Thursday, December 23, 2010

I Accept The Harley Challenge...

The email was utterly suspicious.

It read, “If you don’t want your balls cut off, meet us at Ryan’s Pub in West Chester, on December 22, 2010, at 1pm... Come alone, and bring two copies of the cigar book.” The note was signed “The Harley Guys.” The cigar book in question — Politically Correct Cigar Smoking For Social Terrorists — was written by me in 1998.

I get lots of fan mail, most of which starts off with cheery greetings like, “You son of a bitch. This kid looks exactly like you and I want money...” Though the “Harley Guy” email appeared to constitute a threat, it seemed devoid of actual malice and I decided to show up at the appointed time. Still, I pressed for some additional details and authenticity. For all I knew, this could have been an ambush set for me by sex-crazed Victoria Secret models. (They have been sending me photos of themselves — in their underwear — for some months now. Apparently, their underwear is for sale. And I would gladly buy some if I could pick it myself, like strawberries off the vine.)

“Dear Harley Guys,” I responded. “Do you spend more money each month on chrome polish or on KY jelly for taking it up the ass when you are guests of the Turkish penal system?” This was a trick question rather like “Who won the 1939 World Series,” which was bandied about by G.I.s in WWII, when climbing into strange trenches without the appropriate password. To me it was a “no brainer,” but since the response was hours later in coming, I didn’t realize the answer could possibly result in a tie.

“Chrome polish, Lardass,” read the reply. “Why don’t you ride up on that K75 so we have something to take a piss on, Sincerely, the Harley Guys.” Why not, indeed. “Dear Harley Guys,” I typed. “With a 30-inch seat height, the K75 towers over what you’re used to and you would have to take turns standing on each other’s shoulders so the guy on top could hit the pegs.”

“We’ve done that lots of times,” was the response. “The guy on the bottom just can’t look up and must keep his eyes closed. Be there with the books.”

This was promising to be an intriguing meeting.

West Chester, Pennsylvania is a visually pleasing urban center. It has the charm of a college town where someone in authority saved most of the 1890's architecture. The place is loaded with specialty shops and has an abundance of good restaurants, bars, and places to hang out. It is the home of West Chester University, which is one of the 14 educational institutions comprising the Pennsylvania State System. And while I can’t make this statement with certainty, the school seems to have a rule requiring all female students to be absolute beauties. Those are the pluses. On the negative side, traffic in West Chester is on a par with rush hour in Mumbai and parking is doled out by secret lottery.

I don’t go anyplace where I have to park more than 15 feet from my ultimate destination. For this reason, I have had dinner in West Chester (about 10 minutes from the house) three times in 10 years. “You’ll be a screaming madman if you have to park in West Chester,” said Leslie (Stiffie), my significant other. She is compelled to remind me of my shortcomings. “That would make some impression on your new Harley friends, who are probably just waiting to beat the shit out of you anyway.”

“I’ll take the bike and park between cars or on the sidewalk,” I quipped.

“Then you’ll have to leave now,” she said. (It was the day before.) “It has been three weeks since you last rode and you’ll be as stiff as a jack handle.”

“Always,” I whispered to myself. (Jack Handle was my porn star name.)

“I’ll take you in, drop you off, and pick you up,” she said with a sigh. This sounds like the height of romance but in fact Stiffie never stopped the car, shoving me out while maintaining a slow roll.

“My cane,” I yelled. It came flying from the SUV’s open window like a javelin. It would have bounced into traffic had the back of my head not arrested its flight.

Above: From left, the author, George Byerly III, and Adam Hummel — The "Harley Guys," who flattered me with a private book signing at Ryans Pub in West Chester. Pa. Photo by "Morgan," a real cute waitress who used Byerly's cell phone.

Ryan’s Pub is the epitome of a decent neighborhood saloon, with its ancient storefront appearance, the long hospitable bar inside, and the battered booths along the wall. It is suitably dark and the bartender pours with a generous hand and an open heart. I paused at the first booth, which was occupied by two of the cleanest cut, middle-aged guys I have ever met. The guy on the left was the scruffier of the two in that he had a slight beard and mustache. He could easily be mistaken for a college professor focusing on woman’s studies. The guy on the right looked like an ad for the seven virtues. Neither one gave the impression they would ever say “fuck,” even as a plaintive verb in conversation with a hooker.

