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--- techtalk:ref:quostor06 [2020/01/26 10:44]
ixl2relax [Mosey's Tale Continues - Part Two]
+++ techtalk:ref:quostor06 [2024/01/20 00:00]
hippysmack
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 Mosey relates in his own gripping style the fantastic stories of Ray, a white-bearded motorcycle lover.
-The XLForum thread is here: http://xlforum.net/forums/showthread.php?t=1802273
+The XLForum thread is here: https://www.xlforum.net/forum/sportster-motorcycle-forum/sportster-motorcycle-era-specific-and-model-specific/ironhead-sportster-motorcycle-talk-1957-1985/167837-a-chat-with-a-whitebeard?t=1802273
 The thread starts on July 25, 2014 (thru June10, 2015). As of January, 2020, it has 85,541 views.
+In order to be able to link into the middle of the story, it has been (arbitrarily) headered into sections.\\
+{{:common:space100x5px.jpg?direct&200|}}[[techtalk:ref:quostor06#mosey_s_tale_begins_-_-_-_part_one|Part 1: The Tale Begins]]\\
+{{:common:space100x5px.jpg?direct&200|}}[[techtalk:ref:quostor06#mosey_s_tale_continues_-_part_two|Part 2: The Tale Continues]]\\
+{{:common:space100x5px.jpg?direct&200|}}[[techtalk:ref:quostor06#mosey_s_tale_continues_-_part_three|Part 3: The Tale Continues]]\\
+{{:common:space100x5px.jpg?direct&200|}}[[techtalk:ref:quostor06#mosey_s_tale_continues_-_part_four|Part 4: The Tale Continues]]\\
+Be sure to look for the part of the story where Ray competes at Bonneville and meets Burt Munro, rides\\
+one of Craig Breedlove's streamliners and builds his own to go 520mph, where he races at Daytona & Riverside\\
+with Cal Rayborn, the times he raced up Pike's Peak and the day Arthur Davidson came to see him.
+\\
 Mosey encouraged others to reveal their own stories encountering older riders with tales to tell.\\
 Click here for the '[[techtalk:ref:quostor05|Miscellaneous Tales of Meeting Interesting Characters]]' page for more stories.
-In order to be able to link into the middle of the story, it has been (arbitrarily) headered into sections.
+\\
+**REALLY SAD NEWS**
+On November 9, 2023, around 6:40 p.m., a fatal traffic collision took place between a 1992, White, BMW, traveling at a high rate of speed, and a 2008 Harley-Davidson motorcycle that was ridden by Mosey. He was pronounced dead at the scene. The perpetrator was caught days later trying to escape into Mexico.
+[[xlforum.net/forum/general-area/off-topic-general-discussion/205690-mosey-where-you-at?t=2083139|This XLForum thread]] has the notification we received from XLF member 'Kanthaka'. Below is a picture of Mosey & his 1982 Ironhead which [[:xlforum.net/forum/sportster-motorcycle-forum/sportster-motorcycle-era-specific-and-model-specific/ironhead-sportster-motorcycle-talk-1957-1985/158212-ironhead-and-owner-post-yer-pics-if-you-dare?t=1692940|he posted to the XLForum]].
+{{ :techtalk:ref:quostor:mosey-82ih-ironhead.jpg |}}
 \\
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 \\
-====== Mosey's Tale Begins - Part One ======
+====== Mosey's Tale Begins - - - Part One ======
 \\
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 Life is short and brutal. Ride free...\\
-th July 2014 (http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=4921711)\\
+th July 2014 (https://www.xlforum.net/forum/sportster-motorcycle-forum/sportster-motorcycle-era-specific-and-model-specific/ironhead-sportster-motorcycle-talk-1957-1985/167837-a-chat-with-a-whitebeard#post4921711)\\
 ======================================\\
@@ Line 71: / Line 91: @@
 Life is short and brutal. Ride free...\\
-th August 2014 (http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=4942327)\\
+th August 2014 (https://www.xlforum.net/forum/sportster-motorcycle-forum/sportster-motorcycle-era-specific-and-model-specific/ironhead-sportster-motorcycle-talk-1957-1985/167837-a-chat-with-a-whitebeard/page2#post3593856)\\
 ======================================\\
@@ Line 100: / Line 120: @@
 Life is short and brutal. Ride free...\\
-th August 2014 (http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=4946278)\\
+th August 2014 (https://www.xlforum.net/forum/sportster-motorcycle-forum/sportster-motorcycle-era-specific-and-model-specific/ironhead-sportster-motorcycle-talk-1957-1985/167837-a-chat-with-a-whitebeard/page3#post3596679)\\
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 ====== Mosey's Tale Continues - Part Three ======
+\\
+If anyone would like to send Ray a Christmas card, drop me a PM for my address and I'll see to it that he get's yer holiday well-wishes. He would be pleased as punch, I'm certain.
+Life is short and brutal. Ride free...\\
+(http://xlforum.net/forums/showpost.php?p=5043529)\\
+======================================\\
+Thanks again to everyone that responded to the Cards For Ray idea. Everybody give yerselves a pat on the back and a big slice of raisin pie! I'll let ya know about the visit with a sackfulla yer cards.
+Life is short and brutal. Ride free...\\
+(http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=5045466)\\
+======================================\\
+Thought all y'all might like to see what Old Ray is gettin' from me for Xmas...
+{{:techtalk:ref:quostor:mosey-raysxmaspresent-1.jpg?400|}}{{:techtalk:ref:quostor:mosey-raysxmaspresent-2.jpg?400|}}
+Kinda crude but whaddya expect from a guy with a hammer and a nail? The plan is to make a belt to go with the buckle. Gonna tool the logos from the different factory teams that Ray rode for: HD, Kawasaki, Suzuki, and his favorite bikes: Vincent, BSA and Triumph.
+BTW, the friend that gave me the piston said it was from a three cylinder Trumpet racing motor. Just seemed perfect for Ray.
+Life is short and brutal. Ride free...\\
+(http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=5042974)\\
+======================================\\
+**Mosey's Christmas Ride**
+Like a freight train a hunnerd cars long, fully loaded and ballin' the jack at eighty miles per, the wind funneled through mountain passes and roared down across the Los Angeles basin. It's a cold wind that shakes the walls like an earthquake and pulls at the shingles, ripping at the earth and tossing the palms trees to and fro. It's a mean wind that makes men think dark thoughts. It's a bitter wind that has harried housewives fingering the edge of their carving knife as they eye their passionless husband's throat while he sleeps. It's a wind that Los Angeles know well.
+I woke feeling restless, the wind clawing at the walls of my shack, and by the weird blue glow of my bedside alarm clock I could see it was four AM - hours before I needed to be up and at 'em. I rolled over and remembered my task for the next day - go visit Ray, play Santa and deliver a buncha cards from my motorcycling brothers. Cards from folks that he's never met. Cards fulla good wishes and season's greetings. Cards carrying generous thoughts to a timeworn old man.
+I smiled, pulled the covers a little closer and drifted back to sleep knowing what the morrow would bring. Let the wind howl and moan, I'm gonna dream my two-wheeled dream.
+= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =\\
+The wind was still playing cat and mouse through the suburban jungle as I rolled the big orange Harley into the noonday sun. I eased it onto the jiffy stand and stepped back to eyeball the scoot. The old Shovel sure looked good, it's chrome and polished aluminum winking in the bright Christmas sunshine, the decades old Competition Orange paint gleaming in spite of the years. I smiled and went in the house. I gathered up my leathers and helmet, grabbed the worn leather saddlebags fulla cards and locked up the compound.
+Slinging the bags over the rear fender, I climbed into the saddle and kickstarted the old machine. The boom of internal combustion echoed off the concrete walls and razor wire surrounding the SFV headquarters of the Mosey empire. I grinned maniacally listening to the waves of sound roiling around me. Today is gonna be a good day.\\
+= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
+"Wow! You look like a movie star!!" I stood aside and held open the lobby door as an older lady, dressed in her Sunday best to honor the holiday, walked out. She smiled broadly, flattered by a genuine compliment and blushed, her cheeks reddening slightly. I'd seen her before, a faded reminder of the gorgeous youth that she had once been, and had been impressed by her grace and girlish charm.
+"Oh you." She took my hand. "You sure know how to make a girl's Christmas."
+Now it was my turn to blush a little as this octogenarian batted her blue eyes at me. She reached out, laid her palm on my cheek and said, "Your lucky there's no mistletoe around, little boy, or you'd be in big trouble."
