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ChefC14
05-08-2009, 09:32 PM
Two Fleas on Vacation

Two fleas from Detroit had an agreement to meet every winter in Miami for a vacation.
Last year when one flea gets to Miami , he's all blue, shivering and shaking, damn near frozen to death!

The other flea asks him, "What the hell happened to you?"
The first flea says, "I rode down here from Mount Clemens in the mustache of a guy on a Kawasaki."

The other flea tells him, "That's the worst way to travel. Try what I do: Go to the Metro airport bar. Have a few drinks. While you are there, look for a nice stewardess. Crawl up her leg and nestle in where it's warm and cozy. It's the best way to travel that I can think of..."

The first flea thanks the second flea and says he will give it a try next winter. A year goes by, and when the first flea shows up in Miami he is all blue,
and shivering and shaking again. Damn near frozen to death!

The second flea says, "Didn't you try what I told you?"

Yes," says the first flea, "I did exactly as you said: I went to the Metro airport bar. I had a few drinks.
Finally, this nice young stewardess came in. I crawled right up to a warm cozy spot. It was so nice
and warm that I fell asleep immediately."

"Well then, what happened ?" the first flea asked.

"When I woke up, I was back in the mustache of the guy on the Kawasaki!

Twisted
05-08-2009, 10:38 PM
I see how you personalized it!!!! ha ha!

B-Kinger
05-09-2009, 01:08 AM
And he just revealed that he cheated on his wife! HA HA HA!

ChefC14
05-09-2009, 05:38 AM
It was originally a Harley joke but I couldn't bring myself to post that.
Mike, it was an airport girl. You can't get caught that way right? Just don't tell her your name. I always say my name is Mike Fredrick just in case a baby shows up later. :)

Twisted
05-09-2009, 07:59 AM
Good luck proving THAT one!!!! better pick another name!

meinschaft
05-09-2009, 08:40 AM
3 letters: D,N,A.

ChefC14
05-09-2009, 08:58 AM
Hey, I'm only gonna see them one time. I don't even have to look like him. If they can't find me DNA is worthless.

B-Kinger
05-09-2009, 11:18 AM
Your DNA IS worthless!!!!! AH HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!! Sorry, you set yourself up for that one bro! Great joke though. I did get to thinking about it, and at the speeds you traditionally ride, no flea would EVER be able to hang on for very long. Wouldn't even make it out of Mt Clemens, and the poor flea would be flat on his back in a pothole. And btw, I'm fixed.

Berto
05-09-2009, 11:23 AM
That was really funny...haha... love it.

ChefC14
05-09-2009, 12:00 PM
ouch that hurt.

Here is a nice poem,

THE BIKER

I saw you, hug your purse closer to you in the grocery store line.
But, you didn't see me, put an extra $10.00 in the collection plate
last Sunday.

saw you, pull your child closer when we passed each other on the
sidewalk.
But, you didn't see me, playing Santa at the local mall.

I saw you, change your mind about going into the restaurant.
But, you didn't see me, attending a meeting to raise more money for
the hurricane relief.

I saw you, roll up your window and shake your head when I rode by.
But, you didn't see me, riding behind you when you flicked your
cigarette butt out the car window.

I saw you, frown at me when I smiled at your children.
But, you didn't see me, when I took time off from work to run toys to
the homeless.

I saw you, stare at my long hair.
But, you didn't see me, and my friends cut ten inches off for Locks of
Love.

I saw you, roll your eyes at our leather jackets and gloves.
But, you didn't see me, and my brothers donate our old ones to those
that had none.

I saw you, look in fright at my tattoos.
But, you didn't see me, cry as my children were born and have their
name written over and in my heart.

I saw you, change lanes while rushing off to go somewhere.
But, you didn't see me, going home to be with my family.

I saw you, complain about how loud and noisy our bikes can be.
But, you didn't see me, when you were changing the CD and drifted into
my lane.

I saw you, yelling at your kids in the car.
But, you didn't see me, pat my child's hands, knowing he was safe
behind me.

