I have just finished chapter one of a series of stories I will be writing on Open Road Biker. I hope yall will check it out and tell me what you think. It will be on the site on Friday so please bookmark it and check back. Here is a little teaser;
Small Town Troubles
Sometimes I am not really sure how I got here, another two bit town, a hang over, and a cheap motel. It seems like so long ago when I was doing the whole family thing. You know the "American Dream" where you have a job, two cars in the drive, a mortgage, and a wife and family that you provide for. It all seemed to go bad quick, but more about that later. Time to push on, can't let any grass grow around the bike. Just wouldn't seem right staying any where too long, not anymore anyways.
The last town I was through wasn't too friendly so I had to head out of there sooner than planned. You see every so often I try and slow down for a few weeks, take a little job turning wrenches, flipping eggs, bailing hay, whatever it takes to earn enough to keep me on the road a few more miles, take care of Beth (my old panhead) and put a little meat back on my bones. I think I had been there about a week. I found a little job changing oil at one of those old small town full service gas stations. Nights were spent sleeping on an army cot (sure do have a lot of time in one of those) in the back of the shop. Every day the same ole, same ole spend a little time working on cars, pump a little gas, and then at night shut it down with a can or two of Milwaukee’s finest.
Last Friday was a little different though. Jack (service station owner) and I headed down to the local watering hole to take in a little scenery while enjoying a couple of drinks. Not too much though, I really don’t care to get sloppy drunk. You never know when you might need all of your senses about you. That night turned out to be one of those times. It seems it is getting hard to have a drink in peace without some wanna be badass making some stupid comment or something. It seems you are never free from the idiots that surround you and this one idiot decided he was going to come up and start telling me about how he doesn’t like my kind around there. Now to this day I am still not sure what they always mean by my kind, I mean is it a vet they are talking about? How about an old country boy? Could it just mean they don’t like those of us that chose to live life free and in the wind? I wonder how they know what kind I am when usually they are just meeting me.
read the rest at www.openroadbiker.com
