I woke up this morning not trying to clear my mind, more like holding my head.
I had one of those mysterious nights. The first came when I sat up nearly, in my sleep, reminiscing of the days of living with cousin Bud. I felt he was looking in on me, and I could hear his foot steps on the carpet. Thing is cousin Bud has been dead for 6 months. Now this could just be a farce of my imaginary subconscious or it could be that for some odd reason the double crossing no a count, prick that was entrusted with the money of my Mom & Dad’s sweat and mine as well, improperly invested it, squandered most of it, and is why I’m in the mess I’m in today. The remembering of the first go around of taking $80,k and buying a place in Price Utah once, would have gave me economic security today. Or the shot that rebuying the place near Hazzard, when we easily could have, even on a contract, would have been preferable to having to suck off the guvernmint hind teat today. The only damn thing cousin Bud did right in my opinion was allowing the last few hundred thousand bucks and some relics of aircraft of my Dad’ to become AyreWolf Aviation. So any kind of emotional feelings outside of pure anger although I forgive, but still angry is my feeling for Bud, and yet there he was. I think. Then once I got my mind unwound from that and it took a bit to do that, I started having and I don’t call em dreams, as dreams are wishes my heart makes, and neither is any of this, but I started looking at my XYL Janice. From the word go that wasn’t a very solid relationship. First there was the incident over my co-anchor on the air Robin, Jan did not like Robin one bit or very little. The first complaint Jan had against Robin , is I bought Robin some fashion shoes with the lace that foamed around the ankle. Jan was tee-owed. Jan’ reasoning was I never bought her shoes, no but I sure as hell bought her kids a bunch of shoes and threads on the opening act. Then there was the hot bod in Clearfield , Debbie, who I gleaned from research into 1-900 numbers. This Debbie remains in my mind as she was the only gal in my life, that made me orgasm twice in an hour. That never happened with anyone except Deb, the fact that Deb bought me steak and lobster and all, if I’d have been smart, I would have dumped her right then. Then there was the thing of the final stage in Bountiful, hey I needed to get some physical contact Jan weren’t getting it done, so hey I did. If I’d have been smart, I’d have stayed right there in Montpelier, worked my business and forgot about her. Including her maladjusted children.
But why I was thinking of these two I’ll never know.
Okay then, a new week begins.
The Knytes had a very serious weekend Sunday meeting here. Decisions were made and I’m thinking good, but need some tweaking and need to be thought out more. But for the short term, the club is at the point of doing the office/studio in Ogden, establishing HazzardAyre Radio and all there. While trying to save some face and not look like a whipped beta wolf running away with tail between our legs. Getting a office at least if not another sight for a club house, if nothing else. Hey the first 10 as it really is, were here in this shitty little valley. Initially the thought was both Buhl, and Hazzard itself and that’s still on the boards, but I saw something up on Addison next to Smith’s that just might fill the bill. In either case, I made up my mind to get in gear and get, me out of here right after the 10th or so of February. There is nothing left at least for me personally. I thought maybe a lead or two on a personal SheWolf was going, but one can’t be bothered to really being one and taking the first step on coming down to Twin, to meet. Something about her car not running good enough for a long road trip. Here’s that definition. I pay to bring her down here , that’s that explanation. Thing is I ain’t.
As far as family here in the valley , sure I have some distant kin folk over near Hazzard, but the only time I hear from them is when something is not humming right at the transmitter tower site there next to their crop land.
The next thing the club brought up is this guy whose parading around in a TV show Cut.(Biker Vest) , with the SOA reaper and all on it. First the club is looking at suing the dealers and distributors of these TV show knock-off’s , next stripping this cut from the guy wearing it. Sure it’s a great thing to wear a T shirt or something from your fave TV show, but when you wear a MC , Cut, that you did not earn, that you were not voted to be patched into, your asking for trouble. Real trouble. I myself really , I’m a bit easier going, but there are our members and rival club members not as understanding. They just asoon shoot, stab or otherwords eradicate anybody not of the club wearing anything of the club. That’s another one of those little things that differs between us and the Dukes. The Dukes-of-Hazzard is for many a TV show for us it has deeper meaning, but overall it’s a TV show. Wearing stuff from that TV show, nobody cares. The biker community, of which I’m proud and honored to be part of, but our community, is one that holds true to symbolism, traditions, honor, and pride. You go wearing stuff that you didn’t earn the right to, or are challenged by a rival club and there are two others here, Brother Speed, and Hell’s Angels are here as well. We each mind our own stores and hold church in our own ways, we respect territories, and don’t clash. But let a none member wearing a Cut, slip in, that person is deemed to be killed, or exterminated.
Any mile it was a great meeting, I’m still hungover from it, so its three Goody’s and about 3 or so more hours in bed.
L8R Ya’ll , keep it up on two wheels.
Quote of the Day:
It is better to fail in originality than to succeed in imitation.
--Herman Melville
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