+Just then the convalescent home director, and affable Asian dude named Jim, strolled up and saved me from the tender clutches of my elderly movie starlet. "Phyllis, they need you in the music room. It's time to start the Christmas carols and they need your soprano."
+Movie star Phyllis gave me a quick peck on the cheek. She smelled of lilac perfume. "If I only had some mistletoe..."
+"Come on Phyllis." Jim lead her away gently and handed her off to a nurse who escorted her down the hall toward where I imagined the Music Room would be.
+"Let me call Ray for you. I think he's in his room."
+"If he's resting don't bother him, I can come back later."
+"No, You wait right there, I'm sure he would want to see you. Jim turned and headed for the office. Over his shoulder he said, " He would be upset if he knew you were here and we didn't call him. Your his best friend."
+I stood there in the lobby between the grand piano and the potted ficus tree feeling humbled and honored by Jim's last remark. Wow! It's cool that anyone thinks that I might be Ray's best friend. I've just moved a couple rungs up on the ladder. The view is a lot better from up here. Hope I don't get all light-headed from the thin air.
+A short time later the elevator doors opened and Ray shambled out into the wood panelled hall. "Mosey!" His rheumy eyes brightened and he stuck out his hand as he spotted me. My leathers creaked softly as he pumped my arm enthusiastically. Damn, the old fart sure has a solid grip!
+Ray, shuffling slowly, walked me over to a pair of chairs in a quiet corner and we settled in. Old folks drifted past us to congregate in the lobby in groups where they dispersed to parts unknown within the large building. Apparently there is always sumpin' going on to keep the residents occupied: poetry readings, singers, dancers, music lessons and group chorus, and Ray has spoken of his enjoyment especially with the long-legged dancer that comes in twice a month. Ray sure get's a happy look on his wrinkled, hairy mug when he's describing her performances!
+We talked about the usual things - how'd ya like the big wind, how's the motorbike runnin', are ya gettin' any, have ya gotten any extra special sponge baths - ya know, the usual questions that we all ask each other. I noticed that ray was answering a little slowly and, in a five minute conversation, he asked me the same question three times.
+"So what's the fastest you've gone?"
+"I dunno for sure Ray. When I was much younger and a little dumber I buried the needle on a hunnerd and forty mile per hour speedo one time. so I guess maybe a hundred and fifty or so."
+"That's nuthin. Try five hundred miles per hour. You make a mistake at that speed, you have a mechanical failure, whatever, and it's gonna get crazy. Sliding outta control across the salt a little scary."
+"Damn Ray, I can only imagine how that would feel, but my ass is clenchin' just thinkin' about it."
+Ray's eyes got a vague, faraway look as he stared out the window. I'm sure he was seeing far expanses of shimmering salt baking in the relentless sunlight of Utah instead of the well-manicured lawns and carefully pruned eucalyptus trees outside the glass. I'm certain that he was listening to the howl of a well-tuned motor at max revs instead of the low mutter of an old folks home. We sat in silence for a long ,o,emt.
+"Mosey, tell me," Ray looked up brightly. "So what's the fastest you've ever gone?"
+A little caught off-guard I replied, "Uhh, a buck fitty, a hunnerd and fifty maybe. Why do you ask?"
+A moment of silence as Ray looks down. He lifts his head and smiles. "So how ya been?"
+I pull out the saddlebag and we proceed to go through the contents. As each envelope was opened and Ray examined the contents, turning them over in his gnarled hands, his smile got bigger and bigger. He would hand each to me asking me to read it to him. he wanted to know where each and every letter and card was from. "Are you kidding me Mosey, a card from London?"
+"Well, it's from London, Ontario. Up in Canada."
+"Well, that is damned cool!" Ray said with a boyish grin. I grinned as well thinking about Iron Mick dropping that selfsame card in the mailbox.
+Ray opened envelopes with return addresses from all over the world - the USA made a great showing and so did some far flung points of the globe. Ray got cards from Germany, Australia, the Philippines, just to name a couple.
+He looked at me with an obvious sense of amazement and asked how I kept in touch with all these people.
+"I use my home computer. It's easy with the internet to let people all over the globe know what yer up to in an instant."
+"And all these people wanted to send me cards?" Ray's voice wavered a bit. "How am I ever gonna say thanks to all these fine people?"
+"Aww Ray, I don't think you need to worry about that. I'll let 'em all know how much you enjoyed getting their holiday wishes. I know that none of 'em are expecting anything in return, they all just did it to share that good feeling ya get at the holidays. I got a buncha really cool friends."
+"You sure do, Mosey. You sure do." Ray's eyes were a little misty as he leaned across the table and squeezed my arm. "You tell 'em that Motorcycle Ray says thanks. Okay?"
+"I'll do that Ray." He looked down at the pile of cards and envelopes laying on the table. I could tell that he was tickled pink when he saw that every single damn one of 'em was addressed to Motorcycle Ray. I'm certain that a little detail like that sparked a warm glow in an old man's heart. then the outpouring of well-wishes fanned the flames. Ray shook his head in amazement.
+We talked about how nice it was that there were still so many good people in this mean old world and that motorcycles, simple machines that they are, have magical powers to bring folks together. I told ray that most of the really good people I knew rode motorsickles. Ray nodded sagely, muttering sumpin' about the brotherhood of danger. We sat for a long moment listening to the throb and hum of the populous building around us.
+"So. What's the fastest you've ever gone?"
+"Not that fast Ray. Not compared to you."
+"Well, lemme tell ya what happens when you crash. Yer sliding, spinning around..."
+A nurse came up and laid a gentle hand on Ray's shoulder. "They are putting out Christmas dinner, Ray. Let's go down there now and get you a good seat while there is still plenty of mashed potatoes."
+"And gravy! I love that damned gravy!" Ray grinned happily at the thought, mounds of fluffy potatoes drowning in rich, steaming-hot gravy and Ray with a fork in his hand.
+I gathered up the cards and handed them to the nurse. Ray stood there turning over a Zippo lighter adorned with a large G in his hands. "This is beautiful. And to think someone in Georgia sent it to me. I don't know what I did to deserve this."
+"Don't worry about that. You just enjoy knowing that a lot of people are wishing you a merry Christmas. And me too, Ray." I stuck out my hands and he took it. We shook hands.
+"Merry Christmas Ray."
+"Merry Christmas Mose. Now you go get you a good piece for New Year. Knock one off for me, okay? Wouldja do that?"
+I laughed heartily. "I'll sure give it a shot. You take care and I'll be back in a couple days. See ya soon."
+"Yer a good fella. Thanks again. And thanks to all yer buddies. Alright?" The nurse took Ray's arm and guided him slowly down the hall.
+"I'll let 'em know, Ray. Enjoy that Christmas dinner."
+Ray stopped and shook his arm loose of the nurse's grip. "Hey Mosey. What's the fastest you've ever gone?"
+"Well, uhh..."
+The nurse again gently tries to steer her charge in the direction of the dinner hall. Ray says, "I just wanna tell Mosey what happens when you crash."
+"I think you already told him that Ray."
+"Well have you ever gone five hundred and twenty miles per hour?"
+"No Ray, I haven't"
+Their voices faded as they moved off down the long hallway. Other, faster moving residents, were also headed for the dining area and Ray was soon lost from view.
+= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =\\
+After kickstarting the old Shovelhead, I sat in the parking lot listening to the reassuring heartbeat of the old pushrod motor at idle. I twisted the throttle and listened to the exhaust crack and boom. "That's for you Ray." The thought rolled through my mind followed by, "Never seen Old Ray moving so slowly." And then, "It don't seem good, him askin' me the same question. Each time like the first time. Aww man, I hope it's just a bad day and he's better next time I see him."
+I cracked the throttle one more time. "Here's to you old man." I wiped roughly at my eyes with a leather-gloved hand.
+Then I pulled in the clutch, kicked the dog into gear and rode off into that cold, winter wind.\\
+= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
+Life is short and brutal. Ride free...\\
+(http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=5048548 &\\
+http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=5048551)\\
+======================================\\
+**Santa Rides Again**
+The blade on the well-worn Buck Ranger clicked into the cunningly designed locking mechanism and I pushed it across the table, handle first, toward Ray. The warm California sunshine glinted on the steel blade and caressed the rosewood handles and brass bolsters. Memories of times that piece of wood and metal came to my rescue made me smile a small, personal grin. 'Good old knife. Saved my hide more than once. It's a good thing to have for, lo, these many years.' And then followed the thought that old, well-used things are worth keeping. Hell, sumpin' like that is worth cherishing.
