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(posted to r.m.h. on Feb 26, 2001)
There's a pitcher of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale right next to that bottle of Old Number 7 over there, help yourself. So there I was, minding my own business, standing at the side of Haight Street in San Francisco in preparation for a memorial ride for a biker who had been killed by the driver of a pickup truck, when down the street came the most seriously bug-infested, dusty, high-mileage and yet somehow beautiful red H-D bagger that I had seen in a very long time. This mochine was piloted by a tall, grey stranger. He parked his bike at the curb across the street and removed his jacket, revealing a black r.m.h/Virtual Bar & Grill tee shirt. I had seen the name, I had seen the posts, I had read some stories, but I had never seen a picture, let alone met him, but it was clear that the stranger was Redbeard Emeritus. I introduced myself, we talked about motorcycles, we admired bikes, and when it came time to go, we saddled up and formed a part of a contingent of 100 bikes headed across The City to the memorial site a few miles away. A few weeks later, when reading a message on a completely different matter, the following message showed up on r.m.h, addressed to me: [redbeard@mail.volcano.net wrote:] > But I *am* waiting for your official slime report. I had never put two and two together. I hadn't realized that since I had ridden with R.E., and since he is a Slug, that I had become contaminated by some sort of slime. The slime had manifested itself with a certain slippage in the clutch or clutch cable. I was able to solve the problem with a cable adjustment, but come to think of it, the guy who helped me had complained about some sort of nasty, icky stuff that we got on his wrenches. What was I supposed to do about this? Would I be forced to henceforth identify myself as having been at one time in the presence of a slugly person? Would this make my trip to Washington, D.C. (May) and Highland, IL (June) even more difficult? What could I do, aside from trying about once a week to remove the last remaining vestiges of the slime from the Road King? After seeking guidance in all the usual places, I realized that I had been slimed, that I must live with it forever, and it would be futile to try to remove the slime, because it would never go away. On the other hand, my next trip to the Pacific Northwest will be more pleasant than ever, since I won't have to worry about keeping the shiny side up and the muddy (and slimy!) side down. In today's bright sunshine and cool temperatures in northern California, life goes on, but it will never be quite the same. Dave 1996 FLHRI Road King bay area net scum, BS#146 --
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