I
dreamed last night of BikerTown.
In
BikerTown the streets are full of two wheeled chuggin’
machinery. Cars
ain’t permitted in BikerTown and trucks are used for
delivery only.
Loud
pipes are encouraged in BikerTown, as is cruisin’ and
stuttin’....Hole shots, wheelies and general foolishness
are the orders of the day.
In
BikerTown there are no police because the people are
righteous and don’t need ‘em.
There
are no limits in BikerTown.
No speed limits, no age limits and no time limits.
The
roads around BikerTown are twisty and the curves are banked.
In
BikerTown the bars are open all night and the ice cold beer
is free, gushin’ from fountains.
In
BikerTown the nights are cool, the women are hot and the
music is loud!
I
dreamed last night of BikerTown.
I
hate poetry, but sometimes I feel like a poet....and no, it
don’t gotta rhyme!
I
was talkin’ to a buddy named Spanky the other day and we
got to rememberin’ some stuff from our crazy days.
Spanky
has a sister named Nanette who was the most incredibly good
lookin’ lady I ever had the pleasure to know. Thing is, she was
very yuppie and one warm summer night she felt like hangin’
with real people for a change.
“Hey
Bum? Why don’t you take me for a ride tonight and we’ll
paint the town?”
‘OH
YES!’ I thought, so I rushed home to brush my teeth twice, put
on some clean clothes and returned to load her onto my rear
fender for a night of fun and frolic.
When
we came to the first stop she slowly climbed off and said,
“Wow! This is
like, a real biker bar! I’ve always been
afraid to go in here! Will
there be a fight?”
“Probably
not. The safest bar in town is usually the baddest bar in
town. Ya never
know what’s gonna happen at those yuppie bars you hang out
in, but most of the people in here know better than to start
something.” We
grabbed a booth, then I went to the bar and ordered a few
drinks [The Jug didn’t have table waitresses!].