These were the “Harley Guys.”

George Byerly III and Adam Hummel are two bikers from Morgantown, Pa. who showed me one hell of a good time. These guys had made a 45-mile trek into West Chester to host a private cigar book signing (in essence) and seldom have I been so honored. For 90 thrilling minutes, we discussed our favorite rides in the area, traded different riding techniques, and amazed each other with tales of near-death escapes on two wheels. I told Byerly of how I was hurled to the pavement by a left-turning assassin (in the pay of a former wife); and he shared with me how a car-load of Benedictine nuns beat him through a railroad crossing, leaving his feeble ass in a ditch (and his neck broken in two places).

Above: Adam Hummel's Harley Davidson Low Rider, a dazzling machine of sinister dimensions. The seat is 11 inches off the ground. Photo by Adam Hummel.

Hummel (who looks a lot like one of those German figurines) confessed he has never gotten a speeding ticket, has never passed anyone on a double yellow straightaway, and has never dropped his motorcycle under any circumstances. The words were barely out of Hummel’s mouth when Byerly and I began to distance ourselves from the speaker, so that neither of us would be struck by the lightning bolt hurled down from the motorcycle gods to avenge this statement of hubris. Byerly is an integral part of human reconstruction at a local emergency room and Hummel has built his reputation on running a power washing company for the past quarter century.

Above: George Byerly's "blackened" Harley Davidson Road King, the perfect image of an iconic bike with timeless styling. It is the preferred motorcycle of "The Children Of The Corn." Photo by George Byerly.

The “Harley Guys” treated me to lunch, and unlike Jim Ellenberg and Dick Bregstein (my usual two wheeled partners in luncheon crime), they encouraged me to order from the adult menu, so I didn’t have to have “The Zebra” (chicken nuggets, chocolate milk, and the piss yellow Jello). As it turns out, these guys and I share a passion for many of the great roads in this area. These include that gorgeous stretch of Route 9 in Delaware (along the salt marshes), the eastern shore of Maryland, Chincoteague Island, the Roads west of Gettysburg, and several of the winding Amish loops around Strasburg. I was surprised to discover that their riding styles also paralleled mine. I ride for an hour or so, and must then painfully unfold my legs from the pegs. The “Harley Guys” ride for an hour or so, then stop for coffee, a smoke, or to wipe a smudge (real or imaginary) from the chrome. They even do crab runs, favoring a place called “Crabby Dick’s,” which I think explains a lot.

Our waitress was a cute as a button (and probably registered at West Chester University). The “Hardy Boys” dropped their conversation and got lost in the depths of her eyes each time she brought another round to the table. Then they’d argue over who she was actually sizing up from the corner of her eye.

“That’s easy,” I said. “She’s fascinated by the BMW rider.” I proved my point when she arrived with lunch. Introducing myself with the famous “Battered Baby Harp Seal Look,” I explained I was the publisher of Twisted Roads and asked if she’d mind sharing those eyes with thousands of readers, by posing for a photograph on my K75 — the legendary “Fireballs.” She blushed a little, bit her lower lip, and said, “Sure... If I’m here.” She turned and left, with an extra flourish in her step. The Harley Guys were speechless for a second, then begged me to show them the battered baby harp seal look. I politely declined, explaining the hidden dangers of this unbelievable power.

George and Adam then honored me with the rare “Harley Challenge.”

They offered to let me lead them on a ride at any speed (up to 65mph), on the route of my choice, daring to stop at as many topless joints, go-go bars, and other scenic vistas as often as I liked (up to three or four per hour in the saddle). I felt like I was among true two-wheeled brothers. They had just one demand of me: that we would wear matching Twisted Roads Tee Shirts on that day. I was deeply touched. George Byerly had one day off this week, and he decided to share it with me. I had another appointment at 3pm with a publisher, which I would have gladly cancelled had I realized the circumstances. (Meeting with a publisher is a like meeting with a cobra suffering from hemorroids—there’s a lot of hissing and kissing their ass becomes a dance of death.) Lunch with the Harley Guys was one of the most gratifying afternoons I have spent with fellow riders in a long time. These guys not only get the joke, but they are fully capable of perpetrating a few of their own.

