Spyke and Mike – the Great American Motofest
The heat is on, my Born To Ride friends. Last month we kicked the season in gear and now we’re winding up for the dog days of summer. Why do they call them dog days anyways? Why not bird bath days? Canines are like me and don’t want to be out in the hot sun unless it’s in the water or under some shade.
Mike breaks in, “I get it, you gain total relief from the heat during your daily shower that usually occurs naturally in the middle of summer. In your case, it’s when the waterfall comes to life at the sanctuary. But let me tell you why they call them dog days, my coonhound attractor. It all has to do with the time of year and the dog star rising and falling in conjunction with the sun and nothing to do with dogs being hot.”
Speaking of being hot, Ron and the BTR crew have put together the summer’s hottest event: the Great American Motofest. It’s going to be everything that the gas-guzzling gearhead needs to fuel his or her fire.
“Motofest will include the Great American chopper show, the spectacular Thunderstruck rod and truck show, plus an old school motorcycle rodeo with sled pulls, misfits mini bike racing, my crazy biker games and the infamous Roscoe’s outhouse drag racing,” Mike proclaims. “That’s right, they’re going to be pulling Port-o-johns with a rider sitting inside, strapped behind two wheels, haulin’ ass side by side down a drag strip. It’s the most hilarious time that can happen with an outhouse without poop!”
Mike keeps babbling, “There’s going to be lots of vendors, food and drink. To top it off, kick-ass southern style rock ‘n’ roll will be provided by the Tommy Roxx band and you’ll get to do your Freebird impersonation at the end of the show.” Mike chuckles. “Ron made us Grand Marshals for the event on Saturday, July 24th in Plant City. It’s going to be one hell of a good time so you don’t want to miss this one. If this isn’t enough to get the blood pumping through your veins, then you’re not alive!”
I cackle, “Dude! That’s a whole lot of fun happening in one day. Your head might pop off from all the adrenaline that will be rushing through your body! You haven’t been on the microphone in a while so how are you getting your voice ready for the event? Screaming obscenities towards me? Scareoke at the local pub? 1-800-sexchat?”
Mike cuts me off saying, “Stop giving away all my secrets you big mouth bird. For someone that can’t speak in public, that beak of yours sure can type up a whole lot of cockamamie cackling. If you keep it up I’m going to bring tears to your eyes by yanking the Internet from your laptop. Then all those dear duck letters you’ve been pecking away at will go nowhere. Say goodbye to Facebook and it will be the end of your fowl porn sites. Instantly, all those roosters you’ve been contacting on barnyarddates.com are going to think you’re catfishing them.”
I turn from the keyboard and squawk back at Mike, “The only thing that brings tears to my eyes is onions.”
He runs inside and comes back out with a wooden spoon saying, “All right you pecking peacock, I learned this the hard way from Grandma back in the day. Tell me I can’t make you cry as I tap on your typing talons.”
I squabble back, “You better quit while you’re ahead. I’ve got friends in low places. I’ll call on my favorite ’80s band, a flock of seagulls to come over here and keep repeating their number one hit song ‘I ran’ poolside. They have trained birds to be groupies and will fly over your truck, pooping during every chorus, turning that cage from a beautiful bronze to an ugly green and white four-wheeled toilet!”
Mike turns red in the face and says, “Hey buzzard breath, let’s stop pissin’ in each other’s rainbow, make like geese and get the flock out of here. Finish pecking away at your story so I can get my knees under the keys and your feathers out the front window. We both need a change in attitude by getting some air through my hair and some wind under your wings.””
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