Sunday, April 24, 2016
Thursday, April 14, 2016
|Grim, Bomber, Smooth, Krome and Rip City
We met for the March Social at the appointed place and time. Present: G-Man, Grim, Bomber, Smooth, Krome and Rip City. Absent: Big Easy, Duke and Zeus.
Greetings and salutations were exchanged while we looked over the north fence admiring Bomber's new 1950 GMC dump truck. Very cool. I can't wait to drive it and dump something.
Shortly thereafter, we climbed on our bikes and finally headed out after a few false starts. A discussion was first held about dining places and G-Man had to go back in the Clubhouse several times for forgotten items. He still forgot a jacket. We decided to head to Rudy's Pub at Ten Mile and McMillan. G-Man led the way as the Vice President is in charge of Club socials.
The roiling mass of chrome, metal and testosterone rolled out of the Clubhouse driveway impressively roaring west towards Eagle Road. As we crossed Records and approached the vehicles backed up for the light at Eagle Road, the impressive roaring mass of chrome and manhood turned suddenly into a gaggle of geese as Scarecrow decided, at the last moment, to turn right onto Eagle rather than proceeding west on Fairview. The gaggle of geese then turned into a passle of crustaceans as they crabbed sideways from the far left lane to the far right turn lane. Smooth and I rolled over to the aforementioned lane to block so Scarecrow, et al, could get safely into the target lane. Yes, we might have been chuckling a little at the sight. Phew. Turns out Scarecrow had spied a dust cloud ahead west on Fairview and didn't want the perfect hue of his painted steed sullied.
We then headed north on Eagle and turned left on Ustick Road. After about three years of traveling through the traffic on Ustick Road, we made it to Rudy's and eventually found parking places. We made our way inside and received permission from an employee to join two table for six people. We found our seats but I quickly found out I had forgotten to leave a chair in place for Rip City's new $900 wonder helmet. As soon as the golden helmet was made safe, we placed our orders.
|Rip City's Golden Helmet of Mambrino
I have since done some research and found out that Rip "Don Quixote" City has come into possession of the fabled golden helmet of Mambrino. Legend has it the golden helmet makes it's wearer invincible and has been sought after for ages. More information can be found at these links:
As per usual, it takes a little longer for orders to be served for larger parties. Restaurants try to bring everyone's food out at the same time. Everyone started chowing down as all were hungry. However, Rip City found his food was less than perfect in temperature and scanned the room like a cheetah looking for a wounded gazelle. He found his target, a young female server, and sent his meal back. The rest of the club continued to munch on our meals contentedly. The manager came out and apologized to Rip City. Rip City graciously thanked him for his concern. Everyone finished up their meals and our dishes were cleared as we sat chatting.
After a bit, Rip City then asked us where we were going to ice cream as he chewed on a piece of his Rib Eye steak. We laughed as we were not sure there would be time before he finished his belated meal. We did manage to leave before the restaurant closed and headed out.
The Prez led the Club over to Joplin to take the Massacre Loop to Middleton for ice cream. We rode west on Joplin until it turned into Lincoln and then continued west. We stopped briefly at Massacre Park as some members had not been to the nice little park and I waxed poetic about why our route was so named. We then rode west into the north side of Caldwell, Smooth and Scarecrow stopped for gas at the Maverick, rode past the old ice cream factory and over the one lane bridge to take the little road, below Old Highway 30, along the river. We made our way over to Highway 44 and turned back east into Middleton.
Jim's Burger Den was packed with Little League Sports folk and we barely found parking places and Rip City ended up parking on the sidewalk right in front of the drive-in restaurant. We entered the restaurant and the line to order extended out the door. Unfortunately, there are not a lot of choices for ice cream in Middleton. Smooth, Rip City and I found ourselves right behind a former neighbor of Carl and Sue Davis and she said she was used to the roar of motorcycles. In fact, she said her Dad owns a StratoLiner and a Spyder. I bit my tongue from saying something rude like, "I thought you said your Dad owned motorcycles". Rip City felt right at home being a former Rice Disciple.
We finally were able to get all our treats pried from Jim's employees and held court outside in front of the drive-in restaurants entrance. Scarecrow was a little chilly in his short sleeves and wished he had a jacket. I asked him if his saddle bags were on his RK just for show or if a jacket would fit. He had a snappy retort (not really) but I forget. We then began a lively conversation about how possessive Rip City was about his new helmet and noticed he kept it close although his Indian was only about six feet away. I started a collection to have the lady at Riderz Ragz make a really nice "man bag", with a shoulder strap, to allow Rip City to keep the Mambrino helmet close at hand to enhance his invincibility at all times. Rip was amenable as long as the bag was adorned with spikes and studs to enhance the manliness of the helmet purse.
Rip City then blurted out that we would all be sorry when we were involved in a "gang-wreck" and he would be the only one that survived as he was wearing the golden helm upon his noggin. This innocent spontaneous utterance was good for at least 20-30 minutes of remarks and jokes about "gang-wreck" stories and possibilities (and like occurrences). One never knows when a "gang-wreck" might break out. I have never seen every Club member laugh that hard at the same time before. My ribs still hurt from laughing so hard and I remain vigilant with my situational awareness as a "gang-wreck" might erupt at any time.
Grudgingly we said our goodbyes and headed our different directions. Everyone but Rip City headed east down Highway 44 with each member turning off as we passed the way to their respective homes. I rode with Bomber down to Glenwood before turning south towards Chinden. As I turned west on Chinden from Glenwood, I could not make myself go home as it was so nice a night to ride. I continued west and repeated the Massacre Loop we had ridden earlier in the evening. I remained vigilant for possible "gang-wrecks". After that, I gassed the Glide and finally went home.
What a great bunch of guys in this OMC. Rip City......I love you, man.