+I looked across the table at Ray. He picked up the pocketknife and slit open the first card. "Holy hell Mosey," he said looking at the envelope, "this is all the way from New Zealand." He took out the card and turned it over in his big, wrinkled mitts. "Par Avion, I guess that means Air Mail in New Zealandish." He looked at one side with a furrowed brow, then flipped the card to the other side. His face lit up in a flash. "I know that guy. That's Burt Munro!"
+He looked up with a wild-eyed, maniacal grin plastered on his weathered mug. "I was running my machine at Bonneville, working on it when this guy comes up and starts telling me about some fella that needs a couple bucks to run and he's from New Zealand. I said to myself that if the guy came that far he oughta be able to run the course. So I gave him five bucks."
+"Later, I met the guy and thought he was a pretty nice fella. I was glad I gave him the money. And then I was surprised when he went and set a Gawd-damn record. I guess I bet on a winner that day."
+I sat there, looking at Ray as he stared at the pics on the card. I shook my head slowly, finding it hard to believe what I had just heard. "Read me what the fella that sent this wrote, wouldja Mose?"
+As I read the kind words on the card I imagined Ray, a strapping youth wrenching on his machine in the flat relentless sun of the salt flats, handin' over the cash that helped create a modern legend.
+"Hey Ray, have ya ever seen The World's Fastest Indian?"
+"What's that?"
+"A movie about Burt Munro and his Bonneville record."
+"No way! They made a movie about that? Just goes to show that ya never know, do ya?" Ray ginned, impishly, "They shoulda made a movie about me. But it woulda been X-rated!"
+"Well buddy, I'm gonna hafta find you a copy of that movie and let you watch it. I know you'd enjoy it." I picked up the next card and handed it to Ray. As I watched the grizzled old dude wielding my Buck Knife and smiling like a kid on Christmas day, I thought how lucky I am to get to experience a moment like this.
+= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =\\
+And my thoughts turned to my friends, compatriots, brothers and sisters that made this happen. I sent a massive vibration of thanks out to all that responded at that moment. So, if today around three o'clock all y'all, Dear Readers, felt sumpin'...it was me. Thanks again.
+Ray was amazed as he opened card after card and i read the sentiment contained within to him. he scratched his head, replaced the Kenworth cap and asked again how it was that I happened to have so many cool friends. I told him that it was a complete mystery to me as well and we both laughed.
+I wish y'all coulda been there to see his face as he opened a package containing a badass Shovelhead tee shirt and a scale model Shovelhead touring bike. "Good gawd Mosey, even the freakin' kickstand works on this thing! This is going on my shelf!" Ray's eyes gleamed with gratitude.
+Wish youse guys coulda seen the look on old Ray's mug as he pulled out a Shovelheads Forever sticker from an envelope and the tear in his eye as I read him what everyone wrote. Some of y'all are friggin' poets! Got a catch in my throat as I was reading a couple times, lemme tell ya. Damn you for making this old biker feel something approaching a human emotion! Damn you Dear Reader! It's all yer fault.\\
+= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
+I thumbed the lock and flicked the razor-sharp blade back into the handle. I reached across the table. "See ya in a few days bub. Okay"
+Ray grabbed my hand and shook it vigorously. "Sounds good to me. Tell yer friends I said thanks, wouldja? Hell, who woulda thought I'd get Christmas twice in one year?" Ray smiled his best toothy grin and I couldn't help but return it.
+'I'm a lucky man!" I thought as I walked across the parking lot to my old Harley.
+Life is short and brutal. Ride free...\\
+http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=5061997)\\
+======================================\\
+On my way home from seeing Ray, I stopped by to see a girl I know. Now she isn't the motorcycle type - she doesn't know a Harley from a Honda and doesn't care - but she does enjoy riding pillion once in a while.
+As I was telling her about Ray and Burt Munro she said, "That sounds familiar." After a little prodding she remembered seeing the movie a few years back and really enjoying it. Even she, with her little knowledge of motorbikes and even less about Bonneville, was amazed to hear of Ray's connection to the world's fastest Indian. Now she wants to meet Ray! I don't know if I wanna let her be swayed by Ray's charming way with the ladies. I'm worried that my pillion would be empty on the way back. I'd prolly hafta ride off seeing her sitting on Ray's lap in my rearview mirror.
+Now, Dear Reader, I'm a man and you KNOW that could never happen. Cuz I can't see nuthin' in my mirrors with the motor running!
+Thanks again for joining forces and making a Christmas that Ray won't soon forget.
+Life is short and brutal. Ride free...\\
+(http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p= 5062346)\\
+======================================\\
+**Mexican Hat Dance**
+The gazebo is an octagonal, roofed, wooden structure set across the parking lot, about two hundred feet from the front door of the convalescent home. On the wooden decking inside is a table surrounded by four Chippendale-style, upholstered chairs. Ray was sitting in one of the chairs and an immensely fat black man sat in one of the others. The fat man struggled to his feet as I approached, the poor chair groaning and creaking as he levered his bulk up and onto unsteady legs.
+As he tottered past me, I smiled and held out my fist. The old black man grinned and bumped my fist. "What's up?" "Nuttin'." "Hang in there, sumpin's bound to happen." Rolls of fat formed on his face as he broke into a smile. Never forget, Dear Reader, that a smile, given freely, is returned many times over.
+I sat in the chair opposite Ray after a warm handshake. That old fart sure has a strong grip! Not the kinda handshake that grinds yer bones, but the type that conveys a sense of controlled and restrained power.
+"How ya been?"
+"Not bad. Feelin' pretty good."Pause. "Of course not as good as in the old days. Ya know, I used to love fighting? Slap fights, fist fights, wrasslin', whatever. Put up yer dukes and let's get to it. let's see who's got what, ya know?"
+"Yeah, I gotta pretty good idea what yer talkin' about. I grew up with three older brothers and fighting was an early learned skill in my family. Fight or perish."
+"Exactly Mose! ya gotta be tough." Ray looked off into the distance."Man, I used to think I was tough. hell, invincible and bulletproof. I didn't think nuthin' could hurt me. And even if it did, I could laugh it off, get up hurtin', and continue trading punches. Nuthin', and nobody, was gonna stop me from doing what I wanted to do. Back then, it was do whatever it takes to get 'er dun."
+"I really don't think you've changed much Ray."
+His blue eyes sharpened their focus and he shot me a look like a falcon spotting a rabbit.
+"I ain't half the man that i used to be, and I know it! Lemme tell about back when i was a tough S.O.B."
+Ahhhhh. Now this is the moment, Dear Reader, that makes it all worthwhile. This is the moment when I lean back in the chair, relax, and listen close knowing that a Ray tale is about to unfold. I listen close so I can bring the words back for your perusal.
+= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =\\
+(The picture is at the beginning of this story)\\
+That pic has a lot to say. The bike is the one that caused old Ray to say, "Hey." The asphalt is the same bank lot that I was in when I met Ray.
+And if ya look, you can see the gazebo...\\
+= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
+"Now I think this was the third year that I ran the Baja - things get kinda fuzzy when ya get this old - prolly around '69, I think. I was riding a Triumph with high pipes. I remember that bike well. It had high pipes and the only thing between yer thigh and a burning hot pipe was this little wire thing. We called it a barbeque grill. There was this Limey mechanic that worked for us and he always called it the 'chip basket' - ya know, fish and chips."
+"I was doing pretty good. I'd passed a lot of vehicles that day and i was feeling pretty good about my standing. Maybe I was feeling a little too confident, a little too cocky, cuz i was hard on the throttle. It didn't matter, I was holding that throttle open, sliding through the corners and getting airborne off every hill. I was having a blast! It was like my perceptions and reactions were perfectly in tune . i was on top of it, lemme tell ya. My mind was zooming ahead of my bike plotting and planning every single move way, way in advance."
+"It was like perfect."
+Ray paused and fumbled through the pockets of his rumpled windbreaker. He pulled a Pall Mall out of the battered pack and, using a Zippo lighter emblazoned with a Georgia logo (Sent by one of all 'y'all to Ray at Christmas!) he lit his coffin nail and drew the smoke deep into his lungs. The smoke drifted out past his beard and moustache. He looked pensive for a long moment, took another drag and made me wait for the rest of the story.
