* work of any kind
* acute need to mow the lawn
* money, chronic lack of
* boyfriend, chronic lack of
* pointlessness of reviewing movies in the internet era
* that I have no wearable clothes for hot weather
* haircut? or no? yes?
Let me tell you, it was nice. Of course, motorcycles have many other excellent qualities beyond their total absorption of the rider's attention. For instance, when they gather in large groups, they tend to attract a certain level of mischief. Also beer. This certainly proved to be the case at the after-party, which occurred in a fenced-off compound surrounding a long, rusted-out dock and boat-launch ramp underneath the St Johns Bridge. A guy we know has leased the property so he can park his tugboat there and live on it, but the tugboat isn't there yet. Plenty of firewood washes up from the river onto the concrete boat ramp, so we built a bonfire at the end of the ramp and started in on the beer and sausages. Guess how long it took before someone rode a motorcycle down the pier? Not very long.
That was the night of the Supermoon, so just to be on the safe side I started text-messaging a play-by-play to my friend Mike. In case things turn weird it's good to have an off-site perspective on where it all went wrong. Turned out the adventure remained small-scale and well contained. But it's not every day you get to ride in the Cylon Commander Seat of a semi-truck dodging obstacles in a vacant lot. Partial transcript:
MR: Hope the Cinco de Mayo ride ruled!
Me: Still ruling! Partying under the st johns bridge.
Me: We're riding motorcycles off a pier by accident, whee!
MR: I hope you are riding away from many explosions
Me: And not looking back
MR: Why bother you know what you hath wrought
Me: Now they're trying to drive an old semi truck. What could go wrong?
MR: "What could go wrong?" might be a pretty good Sang-Froid club motto if they're still looking for one
MR: In Latin: "Quod Posset Ire Iniuriam"
Me: Now they're maybe using a stumptown van to jump the semi.
MR: Why do I fear this text thread is about to become evidentiary.
Me: They got it running! I pulled the horn. Lifelong dream realized!
MR: Okay, that's pretty goddamn sweet. Somewhere a schoolbus full of kids is delighted you did that.
Me: The semi just almost ran over the bonfire and into the river.
MR: If this is another set of those "They're playing The Cure at the Hawthorne Strip"-style texts, I will be sorely disappointed [this is fair, I've been known to exaggerate and even just make stuff up in text messages]
Me: I have video
MR: I hope you get yourself filmed pulling the semi horn as a fire roars behind you
Me: I am now in the truck
Me: Cops are here yeay!
MR: Now it's a party
Me: They retreated in disgust
MR: Let me know when someone plays The Smiths "There Is A Light That Never Goes Out" [he's clearly not buying any of this]
MR: You're in jail now aren't you
I was later reminded that when the cops rolled by, we decided to "act cool" and "seem normal" by turning up the miniature boombox extra loud and dancing. Because what could be more innocent.
There really is video but I have yet to figure out how to get it off my fancyphone and edit out the embarrassing giggly parts. Meanwhile here is the truck:
Now back to that list....