Bama Rides

Posts Tagged ‘daytona motorcycle rally’

It started as a desire of mine to go to Bike Week.

I soon started making plans for such a desire.  First, I enlisted the help of a “local escort” (LE). The compensation for such duties included but were not limited to food and drinks for the entire time we’re together.  The LE had to know just a bit about the area, so naturally the LE had to be of legal drinking age.  It was also a must that the LE be female.  It was not a requirement or restriction that the LE be nice, intelligent, good looking, economical, or prompt (We will cover these as we go).  The only stipulation was that if the LE drank too much to remain upright while on the motorcycle, the LE was dropped off where we were and had to find an alternate ride home.  Such action also negated and voided any and all previously made or insinuated promises.

The LE contacted me on Thursday night while I was driving south on highway 75 in Georgia.  I was at least 90 miles south of Macon Georgia.  We had small talk and I assured the LE that I was not a goofball or a freak.  She assured me that she knew her way around town, and would be pleased to perform such duties, provided I was who I said I was.  She immediately thanked me for contacting her and I questioned that response.  It was a job offer, not a marriage proposal.

Well, I arrived at the LE’s home at about 10:45 the next day.  We had agreed on 10 to 11, so I picked somewhere in between.  The place where I was staying was 45 minutes from the LE’s house.  I rode up to the house and proceeded to remove protective gear as I knew we’d have some conversation before departing on our adventure.  I had called to warn the LE of my arrival and the LE stated that she was just getting out of the shower and that she needed some time (prompt).  I told the LE that it would take me 10 minutes to get there, and I would certainly wait outside for her to get ready.  As I turned around to greet the LE she went right past my outreached hand and put her arms up around my neck and kissed me.  Hmmm, not what I’m paying for.

She invited me into her home so she could finish getting ready.  As I walked in, she had suggested I follow her into her bedroom.  I assure you that it did not happen.  As the gentlemen that I am, I do not venture into the bedroom of a business associate.

Small talk and grooming took about 20 minutes (prompt).  The time was ticking away as I only had 2 days for the venture.

We were on the road as the LE explained that her previous nights ride was less than thrilling and somewhat dangerous as the operator “asshole”, dropped his motorcycle while she was getting on it.  I don’t doubt the fact that it happened, I doubt the fact the LE wasn’t even close because although she warned me when she was getting on, the thunderous energy and speed to which she “jumped” on almost took me and the bike to the ground.  The LE described herself on the internet as “average” in weight.  I wondered at which height she was average (good looking).  Certainly not her own.

We proceeded downtown to the action.  Main Street.  The place where dreams come true and hearts are broken every March, of every year since the 40′s.

We took the scenic long way that traversed the neighborhoods and actually cut out about 45 minutes of stop and go traffic on our way the the Action.  The LE knew her way around town.  As we got closer to the Action, we talked and she became comfortable and started to relax just a bit.  She draped her arms over my shoulders and leaned up against me.  This made riding through traffic difficult and troublesome (nice/intelligent).  I would have to shift my seat to get her to back away.  I shifted every ten minutes or so (nice/intelligent).

We went up Main Street twice, parked and walked the streets popping in and out of vendor shops and stores along the boulevard.  I took pictures of motorcycles and the crowd.  I just needed to walk up and down the street once to satisfy my needs.  The LE made several references to leather goods and tee shirts she would like “if she only had the money” (economical).

The secondary part of this trip down town was to visit the custom motorcycle displays on Beach Street.  We found the motorcycle and headed back across the bridge to Beach Street.  As we toured the neighborhoods trying to find a parking spot, she would continually try to fix her hair just as we were slowing down at stop lights and stop signs.  This is very distracting as it causes the weight to shift when the motorcycle is hardest to control.  At slow speeds, especially while slowing, it is customary and essential that the passenger maintain some balance to assist the operator (intelligent).