+Oh Dear Reader, I had to bite my lip. So many questions were rattling through my empty skull, but I knew that i had to let the story unfold in it's own way.
+"So, I've got the throttle pinned and I come over this ridge. The road runs right next to this ravine and is filled with these little hills and whoop-dee-dos. I'm railing along and I come over this hill - man, the jump was perfect and I landed it like nuthin', just set 'er down easy - when outta nowhere this friggin' cow comes out of the bushes next to the trail and slams into me! Ka-pow!!"
+He smacks his fist into his open hand for emphasis. Ray grins steadily as he reaches with nicotine stained fingers and pulls the butt from his lips. I wait.
+"It was like two planets colliding. That gawddamn cow came outta nowhere and hit me while i was doing prolly ninety miles an hour. Somehow I held onto the bars. The bike went off the road, I hit the berm at the edge and the bike went airborne. Man i was really flying!"
+"Next thing I know, I'm waking up with a motorcycle on top of me. I don't know how long I laid there, but I got the scars to prove it." Ray stood up, the legs of his chair scraping on the decking as he rose. He lifted his windbreaker and shirt to show a long, curving mass of twisted flesh across his stomach and chest. Exactly the same tight curve as hi-pipe Trumpet.
+"I dunno how long I was there, but even after i woke up it took a while to realize that I was laying in a thicket of mesquite bushes with a hot motorcycle on top of me. It was balanced so that every time I moved the exhaust pipe would come down on me, burning me more. I finally got my courage up and, in one quick motion, threw the bike offa me."
+Ray took the last puff and ground out the cig on the heel of his Converse All Stars. He dropped the butt in his pocket and continued with his story. "So there I am. I start checking myself and I'm not happy with what I find. Best I can tell, my arm is busted - the left one - and my leg is definitely busted. I can feel the broken bones through my suit. But the other leg is okay. I can't feel any pain on that side. Actually I can't feel much of anything on that side at all."
+I find a stick and, using it as a cane, I pull my self to my feet. Okay! I'm on my feet, I'm gonna make it! I look around now I can see over the bushes I was laying in. I can see that where the road is. It's maybe two hundred yards away. Up a really steep slope covered with rocks and brush. I realize that the other racers aren't gonna be able to see me down here and I gotta get up there somehow."
+"So with my walking stick I try to take my first step. As my good foot came down my leg buckled and down I went. It turned out that I had a dislocated hip. That thing was completely outta the socket - just flappin; around. But I had to do sumpin'. So I started crawling. I crawled up that gawddamned hill as far as I could. I passed out a couple times, but when I woke up I just kept crawling."
+"I got to a point where it was just too steep to go any further. I tried but I kept slipping back. That is so disheartening, to crawl up and then slide back. I laid there and looked at the sky."
+Ray stared off above the treetops. "I don't wanna die here in this stinking desert. Hell, I don't even wanna spend the night here. I could be in town with some sweet senorita at the cantina drinking mescal. Eff that! I'm damn well gettin' out of here."
+"So what did ya do?" I couldn't keep my mouth shut any longer.
+"I took off my helmet and waited until I heard a motor. I waited until the right moment and threw my helmet as hard as I could. I couldn't see if it actually made it as far as the road and my heart sank as i heard the motor continue on. Oh shit! Now what?!!"
+"Suddenly the motor cut and within fifteen minutes another motorcycle rider was at my side. I told him if he would just help me get my bike back on the road, I could finish the race. He laughed and told me that he was going to get help."
+"Well, I spent a few nights in a Mexican hospital room and had a great time pinching senoritas butts with my good hand!" Ray grinned that familiar grin. "It took me a little while longer in the hospital back in San Diego, but I was back pretty quick. I hated being stuck in bed. all I could think about was racing. Well...that and the ladies!"
+Ray and I sat there in the gazebo sharing a laugh and watching the sweet Cali sun sink past the treetops in the west. Ray lit another Pall Mall.
+Life is short and brutal. Ride free...\\
+(http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=5074817 &\\
+(http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=5074918)\\
+======================================\\
+**The Hand That Writes and Quickly Moves Away**
+It was, Dear Reader, a hot night in early June. The concrete sidewalk radiated the day's heat through the soles of my worn boots as I stood in front of the Troubadour on Santa Monica Boulevard. Music drifted out in bits and pieces as the door to the club opened and shut. I stood there absorbing the energy of the city around me.
+I had just arrived in Los Angeles from the backwoods of the Pacific Northwest with four of my best friends ready to make our mark on the world of rock. We spent the week finding a crib, a rehearsal space, a gig, women, and good bud. It was a busy week!
+Come Friday night we headed to Hollywood That's how I found myself standing there in the middle of Hollyweird, knowing not a soul in town (besides my bandmates, and they don't count...at least the drummer could count to four!) and wondering what the hell I was doing there. Had we made a big mistake leaving our comfortable round of paying gigs in rural bars, playing cover tunes. Was this city gonna digest us and leave us like the piles of dog shit in the alleys?
+Within five minutes I was sitting at the bar with the singer of a world famous, arena rock band, drinking a beer he bought me and marveling at the two bodacious blondes he had hanging on his arms. He had accosted me on the sidewalk in a case of mistaken identity and, in an act of apology, dragged me inside the Troub and now I was partying with a friggin' rockstar, fer gawd's sake!
+Within a few minutes we were joined by the guitarist from his band and a well-known movie actor. The party swirled around me and I sat there on my barstool wondering at it all.
+Now, Dear Reader, you may be wondering what the hell all this rock-n-roll nonsense has to do with motorcycles and, more specifically, with Old Ray. I can understand yer consternation. Well...lemme tell ya, this tale is about serendipity. Synchronicity if you choose. Whatever ya choose to call it, it's about the strange twists of fate that the universe has in store for us mere mortals.
+Recently a kind feller from Merry Olde England that goes by the handle of Maddog sent a couple videos for Ray to peruse. The two titles he so generously sent were On Any Sunday and The World's Fastest Indian. The two vids have been languishing in my possession for a couple weeks now. I have snuck away from my crazy busy work schedule a couple times to see Ray, but unfortunately one time he was at his doctor and the other he was napping.
+Finally, this week I knew i would have a full day off and made plans to hang with the crazy old coot. I was stoked to think about how happy he would be at the thought that someone would send him these movies to enjoy. I knew he would be pleased as a puppy with...well, you know. If you know anything about Ray...you know!
+So, the other night when I finally got outta work I boogied straight to the grocery store to pick up some odds and ends before they closed. I leave the Sporty in the parking lot, wander the store, get my foodstuffs and as I'm standing in the checkout line I notice the scruffily dressed dude in front of me has a motorcycle helmet in his shopping cart.
+Now this isn't a shiny new helmet but a dirty, scuffed and beaten helmet with mud spatters on it. I immediately know this guy is alright so I strike up a conversation with him. He tells me that he was a stadium motocrosser but has been outta the biz for a few years. He's riding a dual sport that I noticed in the lot as I parked because of the heavy duty aluminum saddlebags and topbox. We chat about the terrors of the urban streets and then I tell him about my upcoming visit to Ray. As I tell him about the movies that I'm delivering to Ray, the dude's eyes light up.
+"On Any Sunday? Are you kidding me? I'm in that movie!"
+Visions of the guy as a young man on a motorbike leaping through the air, his front wheel all crossed up and roosting it in style pass through my mind's eye. Instead he tells me that he was just a little kid out with a couple friends on their Schwinn Sting Rays just foolin' around when a guy asks them if they wanna be in a movie. They ride their bikes around for the camera. "It's the scene in the very beginning and I'm the kid riding the bike with the padded crossbar on the handlebars. Man, that was a cool day." The dude looked kinda wistful for a moment, then gathered up his groceries. We shook hands and parted ways.
+So today as I sat across from Ray, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the videos, I told Ray about my previous night's encounter with the dude in the grocery store. "Dammit Mosey, I saw that movie a long time ago and I kinda remember that. We're gonna hafta look for that kid when we watch it."
+We made plans for me to bring a laptop next time. Ray said that they prolly wouldn't let him watch a motorcycle movie on the community DVD player. So next week Old Ray and me are gonna be sitting outside in the shade watching the movies that Maddog so kindly sent. Here's one to Maddog. He's a helluva guy... even if he does ride a Shovelhead!
