I was riding north on a certain road in the state of ILL on my Vmax when some meatball on Harley Davidson blows by me in my lane. We meet up at the next light, he looks over at me and with cigar hanging out of his mouth and says “Japanese piece of shit.” I thought to myself “Okay MOFO, game on, bitch.”
I turned my head toward him to get a better look at my new best buddy. I could see without doubt he was a product of damaged DNA. Probably a neutrino escaping from the sun collided with the DNA sequence used to make brain cells. Leaving him a few billon short. Looked in my mirrors to see his two chimp friends behind us on their HD’s. This is going to be fun I thought.
He had just about every HD promotional product on his body. He had the boots, shirt, vest, gloves and his scarf helmet. Included in his ensemble was a couple HD tattoos on his arm. I don’t know about you but if I wore all that stuff I would want to be paid for it. I know people buy this stuff to feel a sense of belonging. To me buying all this crap just helps the Chinese economy.
The light changes to green and I crack the throttle wide open. Two things are now in my sight, the tachometer needle flying across tachometer and the stupid look disappearing from his face in my mirror. After that it was just shift light flashes and gear changes. I slowed down so we could meet at the next light.
When he got to light, I looked over at him and told him “nice motorcycle.” No response for him, kind of hurt my feelings. I tried to communicate with him again “nice paint job” I told him. He didn’t even look at me. His cigar was now missing from his mouth.He just didn’t look the same without it either. I hope he didn’t swallow it. Gave him one more glance to see if the communication path was open. No, not much to say. He was watching the traffic light like his life depended on it.
The light turned green, off he went laying rubber on the pavement. I started counting, one thousand, two thousand and three thousand. I think his HD buddies were confused with my delay. I turned the throttle and held on. I think my Vmax realized it was behind and got angry. Like some thoroughbred race horses do when they are behind. I didn’t look at the tachometer this time just the shift light. I passed him like he was standing still.
The rush of all of that speed made me forgo the thought of damage to myself or anyone else. I’m pretty sure I would have continued to increase my velocity if it wasn’t for the speedometer. 137 mph, “oh shit, OH SHIT.” 137 mph in 45 mph speed zone! My non-damaged, but slow, brain quickly did the math. 137 divided 45 equals good-bye drivers license for a long long time. Which means the wife would be driving me around for the next 10 years. I know she would be looking forward to that.
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