Spyke & Mike – Beep Beep Old Man
Beep Beep Old Man
I hope y’all enjoyed the mild weather and did a lot of riding in the last month, my BTR friends. Both Gibtown and Thunder by the Bay were off the chain! If we’re lucky, Old Man Winter will stay away giving us more pleasant temperatures and no rainfall for Daytona.
Mike stumbles past the sliding glass doors and onto the lanai. He turns to me and says, “Hell yeah! That’s why we live here. I’ve grown old and can’t endure the cold, among other things. Speaking of which Spyke, take a moment from your basking in the pool and jot down my thoughts about aging. I can barely remember them and you’re typing is much faster than mine. Also, because the biggest lie I tell myself is that I don’t need to write it down, I’ll remember it. That just goes to prove at my age ‘getting lucky’ means walking into another room and remembering what I went in there for.”
I squawk, “Then tell me what DID you come out here for?” Mike scratches his head, turns, and goes back inside. He returns with that lost look on his face, walks up to me on my float and says, “You’ve got me! I guess I’m not ‘getting lucky’ today. So, what were we talking about Spyke?” “OK jello for brains,” I cackle, “it was about your age related ponderings.” Mikes’ eyes light up, “Oh yeah! As I was doing laundry the other day I thought to myself, wouldn’t it be great if I could climb into the dryer, turn it on high heat for 10 minutes and come out wrinkle free and three sizes smaller.”
I cover my head with one wing and mutter, “You must’ve been three sheets into the wind that day!” Mike bellows, “Now Spyke, you know I won’t put my bedding out in the backyard to dry. I don’t want the neighbors to see my stained sheets.” I just close my eyes and cackle, “Keep going O’ wise man.”
Mike starts again, “Old age comes at a really bad time. I was just learning from all my mistakes and now my body will not let me perform like I need it to. And I wish everybody would quit telling me I need anger management. I just need society to stop pissing me off. My people skills are just fine. It’s my tolerance to idiots that needs work. And I don’t have gray hair because of it. I’ve got wisdom highlights growing in. I remember back when I was a child and nap time was punishment. Now I look forward to it ‘cause it feels like a mini vacation from reality and all the lunatics. So, why is it that people say ‘I slept like a baby’ when babies wake up almost every two hours?”
I stop typing and under my breath mumble, “Even duct tape can’t fix stupid but it will muffle your voice.” Mike squints at me and says, “What was that Spyke? Oh Lord grant me the strength to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and friends who will post bail for me after ringing your neck Spyke when I finally snap!”
I start typing again and say, “OK, OK, keep your train of thought on the two tracks in front of you. Let’s hear more of your elderly enlightenments.” Mike blurts out, “Okay my feathered freak, I’ve yet to figure out these last few. Maybe you can help me. First, why does twinkle twinkle little star and the alphabet song have the same tune to it. Second, if Jimmy cracks corn and no one cares, why is there a song about it? Last but not least, If Wile E. Coyote had enough money to pay for all that ACME crap, why didn’t he just go out and buy dinner?”
I stand back from the keyboard and squawk, “I’ll tell you why. First, for all you burnt brain cell people it’s supposed to make it easy for you to recite the alphabet when you’ve got a cop’s flashlight in your eyes. Second, many people cared ‘cause Eminem and 50 Cent made a number one rap song out of it. Third, if Wile E. Coyote did just buy dinner, my friend the road runner wouldn’t get to ‘beep beep’ at stupid animals or people like him and you!”
Mike turns and almost falls into the pool. I screech, “Beep beep old man!” He gains his footing and I see that strange look come over him. His head tilts to one side, his mouth opens slightly, and he begins staring into space. About that time the voices inside his head have given him a deranged idea and I’m afraid, very afraid. I climb down from the table.
Mike comes back, “If a bird squawks underwater can anybody hear her?” That’s my cue to begin running across the lanai and away from him.
“It’s OK Spyke,” Mike mumbles. “I’m not evil, just slightly bent, very twisted, and in need of heavy medication that only comes from saddle time in the wind.” Cool! I squawk as I head to the garage and wait for him on the scoot.
He backs the Fat Bird out, fires it up and gets my wings in the wind and its wheels down the road. With wind whipping through his hair, he tilts his head to one side and a smile appears on the ol’e man’s face … the medication is working.