I saw you, reading the newspaper or map as you drove down the road.
But, you didn't see me, squeeze my wife's leg when she told me to take
the next turn.

I saw you, race down the road in the rain.
But, you didn't see me, get soaked to the skin so my son could have
the car to go on his date.

I saw you, run the yellow light just to save a few minutes of time.
But, you didn't see me, trying to turn right.

I saw you, cut me off because you needed to be in the lane I was in.
But, you didn't see me, leave the road.

I saw you, waiting impatiently for my friends to pass.
But, you didn't see me. I wasn't there.

I saw you, go home to your family.
But, you didn't see me.

Because, I died that day you cut me off.

I was just a biker. A person with friends and a family.
But, you didn't see me.






EVEN IF YOU DON'T LIKE US, RESPECT OUR RIGHTS TO RIDE WHAT WE CHOOSE
AND TAKE A FEW EXTRA SECONDS TO BE SURE WE'RE NOT IN 'YOUR' WAY – LIVE
TO RIDE . . . . RIDE TO LIVE

ChefC14
05-09-2009, 12:01 PM
This one kills me every time I read it.
Squirrel attack:
I never dreamed slowly cruising on my motorcycle through a residential neighborhood could be so incredibly dangerous! Little did I suspect? I was on Brice Street - a very nice neighborhood with perfect lawns and slow traffic. As I passed an oncoming car, a brown furry missile suddenly shot out from under it and tumbled to a stop immediately in front of me.

It was a squirrel, and must have been trying to run across the road when it encountered the car. I really was not going very fast, but there was no time to brake or avoid it -- it was that close. I hate to run over animals, and I really hate it on a motorcycle, but a squirrel should pose no danger to me.

