interject, “Hell yeah! Look who you’re talking to; a biker bird. I’m all about being in the wind and getting some bugs! I think the midnight ones taste the best!”
Mike looks over to the side of the building and eyes some people gathering around a scoot with the seat off. He blurts out, “Saddlebags can never hold everything you want, but they can hold everything you need, until you break down. Also, I know from experience that if you can’t get your ride going with a bungee cord, duct tape, or wire ties it has to be serious. Plus, everyone should practice wrenching on their own bike because biker boots are not made for walking.” I cackle, “There are no boots on this bird, I’ve got wings and most motorcycle problems are caused by the nut that’s connecting the handlebars.” Mike chuckles, “Yeah I resemble that statement. I got lucky when I finally did break down, I knew a great mechanic who let me watch without charging for it.” I interject, “Ahhh yes Mike, had Steve at Iron Horse Cycles charged you all those times you would have paid him double.”
“Well Spyke, just like this day, a good ride can clear your mind, restore your faith in what you believe, and use up a lot of gas!” I come back, “And here’s a few that you need to remember. Please stop leading a pack of bikers if you don’t know where you’re going, it only pisses them off and makes you responsible for the first round at the next stop. When you do start riding faster than anyone else, it only ensures that we’ll be riding alone. Last but not least, if we need to get somewhere before sundown, you just can’t stop at every watering hole.”
Mike yells out, “Seems like we’ve both hit the nail on the head with these biker words of wisdom.” I cackle again, “Yeah, but I always hit the nail on the head on my first try!” “I know Spyke, sometimes it takes me a full tank of gas and a little bit of shut eye to make me think straight and swing straight. Speaking of which, give me a few moments to check out my inner eyelids before fueling up.”
Mike dozes off for a few minutes. Then suddenly over the loudspeaker the attendant blurts out, “Hey you with the bird on pump two. This ain’t no rest area! You’re holding up the line!” Mike rolls over and mumbles, “Good thing I got enough gas to get to the next station. Let’s make like a tire and hit the road!” With that said he picks me up off the pump guard and plops me behind the wind screen. Mike then gets my wings in the wind and the Fat Bird’s wheels down the road … across the street to another gas station!
SPYKE