Thanks a lot guys... Lunch is on me the next time. (I recommend the “Zebra.”) Actually, I was thinking of The Whip Tavern. You might be into that.

©copyright Jack Riepe 2010
AKA “The Lindbergh Baby” — Mac-Pac
AKA “Vindak8r” — Motorcycle Views
AKA “The Chamberlain” — PS-With A Shrug

Addendum:


It was the coldest night of the year, and the children in the orphanage were huddled together for warmth, having eaten the stale crusts of bread and having consumed what moisture they could lick off the freezing radiator pipes. It seemed like just another desperate winter’s eve, when the stillness was shattered by the distinctive sound of a three cylinder engine (running with more of a whine than a roar). One of the stars on the horizon seemed to glow a bit brighter, and in a minute or two it split into a headlight, a pair of MotoLights, and two PIAA HID lights.

The children watched in amazement... Their eyes growing round with wonder as Santa Lucia pulled up on her red 1995 K75. She was stunning with her flowing white hair and golden crown lit by candles.

Above: Santa Lucia, the spirit of Christmas for many in the Nordic Countries.

Reaching into her sidebags, Santa Lucia handed out thick slices of steaming prime rib, accompanied by little bottles of American Rye whiskey, and containers of hot custard. Then each child was given a nice maduro cigar to round off their new inner warmth, along with instructions for seizing the orphanage from the bastards who ran the place.

With the kind of smile that only children can appreciate, Santa Lucia climbed back on her bike and roared off toward a Turkish prison, where two Harley Guys had been especially good.

Merry Christmas to all of you; and to your families and those you hold dear... And to those of other faiths, I wish you the warmest and best for the new year, with my hopes that each of us will find our own personal star to follow.

Fondest regards,
Jack
The Lindbergh Baby • reep • Toad

58 comments:

Cantwell said...

Jack,

What a wonderful story. Thanks for sharing.

Happy Holidays,
Michael

Nikos said...

Jack

You are cordially invited to attend the innaugral meeting at the new venue of the BMW Club (UK) Northern section at the Glazebrook Community Hall near Warrington on 23rd January 2011 - please bring at least one copy of your book for signing. I probably won't be there because I intend to book a weekend test ride on an Electraglide.

Happy Christmas and I look forward to out farkelising your K75 in 2011.

Fondest regards,
Nick • eats • Meatballs
Nikos World

BMW-Dick said...

Dear Jack:
Some 'effin' friend you are! You con two Harley guys into buying lunch, and you don't even invite your lunch buddies, Big Jim and Big Dick. If the weather cooperates after Christmas, let's meet them at The Whip Tavern for Bangers and Mash. Did you tell them that passing Harleys is built into the DNA of Beemer riders? My guess is we've probably passed them on some of those back roads they like to ride.

Conchscooter said...

A little flattery goes a long way in the rirpe household. I'll try to remember that for next time.
I spent several hours driving the dog to Key West yesterday afternoon, 25 miles in heavy traffic behind three Harleys whose idea of fast riding was lifting their feet off the pavement. Had they offered ME lunch I'd have happily slipped them a healthy portion of cyanide in their chocolate milk to put them out of my misery.
Ho ho bloody ho.

Jonesy said...

A Christmas classic...! Love the pic!

BeemerGirl said...

Hi Jack!

I'm having a difficult time seeing the angle of you letting Harley Riders buy lunch. Oh...nevermind. :) But I do know why they insist on you leading the ride: fear of being ambushed by the local BMW riders. Hoping they can see it coming and still have time to get away... Just be cautious when you lead to make sure that you aren't going to be ambushed. The K75 is capable of getting away. But I worry the weight of the engine won't be able to launch over the line of chrome blocking the road.

Merry Christmas! And hope your riding year is fraught with fun, friends, drinks and farkles!

-Lori

Allen Madding said...

reep,

Ah yes, Harley guys, pillars of the community. The black Road King is a fine looking beast and no step ladder required to throw a leg over.

I thought it was appropriate that you closed out the article documenting your lunch with some of the Harley brethren with a picture of a BMW rider dressed in drag. All is well in the world.


