If you're thirsty, a 20 is on the bar - drink it up.

I arrived in Biloxi, MS on Sunday, April30th, and called Steve Reyer, who's gracious aquaintance I made at last year's MITM. We decided to get together and do some riding after I got out of class on Wednesday.

Well, Wednesday comes, and a nasty thunderstorm causes us to rethink our planned trip, and do some running on Steve's local race-track roads. I should have recognized some portent in the thick, black, ominous looking clouds that were forming behind us as we headed out to Gulfport. We took off from Gulfport, and did a few runs up & down Steve's favorite stretch of "testing grounds" . Best I could do was an indicated 120, and I noticed that the back end of my Sportster was starting to feel a little loose and slippery. I'm thinking to myself, "What in the hell could be causing my bike to act this way? It *can't* be loose spokes, as I've got mag wheels. It *can't* be bad tires, as I just bought a pair of Avon Venom X's. Well, I decide to go on and keep an eye on things. Steve & I stopped at a local MS watering hole, and the girls there, well, let's just say there were girls there. We get our beers, light a couple of cigars, and go sit down outside. Steve says "Look at your bike". I did, and this stuff that looks like some kinda green-black goo is emanating like a putrid cloud from under my bike. WTF Is that? I asked Steve. Steve looked at me with a sickening grin, and says " Welcome to the Brotherhood of the Slugs. You've been slimed".

I must say, that this rather dubious honor was unexpected, BUT - it DID prove useful later that evening. After supper, Tony DiCenso & I were heading back to the base from Steve's house, and one of Gautier MS's finest clocked us travelling in excess of the recommended speed limit. US? C'mon now. Anyway, I pull over, and when Tony got to the stoplight and noticed that I wasn't there, he came back to face the medicine with me. At *that* time, 2 more of Gautier's protectors of citizenry pulled up behind us. Well, the slime helped us out, we musta been too slippery and disgusting for the officers to wanta deal with, as we both got off with just a verbal warning. As a matter of fact, the one officer was quite amazed that Tony's Buell and my oily Sportster shared the same engines. After sharing a few fishing stories with us, and suggesting that we take a shower before going out in public again, they sent us on our way.

So - How does this slugly thing work? Am I marred for Life? Is there a chance of rehabilitation? Please, let me know.

Y'all take care - I'll see ya at MITM!!!