Sunday, September 28, 2008

The Devil Is In The Details...

Not every detail makes it into print, particularly in my stories. There are a number of good reasons for this. Some explanations are too complicated for the purpose of the piece. Others lead to tangents which can breed distracting opinions on the part of the reader. And finally, a certain percentage are either too boring or too unbelievable to be incorporated into the text.

The previous posting dealt with an unusual situation in which my girlfriend of the day, and pillion rider at that moment, helped me resolve a mechanical problem in the dark, by using an illuminated adult lovemaking toy, as I had no reliable flashlight. That was absolutely true... But not quite accurate. There was one detail that I left out of the story because it fit each of the reasons I have just outlined. As such,this fact normally would have been lost to posterity as it is unlikely either the lady, myself, nor the police would have cause to revisit the tale on national television.

But I had lunch last Friday with the self-appointed Mac-Pac* Editorial Review Board, and one subject under discussion was the credibility of motorcycle blogs. As far as the truth goes, several of my stories were thrown under the bus of suspicion. The chief prosecutor was “Big Jim” Ellenberg, who is on crutches after falling off his motorcycle (which was traveling at a low rate of speed, in a straight line, on a clear day, with no perceived obstacles in sight).

Mac-Pac Editorial Review Board Acting Chairman "Big Jim" Ellenberg threw
several of this blog's stories under the "bus of suspicion" for credibility.

Not only did I insist that I wrote the truth, but I decided to reveal the missing detail of the last story. “Big Jim” thought it should have been included, so I have decided to present it here, as a kind of addendum.

Presuming you have read the previous post...

Thirty seconds before the engine quit on my 1975 Kawasaki 750 triple, my thoughts were of arriving at my destination, having a couple of drinks, and getting laid. Quite frankly, this was my weekend agenda for 6 or 7 years; and looking back, it would be hard to improve upon it, even today.

The night in question was warm and sticky. Most folks don’t realize how humid it can get in New York’s Catskills and Adirondacks in the summer. But this was of no concern to me as the breeze was cool enough at 50 mph on a naked bike. In a split second, the lights went out and the engine died on the only straight stretch of road I’d been on in an hour. This was so unexpected that I had no idea what to think. While the power was off, the engine continued to rumble but started slowing the bike down dramatically. It got quiet fast when I pulled in the clutch. Dismounted and considering the situation, I started to sweat. I popped up the seat and poured droplets of perspiration on the electrical component of the bike. And then the mosquitoes and the “No-See-Ums” got the range.

I had a temper like a rattle snake caught in car door in those days. My first reaction was to say “Fuck,” at least 240 times. Those of you familiar with my writing will understand that my mechanical abilities are a standing joke among three motorcycle clubs. A screwdriver in my hands becomes a deadly weapon.

In those days, I had a temper like a rattlesnake...
Photo courtesy of  "What To Look For In A Divorce Lawyer"

The cheap flashlight failed (as described previously) early in the game. My girlfriend was a smoker (and a saint), who offered to light matches. As I recall, I responded to this offer in a rather unkindly way, probably with my “fuck” mantra. This was long before the cell phone was invented and we were way out in the boonies. I don’t think I had seen a light or another vehicle in almost an hour.

The fact that the bike’s lights had failed at the same time the engine quit was a dead giveaway the problem was electrical. That much I could figure out. I didn’t think it was a battery nor alternator failure as the lights went from brilliant to off. I had no idea if the machine had fuses, where they were, or if there was a spare. My first thought was that a cable had come off the battery.

It was at this point that this beautiful and patient girl unveiled the lovemaking toy with the light in it. Now some men would be a bit concerned that their partner had brought along a huge rubber, pulsating, self-illuminated dick on a weekend date. Not me. I was intrigued. In fact, I was trying to imagine how she looked buying it. I found the whole proposition rather stimulating.

I remember saying, “Aside from the fact it lights up, it’s just like mine.”

