A few weeks back, Terry & I met some local netscum at a bar across the valley. Had decent directions, and made it there with no problem, even though my Sporty is smoking like all getout (the new carb hadn't quite set yet).

We pull into the parking lot and Preacher wanders out of the bar with an evil gleam in his eye. "It's running rich, it's running rich" he yells over the pipes.

I pull out my flatblade and pass it along to him so he can play with my carb (he loves this sort of thing). Preacher tweaks on it for a few minutes, while others look over his shoulder, and I take the opportunity to get and give hugs to some of my other buddies. Preacher finishes up and after giving me a hug and my screwdriver advises me that I'll be tweaking on the carb for quite a while longer, most likely for the rest of my life.

We all wander into the bar and I get hugs from the other folks. I go to the bar and order a pitcher of beer. At this point, I notice something oozing down the bar. I look to my right, and there's a fellow I hadn't met before. The ooze is coming from him!

He grins at me, and ooze starts dripping from his mustache. "Hey, you must be Becky," he says, and holds out his hand. Slime drips off of his hand and onto the bar. I decided I can always wash my hands, so I shake his hand, as Hoppy introduces himself. I offer to buy him a beer, but he's in quasi-work mode and declines, wisely preferring his sodawater to alcoholic imbibements. I realize later that this is just a ruse, as slugs love beer, and beer in pie plates is especially attractive (and easier to crawl into).

I look around the bar and notice now that Tony Geezer-Glide is covered with this ooze, as is Preacher & Wildman Craig. It's getting pretty scary now, with all the slime starting to manifest itself on the walls and pooltables, even starting to cover the large TV screen. Everyone is now drinking from pie plates, as well.

I excuse myself and go to the ladies room, where I attempt to wash my hands clean. It doesn't work, so I asked at the bar if I could use any of their industrial detergent, which still didn't help. I walk outside figuring maybe some dirt will help get it off, again without success. At this point, I sighed and decided that the orange pumice stuff at home would work, so ignored the growing slime in the barroom.

A bit later, during Robby Knievil's jump of the Grand Canyon, I saw a tall figure approach. The reflection from the shiny ooze gave her an ethereal appearance, but it turns out to be some lonely chick who came by to see if anyone wanted to see her tits. As the sole female in the group, I said yes, just to appease her, but she declined, making some comment about "butch, dyke" or something of the sort, and proceeds to start rubbing up against Craig, who gently disengages himself from the tall, leggy and very drunken blonde. Hoppy tends to my wounds by saying that Slugs can't have everything, so just be happy with my pieplate of beer. I take his advice, leaning my face into the intoxicating beverage and inhaling deeply.

A few hours later, we decided to head home. My 'lil Sporty starts up like a champ. We leave the parking lot, with slime trailing us, rather that the smoke that followed us in. About 25 miles down the road, my bike suddenly cuts out! No electrics, the motor and lights die. I pull over to the side of the (thankfully) empty highway, and notice that slime is now leaking out from under my seat. The bike starts up almost immediately and we finish our ride home.

It turned out that the slime had infilterated my circuit breakers! We painstakingly cleaned the slime from under the seat and replaced all of the curcuit breakers. Luckily, we have not had the problem occur since, though the Sporty still spews slime if it isn't ridden every day. We've been able to catch most of the slime and use it around the beer filled pie pans that we use to attract other slugs (the garden variety).

So there ends this tale of my Acquired Slugdom. While I can't make it to Slimefest (this year), us NoCal Slugs will be thinking of you all in the North, as well drink form our beer filled pie plates...

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Becky
AH#76, Bitch#6, BS#51