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Kountry Life Memories

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My Motorbike
One summer Saturday afternoon in my 11th year, dad and gramps came home from an auction. As usual, the old truck was piled high with rusty old farm implements and parts. I went over to help unload. The first thing dad handed down to big brother Ike nearly caused me to go blind from my eyeballs popping out. It was a genuine, no s***, Whizzer motorbike. I nearly wet myself.'Damn fool Hop'll kill hisself', gramps mumbled. Dad suggested we see what we could do with it. I knew Ike wasn't too interested. He already owned 2 vehicles. But to me, it was love at first sight, in spite of it's few faults. Rotten tires, missing drive belt to name a few. We wheeled it into the garage. Ike said it looked pretty much complete, maybe he could scare up some tires and such. Wrong thing to say. I pestered the hell out of Ike all week. By the end of the week we were ready to do a test ride. New tires and tubes, new belt, new spark plug, changed oil in the small motor, put some gas in the tank, put bike on kickstand, crank the pedals. Nothing. Ike said we need to check the spark. He pulled the wire and told me to hold it while he cranked. I wasn't born yesterday. 'Hey Daryl, c'mere and hold this wire'. Little brother Daryl, about 7 years old then, was only too happy to help. Daryl near jumped out of his shoes, and ran squalling into the house. 'She's got fire' I laughed. Ike pulled the spark plug and squirted some gas into the spark plug hole, put the plug back and started cranking. The little motor started popping, smoking, then ran, kinda. While it was struggling to run Ike said to hold the throttle open while he made some adjustments to the carburator. Soon it was running smooth as any Whizzer could. I got on, Ike shoved it off the kickstand and I was wobbily whizzing around the farmyard. From then on I was on that bike whenever I was not doing chores. One day, dad said if all I was gonna do that day was ride that damn motorbike, ride around the farm and check all the fences. So, I was riding my motorbike around the back pasture when Angel came pounding over on her horse, Cloudy. During our conversation Angel casually mentioned that Cloudy could outrun that piece of s*** bike and not even break into a sweat. Of course, she had to be taught a lesson. I couldn't let that go by. 'First one back to the barnyard, go'. Well, Cloudy had lots faster pickup but I was gaining by the time we had raced the length of the hay field and into the front pasture. Over the crest and down the hill toward the creek bottom we tore, almost neck and neck by then. When I woke up, Angel said I hit a hidden wheel rut, the front wheel collapsed, then I flew on ahead, solo, skidding and tumbling through the gravel of the tractor lane, and over the home made wood bridge that spanned our creek. Angel rode on to the house, got the folks who got me home and laid out on the kitchen 'operating' table. Out came the jar of whiskey. Gramps took a healthy pull while tweezers and bandages were found. When no one was looking, he gave me a pull. A wheelbarrow load of gravel was picked out of my chest, arms, belly, legs and butt, along with splinters from the wood bridge. Daryl was getting a big kick out of the whole show, laughing and giggling the whole time. I heard gramps say 'I told ya so' in the background. After the bandaging, I was so sore and stiff I could barely walk. Well, our county fair started the next day. We all went to see the sights. Dad and I was looking at the displays under the grandstands. At one booth, a nice young gal with great melons, wearing a scoop neck sun dress asked what happened to me as I hobbled by. Dad explained the accident, mentioning Ike's name somewhere in the telling. 'Ike (our last name)? I know Ike. Oh, you poor kid' she purred, pulling my head into her beautiful chest. When she was finished talking to dad, she had to push me away. I heard dad say to mom, 'Hop ain't hurtin as much as he wants people to think'.

Submitted By: Hoppy from IA on 2009-11-03

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