This device was a forerunner of the now famous vibrator known as “The Jack Rabbit,” of Sex in the City fame. Not nearly as sophisticated as they are today, this unit had one function and it was necessary to switch it on to get the light to work. So there I was, bent over the bike, sweating like hell, trying to read a manual, by the faint light of a penis that made a noise like a coffee grinder, while describing slow circles above my head.

And that is how the police found me when they pulled up.

This was the missing detail. Please let me know if it was worth telling.

* The Mac-Pac Eating and Wrenching Society is the Euro-Tech motorcycle club based in south east Pennsylvania that I ride with. Members ride many different and exotic marques but the predominant badge is BMW.


Many of you have mentioned that you cannot readily discern how to leave a comment on my blog. It is really easy to do. At the end of each post (story, episode, or installment), look to the bottom right, where you will see the word "comments" preceded by a number, in red. Just click on the word "comments." It will take you to a page where you can read the remarks of others, and publish your own in the box at the top right. By leaving a comment, you are eligible to win a $50 gift card for a free dinner in a restaurant near you.

©Copyright Jack Riepe2008
AKA The Lindbergh Baby (Mac-Pac)
AKA Vindak8r (Motorcycle Views)
AKA The Chamberlain -- PS (With A Shrug)


BMW-Dick said...

Dear Jack:
I have had a BMW bike drop dead on me -- a couple of times, but I never had a woman bring her dildo on a date with me.
You lead such a full life. I am so glad I've been able to rise above jealousy.

Charlie6 said...


So there I was, bent over the bike, sweating like hell, trying to read a manual, by the faint light of a penis that made a noise like a coffee grinder, while describing slow circles above my head.

While I was quite amused and entertained by the first version of this story, your additional comments improve rather than detract from it!

Great stuff, I believe your stories!

Jack Riepe said...

Dear BMW-Dick (Bregstein)

You, of all people, know how this stuff happens to me. Do you remember the day you and I stopped at the crab shack, and that woman pulled into the parking lot and changed her shirt in the car?

I am a magnet for this sort of stuff. Hurry up and get another bike. Why not get a cruiser and a Halloween outfit to go with it? (That's on a par with your current plan.) I haven't had anything cool happen to me in a month. I need my usual riding partner.

Thanks for leaving a comment. You missed a great lunch on Friday. Your name came up a number of times too. I told the guys you were at a wedding and we decided to all call you on your cell phone around 6pm.

Fondest regards,

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Charlie6 (Dom):

Thank you for your comment. This missing detail is the absolute truth. I can never tell when something improves a story or drags it down.

In my book -- Politically Correct Cigar Smoking For Social Terrorists -- I had two chapters that my copyeditor insisted be taken out, for fear that it would make the readers turn against me. I insisted they stay in, as I had nothing to replace them with and didn't feel like coming up with new stories. As it turns out, those are the chapters that many of my readers like best.

Thank you again for your kind comment. It makes me feel good to know that a serious rider/writer found some enjoyment in my tripe.

Fondest regards,

mommycupcake said...

"And that is how the police found me when they pulled up."

Brilliant and oh so worth it.

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Mommycupcake:

I'm delighted the missing details were up to your expectations. And your name has been entered into the monthly Twisted Roads Meals for Squeals Contest.

Fondest regards,

Anonymous said...

The addendum gilds the lilly. What next, a Star Trek ship's log journey through the story, so we readers can pan the camera and note other valuable omitted details not shared by your intrepid self! Look, Jack's socks don't match, yes they are both blue, but the left one has vertical ribbing while the right is not ribbed at all!! How fascinating, call the truth police and tack a demerit onto the Riepe file. Sarcasm aside, top notch story in the first iteration, tinkering un-necessary. Please provide phone number of girl.

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Anonymous:

Thank your for the valuable insight. You write in a style similar to my friend Ihor. In fact, I'm beginning to see certain parallels. If you are Ihor, then you met the girl, years ago.

Thanks for the comment.