Merry Christmas!

-Peace

Canajun said...

I was doing great until I got to that vision of loveliness in the last picture. I am now washing my eyes out with soap.

Merry Christmas Jack.

Cantwell said...

Canajun,

I've already gone through the washing. You are going to need steel wool and a strong clorox solution.

Good Luck and Happy Holidays,
Michael

Mad Dog McClane said...

Happy Christmas, Jack!

Woody said...

Dear sir,

My son was recently accepted to WCU and will be attending in the fall of 2011. Should he mention he indirectly knows you as a means of getting laid?

This opens the door for me to attend Mac-Pac events under the 'guise' of visiting my son. Problem is, I'll be too broke.

My ship comes in, I'm at the fucking train station.

Merry Christmas you funny bastard!

Charlie6 said...

Great story Jack, though I was a bit disappointed at not seeing a picture of your "cute as a button" waitress that you alluded to....

Great stuff all the same, here's wishing you and the "should be nominated for sainthood" Leslie the best Christmas possible.

dom


Redleg's Rides

Colorado Motorcycle Travel Examiner

RichardM said...

A nice story to end the year on. And nice picture of Santa Lucia.

Merry Christmas to you and the long suffering Leslie!
Richard

Anonymous said...

And the best to you and Leslie, Jack. I think of you often and the good time we had in Maggie Valley. Keep up the good work -- we need the laughs!

Granny2Wheels

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Mike (Cantwell):

This was one of those rare occasions when the story wrote itself. I love it when the truth spouts from the circumstances.

Merry Christmas, Michael... To you, Jennifer, and Gemma.

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Nikos:

I feel like I fropped the ball on the schematic for the K75 crash bars. But when you said you had trouble deciphering the exploded view, I thought you were referencing this last drawing on your blog. I was sort of stymied.

So under these circumstances, I will be happy to break a long-standing tradition and send a book to the inaugural meeting of the West Hamish on the Wode BMW group, or whatever the hell it is. Send me an address to jpriepe@aol.com.

You stand no chance out farklizing me with your fat-assed K75RT. I have filled every circuit. I have occupied ever switch. I have installed every option (other than ABS) which I will not consider as an aftermarket option, even though it can be done.

However, I did ask you about a sliding switch at the top of your fairing, above the dash. If that is for a map reading light, than you have me beat.

Merry Christmas in about two weeks (for Greek Christians.)

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Dick:

I have an idea there will we plentry of opportunity for us to fleecce these two Harley Guys for dinner or lunch. They are my kind of riders and the will add a new dimension of character tro our entourage.

By the way, in your response you cited yourself as "Big Dick." Jim Robinson's goat laughed a that one.

Happy Holidays, Pal.

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Conchscooter:

Your cheery Christmas mood is showing again. I'm sure the H-D riders in front of you were merely making sure the road was dry so you wouldn't dump your tachless Triumph on a film of water again. I should think you would have a kind of kinship with these prehistoric, air-cooled two-cylinder machines.

Merry Christmas, Mr. Happy. I look forward to riding with you in 2011.

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads

Chris Luhman said...

For shame making your waitress dress up as santa lucia and suffering along on a K75.

Merry Christmas!

-Chris @ everydayriding.org

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Jonesy:

I like to get warm and personal around Christmas time, with stories that include fellowship and a moral.

Merry Christmas...

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Beemer Girl (Lori):

The weight of the engine og my K75 is nothing compared to the weight of the rider! I am looking forward to roiding with these Harley guys. As you are no doubt aware, I really don't care what kind of bike a guy rides, just as long as he buys me a drink (at the end of the day).

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Mr. Madding:

I hate it when people use my blog to take cheap shots at other riders or myelf. In this case, you are publicly frying me for appearing in "drag." Yet on my personal email, you requested a "swimsuit" shot. There are limits to my patience.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Canajun:

You got the vision of loveliness part right... I am thrilled that I was able to add to the spirit of Christmas for you. I hope you think of me — and Twisted Roads — throughout the long winter months ahead.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Cantwell:

My ass is always available for kissing.

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Mad Dog McClane:

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you too, Mad Dog. I hope your new venture in Bulgaria moves smoothly and without surprises (at the kind that aren't pleasant).