+So, Dear Reader, there is my tale of serendipity. Fate moves in mysterious fashion and brings us moments of strange entanglements. If I hadn't hurried to the store I might have never met the dude. Hell, if I had merely chosen a different checkout lane I wouldn't have this story to relate. It's a strange life on this planet spinning through the illimitable cold vastness of eternity.
+Life is short and brutal. Ride free...\\
+(http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=5091745)\\
+======================================\\
+**Too Fast to LIve, Too Young to Die**
+The old man sat regarding me with a thoughtful expression. Sunlight, filtered through the trees above, dappled his worn face and white beard. He absentmindedly played with a Zippo lighter as he spoke.
+“Ya know one of the main reasons that I'm here is because I been havin' a lot of trouble with my memory. The docs say it isn't Alzheimer's, it's sumpin' that they don't know exactly what's causing it. Them docs look at me like some kinda curiosity, there's always a bunch of 'em talking and whispering. Makes me crazy.”
+He flipped open the lighter and put flame to the cig dangling from his mouth. “Ya know Mose, as I hear yer motor fading away after one of yer visits, I immediately start thinkin'. Thinkin' about what piece of my past I can still remember that maybe you would like to hear about. When sumpin' occurs to me, some little bit of memory, then I start really thinkin'. Sometimes I think about it when I can't sleep or while I'm smoking out here.”
+“I think about it and try my damnedest to remember every-damn-thing about that moment. Ya know: what I was doing, who I was hanging with, what the weather was like, what I was wearing, drinking, riding..ya know, everything. And ya know what?” He looked up with a devilish grin. Without waiting for an answer, he continued.
+“Them docs say I'm getting better. And I tell 'em it all Mosey's fault!” He chuckled and took a long drag. “I told 'em that I been trying to remember the old stories about my motorcycles and they think it's made an improvement in me.”
+Now it was my turn to grin.
+“The last time you was here you asked me about any wild road stories. I got some stuff I been thinkin' about but one time stands out real clear. Ya wanna hear about it?”
+I ask you Dear Reader, does a drowning man gasp for air, does a starving man dream of food, does a bear shit in the woods?
+“Of course I wanna hear about it!! Gawd dammit Ray, quit teasing me with all this bullshit and tell me the damn story already.” I smiled my sweetest smile and the old man burst out laughing.
+“Aw Mose you shore do make me laugh.”
+Ray took the butt, ground it on his heel and tossed it into a nearby ashtray. He paused and looked off at the hills in the distance for a long moment before he launched back into his tale.
+“So I met this girl, I don't quite remember how, that lived way the eff out in Descanso (I had to Google that one Dear Reader. It IS waaaay the eff out in the middle of nowhere!) and she calls me up one Friday and tells me her folks are going away for the weekend. Now this girl was what I guess you would call a “fun” girl, so when she called I jumped on my bike and headed out to see her.”
+We will assume, Dear Reader, that Ray was riding an early Sixties, mag-fired, kick only, tin-cover XLCH out of respect to this fine forum. All hail the mighty XLF, the encyclopedic repository of all things Sportster!
+Ray grinned a wicked smile as he recalled that time in the distant past. “I'm here to tell ya Mosey, that girl was hot. We was having a real good time.” He leaned in close to elucidate the dirtiest of details.
+= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =\\
+Now here, Dear Reader, I must restrain myself. Ray's “details” aren't really fit for print. He spoke of acts that would make a sailor blush. And, trust me on this, I would not be capable of properly relating his amorous adventures. It reminds me of a conversation between Samuel Clemens, perhaps better known as Mark Twain to the unwashed masses, and his wife.
+Twain's wife Livy Clemens disliked his habit of swearing, and he tried to keep it from her. One day when he was dressing alone, he realized that his shirt was missing a button and went off on a blue streak. To his horror, he realized that his wife was listening behind the door. In her prim voice, she repeated his words to him as a reprimand.
+"Livy," he said, "did it sound like that?"
+"Of course it did," she said, "only worse. I wanted you to hear just how it sounded."
+"Livy," he said, "it would pain me to think that when I swear it sounds like that. You got the words right, Livy, but you don't know the tune."
+In other words...I will leave it to your imagination Dear Reader.\\
+= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
+“So we're going at it and the damn phone starts ringing. It rings a buncha times and finally she says, 'I better answer that.' She's talkin' and I hear her say, 'Hello. ..oh..oh really, that's too bad...uh yeah, fried chicken would be fine...okay, I'll see you soon Daddy.'
+“Now when she said that last word I freaked. She said that her Mom was not feeling good so her parents had come home early. I started looking for my clothes. I sure didn't wanna be there when her father got home. I've seen a couple pissed off dads in my time and I have a healthy respect for an angry dad. I was ready to hightail it outta there but she said it would be at least half an hour before they got home. 'C'mon Ray, we got time for one more.' Well, why not? I did say she was a fun girl, didn't I?”
+“Anyway, I finally get dressed and outside. It's kinda cold – a spring night in SoCal can get chilly – so I put on my leather jacket. I get the bike started and she's kissin' on me and huggin' me while the bike is warming. All of a sudden she says, 'Wait right here.' She runs back in the house. I'm sitting there, revving the motor, expecting to see the headlights of her folk's car comin' up the road at any moment.
+“It seems like I'm sitting there forever when she runs outta the house. She gives me a big kiss and wraps a long, white silk scarf around my neck. She steps back and says, 'Now you look perfect. I wanna remember you just like that forever.' I felt pretty damned good right then in my black leather jacket and her white scarf. I felt like a million bucks, lemme tell ya.
+“One more long kiss and I headed down the road. Now her driveway was about two or three miles down to the highway. It was a rutted dirt road and I was having a blast sliding through the corners under full power in my best flatttrack style. I was having fun.
+“So I came to the highway and turned toward home. I wasn't on the asphalt more than two minutes when I saw an old Studebaker station wagon. The same kinda car her parents drove. I couldn't have cut that much closer, eh? I laughed a little and gunned the motor. It was a beautiful night. The moon was bright and the stars looked so close, the night air felt good and I could smell her perfume from the scarf. Man oh man Mosey I was feeling good.”
+Ray paused to light another cigarette. With the bluish white haze hanging in the air, he resumed the story. Tendrils of smoke curled through his mustache as he spoke.
+“That's the last thing I remember of that night. There I was ripping along, prob'ly doing eighty or ninety – hey I like to go fast, so sue me – enjoying the ride...and then...nothing. The next thing I know I'm waking up in a ditch.
+“I'm laying upside down with my feet up the bank and my face a few inches from a trickle of muddy water in the bottom of the ditch. I hurt everywhere. The sun is high in sky above me and the first thing I think is, 'High noon.' Noon? The last thing I remember is last night. What the hell? Oh crap, I musta crashed my bike.”
+Ray looks at me and smiles. I dutifully say, “If ya don't fall off yer not going fast enough.” Ray laughs and nods.
+“Now yer getting' it kid.”
+“So what did happened. Why the hell do you always stop at the good spots? Yer a mean-hearted bastard Ray” I act annoyed but Ray knows I'm just kidding him.
+He laughed. “Okay okay. I'm laying there, hurting all over. My neck hurts, my head hurts, my mouth is dry. I try to lick my lips and my mouth feels weird, numb, like I just left the dentist's office. My arms and legs work, nuthin's broken, so I struggle to my feet.
+“I gotta find my bike so I wander around, stumbling like a drunk until I spot it. It's laying about a hunnerd yards down the hill. I just stand there, looking at it and I can see it's messed up bad – forks bent, handlebars bent to hell and back, the front wheel like a pretzel – it makes me sick to see it. I can't stand looking at it so I head back for the road.
+“When I get to the road it's ten minutes or so before I see a car. Two cars! I start waving my arms but they both drive past without slowing. A couple minutes later a third car actually stops. As I limp towards the car I remember thinking, 'Cool a brand new Charger. I wouldn't mind a ride in a Mopar.' Strange what ya think of at a time like that.
+“I get up next to the car and lean down to look in the window. There's this woman driving, kinda cute like a waitress or sumpin', and she takes one look at me, screams 'Get away from me!' and peels out. I remember feeling the gravel hitting my legs as she took off. I staggered off the edge of the road and leaned against a telephone pole.
+“It seemed like forever until a car came along and stopped. There was this older guy inside and he smiled at me as I got in his car – a twenty year old Caddy, kinda beat but still a Cadillac, Jack. He asked me where I was headed. I told him I really wanted to get my bike fixed but I figured I should go to a hospital.
