Ape-hangers became non-ethanol
BLAPPA-BLAPPA-BLAPPA-BLAPPA!
A loud Harley idled into the gas-station I was using. Its rider was wearing a face-mask. His arms reached sky-high to reach the long ape-hangers he had on his Harley.
I was tempted to ask how he steered, but didn’t for fear he might shoot me for not wearing an American-flag tee-shirt — or for desecrating said flag if I’d worn such a shirt. Trump is prez; blowhards ascendent.
Macho-man pulled up to the other side of the pump I was using. Fortunately I drive a Ford-product, not Japanese or German as in the past. “I can still see that pillar of oily black smoke TOWERING above the Arizony” — or “I don’t know how you can drive a Volkswagen after what they did to London!”
Macho dude removed his mask, and asked if I knew any stations that sold non-ethanol gas. He sounded as placid as the rabbits my dog chases.
“Go down 5&20 to where Route 64 turns south toward Bristol, and look for Toomey’s Express on yer left before the turnoff at the light. They sell non-ethanol, one of three or four grades, and I forget which brand — it used to be Sunoco,” I said.
“I’ll just buy this ethanol-premium; I’d rather buy non-ethanol.“
“How much ya got in yer tank?” I asked.
“About half a tank,” the guy added.
“Oh you’ll make it; it’s only 6-8 miles,” I said.
Macho-man thereupon idled toward the convenience-store: BLAPPA-BLAPPA-BLAPPA-BLAPPA! He seemed awful friendly for all that racket.
“Just because ya pulled in here, doesn’t mean ya gotta buy something,” I thought to myself.
Ape-hangers and racket seemed to be all image. Mask off he was hardly a grizzled Harley dude.
• “5&20” is the main east-west road (a two-lane highway) through my area; State Route 5 and U.S. Route 20, both on the same road. 5&20 is just south of where I live. It used to be the main road across Western New York before the Thruway.
• I’ve since been told the Harley-dude was probably an evil one per-center. The fact his Harley was black, and the fact he was wearing a face-mask, both indicate he was Hell’s Angels, face covered to avoid being identified in photographs. Far be it I understand the Harley schtick, with its many symbols and arcana. He was an awfully nice guy; the opposite of most hyper-macho Harley dudes I’ve met.
A loud Harley idled into the gas-station I was using. Its rider was wearing a face-mask. His arms reached sky-high to reach the long ape-hangers he had on his Harley.
I was tempted to ask how he steered, but didn’t for fear he might shoot me for not wearing an American-flag tee-shirt — or for desecrating said flag if I’d worn such a shirt. Trump is prez; blowhards ascendent.
Macho-man pulled up to the other side of the pump I was using. Fortunately I drive a Ford-product, not Japanese or German as in the past. “I can still see that pillar of oily black smoke TOWERING above the Arizony” — or “I don’t know how you can drive a Volkswagen after what they did to London!”
Macho dude removed his mask, and asked if I knew any stations that sold non-ethanol gas. He sounded as placid as the rabbits my dog chases.
“Go down 5&20 to where Route 64 turns south toward Bristol, and look for Toomey’s Express on yer left before the turnoff at the light. They sell non-ethanol, one of three or four grades, and I forget which brand — it used to be Sunoco,” I said.
“I’ll just buy this ethanol-premium; I’d rather buy non-ethanol.“
“How much ya got in yer tank?” I asked.
“About half a tank,” the guy added.
“Oh you’ll make it; it’s only 6-8 miles,” I said.
Macho-man thereupon idled toward the convenience-store: BLAPPA-BLAPPA-BLAPPA-BLAPPA! He seemed awful friendly for all that racket.
“Just because ya pulled in here, doesn’t mean ya gotta buy something,” I thought to myself.
Ape-hangers and racket seemed to be all image. Mask off he was hardly a grizzled Harley dude.
• “5&20” is the main east-west road (a two-lane highway) through my area; State Route 5 and U.S. Route 20, both on the same road. 5&20 is just south of where I live. It used to be the main road across Western New York before the Thruway.
• I’ve since been told the Harley-dude was probably an evil one per-center. The fact his Harley was black, and the fact he was wearing a face-mask, both indicate he was Hell’s Angels, face covered to avoid being identified in photographs. Far be it I understand the Harley schtick, with its many symbols and arcana. He was an awfully nice guy; the opposite of most hyper-macho Harley dudes I’ve met.
posted by BobbaLew at 8:37 AM
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