That was one of the best weekends ever.
Motorcycles, and drinking, and talking lots of shit. And ice cream.
Friday night: sushi, sake, omigod yummy. Then Cassidy’s, which smelled bad. Boo.
Saturday morning I had peanut butter-chocolate chip pancakes, then went to Motojava for a while. Motojava rocks! Joe was selling some guy his first bike and full outfit of gear. It was pretty cool to see someone get all their excitement on and get properly started with the right equipment. Joe is too cool. Paul rode my SV and said it was faster than his.
Then Charles and I went for a quickish ride through some East Bay hills, which was 19 kinds of fun, followed by coffee and then a little downtime to play GTA- Vice City and re-energize for more drinking.
Got to Don Ramon’s and had delicious cheese enchiladas and margaritas, then traipsed over to Zeitgeist where Charles tried to get the bartender to spit in our drinks. Then hiked back to Cat Club where we drank screwdrivers, and I decided we should go get ice cream at the liquor store across the street. It was perfect, and then we headed to Rawhide for more screwdrivers. And the guy that wanted to know where the dungeon was… at an EIGHTIES club!?? Back to the Cat Club where we proceeded to work ourselves into a roaring drunk, plied hot chicks with hard liquor, and I got more action than I’ve had in several weeks.
Oddly, I woke up –not-hungover. So Charles and I went for a little ride through the Santa Cruz hills and played a bit with our new bikes. I made a very conscious effort to ride the SV like a sportbike, at least from what I remember about all that technique shit. “It is not a dirtbike,” I kept saying, “lean INTO the turn.” I made Charles ride behind me some so he could tell me what I was doing wrong. He lied and told me I was fast, and that I had scraped pegs. Zoiks! So I am trying to learn how to not scrape. And I already knew this was coming, for the dirtbike anyway, because my DRZ tires were getting wear to about 3/8” from the corner, which makes me a danger to myself and not just others anymore. So, boo, and I have to learn to move my ass off the seat. And lean in the direction I am turning. Which sounds like what you’re supposed to do, except, that’s not what I do when I ride the DRZ.
And before you can tell me I’m doing it wrong you have to catch up to me.
Charles is one of those who can catch up to me (and pass me), so I’m willing to hear what he has to say. Even if I do have a sneaking suspicion it’s only because he wants to look at my butt wiggle around on the bike in front of him. Practice, I need practice…
Anway, and back to San Jose, where Charles picked up his brand-new vintage british bike, the Bullet (so this is fine vintage british engineering, with the quality craftsmanship that can only be found in India). It took a bit of doing, but he got it started and we went to dinner, where he bet me $100 my bike would be knocked over by a minivan I parked next to. It was not knocked over. On the way home we got passed by an Indian guy in a gold mustang who kept staring at the Bullet. I pulled up next to Charles and remarked “Some guys buy bikes to attract girls. You bought a bike that gets you checked out by Indian engineer guys. What exactly does that say about you?”
He claims chicks dig it too.
Home again, crashed out immediately, still tired.
Charles: she made out with TWO people! TWO! It was hot.
and she is learning to ride the snot out of the wee Ess Veee!
I owe her money, but she owes me money too. We'll work it out.
it was a fun time Rebecca said she'd be a lesbina for me, or something, it did not make much sense, but I'll do anything she wants so it's all good.
Posted by Charles on Monday, May 03, 2004 at 5:28 PM
John Foley : This story was too boring to read...did you seduce any teenage boys in it? That's all I care about these days.
Posted by John Foley (ape) on Wednesday, May 05, 2004 at 8:25 AM
Rebecca: And yet you keep reading them!
Bring me some teenage boys, and I'll give you a good story.
Posted by Rebecca on Wednesday, May 05, 2004 at 8:29 AM