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads

Micah said...

Merry Christmas!!

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Woody:

If the mention of my name helps your son get laid in college, have him call me right away. I'll be happy to show up at parties and split the difference with him. Now when you call me a funny bastard, do you mean "funny" as in "humorous," or "peculiar?"

Merry Christmas to you and your family.

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Charlie6 (Dom):

I would have left with that waitress if I didn't think the two "Harley Guys" would have followed me to take notes. Leslie feels she should be nominated for sainthood; but she is willing to share the recognition. She want me nominated for martyrdom.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year...

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Richard:

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

I just received word that you have a blog. With your permission, I am going to list it under my "Destinations" column on Twisted Roads. Of course, this means you'll be cursed by my occasional comments.

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Granny2Wheels:

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year Granny!!!!!!

What a great surprise to hear from you! Thank you for continuing to read "Twisted Roads," and for commenting. Now Granny, you know I never start out trying to be funny... It's just my attempts to produce serious moto advice always end up that way.

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Chris Luhman:

What a low shot! Do you know Allen Madding? You and he have a similar commens style. No one ever has to be forced to ride a K75... But many will only relingquish the seat at gunpoint.

Merry Christmas, Chris. I keep reading your blog to see if you set the world's record for riding a Ural at zeto degrees Kelvin.

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Micah:

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

I just clicked onto your blog and caught the headline about your solo ride. I clicked to start the video thinking, "This guy is out riding around the great lakes in all that snow and ice!"

You appear to have made this 1000-mile, three day trip during a warmer week. With your permission, I will add your blog to my destiinations column tonight.

Thanks for reading Twisted Roads, and for leaving a comment.

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads

Baron's Life said...

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
All the best for 2011

Circle Blue said...

Jack,

Merry Christmas! And, I've never seen a more lovely depiction of Santa Lucia . . . or, at the very least a depiction that I've enjoyed so much.

From the Heartland,
~Keith & Billie

RichardM said...

Jack:

I would be honored to have you link to my blog. Moto content this time of year is limited to upgrades, repairs and maintenance on my old BMW airhead (simple - carbs, air cooled, no fuel pump, no complex systems).

Richard

Classic Velocity said...

Dear Jack,

You embody the spirit of the holidays, what with eating and drinking and getting others to pay for it all !!

Breaking bread with Harley riders is an admirable gesture. I'm sure that they felt the same way. This could usher in a whole new era...Santa Lucia on the back of a Harley ;-)

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Baron:

Long time, no hear... Merry Christmas and Hapy New Year!

Fondest regard,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Keith (Circle Blue):

My whole ambition in life is to keep you laughing. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Fondest regard,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Richard M.:

I am adding two blogs to my "Destinations" list today... Just as soon as I finish these acknowledgements. Then I am going to spend the rest of the day playing with model trains.

The snow, up to a foot in the forecast, is swirling around the driveway now.

Fondest regard,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Classic Velocity Blog (Wayne Thompson):

I had a blast with those two guys and look forward to riding with them in the spring. In truth, I would gladly buy a Harley as I think they are beautiful in many regards. Besides, I already own the trailer.

Fondest regard,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads

Stacy said...

First, you started eating healthy.

Then, you cavorted with Harley guys.

Next, you'll be telling us you've sworn off liquor and swearing and you've taken up Sister Mary Agatha's nightly self-flagellation ritual: 30 swats with a fresh willow switch, smartly applied.

I'm starting to get worried.

George Byerly(The Scruffy One) said...

Other than Jacks writing, you guys also make this blog work with entertaining comments. The fun, intelligent humor that you folks share is a welcome dose of comedy that is hard to find when compared to other motorcycle forums and blogs out there today. Great site Jack and hope you had a Merry Christmas!

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Stacy:

I have not had to pursue the limited joys of self-flagellation since I was 16, when I was properly flagellated in a parked car after my junior prom. I have not yet been reduced to seeking this service from nun's (yet) in any case.

But I am thrilled that you think of these things when reading Twisted Roads.

Fondest regard,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads

Jack Riepe said...

Dear George (Byerly):

Don't get all sappy on me with this "biker brotherhood" bullshit. I was thrilled to meet you and Adam because I never thought there existed two slower moving targets than me.