We finally parked and proceeded to the vendor/display area.  We walked around as I took pictures and we talked about the tee shirts and leathers she so desperately needed (economic).  I wanted to see the Tuttles (OCC) and their bikes.  They are world famous builders.  End of story.  We needed to leave this area and go down the street another 10 or so miles to see the OCC display.  We left the custom bike area and went to see the OCC.

We saw the boys and their toys on display.  I took pictures and she explained how she needed tee shirts and leathers to complete her wardrobe.  We left there and went down the road for dinner. We had a great meal at Bob Evans.

We met a guy at the bar at Bob Evans that was eating a chicken salad that looked just right.  The meal I was after wasn’t going to weigh me down.  We both decided to have the chicken salad, with bread and all the fixins.  Soon after our meal arrived, “what’s your favorite food”?, she asked.  Huh oh…

Some friendly banter that included the reference to her obsession with her yearly tribute to tee collectibles.  My god did I hire the tee collector from hell?  So far though, our deal was working real good and I was having a nice time riding around with her.

We left the restaurant and headed towards the Cabbage Patch.  I had been there 5 years ago and wanted to see the action.  We arrived just as the freestyle motocross bikes were flying through the air.  The crowd was smaller than I had anticipated, and the vendors looked overstocked for the last two days of Bike Week.  We got a beer (normally won’t drink more than two while on the bike).  The LE noted on several occasions that I’d rather be with “that one” because of the skinny waste and lack of legal attire.  I noted that I was doing fine and she needed to be nice.  (Much too personal I was to find out).

We stayed there for awhile and took some pictures.  She noted how cheap the tees were.

We headed back to Main Street but on the way I decided to go to where I was staying, take a shower, and change clothes for the evening.  I asked her since she too wanted to add clothing for the evening ride, we would part and join up later.  She agreed and we headed to her house.  It was a nice 30 minute ride that included the hair adjustments and the shoulder weights the entire length of the trip.

Oh, I got two neck kisses.  One for each intersection that I guess was special to her.  I ignored the affront to my independence and business relationship status.  I got a real nice kiss as she departed the bike and she noted how nice a time she was having.  I thanked her for having an equally good time, and that I would be back ASAP.

I went and took a shower, changed clothes, and added layers for the freezing nights.  The ride back was very nice and relaxing.  Joined up with about 40 bikes coming in from Ocala (I think).  I hit her house about 8pm and we headed to Main Street for the Molley Hatchet concert.

It was very crowded downtown.  We walked around and shopped.  She was earnestly looking for a vest this time.  She went into a shop as I waited at the curb scoping the traffic.  She emerged from the leather goodies boutique with a vest.  Hmmm…I stalled enough that she just had to buy.

I had agreed to catch up with some friends of hers down town.  We met them at Dirty Harry’s.  Her and him, not their real names, were obviously in love.  He is married from Michigan and she is a bar tender that needs flesh more than a pit bull.  They groped as we watched the Bliss Band.  The band was OK, and the groping was ok too.

Soon the LE was moving and grinding and I felt somewhat like her boy toy.  A bit of emotional eye batting and the occasional hug and kiss.  LE no longer meant Local Escort, but Loose and Eager.  I danced a little with her and let her hug me and kiss.  This place was so crowded, I was getting groped and I have no idea from who.  I thanked both him and her (not their real names)…they both denied the  advancements.

The two ladies wanted new vest chains so we left Dirty Harry’s and wondered about looking for the chains.  I offered to buy the chains, but she needed to break her 20 she said.  I was totally confused now.  I offered and she refused, relieving me of any obligatory investment in her wardrobe.

At 11 or so, Molley Hatchet was to start and we were going to be there for the festivities.  The Naked Angels (not their real names), opened for MH. They danced around the stage and my LE kept turning me away, planting kisses, and generally trying to catch my attention.  It didn’t work and she got a little bothered.  She was my LE….hmmm.

Molly Hatchet sucked.  We took off for the Iron Horse.  That place was empty for 1am.  We had a steak sandwich, and called it an evening.

I returned her to her place and we kissed goodbye.  I told her 10 to 11 am I would be back.

