Your Storied Life.....

#4
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Forty years ago I had been transferred from Seattle to Miami, so it made sense to cross the country on my motorcycle. In those days I was athletic, articulate and from time to time, charming. And chicks dig Coasties on big motorcycles, right?

All it would take was patience and a little luck, but somewhere on those backroads on the 2,000 mile ride there’d be some honey with her thumb out and a keen eye for adventure. Mile after mile passed. The Cascades, the Rockies, the plains and then down to Texas and a visit with an old shipmate.
That is another story. So is the riot at Fort Carson and the mayflies on the way to Dallas. Anyhow, day after day, State after State rolled away. I’d come over Independence Pass and sprinted uphill at the top, to see what it would feel like to run at 12,000 feet. I’d sipped Coors in Colorado, camped out in my wool blanket and even had a shower or two and maybe a shave. I’d stripped down and skinny dipped on an isolated, sugar white beach near Destin Florida, now buried under hotels. What I hadn’t done was meet any girls.

Not one. Now I was on the final leg of the trip, on a two lane down the middle of Florida near the town of Frost Free when up ahead I finally spotted her. Tall, cutoff jeans, halter top and a pony tail. My bike had straight headers and I cracked the throttle for a roar she heard a quarter of a mile away, and out came that thumb for a ride!

Riders will understand how I downshifted for max effect, and then the bike stopped. I tipped my goggles up for a better look. Our eyes met. There was a long pause and I finally gasped, “Uh, where are you headed?”
“Fort Lauderdale.” She replied, smiling.

Guys, she was slender, tall and so damned ugly that the merciful thing would have been to drop hard into first, spray her with gravel and haul ass to Miami. not to belabor the point but what teeth she had left were brown and grinning so hopefully that I just didn’t have the heart to hose her with dirt and flee.

She reached behind a bush and grabbed her (hidden) puppy, clambered aboard and with a contented sigh, settled back for a nice afternoon’s ride South. At one point I stopped for gas and she slipped off to go pee, proving herself no fool by carrying my helmet with her. I didn’t want to lose the helmet by ditching her there, but I’ll never forget the shocked glance of the attendant when she pulled it off. He continued to gape after her and gave me a pitying look that still troubles my calm moments.

Oh yes, I took her to Fort Lauderdale and left her off some place where she thought she could call her cousin. Then sadder but wiser I rode the last thirty miles to the new duty station, checked in and kept my thoughts to myself.

Life can be cruel. Of course, it was not long after that that I met a woman who had many fine qualities but poor judgment in men, who also liked to ride, but that is another story. About 39 years long. Ask me when there is a cold one on the table.
 
#8
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Forty years ago I had been transferred from Seattle to Miami, so it made sense to cross the country on my motorcycle. In those days I was athletic, articulate and from time to time, charming. And chicks dig Coasties on big motorcycles, right?

All it would take was patience and a little luck, but somewhere on those backroads on the 2,000 mile ride there’d be some honey with her thumb out and a keen eye for adventure. Mile after mile passed. The Cascades, the Rockies, the plains and then down to Texas and a visit with an old shipmate.
That is another story. So is the riot at Fort Carson and the mayflies on the way to Dallas. Anyhow, day after day, State after State rolled away. I’d come over Independence Pass and sprinted uphill at the top, to see what it would feel like to run at 12,000 feet. I’d sipped Coors in Colorado, camped out in my wool blanket and even had a shower or two and maybe a shave. I’d stripped down and skinny dipped on an isolated, sugar white beach near Destin Florida, now buried under hotels. What I hadn’t done was meet any girls.

Not one. Now I was on the final leg of the trip, on a two lane down the middle of Florida near the town of Frost Free when up ahead I finally spotted her. Tall, cutoff jeans, halter top and a pony tail. My bike had straight headers and I cracked the throttle for a roar she heard a quarter of a mile away, and out came that thumb for a ride!

Riders will understand how I downshifted for max effect, and then the bike stopped. I tipped my goggles up for a better look. Our eyes met. There was a long pause and I finally gasped, “Uh, where are you headed?”
“Fort Lauderdale.” She replied, smiling.

Guys, she was slender, tall and so damned ugly that the merciful thing would have been to drop hard into first, spray her with gravel and haul ass to Miami. not to belabor the point but what teeth she had left were brown and grinning so hopefully that I just didn’t have the heart to hose her with dirt and flee.

