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Posted to r.m.h on Sat Feb 6, 1999 Well now, there seem to be a number of technical discussions about exhaust system backpressure going on here in the establishment this evening. Kinda reminds me of a tale. It's an old one, but well preserved since it exists in certain court records as well as in my walnut sized brain which, at the moment, is awash in a great sea of Elijah Craig. Hell, lemme buy ya'all a coupla rounds and I'll relate the story just *exactly* as it happened... It was way back when I was young and had control of my destiny and, the way I figgered it, control of the entire free world. It was during my Vodka Phase. Musta been '77 or so... It was a damn fine time to be alive! Back, in them far away days I used to drink vodka down at Eddie's Club. An old time bar on the north side of town, right on the main street, not far from the railroad tracks. Now, Eddie's club was the very bar where I was first christened the MadMan, but that's a tale I've already told. Eddie's club was always purty quiet on a Sunday morning and I used to go there, kinda like ordinary folks go to church, to have a quiet little worship service of my own. The barkeep was a friend and we'd sit around and solve the worlds problems, talk about splittin' them atoms, and discuss women's fall fashions. Sometimes we'd shoot a little pool. It was always a nice time and helped me keep my universe from spiraling completely outta control... So, the tale begins... One fine Sunday morning, slowly turnin' into a Sunday afternoon. The panhead was parked, as was my habit, on the sidewalk out front. Now, we'd managed to graduate from the morning beers to vodka on the rocks. Did I mention this was my Vodka Phase? Yeah? OK.. Well, we were just lazin' around yakkin' and philosophising and purty soon I noted the sun was out and it was getting hot. Seemed like a natural time to go for a putt.. So, I hopped on the scoot and pulled a nice lazy u-turn across the four lanes and headed south on Higgens Avenue. Gawd, it was a nice day -- the sun was just pure white and burnin' down on the old asphalt. I always like hot asphalt cuz it's just a little bit slick and a guy with a suicide clutch Panhead could, if he was in the mood, just roar up to a fukin' stoplight and lock up the rear brake and kinda slide sideways up to the light and let his left arm fall from them big apehangers and sorta slap that jockey shifter back into first gear in an unthinkably smooth and fluid motion. Oh baby, what a fukin' poser! Drove them cager's nuts to have ya slide up next to 'em and slap 'er down into first and smile and cackle out loud like some kinda fukin' madman! So, there I was.. Cruisin' south on Higgens Avenue which is the main street in town and a four lane affair. For some reason there's a bunch of them church-goers kinda ambling along like they had no particular place to be and generally gettin' in may way. Now, the obvious solution was simply to engage in a bit of lane splittin'. Seemed only natural at the time. So, coming off the light at Front Street I let second gear get ahold of me and away we roar, down the white line. No problem, there's only a few cars and the Higgens Avenue bridge is dead ahead and I'll be through the pack, well into third gear and suffering from them G-Force thangs by then. Plus, it's hot and I'm feelin' purty good about life and, what the hell? I got two more gears to go here, buddy! Through the pack and onto the bridge and I'm completely engrossed in winding out third gear. Shit, man, this is fukin' great! Now the Higgens Bridge is purty long and has one of them humps in the middle. Must be mebbe 30 feet of elevation change and it's gradual up til very near the south end of the bridge where it peaks broadly and then drops off purty quick like. It also turns about 20 degrees left just after the peak. It can be lots of fun to hit that thing at Mach-1 if ya can.. So, just as I'm hitting the peak of the rise in the bridge I also hit fourth. Kinda hard.. Now, it's possible I mighta been purty light going over that hump cuz I distinctly remember hearing the moter rev kinda like it had inadequate load. I also remember the short, sharp screech as gravity got me back in it's grasp. Anyway, at the same time I heard a BOOM and the distinctive sound of metal clanging along on the street behind me. A glance in the mirror revealed one of my little shorty mufflers bouncing along behind me. SHIT! Well, hell, there was nothing else to do but stop immediately and go back and get the damn thing. Hell, it was chrome and everything! So, I pulled over into the median strip in the middle of the street, threw down the kickstand and was just standing up when I first heard the roar... It sounded a lot like a big V8 engine that was really wound out but who the hell would be crazy enough to do that in the middle of downtown?! That's when I first noticed the cop car, just as he crested the peak of the bridge. YeeHaa! Yup, he had that red light crankin' and musta been doing purt near a hundred when he saw me parked there in the middle of the street. He had a kinda odd expression on his face, which I could clearly see, as he locked up all four and slid past me in a cloud of smoke. Did I ever tell ya that I like hot asphalt? Heh, heh... Well, hell, I'm a nice guy so I walk over to his rig where his red light is flashin' and his face is red he seems *really* pissed off about something. He starts shoutin' at me to get "that fukin' thing off the bridge". And, of course, I say, "But, I can't cuz I blew my muffler off and I can't run the motor cuz without the muffler I GOT NO FUKIN' BACKPRESSURE and I'll surely burn my exhaust valve." And he sez, "Well, it's no fukin' wonder, the way ya been driving that thing" and tells me to go get my muffler. Please note that I found all this extremely surprising since I hadn't notice the cop car and I'm usually purty good about that.. So, I go get the damn thing an it's hot as hell and my gloves are smokin' as I bring it back and he tells me to pull over at the next street. Again, I deliver my backpressure speech and tell him I hafta remount the thing or else I'll have to put the red fukin' hot thing in his squad car and burn my valve and that life as we now know it would surely cease to exist and so on.. So, he sez, alright, put the damn thing on and move it offa the bridge. So anyway, I kick the muffler back on the pipe, fire up and mosey on up to the next street and pull over and procede to, within sight of Hanson's Ice Cream Shop, spend about 90 minutes gettin' written up for every conceivable infraction this clown could come up with. Twenty Seven (27) citations worth. I shit you not. Guess he was havin' a bad day and just wanted to share.. <<Fast forward a few weeks.>> Judge E. Gardner Brownlee calls my name. I stand up in the little area where the accused get to hold court, dressed in my tattered levi jacket with the harley wings on the back. (Side note: In them days, ya got yer levi jacket and the sleeves rotted off of 'em and that's how ya got a levi vest. It's the proper way..) Judge Brownlee reads the first ticket. Reckless driving. Musta been something like an arrow on the bottom pointing to the next ticket. He examines the next ticket. Careless driving. Another arrow. 97 in a 27. Another arrow. . . Now, down along the fifth or sixth ticket, the honorable judge has a little bit of a grin appearing on his face. He starts flipping through the tickets in fast motion. He laughs. I'm smilin'. He sez, "Now, son, just exactly what was it that so infuriated our officer of the court?" I sez, "Well, judge, I'm not too sure, but I think it might have been when I rode my motorsickle down the center lane passing two cars that were going the same direction as me. I figger the rest of them tickets were more or less to emphasize the point." And so Judge E. Gardner Brownlee sez, "Tell ya what, plead guilty to careless driving, I'll fine ya forty bucks and dismiss the rest." Like I said.. It was a *damn* fine time to be alive!
Hell, have another round on me and let's dream about some of that hot
asphalt and backpressure and splittin' them atoms and women's spring
fashions and such... |