+“He laughed and said, 'Good choice. That's where I was gonna take you no matter what you said. A motorcycle wreck, huh?' I thanked him for stopping and told him about the woman in the Dodge. He laughed again and said, 'You don't exactly look your best, young man. Here, take a look.' He reached across me, flipped down the visor and I leaned forward to look in the mirror.
+“Holy effin' Toledo!! What did I do to myself? I stared at the monster in the mirror. My mouth hung open at a weird angle – I had a dislocated jaw – and my face was covered with dried blood. More blood matted my hair, sticks and leaves tangled in my hair and, worst of all, a large flap of my scalp was torn off and plastered back. The white, bloody skull was visible. My neck was horribly bruised and a bright red line went all the way around my throat. I looked like a walking disaster.
+“I leaned back in the seat, closed my eyes thinking about that scarf that my sweet little honey had wrapped around my neck.”
+Ray fell silent. A sudden, warm breeze sprang up and freshened into a strong wind tossing the trees overhead. The leaves whispered their own stories. I let the moment draw itself out.
+“The guy took me to the hospital – I never did find out his name – they cleaned me up and stitched my head back together. They stuck me with a buncha needles, told me I was lucky that I hadn't fractured my jaw, and shoved it back in place. I didn't feel so lucky right then. When they were done I signed myself out.”
+“AMA?” I asked.
+“AMA all the way, Mosey. I can't stand those places.” We shared a laugh.
+= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =\\
+Oh Dear Reader, I'm sorry to keep interrupting, but I feel that I need to point out the AMA me and Ray are talkin' about ain't the American Motorcycle Association. Anybody that gets injured a lot and hates hospitals knows exactly what AMA stands for. And for those who don't... well, just Google it, bitches!\\
+= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
+“When I finally got back to my bike I found that damned scarf wrapped around the sprocket and wedged in so tight that I couldn't even turn the rear wheel. I used my pocketknife – well...it was a switchblade to be honest – to cut that thing outta there. And all the while I'm cursing out the scarf and the girl and myself for not noticing that the scarf was whipping out behind me.
+“Me and a couple buddies got the bike out, dragged it home and a few days later I was back riding. That bike never felt right after that. I think the frame was tweaked a little. Eventually I sold the motor to some guy that was building a chopper and trashed the frame.
+“For some reason, I never saw that girl again but I haven't forgotten her or that Gawd damned scarf. I walked around looking like I had escaped the hangman's noose for a few months, but I didn't care. I had a helluva good story to tell at the bar. I got more than a few free drinks by telling the story and showing the burn marks on my neck.”
+The sun had drifted across the sky while Ray talked. He flicked the Zippo and lit another coffin nail as we sat there. “That was awesome Ray.”
+“I'm glad you enjoyed it.” He paused and glanced up, a little shyly. Have I mentioned, Dear Reader, that Ray has surprisingly blue eyes? “Ya know Mosey, I just can't figure out why you like listening to an old man babble...but I'm damned glad that you do. Every time I tell you one of my crazy stories it helps to cement it in my mind. I hope it stays there for as long as I live, but who knows.”
+“Well Ray, I will gladly listen to you babble any time. You name it and I'll be here.”
+“For a Harley guy, yer alright.”
+“For a mean old cuss, yer not half-bad either.” I stood up and grabbed my brain bucket. “I see ya 'round, okay?”
+“I'll be here.”
+We shook hands, his grip warm and strong as always. It sure is good having a friend like Ray.
+Life is short and brutal. Ride free...\\
+(http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=5118250)\\
+(http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=511821)\\
+(http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=5118253)\\
+======================================\\
 \\
-[[:techtalk:menu|{{:techtalk:gototechnicalmenu.jpg|}}]]
+====== Mosey's Tale Continues - Part Four ======
+\\
+= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =\\
+**XLForum member, Icefire, posts:**\\
+These stories about Ray are so good, I don't even care if they're true anymore. At this point, I kinda expect Mosey to let us all know Ray is fictional, or at least based on several people he knew.
+But, that's ok... He's such a good writer in this style, he should write a book like this, true or not, and we can all sit in the house on rainy days and read it...
+Keep it up, Bro, you've got all our attention...\\
+= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
+Do ya really wanna peek behind the curtain? Never mind the man busy working the controls...
+I sit and talk to Ray outside under the trees or in a small gazebo. I sit there with this old man and we talk about everyday bs for a while and, when the moment seems right, I ask if Ray has any old stories for me. Then I sit and listen as he relates whatever adventure is foremost in his mind. Sometimes I am rewarded with a brand new gem but most of the time the old dude tells me a story that he has previously told...sometimes many, many times! I've heard the helmet story a LOT!
+Ray will tell the story in a condensed version of the one I offer up for yer perusal. He parses his words but makes up for it with gestures and facial expressions. What he tells me in a couple hunnerd or a couple thousand words, I expand on to try and tell y'all the story as I saw it in my mind's eye while The Bearded One was yakkin' at me.
+It sure ain't a word-for-word transcription, it's got a whole big bunch of Mosey's world twisted throughout. I'm glad yer enjoying it.
+"Partly truth and partly fiction,\\
+He's a walking contradiction."\\
+Kris Kristofferson
+Life is short and brutal. Ride free...\\
+(http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=5135904)\\
+======================================\\
+Turn to the stainless steel rolling cart and double-check the layout. Pre-cut lengths of half inch and one inch adhesive tape dangle from the side of the tray and wait patiently their part in the proceedings. Gauze and cotton balls, sit at the far end, three catheters of various sizes lie nearby in their colorful plastic cases and the selected size cath – a twenty-four gauge – is at the near end. Scissors lay to the side.
+Look at the patient. Unable to speak, imploring eyes do all the talking. “Please do something. Please.” The eyes glance away, breaking the moment. Time to do the job.
+The patient is severely dehydrated. This is not gonna be a cakewalk. Occlude the vein and watch it rise from the surrounding flesh. Trace it with gentle fingertip, feeling the soft, resilient spring of the vein wall. Feel the vein, know the vein, be the vein. The moment is always so...Zen.
+Scrub the area three times, wiping with alcohol after each. Take the cath with the hep flush and remove the cover. Inspect the length from tip to hub and apply a little surgical lube. Don't want it to hang up on the dehydrated skin of the patient. Exhale. Take a deep, slow breath and let it out. Focus.
+The everlastingly sharp tip of the catheter slides effortlessly through the skin. Feel the subtle resistance of the vein. Now is the exact fraction of a second that requires a sure hand. A dynamic move, like a samurai parting an opponent's neck with a katana, is needed to pierce the wriggly blood-filled tube. Push the cath down and forward fast enough and hard enough to trap and penetrate. It must be enough force to pass through one side of the vein, but not so much that the cath continues out the opposite side. Be the needle.
+A red flash of blood appears in the end of the cath. Hold the metal stylet in place and push the hub of the cath forward, threading it into the vein. Remove the stylet and cap the catheter with a plug. A drop of dark red blood falls on the steel table. Tape the catheter in place. Remove the plug and insert the IV line. Open the valve allowing a slow, steady drip of fluid into the vein. Done. Exhale.
+The patient whimpers softly. Lean in close. “It's gonna be okay, lil' guy.”
+The patient's eyes look directly into mine and he suddenly lifts his head and licks me on the cheek. “Your a good pup.” I ruffle the fur on his neck enjoying the silky softness of puppy fur before turning back to my work. Another patient awaits. An old cat. It never stops. The sick animals just keep coming in the door. But I have tomorrow off and I'm gonna go see Ray. Grin.
+Now get back to work Mosey, you lazy bastard.
+Life is short and brutal. Ride free...\\
+(http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=5168059)\\
+======================================\\
+Downshifting, blipping, listening to the song of the motor, I swing the old Ironhead into the corner and stand up on the pegs anticipating the bumpy pavement that I know lies ahead. With bent knees I soak up the potholes and weave my way to the entrance of the convalescent home.
+I scanned the area and saw, to my surprise, that the spot where the convalescent home's residents would congregate was empty. All alone, Ray sat in his usual place in the gazebo. Not another soul around. Ahhh, the perfect moment.
+Correcting course, I turned away from my usual route to the parking lot and steered straight at the gazebo. Off the asphalt and onto the dirt the front wheel tracked straight and true. Stomping hard on the rear brake and ignoring the front brakes completely, the ass-end swung about to the right and I put down my left foot like a hot-shoe dirt jockey, sliding as I came to a stop. Dirt and gravel flew and the old Ironhead slid in BMX style.