I barely had time to brace for the impact. Animal lovers never fear. Squirrels, I discovered, can take care of themselves!
Inches before impact, the squirrel flipped to his feet. He was standing on his hind legs and facing my oncoming Valkyrie with steadfast resolve in his beady little eyes.
His mouth opened, and at the last possible second, he screamed and leaped! I am sure the scream was squirrel for "Bonsai!" or maybe "Die you gravy-sucking, heathen scum!" The leap was nothing short of spectacular...He shot straight up, flew over my windshield, and impacted me squarely in the chest. Instantly, he set upon me. If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn he brought 20 of his little buddies along for the attack.
Snarling, hissing, and tearing at my clothes, he was a frenzy of activity. As I was dressed only in a light T-shirt, summer riding gloves, and jeans, this was a bit of a cause for concern. This furry little tornado was doing some damage!
Picture a large man in a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and leather gloves, puttering at maybe 25 mph down a quiet residential street, and in the fight of his life with a squirrel, and losing...
I grabbed for him with my left hand. After a few misses, I finally managed to snag his tail. With all my strength, I flung the evil little rodent off to the left of the bike, almost running into the right curb as I recoiled from the throw. That should have done it. The matter should have ended right there.
It really should have. The squirrel could have sailed into one of the pristinely kept yards and gone on about his business, and I could have headed home. No one would have been the wiser. But this was no ordinary squirrel. This was not even an ordinary angry squirrel. This was an EVIL MUTANT ATTACK SQUIRREL OF DEATH!
Somehow he caught my gloved finger with one of his little hands and, with the force of the throw, swung round and with a resounding thump and an amazing impact, he landed squarely on my BACK and resumed his rather antisocial and extremely distracting activities. He also managed to take my left glove with him! The situation was not improved. Not improved at all. His attacks were continuing, and now I could not reach him. I was startled, to say the least.
The combination of the force of the throw, only having one hand (the throttle hand) on the handlebars, and my jerking back unfortunately put a healthy twist through my right hand and into the throttle. A healthy twist on the throttle of a Valkyrie can only have one result. Torque.
This is what the Valkyrie is made for, and she is very good at it. The engine roared and the front wheel left the pavement. The squirrel screamed in anger. The Valkyrie screamed in ecstasy. I screamed in ... well ... I just plain screamed. Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a slightly squirrel-torn T-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, and roaring at maybe 50 mph and rapidly accelerating down a quiet residential street on one wheel, with a demonic squirrel of death on his back.
The man and the squirrel are both screaming bloody murder. With the sudden acceleration I was forced to put my other hand back on the handlebars and try to get control of the bike.
This was leaving the mutant squirrel to his own devices, but I really did not want to crash into somebody's tree, house or parked car. Also, I had not yet figured out how to release the throttle ... my brain was just simply overloaded. I did manage to mash the back brake, but it had little effect against the massive power of the big cruiser.
About this time the squirrel decided that I was not paying sufficient attention to this very serious battle (maybe he was an evil mutant NAZI attack squirrel of death), and he came around my neck and got INSIDE my full-face helmet with me.
As the faceplate closed part way, he began hissing in my face. I am quite sure my screaming changed intensity. It had little effect on the squirrel, however.
The RPMs on the Valkyrie Dragon maxed out (since I was not bothering with shifting at the moment), so her front end started to drop.
Now picture a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a very raggedly torn T-shirt, wearing only one leather glove, roaring at probably 80 mph, still on one wheel, with a large puffy squirrel's tail sticking out of the mostly closed full-face helmet. By now the screams are probably getting a little hoarse.
Finally I got the upper hand ... I managed to grab his tail again, pulled him out of my helmet, and slung him to the left as hard as I could. This time it worked ... sort of. Spectacularly sort of, so to speak.
Picture a new scene. You are a cop. You and your partner have pulled off on a quiet residential street and parked with your windows down to do some paperwork. Suddenly a large man on a huge black and chrome cruiser, dressed in jeans, a torn T-shirt flapping in the breeze, and wearing only one leather glove, moving at probably 80 mph on one wheel, and screaming bloody murder roars by, and with all his strength throws a live squirrel grenade directly into your police car.
I heard screams. They weren't mine... I managed to get the big motorcycle under control and dropped the front wheel to the ground. I then used maximum braking and skidded to a stop in a cloud of tire smoke at the stop sign of a busy cross street. I would have returned to 'fess up (and to get my glove back). I really would have, really except for two things.
First, the cops did not seem interested or the slightest bit concerned about me at the moment. When I looked back, the doors on both sides of the patrol car were flung wide open. The cop from the passenger side was on his back, doing a crab walk into somebody's front yard, quickly moving away from the car. The cop who had been in the driver's seat was standing in the
street, aiming a riot shotgun at his own police car.
So, the cops were not interested in me. They often insist to "let the professionals handle it" anyway. That was one thing. The other?
Well, I could clearly see shredded and flying pieces of foam and upholstery from the back seat. But I could also swear I saw the squirrel in the back window, shaking his little fist at me. That is one dangerous squirrel. AND NOW HE HAS A PATROL CAR. A somewhat shredded patrol car ... but it was all his.
I took a deep breath, turned on my turn signal, made a gentle right turn off of Brice Street, and sedately left the neighborhood. I decided it was best to just buy myself a new pair of gloves, and a whole lot of Band-Aids.

B-Kinger
05-09-2009, 12:03 PM
Yea that one rules!

ChefC14
05-09-2009, 12:11 PM
Alright enough of this computer chit, Cindy and the kids just left so I'm going for a ride. Tata.

ChefC14
05-09-2009, 05:57 PM
Hand Signals 101:

Tap on top of helmet- cops! Slow down! http://www.m109riders.com/forums/images/smilies/police.gif

Pointing at ground to the left/right- debris/pothole/carcass- be careful! http://www.m109riders.com/forums/images/smilies/shocked.gif

Left arm straight out- making left turn http://www.m109riders.com/forums/images/smilies/1cool.gif

Right arm straight out- he's an idiot, he's sure to be losing speed dramatically, and it's his first week on his shiny new HD http://www.m109riders.com/forums/images/smilies/22yikes.gif

Left arm out with elbow bent 90 degress up- He's turning right http://www.m109riders.com/forums/images/smilies/doorag.gif

Left arm extended straight forward over handlebars with middle finger extended- ( observed primarily in your rearview mirror) this means he just pissed himself when you blew by him; tooting your horn and waving did not help.