She reached behind a bush and grabbed her (hidden) puppy, clambered aboard and with a contented sigh, settled back for a nice afternoon’s ride South. At one point I stopped for gas and she slipped off to go pee, proving herself no fool by carrying my helmet with her. I didn’t want to lose the helmet by ditching her there, but I’ll never forget the shocked glance of the attendant when she pulled it off. He continued to gape after her and gave me a pitying look that still troubles my calm moments.

Oh yes, I took her to Fort Lauderdale and left her off some place where she thought she could call her cousin. Then sadder but wiser I rode the last thirty miles to the new duty station, checked in and kept my thoughts to myself.

Life can be cruel. Of course, it was not long after that that I met a woman who had many fine qualities but poor judgment in men, who also liked to ride, but that is another story. About 39 years long. Ask me when there is a cold one on the table.
Great story Stephen, sounds like a butter face... it’s not about the destination, more about the journey....
 
Likes: Old Coastie
#10
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Reminds me of when I was single and would blind date. I remember one chick showed up and she was a big girl! No, she wasn't just big. She was just plain fat. She saw I had a motorcycle and really wanted to go out to dinner and take my bike. Back then I was riding a 1999 Honda VFR 850 Interceptor. Holy crap, talk about increased stopping distance! Then after dinner she wanted to ride some more.... I ended up ditching her and told her I got paged to go into work. Left some money for a Taxi on the table and took off.

1012479_10201410358873367_1950375583_n.jpg
 
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#11
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I was 14 and had just finished 8th grade. My parents thought I needed to learn to live on my own. My Mother handed me a one way bus ticket to Atlanta and told me not to come back until I had learned to cook, clean, mend my own clothing and make a living. So far I have learned to clean and make a living. Still working on cooking. Many stories after that but they will be heard only by a few select friends.
 
#14
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I’ve got a 1/2 hr wait for my next job.....
My old Boss told me a story about when he was younger. He and a bunch of his buddies were going out 4 x 4’in.... now,these guys are from an area of the country where it’s normal to use 4 letter words in EVERYTHING they say... you get the picture....
Anywho, it’s getting later at night, they go to the beer store, stock up, and head out with 4-5 trucks. They get to the trails, which are very hilly, and muddy. The first truck heads up the hill, spinning and sliding all the way up. The second truck starts out, and the third just behind it.... well the guy in the passenger seat of the second truck has to vomit..... he opens the door to throw up, falls out, AND GETS RUN OVER BY THE THIRD TRUCK.... front AND back tires.... no one even notices until they get to the top of the hill. The forth truck starts up the hill, and almost runs this guy over again. He stops, and looks at him, freaks out, cause the guy has been crushed. He can’t back down the hill, because it’s a dark, muddy, winding trail.... he decides to drag the guy to the edge of the trail, and continues up the hill. He gets to the top, just as the last truck gets up behind him. They all are trying to figure out what to do. They are drunk, stoned, and no one wants to go to jail.
They decide to head back down the trail, and they all go to the bar. Well, out of all the people there, one guy’s conscience gets the better of him, and he decides to go back to the trail, pick up the body, and dump it in front of the hospital.
So out of 5 trucks, 2 go back to take care of the deed.....
They get back there, and low and behold, the guy is not only still alive, but has managed to drag himself back on to the trail, and about 15’ down the hill.... the guy in the lead truck, almost runs him over AGAIN..... they pick him up, put him in the back of the truck like a sack of potatoes, and they take him to the hospital.... he spends the next 2 1/2 months in the hospital, and the next year in rehab..... and to this day, HE STILL HANGS AROUND THIS GROUP OF IDIOTS..... needless to say, he doesn’t walk very well anymore....
And that my friends, is how it was told to me..... who needs enemies, when you got friends like that?
 
#16
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Reminds me of when I was single and would blind date.

in my knucklehead Dayz, I bought a new pair of tight Levis.. .
strutting around like a rooster , showing off my manly gams and cut physique to attract the chics.....
a hottie walks up behind me, touches the back of my thigh...
oh yeah!!! *WINNING*




















only to pull off the size label I missed .......:icon_redface::icon_redface:


upload_2018-4-10_18-26-46.jpeg









fo reel ....


:dejection::lol::lol:

..L.T.A.
 

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