dpex
17th May 2009, 19:50
Spent the weekend in Rotovegas, fishing.
Couldn't be bothered fishing on Saturday night so I drove around till I found a bar with some bikes outside.
BTW: The main street was teaming with cops.
Got yakking to a few guys and gals of the two wheels; even had a dance with a bloke's missus and learned that she rode and 'he' pillioned. See the damage done when women got the vote?
Anyway. Damned fine bunch of folk from somewhere in the 'other' island and touring around. Never did get to figure out from where.
So we yakked and drank and ate, and generally had a good time.
At about eleven the group came together. Time to head back to their motel.
I mentioned the cops on the streets. The sheilla with whom I'd danced grinned. 'Watch and learn'.
One of their number was a huge, gorilla of a man whom, when he spoke, sounded like a bereaved giant. But he was a cool dude, eh?
Anyway. He staggered over to his bike. The rest of the troops, me included, sat casually around the outside tables.
Mr Gorilla was clearly pissed. It took him well into half a minute to get his key into the hole. Then the mighty throb of (actually I don't know what it was, but it was big and not a Harley) roared up through the revs. The gorilla gave a few yahoos and rocketed off.
He made it past the first major intersection and bugger me, there were three cops cars on him.
The Sheilla (no names, no pack-drill) said, 'Time to go!' All with one accord raced to their bikes.
Just as she was about to depart (I'd followed her over) I asked, 'What about your mate?'
She burst out laughing....Not a pretty sight given the missing teeth interspersed with the black ones..... and said, 'He'll be okay. He's our designated decoy.'
And they were gone.
Good trick, huh? One rider stays straight. The others party. The straight-one draws the flak while the party-hounds do a runner.
Struck me as a good plan. Jumped in my cage and was gone.
That should get Katman going. TeeHee.
Couldn't be bothered fishing on Saturday night so I drove around till I found a bar with some bikes outside.
BTW: The main street was teaming with cops.
Got yakking to a few guys and gals of the two wheels; even had a dance with a bloke's missus and learned that she rode and 'he' pillioned. See the damage done when women got the vote?
Anyway. Damned fine bunch of folk from somewhere in the 'other' island and touring around. Never did get to figure out from where.
So we yakked and drank and ate, and generally had a good time.
At about eleven the group came together. Time to head back to their motel.
I mentioned the cops on the streets. The sheilla with whom I'd danced grinned. 'Watch and learn'.
One of their number was a huge, gorilla of a man whom, when he spoke, sounded like a bereaved giant. But he was a cool dude, eh?
Anyway. He staggered over to his bike. The rest of the troops, me included, sat casually around the outside tables.
Mr Gorilla was clearly pissed. It took him well into half a minute to get his key into the hole. Then the mighty throb of (actually I don't know what it was, but it was big and not a Harley) roared up through the revs. The gorilla gave a few yahoos and rocketed off.
He made it past the first major intersection and bugger me, there were three cops cars on him.
The Sheilla (no names, no pack-drill) said, 'Time to go!' All with one accord raced to their bikes.
Just as she was about to depart (I'd followed her over) I asked, 'What about your mate?'
She burst out laughing....Not a pretty sight given the missing teeth interspersed with the black ones..... and said, 'He'll be okay. He's our designated decoy.'
And they were gone.
Good trick, huh? One rider stays straight. The others party. The straight-one draws the flak while the party-hounds do a runner.
Struck me as a good plan. Jumped in my cage and was gone.
That should get Katman going. TeeHee.