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After a long day at work I came back home exhausted. I straggled into a once clean apartment living room and crashed on a dirty-clothes covered couch.I kicked my shoes off and remembered just how yesterday felt. I made my girlfriend the happiest girl in the world by letting her ride my new Suzuki Burgman. Then I drifted off into a semi-precious coma and dreamt of some modern day Cesar Chavez leading a "One-Man Scooter Revolution". (I'll tell that story another time; It involves a collection of U.S. scooter enthusiast taking over Mexico City and turning it into a scooter utopia called "Burgmanville". don't ask, I said I was tired.) Awoken by a sudden strange noise outside my window. I noticed Sassy, my cat, just as she fell off a ledge begging for dinner, a seafood and ground beef-parts dinner! Remembering I didn't have any catfood left in the house.I decided I'd go down to the market. It gave me a good excuse anyways to take my scooter out and drive it around.
Which I did. See, I say excuse, because I take pride in traveling now. About a few months ago, in a power struggle to recover my once felt sense of self-being and freedom, especially from riding in those metal boxes the nice car-salesmen just happened to sell me. I did some research and test-driving and bought a 2003 Blue Suzuki 650 Burgman.The "machine which has changed my life,or at least gave it back to me", has been my prima modus transportata for months now and I have since refined my riding style to an artform.
Not only have I found myself in the middle of being a spokesman for Suzuki,and all that pertains to Scootering, But a testdriver/renter of scooter time. I have become somewhat of aficionando of Scooter-ways( There is much Force in this one, Huh, Yoda?). People are always asking me to ride or learn about my Scooter. So, to me a trip to the supermarket isn't just a plain trip to buy liver & mashed potato catfood for sassy or female products for my girlfriend. NAY, it is a chance for me to showoff and a business opputurnity for Suzuki . So I left the house with gloves,leather jacket, and intentions to THRILL.
The trip started out sweet enough.The wind was on my face. A beautiful late October sunset was at my back. A slight chill and almost cloudless heaven crowned my head. The setting was surreal. A glow beamed from me. And I arrived into town moments later, my shoulders automatically move back and up, I sat square on my seat and the beast between my legs breathed like some well bred racehorse. I was Alexander come back from conquests. The crowd throng about me to catch a better view. Women exposed brassierres, I was told. My goal was just ahead of me at the time. The local Piggly Wiggly. Everything was going fine. Then, a large fruitbat from the woods flew directly into my bike. Hit me square across my face and stuck itself somewhere on my back. I'm not a skittish man, to say the least, but when a large flighted mammal that might carry rabies comes crashing into my head at 60 MPH I tend to scream like a girlscout! I tossed and I turned to get it off, but my passing stowaway didn't care to extend its stay. I didn't even get to say goodbye. Blindly I went careening down the road and then, to avoid crashing and ruining a perfectly good Burgman I decided to park my Burgman in the middle of the road, and dance like Michael Jackson on fire. This, to say the least, had the worst affect it could on the crowd that gathered at the borders of the parking lot. I proceeded to shake a non-existent bat off my back.Then, old people booed,and beautiful women screamed. So, I turned away in shame and drove back home with my head held low. Glancing, as I did, at a large dead bat laying lifeless on the road.
Well, the cat met me at the fence hungry. It ate my supper that night. I didn't have the stomach to eat or go back to the supermarket. (It felt like that **** animal was still crawling on me somewhere.)
The moral of the story is : ALWAYS WEAR YOUR HELMET,NO MATTER WHAT,EVEN IF YOU ARE JUST GOING UP THE ROAD,YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT IS OUT THERE TO GET YOU.
Lonnie Hale
Which I did. See, I say excuse, because I take pride in traveling now. About a few months ago, in a power struggle to recover my once felt sense of self-being and freedom, especially from riding in those metal boxes the nice car-salesmen just happened to sell me. I did some research and test-driving and bought a 2003 Blue Suzuki 650 Burgman.The "machine which has changed my life,or at least gave it back to me", has been my prima modus transportata for months now and I have since refined my riding style to an artform.
Not only have I found myself in the middle of being a spokesman for Suzuki,and all that pertains to Scootering, But a testdriver/renter of scooter time. I have become somewhat of aficionando of Scooter-ways( There is much Force in this one, Huh, Yoda?). People are always asking me to ride or learn about my Scooter. So, to me a trip to the supermarket isn't just a plain trip to buy liver & mashed potato catfood for sassy or female products for my girlfriend. NAY, it is a chance for me to showoff and a business opputurnity for Suzuki . So I left the house with gloves,leather jacket, and intentions to THRILL.
The trip started out sweet enough.The wind was on my face. A beautiful late October sunset was at my back. A slight chill and almost cloudless heaven crowned my head. The setting was surreal. A glow beamed from me. And I arrived into town moments later, my shoulders automatically move back and up, I sat square on my seat and the beast between my legs breathed like some well bred racehorse. I was Alexander come back from conquests. The crowd throng about me to catch a better view. Women exposed brassierres, I was told. My goal was just ahead of me at the time. The local Piggly Wiggly. Everything was going fine. Then, a large fruitbat from the woods flew directly into my bike. Hit me square across my face and stuck itself somewhere on my back. I'm not a skittish man, to say the least, but when a large flighted mammal that might carry rabies comes crashing into my head at 60 MPH I tend to scream like a girlscout! I tossed and I turned to get it off, but my passing stowaway didn't care to extend its stay. I didn't even get to say goodbye. Blindly I went careening down the road and then, to avoid crashing and ruining a perfectly good Burgman I decided to park my Burgman in the middle of the road, and dance like Michael Jackson on fire. This, to say the least, had the worst affect it could on the crowd that gathered at the borders of the parking lot. I proceeded to shake a non-existent bat off my back.Then, old people booed,and beautiful women screamed. So, I turned away in shame and drove back home with my head held low. Glancing, as I did, at a large dead bat laying lifeless on the road.
Well, the cat met me at the fence hungry. It ate my supper that night. I didn't have the stomach to eat or go back to the supermarket. (It felt like that **** animal was still crawling on me somewhere.)
The moral of the story is : ALWAYS WEAR YOUR HELMET,NO MATTER WHAT,EVEN IF YOU ARE JUST GOING UP THE ROAD,YOU NEVER KNOW WHAT IS OUT THERE TO GET YOU.
Lonnie Hale