I froze my arse off on the way to my place.  In Florida, I seems that when you leave the street lights, the temperature drops by 20 degrees.  I got to bed at 3:30 am.

I was somewhere in middle Texas riding a bull.  I was surrounded by cheering crowds, the timer coming close to 8 seconds.  The bull was a fierce beast towering 10′ at the shoulders and full of anger and muscle.  The horns were coming within inches of my cheeks at every jump.  I was being tossed like mouse being attacked by a barn cat.  The noise was deafening and I thought that was strange. I live alone and there shouldn’t be any noises.  What the f**k!  I sat up in bed, total darkness, strange smells, and a bit cold.

Wow.  I wasn’t at home, I was in Crescent City Florida.  Other people live here and they’re up.  I looked at the clock and it’s 7:00am.  Time to get my ass up.  3 1/2 hours sleep, need to start another day.  It’s Bike Week.

I got up and went down stairs.  The lady of the house was sitting in front of her computer.  She had a printout from CompUSA.  “Should I just buy another computer, this ones so messed up”?, she asked.  “Let me see”, said as I poured my coffee and sat at the helm.

90 minutes of deleting files, useless software, and rearranging her virus and spyware settings, she was clean and ready to go.  She hugged me.  The man, who was paying for the new computer, also hugged me, as she no longer was in need of newer more expensive problems.  I packed for a full evening this time.  Overnight goodies such as toothbrush, deodorant, petroleum and rubber goods.  Clean underwear and of course extra layers of clothes.  You never can tell.  I took off at about 10 am and stopped a the local store for an orange juice.  I called the LE and alerted her of my plans.  I also called my 16 year old son and wished him a happy birthday.  I laughed at him because he’s in Indiana, with snow on the ground.  He was not amused.  On the way in on hiway 40, I caught up with about 20 bikes.  We weaved our way in and out of traffic for the next 20 miles or so.  I pulled up to the LE house and honked my horn.  No need, she was walking out as I pulled up.  The smile on her face warned me of the impending kiss. Accurate.

The only plan for this day was a preplanned visit to Smileys.  An internet group of harley owners had planned a gathering.  We took off and stopped for a coffee and packed donuts.  Eatin on the cheap.  You see, the agreement for the food and drink had no minimum or maximum.

The next couple of hours was a blur.  I rarely show up to an occasion  and shake the hands of 30 or so people I don’t know.  I tried to keep track, I really did.  There were a few notables that made their mark, but I’m hesitant to call out those few and then offend the others that will or likely will become friends or acquaintances.  Those that were tall, bald, matching shoes, or able to eat a small chicken in one sitting were remembered.

The rest need to do more.  Wear something outrageous or something.   Oh, there was a newly retired SOB that laughed way too much and told how wonderful it is to be retired.  I hope your next flat is at a Wing Ding Thing.  Not really.  Have a nice time, you probably deserve something for the years you put in.

The food, all you can eat side bar, was excellent.  The Portapotties (I don’t call them port-a-johns) were as clean as could be expected.  The cokes were cold.  The weather was beautiful.  I saw nothing but handshakes and smiles.  The occasional whoop and holler broke the midday sound of bikes continuously roaring by.  I had no idea that the RMH women could whoop like that…LMAO.

We met those two love birds in the afternoon at Smiley’s for a ride up 1A to St. Augustine.  We weren’t on the road for 200 yards before I saw her hand reach around and start petting Mr. Happy.  Penthouse Magazine article here it comes.  And It’ll be in front of me.

But the weather was nice.

We cruised up hiway 1 to Bunnell.  Took 100 over to 1A.  It wasn’t long until we were passing awesome beachhouses and roadside cafes.  What a beautiful road.  Not like Deals Gap.  Not like Market Street in San Francisco, and certainly not like CR13 in Blount County Alabama, but it was nice.  We traveled at 45 MPH for quite a long time without any traffic to bother us.  The sun was at the right spot, and a breeze was coming off the land so it was nothing but nice.  I forgot.  As we traveled, every time I turned my head to talk about a house, tree, bike, cafe, or anything of interest the arms came and flopped on the my shoulders.  She was breast fed.

