Ha ha… gotcha…
Not THAT Clinton… Clinton OKLAHOMA, Forrest! Geez… people are so jumpy in the political season. I COULD have stayed in Oklahoma City, you know. BUuuuut… on the off chance that Hillary stays in Clinton when she’s not staying in New York I rode an extra 60 miles to see her. She’s not here, drat… but Trump was… I even took him for a ride on my motor-sickle. Here’s what I told him… “Git yerself a motor-sickle… and then go see ‘Merica, there’s a lotta nice people out there.”
For instance, my license plate came off my bike yesterday. Hey, “who knew?” Right? You checked YOUR license plate lately? So… I’m blasting down the hiway, ‘bout, say, 85… I notice this white Dodge Durango coming up fast behind me. I keep an eye on him, and he gets up beside me and waves his hand to get my attention. When I look over, he’s ‘mouthing’: “Pull over” – So, what’s the deal, right? — Hell, I don’t know, maybe he wants to put me in a modern version of “Easy Rider, WTF?”
Always up for an adventure, (and with a small, loaded pistol in my jacket pocket”) – I follow him over to the side of “I-blanking-40” (Interstate… cars and trucks (my evil enemy) passing by) – When we both get stopped, I ease the zipper down on the side-pocket of my jacket (just in case, Bubba) – And he walks over to tell me my licesnse plate has come off my bike several miles back. I thank him profusely…(I mean, I’M not going back to get it, fo sho…) BUT… I DID admire his intention, and told him so; in volumns.
That’s what I mean by America being great. We really ARE a great country… From my Seal friend, Bob Summerlin, to an anonymous guy who wanted an anonymous biker to know he had lost his tag… — We Americans frequently help each other out. – “Thank you, Mister Sir, whoever you are… I sincerely appreciate the effort; ‘You do man…”
So there you go, Donald Trump, Hillary Clinton… do right by America… and one thing I know for CERTAIN… we’ll do right by you. Nuff said.
So… all you weirdos who read my blog want to know about my adventure of almost getting robbed. And my meeting with the Pho-leece, huh… (A serious “thanks” for the response) Okay, ok… I’ll tell you.
So… one time, several years ago, I hit the wrong exit on my bike. It was up in St. George, Utah and I wound around trying to get back on the main highway and ended up in… what can best be described as… a very large asphalted area. I guess they were going to build some houses on it, and they put the streets in first. ANywHo… I pull over to a concrete curb (with nothing else there) and get off my bike, open my back ‘top-case’ to get ‘Charles” out… (‘Charles’ is my road-atlas… “Charles Atlas”, get it?? – Ok, maybe not, – google it, if you don’t) – So, I’m looking at ‘Charles’, (with the lid on my top case still open… “ya never know, ya know?)
Out of nowhere this faded blue, older, Chevy Blazer pulls up sort of in front of me, kinda at an angle. Mind you, there is NO ONE around for M-I-L-E-S! – Already, this is unusual, and I look over in my top case, see my pistol in it’s holster, and I pull it out, and lay it on top of the holster, ‘for easy access’ you might say.
So this brotha.. gets part way out of his Blazer and says, “Man, I aint go no money.” So, I say, “I’ve been there, if you aint got the green you’ve got the blues.” We just look at each other. Then, he says, “No really, I’m broke.” So I’m thinking, is he just TELLING ME this, or asking for money, OR trying to decide if he’s gonna rob me.
So, ‘what the heck’, I say, “Yeah, I’ve been broke before myself, know what you mean.” We just look at each other. HE SAYS… “Maybe I can just use some of yours.” – Again, we stare at each other just a tad bit too long. – (Ok, ‘mother-blanker’, you want a confrontation, I’m gonna give it to you.)
So, I put my hand in my top case and look him in the eye and say, “Sir… the decision you make in the next eight seconds is going to change your life, big time, — You may ‘think’ I’m an old, white-headed guy, but God is playing a cruel trick on you; I’m not. — Here’s the real deal.– I aint giving you no money, Period.”
We just stare at each other… My fingers are just tapping on the side of my pistol… (I hope I don’t have to shoot this asshole, I’m thinking) — So, just like that… He says, “Well, I guess I need to get going.” He gets all the way back in his Blazer and drives off… *I* go back to ‘Charles’, and leisurely figure out where the heck I am, (WITH my top case still open) — So, whaddaya think?? – Think he was trying to rob me, or he drove out to a very secluded area to solicit a donation. To be honest, I really AM interested in your opinion. Heck, maybe all I had to do was give him a ‘twenty’… tell me what you think.
As to my involvement with the Poh-leece.. On my way going out to Two-pelow (Tupelo, MS.) – I’m sure I was possibly, perhaps, maybe… going a tad bit too fast, for sure. I was off to an exhhilirating trip… rolling thru the hills of Mississippi… when I saw some flashing blue lights coming up behind me. Dang it… I looked down at my speedo, and sure enough.. I “might” have been close to 87, (my favorite cruisin’ number.) I figure, if you’re not doing 90, you’re not speeding, right?
(Hey Ann Biggs, I just saw on the TeeVee that it’s “Fleet-week” in New York City… bet you wish you were there.)
So anyway, I back off my “faulty” throttle (preparing for my deefense, don’t you know), and pull over to the side, with Mississippi’s ‘finest’ right behind me. So, I take my helmet off, and my earplugs out… turn my loud music down, and get off my bike, (hoping he takes notice of my white hair and (ahem..) ‘older’ features. – (It helps to know that I always carry poker chips from Las Vegas with me, to give to people who have extended a ‘kindness’ to me; a special way to thank them, you might say.)
So, this highway patrol trooper walks up and says, “You were going a little fast there, sir… “ and I said, (politely)… “What’s your name?” (in a VERY friendly tone). Thankfully, he says “Sam”. So I said, “Sam, my name’s Tom; have you ever been to Las Vegas?” He says, “No, I haven’t.” – So, I hand him a poker chip from Las Vegas and he just looks at it. “Sam, you know what you can do with that poker chip”, I say… (he looks up, expectantly), “You can take it to the roulette table, and if you manage your winnings well, you can make yourself a million bucks.”
A big smile spreads across his face, and he laughs… He looks at the poker chip one more time, and asks “Are you really from Las Vegas? I hand him my driver’s license, and tell him I am. He looks it over, smiles again at me, and says, “I think I’ll just hold on to it.” Then, he looks me and my bike over one more time, and says (literally), “You git your ass outta here… and SLOW DOWN!!” I assured him I would. Then I geared up again, and rode off. — “Thank you, Officer Sam… I appreciate the courtesy. I hope you make your fortune in Las Vegas. (You don’t think I bribed him, do ya??)
Hey, I’m getting outta here soon… on my way to Amarilla, and on to Albekwerky, New Mexico; 457 miles; gonna blast over there at about 87… — Look out for them coppers, Y’all…
PS – here’s my “Tracking-Page” (http://share.findmespot.com/shared/faces/viewspots.jsp?glId=0seJseUF8nps5v94ORZolubfWN1AosNFO)