I wish I knew what I was doing. Layla screamed at me over breakfast, I waited at the station for the girl from Texas and Nicole wrote from Germany. I’ve got my laptop and I’m hiding out by the docks. Just me, the seaweed and barnicals, and my trusty touring chop. Let’s get to the news before someone traces the call.
Indian is in hot water again. In fact, the
As a result, tribes nationwide are resolved to obtain justice in the matter of the Indian trademark.
INSURANCE ADVOCATES SLAM EDUCATION AS RISKY Also, New Report on Dangers of NHTSA Culture of ?Passive Safety?
At a time when state motorcyclists? rights organizations (SMROs) are in the midst of lobbying Washington to advance safety training for motorists and motorcyclists, the nation?s leading insurance association promoting its version of ?highway safety? is telling Congress and the president, ?Why bother??
The Insurance Institute for Highway Safety, in a special report issued May 19, attacks the value of motorist and motorcyclist training and education. That special report is in the hands of Washington policymakers now — the very time when motorcyclists are lobbying for a resource injection to help state-run rider training and a national program of motorist awareness of motorcycles.?
A man staggers into an emergency room with a concussion, multiple bruises, two black eyes and a five iron wrapped tightly around his throat. Naturally the doctor asks him what happened.
“Well, it was like this,” said the man, “I was having a quiet round of golf with my wife, when at a difficult hole, we both sliced our balls into a pasture of cows. “We went to look for them, and while I was rooting around I noticed one of the cows had something white at its rear end. I walked over and lifted up the tail, and sure enough, there was a golf ball with my wife’s monogram on it……..stuck right in the middle of the cow’s butt. That’s when I made my mistake.”
“What did you do?” asks the doctor.
“Well, I lifted the tail and yelled to my wife, ‘Hey, this looks like yours!’ ”
Recall Notice: Harley-Davidson Sidecar Year: 1998
Dates of Manufacture: April 1997 – July 1998
Defect: These motorcycle sidecars were built with an axle that could break. This could cause a loss of control of the motorcycle, resulting in a crash.
Remedy: Dealers will replace the axles on these sidecars. Owner notification was scheduled to begin during late July 1999. Owners who do not receive the free remedy within a reasonable time should contact Harley-Davidson at (414) 342-4680.
H.R. 31 (Bartlett): This bill, the Citizens’ Self-Defense Act of 2001, would reaffirm the right of an individual to obtain a firearm for self-defense and to use the firearm to protect himself, his family and his home.–Yippee
Here’s another Chrome Specialties girl who will be featured in the Cantina and in the CSI department. She was recruited from Hooters in Dallas.
Years ago, when we put in the 88-inch stroker, I took her for a ride. When I returned, I said to my lil’ Quebecian buddy, Simon, “Fucking A, that’s the fastest FLH around. It’s an FLH/LMF.” Simon, who was unwise to American lingo, asked, “What is LMF?” I told him “It’s an FLH/Like a Mother Fucker!”
–C-YA J-BIRD
Deal of the week: laminated fiberglass custom handmade saddle bag and fender set with matching air dam. Front fender is 6 inches wide O.D., rear fender is 7 inches wide O.D., and the saddle bags are extra wide, measuring 8 inches I.D. The saddle bags and the rear fender have built-in 1939 Ford tear drop tail lights.
This is truly the deal if you want a unique motorcycle. I have seen this setup sell for over $2,500. SPECIAL $1,000. Contact: rogue@bikerrogue or visit web site www.bikerrogue.com
A group of nuns was traveling in a car when it got a flat tire. They got out and tried to change it, but being rather unworldly did not know how to do it. Luckily, a truck came along and the male driver offered to change it for them. They gladly accepted.
As the trucker jacked up the car, it slipped from the jack. “Son-of-a-bitch!” he yelled.
The eldest nun said to him, “That is not nice language. We understand that you are upset, but you mustn’t use such language.”
“Sorry sister,” he said, and tried again. Again it slipped, this time almost mashing his fingers. “Son-of-a-bitch!” he yelled again.
“Please, don’t use such language. If changing our tire is causing you to do so, it would be better if you didn’t help us.”
“But I get so upset, and it just comes out.”
“Well,” said the nun, “say something else when you get upset, something like ‘Sweet Jesus, help me.'”
So the trucker tried to jack up the car again. Again it slipped. He started to say “Son…” but he corrected himself and said, “Sweet Jesus, help me.” At that, the car floated up into the air by itself.
The nuns looked at the car and said, “Son-of-a-bitch!”
Yep, it’s Renegade as a college intern. He was always complaining about working with assholes, and finally proved it.
That’s it. I hear someone coming up the pier. Ride like there’s no tomorrow–Bandit