I got so many ear kisses I know she’s accidentally got my earring and didn’t want to admit it until I was gone.  How do you explain a cheek full of earring. The LE suggested we take this trip and she was right.  I thoroughly enjoyed the trip.  We stopped in old town and went to a bar across from the fort.

The waitress there had a blue tongue knob that caught my attention.  She also thinks the fort is a castle.  Maybe the two are a coincidence?

As the evening progressed and the four of us walked old town and laid card at 2 more stops, the LE began the normal escalation of hugging and rubbing somewhat akin to the previous evening.  We met a very nice couple in front of O’Malleys.  They’re from Michigan, they said.  Funny the Romeo and I are from Michigan also.  We ventured inside and found they had no hard liquor so we decided to keep going.  Of course we alerted the nice couple outside that we were in fact kicked out because we’re from Michigan.  We had a good laugh about it.  We went around the corner and found a little bar right off the bridge.  I’m sorry the name escapes me but it was a nice little joint.  The James Taylor look-alike sang for Georges and did a rather good job.  The light conversation turned to “would I ever consider moving to the area”?

As nightfall came and went we donned the bikes and headed south on 95 back to the Iron Horse.  We exited 95 at the first hiway 1 exit which put us 8 or so miles north of Bunnell.  The ride down 1 could not have been better.  I liked the smooth windy two lane road.  The traffic was just heavy enough to make passing interesting and our take mind off the cold.  This was the first time I actually thought about how much I trusted Romeo and his side-by-side riding style.  The side-by-side is generally reserved for close friends or trusted riding partners.  We did that style of riding when we left Smiley’s but since it was light and the road was nice I felt comfortable enough to choose the outside and straddle the white line.  That style is not so comfortable on an unfamiliar road, sub-zero temperatures, and at night.  As we passed cold spots in the road, the arms came again and plopped down on my shoulders.  By this time I knew when her knees clenched, the hands were coming.  We faired good and made it back just as our  stomachs were screaming for steak plates at one of the roadside side greasy spoons.  The meal was actually OK.

I decided the Tee time had come.  We were close to our bikes, the lines weren’t long, the Tees were the same as all those others we’d seen….so what the hey.  She got her Tee shirt.  The two girls started calling people and before we knew it, there were four other groups in various stages of bonding.  We had newbies, flirts, old hags, secretary types, and just a few tattoos.  The lies started immediately.  I always catch fish that exceed the limit, and always get 1 mile per gallon better than the next guy, and they always saw more skin and nipples than me.  How did my Daytona trip turn to fish lies?

My LE thought it best not to bring me to the tittie expose’s, butt contests, and bar top strip joints.  How  pleasantly ladylike of her.  Shit.  Have thoughts of hiring a two-way next time that’s not affected by, but enjoys the company of, those that generally patronize the tittie shows.  No, don’t think so.  I’ll stick with the fish stories.

We stood atop the skywalk for what seemed hours waiting for the world famous burnouts.  We waited and took pictures and talked about the lousy band while we waited for the world famous burnouts.  We drank beer as we waited for the world famous burnouts.  We peed while….you know the story.  I did have a very funny moment while using the local facilities.  While I was performing the bodily function, the lady in charge of traffic flow was checking for empty units.  She was opening the doors to check.  I heard a man just a few units down scream out, “Hey please, leave me alone, I’m married”!…laughter came from every unit there and most that were waiting.

We finally saw the burnouts.  I took pictures of smoke.

Sorry folks….I took my LE home, sat at her kitchen table, had two cups of coffee…and took off into the frozen tundra like a true gentlemen.  The contract fulfilled, and the experience a truly good one.  I made few new friends, a few good friends, and a new good friend.

The internet connection was from Yahoo Personals.  I searched the Daytona area and sent out a dozen of so emails…that read… “1 in a million shot…I’m in town 2 days…Friday and Saturday…you show me around town and I buy everything we need.  We have a good time and we part friends.
(phone number).

Thanks to all and all have a safe ride.