I'm delighted that Twisted Roads has become the guiding light in your life. Many fine riders, like Michael B. in Key West, regard Twisted Roads as their daily mentor. (Michael is a man of extremes, who has learned to live with constipation and a bike with no tach.)

I look forward to our first, all day, 30 mph, jaunt to Northeast, Md.

Fondest regard,
Jack • reep • Toad
Twisted Roads

Dagny Taggart said...

Although the streamers on the grips and the wire basket in front of the headlight of my bike may give some the wrong idea, I too was saddened not to find the promised pics of "Morgan" with the obligatory "zoom" shots included in the footnotes to this tale.

Shannon Baker said...

Jack,

I love hearings such stories of brotherhood and peace during the holidays. It warms my heart that two fellow Harley riders would find it in their hearts to provide a warm meal and fellowship to a broken down old fart like you. True Christmas spirit there...

I hope our paths cross soon...as I could use the money you owe me.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

-Buddha
Backroads Buddha

irondad said...

Did your cigar book happen to have a chapter on what to do with an intern and a cigar in a White House office?

Perhaps you could increase your sales by targeting political hopefuls?

Just trying to be helpful, understand.

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Dagny Taggart:

Your bike sounds really fancy... What model Harley do you have?

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Shannon (Buddha):

Who are you calling a broken down, old fart? Loud farts save lives... Even old ones.

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Iron Dad:

I do have a chapter about a cigar and the White House... It's called "The 200th Cigar." I also have a chapter about a cigar, a motorcycle riding instructor, and a naked woman. She comes up to the guy as hot as a fresh rivet, and says, "Wha advise do you have for me?"

He replies, "Wear a helmet."

Happy New Year!

Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad

DC said...

Damn you, Jack

Last night I read your blog and this morning realized I'd been tormented all night by dreams of Anthony Perkin's mother chasing me, wearing nothing but a candelabra on her head. Fortunately, she'd gained a few pounds and was on Harley, so I outran her.

Happy New Year. I look forward to getting through another winter. Let's grab a drink sometime. Leave the headgear at home, eh?

Dave C

Jack Riepe said...

Dear DC (Dave Case):

The last time I wore this headgear at a bar, you ended up asking me to dance 5 times. Happy New Year! Are you doing the January 1st lunch tomorrow? If so, I'll see you there.

Fondesat regards,
Jack • reep • toad

Steve Williams said...

As usual I was chuckling and laughing at your story until I got to the last picture. After cleaning vomit from the dog I had time to consider a proper response.

Happy New Year.

Steve Williams
Scooter in the Sticks

Jack Riepe said...

Dear Steve:

Not everythig dogs do is commendable. If I were you, I'd stop drinking from the toilet.

By the way, I was at a dog park the other day with Atticus on a leash, when a very attractive woman came along with her pooch scurrying about on a tether. The dogs inrroduced themselves in the usual manner and the woman said to me,"Wouldn't it be great if people acted more like these guys?"

This is one of those empty statements that people think is so philosophically significant... Because she started to yell as soon as I attempted to sniff her ass.

Happy New Year!
Jack • reep • Toad

Corey said...

Great story Jack. I was a little disappointed that you didn't get a shot of the waitress on Fireballs. For some reason every time I flash the "Battered Baby Seal" look (that you taught me) at women I get slapped. What's up with that?

Cantwell said...

Dear Corey,

At least you didn't get tazed. BTW, after the convulsions over, you suddenly realize you've pissed yourself.

Happy New Year,
Michael

Leslie said...

Every single time I read one of these posts, I think to myself, "really, what the fuck are you going to say," and then I say nothing.

Thanks for sharing?

Don't forget to pick up your socks in the living room.

And your shoes in the kitchen.

And the change before you put your laundry in the machine.

Oh, and please wipe the counter after you make whatever you make in the kitchen.

Hugs and kisses.

bobskoot said...

Jack & Leslie:

Hope you both had a very Happy New Year

are you that messy that Leslie has to air your dirty laundry on here.

I went back to your original post and am now waiting for your epic 3rd anniversary ride on January 16th to Exchange Place with Mack

bob
Wet Coast Scootin