+Ray, sitting on a chair in the shade of the gazebo leaped to his feet faster than I have ever seen him move. He stood in the doorway framed by the wooden structure with his right fist firmly clenched and raised high in the air. He shook it and hollered, “Hell's bell's Mose! That's the way ya do it!! Yeah!”
+I switched off the ignition after one last twist of the throttle and kicked down the sidestand. I let the old XLH settle down and stepped off. I walked straight up to Ray and stuck out my hand.
+“Gawddamn Mosey, I sure wasn't expecting that. You dun that just for me, right?”
+“Well, mostly for yer sake, but a little was for me and the rest was for the motorsickle. She likes it when I rough her up a little. You know how some girls are.”
+“Ride 'er hard and put 'er up wet, like the cowboys say, eh?
+“Ya know Ray that I'm a cowboy at heart. You can take the boy outta the country but ya can't take the country outta the boy, can ya? I will always be a redneck goat-roper no matter how long I live in the city.”
+“Yer a good guy Mose, always smiling and having a ball.”
+“It sure is easier to have fun when yer riding a motorbike.”
+“Ain't that the truth! Sure have missed ya. I heard you been here a buncha times but we haven't crossed paths in quite a while.”
+“Seems like you been at the doctor every time I came by. I hope yer giving 'em hell and flirting with the nurses.”
+“Never miss a chance with the purty girls. I hope you been getting' some.”
+“I get my share Ray.”
+“I'll bet you do. With yer good looks and charm I'll bet you get your share and then some.” I grinned, guiltily, as he continued. “Next time yer getting' some remember poor old me and bring me the leftovers, okay.”
+“Damn Ray, you are a dirty old man.”
+“Live long enough and you'll be one too. I guarantee that!”
+We both laughed and Ray shook out a cig from his pack of Pall Malls. I grinned when he fished out his Zippo and lit it. I recognize that chromium-plated steel Zippo with the enameled letter “G” on the case. That's from a motorsickle ridin' fool way down in Georgia. He sent it up to old Ray for Christmas. Made me feel good to see the bearded one using it. I know the Georgia chopper jockey would be pleased.
+“I been thinkin' about the old days cuz I know that's what ya wanna hear. Ever heard of Cal Rayborn?”
+“Oh hell yeah Ray! I remember reading about him when I was a kid. That guy was a helluva racer, wasn't he?”
+“Yeah, that boy could ride any-damn-thing, and he did it with class and style.”
+My mind started firing and suddenly a pertinent fact popped out. “Oh yeah, Cal was a San Diego guy just like you.”
+“Yup. He was a year or two younger than me. I met him at a race, I'm not sure where, and him and me became good friends. I did some wrenching at his dealership, Sun-n-Fun, when I wasn't working at the Harley shop. Working at his place was a lot more fun than the Harley dealer. Lotsa laughs and good times.”
+“Goddamn Ray. Cal-freakin'-Rayborn! You sure had some interesting friends.”
+“The first time I went to Daytona was with Cal. He invited me and I jumped at the chance. I drove the truck filled with our motorcycles. Cal flew out and we met up. I had a great time. Didn't place to well but at least I raced and finished. Of course Cal dun way better than me. Went back a couple more times with him.”
+“Were you there for his back-to-back wins?”
+“I was there in '68 to see him on the podium but I missed the second year. I think I was racing in Europe at the time. That boy sure flung that Harley around the track. He rode so easy and with so much grace. It was always easy to pick him outta the pack even without a number plate.”
+Ray leaned back in his chair, took one last drag, and stubbed out the butt on his boot heel. “We had a good time out at Bonneville, too. Cal was perfectly suited for Bonnevile.”
+“Whattaya mean, Ray?”
+“He was tall and lean, just like you Mosey, and fit inside them streamliners like a hand in a glove. Ya know you would prolly make a good pilot for a Bonneville run.”
+I laughed. “I may be skinny enough but I'm missing one important thing. Well, two things actually.” I paused and Ray looked at me quizzically. “I don't think my balls a re near big enough and that aren't made outta brass like the rules demand.”
+Ray chuckled heartily and leaned across the table to punch me on the shoulder. “I hear 'em clanking when you walk. You ain't fooling me Mosey!”
+The old man turned his head and looked off into the distance. “I wanna tell you a story that sums up Cal to me. Me and him were riding in a TT race somewhere, for some reason I think it was at the old Riverside Raceway. Cal, of course, was up in the first row and I was way back in the pack. I seen Cal head into the pits in the second lap and I figgered his race was over.
+“I was having a good race, the bike was running perfectly and I was really feeling it. Gaps in the pack seemed to open up in front of me and I was working my way toward the front. Man it felt so good and I was really on the line every damn time. I was racing like never before, passing riders left and right. I had a feeling that I could actually win if it kept on like this.
+“The bike was running so sweet and landing so solidly after the jumps, I was in heaven. And then I heard it – this ungodly wail getting closer and closer – just before I actually saw it. It was Cal passing me. That son of a bitch was whipping past me...on one wheel! And to add insult to injury, that bastard waved at me as he went by!! I felt like a kid on a tricycle at that moment. Really I felt like I shouldn't be on a track with that kinda talent, I wasn't even in the same league as that guy. He was the best. Not only that, he was a true gentleman and generous to boot. A helluva guy, lemme tell ya.”
+Ray stopped talking, stroked his beard and pensively regarded me across the table. “And then came the day that he crashed in Japan.”
+Sadly, slowly, Ray shook his head and looked down. “That damned Suzuki. I told him that he was gonna hafta work that bike hard to win. It just couldn't keep up with the Yamahas in the straights so he was really gonna be pushing hard in the corners to stay in the race.
+“Since Cal and me was friends I was the one that had to tell his wife and family. I remember riding out there that day to his house. It was tough riding out there knowing what I had to do but the ride home was even worse. I had tears in my eyes and had to pull over a couple times. That was a bad day.”
+Ray's hands were clenched into tight fists, the knuckles white with tension. Slowly the muscles relaxed and after a long moment the old man rose to his feet, “I'm sorry Mosey, but I'm all talked out today. Ya don't mind if we continue another day, do ya?”
+“Nah Ray, you know I'll be back. No problem. You want me to walk to the door with ya?”
+“I'll be okay Mose. You go home and tell yer dog I said hello. Bring him up sometime. I like dogs. Thanks for coming by. Yer a good man.”
+The old guy turned and shuffled off. I rose slowly, gathered up my gloves and helmet. Walking to my bike I watched Ray arrive at the door. He turned and waved as I fired up the Sportster. I returned the wave, pulled in the clutch lever and dropped 'er in first. Ray walked through the doorway into the cool dimness of the convalescent home.
+I let out the clutch and rode home thinking about Cal and Ray.
+(Special memories on this Memorial day.)
+Life is short and brutal. Ride free...\\
+(http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=5168061)\\
+======================================\\
+It's always a special day when I get to update this thread. Between the visits when Ray just plain isn't there and the many times that he tells me the same stories, it feels extra good when Ray gives up a new gem. I will gladly go hang with the old dude twenty times to get one new story. Me and Ray get along like salt and pepper, like pancakes and maple syrup, like peanut butter and jelly, like...well, you get my drift.
+One thing that I would like to emphasize is that I am not a fact checker. I just record the ramblings of an old man. Y'all gotta remember, these are the memories of a really old fart and most all this stuff happened fifty and sixty years ago. The intervening years have not been easy on him. He's done a heap of hard living between those faraway days and the here and now. Lots liquor, piles of drugs and plenty of wild nights have taken their toll. Ray was not afraid of living that's fer sure!
+Don't get too hung up on the details, just try to take in the broad brushstrokes of a life lived in the fast lane. I don't think old Ray slowed down long enough to smell every flower, he just kept twisting the wick and watching the world go rushing past in a frenzied blur.
+It's not my place to correct Ray. I just tryin' to let y'all sit next to me while the guy babbles on. Like I've said before, I don't know if any of Ray's stories are completely factual and I really don't care. I just enjoy his company and find him entertaining and enjoyable to hang with.
+Thanks again for all yer comments and feedback. Don't be shy if you have sumpin' to add, post yer stories or comments that are in any way pertinent. And feel free to correct any discrepancies y'all find - I don't know enough about the old racing era to fill a thimble so this is all virgin territory to me - like Icefire's note about where Cal crashed. That's important info and it's worth knowing the true facts.
+BTW, yes I work in an animal hospital and I love my job. I ride a motorsickle to work every day, rain or shine. I know sometimes the clients are surprised to see their little Fluffy being cared for by a greasy biker type with a ponytail hanging down to his black leather belt. It's what's inside that counts, right?
+Life is short and brutal. Ride free...\\
+(http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=5169868)\\
+======================================\\
+Every time that one of youse guys asks me to give regards to Ray, I write it down in my notebook. The first couple times that I pulled out the book and said sumpin' like, "Iron Mick says Hello from Canada" well, it kinda freaked him out. Now when he sees the little book he smiles with anticipation, like a Pavlov dog, wondering what crazy screenname he will hear. He loves the nicknames and that folks he's never met care about an old man in a nursing home.
+Ice, I will tell him you said, "Hey Ray!".
+Thanks Buskit. Yer alright.
+Wachuko, glad to have you on board. Ya never know where this ride is going. Lots of twists and turns. Maybe a few comfortable straight sections, but yer gonna hafta keep yer eyes on the road!
+Thanks again for everybody's comments and ideas. I love this forum!
+Life is short and brutal. Ride free...\\
+(http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=5170565)\\
+======================================\\
+= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =\\
+The memories of a man in his old age\\
+Are the deeds of a man in his prime.\\
+You shuffle in gloom of the sickroom\\
+And talk to yourself as you die.\\
+Life is a short, warm moment\\
+And death is a long cold rest.\\
+You get your chance to try in the twinkling of an eye:\\
+Eighty years, with luck, or even less.\\
+= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
+So I'm standing in line at the local grocery store, holding my cucumbers and avocados, behind a couple of thirtyish ex-Valley girls pushing their carts and chatting away.
+“We should get together this Saturday.”
+“Can't. Have to take the kids to visit my Grandfather. He keeps bitching that he never gets to see them.”
+“Do the kids want to go?”
+“Yeah they like Grandpa. But you know, all he wants to talk about is how he worked with his Dad on the farm. That and all those stories about airplanes and World War Two.” She sounded bored and annoyed.
+Like my sweet, sweet Cabo hearing a cat yowling in heat, my ears literally perked up. “Uh, can I come?” I spoke without thinking and was kinda surprised as I heard the words come outta my piehole.
+Two mom faces swiveled and turned towards yours truly. Both of them were looking at me like I had three heads and two of 'em were on fire.
+“What?” The woman spoke with ice dripping from her fangs.
+“Excuse my interruption ladies, but yer grandfather sounds like an interesting man. I sure wouldn't mind a chance to hear those stories.”
+The other broad says, “Ugggh. Why don't you mind your own business and stop eavesdropping.”
+They immediately turned away and pushed their carts as far away from me as possible. I grinned in wry amusement that shifted to a sad feeling thinkin' about that Ungrateful Bitch's grandpa. All Gramps wants is an ear to bend. Gawd, what stories that old man has to tell. My only source of hope is that Ungrateful Bitch's kids sit at his feet listening raptly to his words. I hope so.
+The two pointedly ignored me as they paid for their separate foodstuffs and exited the store ahead of me. I saw the Ungrateful Bitch loading the contents of the cart into her shiny SUV. Standing next to my Ironhead and filling the saddlebags, I waved across the lot at her. “Tell Grampaw I said hi!”
+UB rolled her eyes and turned her pretty little head. Laughing at the mild distress I caused her and throwing a leg over the saddle, I rode out making sure to ride past her and giving my best Tom Cruise/Risky Business smile. She looked so pained!
+It's good to shake people up a little. Hopefully she might take the time to reflect on the fact that a total stranger could find her kin fascinating enough to break all social conventions, interrupt a private conversation, and attempt to interject into her carefully arranged life. I hope she gets it.
+As I turned out of the parking lot I thought to myself, “Oh well, I don't get to listen to Grampa's war stories but I've got Ray.” Twist the wrist, roll the throttle, pull the cable, open the butterfly on the old S&S, dump in the fuel, mix it with the air and listen to the motor purr. Adios UB. I'm gonna go see Ray.
+= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
+“So tell me Mosey, what's the fastest you've ever gone?”
+I answered Ray with my usual answer, “Prolly around a ton forty or so. I'm not positive cuz you know how optimistic speedos can be. I know that I've never gone as fast as you, that's for sure.”
+“What's the fastest you've ever gotten off at?”
+“I'm a pussy. I don't go fast enough to fall off much. Why don't you tell me about your fastest get-off?”
+“There was a time at Bonneville...” Ray's voice trailed off as he squinted into the hot, direct California sunshine. He looked back my way, “Did I ever tell you about my first race up Pike's Peak?”
+“Tell me all about it Ray.” I sat there listening to my buddy tell me for the umpteenth time about his ride to the top with a busted collarbone. And, just like the very first time, I hung on each word with delirious anticipation.
+“When I got to the top I got off my bike and one of the officials came up and asked why my right shoulder looked so weird. It was only then that I figgered out why I was hurting those last couple miles. But I just thought I sprained it. By that evening, I couldn't raise my right hand higher than my head and I realized that I had busted sumpin'. So I quit drinkin' – have I told you how much I like vodka? - long enough to get patched up in the hospital. Then we went right back to the party. There wasn't no way I was gonna miss a Pike's Peak party. Those boys knew how to have a good time.”
+Ray smiled and fished a Pall Mall outta a battered pack.
+“Damn Ray, that's a helluva story. Race in the morning, drink all night. Repeat until ya have to put up with someone like me pestering you all the time.”
+Ray laughed heartily, “Haw haw haw!! Mosey, yer the best part of my day. I can't tell ya how much I look forward to your visits. Seeing your smiling face is sumpin' I look forward to every week.”
+“That goes both ways Brother Ray. I'm glad that you spoke up that day and said sumpin' about my motorcycle.” The bearded one nodded sagely. “Even if I was riding a girl's bike!” The bearded one burst out laughing.
+“A Sporty ain't no girl's bike. It's the hotrod of the Harley world. Well, not compared to a XR750 but that ain't really a Sportster. I like that bike of yours, looks good, sounds good, and you ride it like ya know what yer doing. Now there's nuthin' wrong with that bike.” He gestured at my Shovelhead. “It's a fine machine. But I can see you really ride that old Sporty hard.”
+“That's how I ride all my dirty girls.”
+We shared a laugh between men. The other residents of the home, enjoying the warm day outside, looked up at us, wondering what the joke was. Me and Ray enjoyed the moment and our little bit of humorous repartee.
+A cute, slightly pudgy nurse in her white and blue uniform walked among the old folks telling them that dinner would be served in fifteen minutes. They wearily rose to their feet and began the long shuffle to the door of the home. Ray and I sat there for a couple moments.
+"Gawd dammit Mosey, I can't stand those old farts. Most of 'em got no life left in 'em. Don't end up like them, okay?”
+“Ray when I grow up I wanna be just like you.”
+The old man grinned and we walked up to the home, shook hands and he went through the door. “See ya later my friend.” I said as the door swung shut. Ray turned and waved through the glass. “Yup. I wanna be just like you old man. Just like you.”
+= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =\\
+And who is the master of fox hounds?\\
+And who says the hunt has begun?\\
+And who calls the tune in the courtroom?\\
+And who beats the funeral drum?\\
+The memories of a man in his old age\\
+Are the deeds of a man in his prime.\\
+You shuffle in gloom in the sickroom\\
+And talk to yourself till you die.\\
+= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
+Life is short and brutal. Ride free...\\
+(http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=5180542)\\
+======================================\\
+Ray has a sister that visits once in a while. Never met her, but she must care. She has done a lot for Ray - stuff that I won't go into here - but it shows that she puts some effort into her older brother's medical treatment. He's not abandoned.
+Life is short and brutal. Ride free...\\
+(http://xlforum.net/vbportal/forums/showpost.php?p=5180945)\\
+======================================\\
+\\
+Editor's Note -
+And then Mosey’s voice trailed off in the distance...
+I wonder if Ray is anxiously waiting\\
+the chance for another exciting word to say,\\
+Or lying quietly still, with hands folded over,\\
+calmly passing another peaceful day.\\
+\\
+[[:techtalk:menu|{{:techtalk:gototechnicalmenu.jpg|}}]]

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