RidicuRyder

Dual Purpose, Dual Personalities Sporting Duality With Motorcycle Therapy & Entertainment

Nebraska : 4 And Out

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20121127-213945.jpg Kimmie Lou, “Sure Freight Trains are 100’s of tons, but it’s just so easy to blow their doors off………” We had a great time catching up to this train, then stopping and watching it go by – just to do it all over again, sorta like galloping up alongside on Horseback.

Howdy Myst,

The rail line regularly parallels Highway 34 out here in Southern Nebraska, the first few times we watched the Train Thunder by we were giddy. Then Ridicu went nuts…….before I know what’s happening a stone is rocketing off our left arm – the bastard has whipped out the slingshot! It is a fucking perfect shot, the Engineer is looking straight at us, probably hasn’t noticed the stone that is about 17 7/8 milliseconds from impact……..I wonder if he has a family. The Engineer has clearly taken the stone between the eyes except we see it sailing out the window behind him, “Mmmmmm, time skidder……..you recognize him?” “Haven’t got a good look at him.”

This is a long train, maybe 2/3 of a mile (too bad Americans pussied out on the Metric system – a Kilometer would have sounded better) and we have to let it go by before taking the highway for our next pursuit. “What’s a Time Skidder?” asks Kimmie Lou, then adds “Is this where you get all bad ass and start up the Apocalypse with a SlingShot?” “Shooting just works sometimes…….it brings along the answer that won’t come gently.” Kimmie Lou and I start laughing like fools…….Ridicu sounds a little like Clint Eastwood sometimes (mostly our voice sounds like a brown corduroy jacket over white painter’s jeans, except when Ridicu or Meg get jazzy).

Kimmie Lou crosses the tracks and we gun it West. Reeling in a Freight Train shouldn’t be rushed, but we all want to get next to that locomotive again and two minutes later we are passing around 100 yards (meters) off the right of that great big engine. We watch the Engineer in the window then slow for a better look. A white puff of smoke snaps out of the window as a Beefy Dragon Fly Flicks The Tasmanian. “Was that a gun shot?” asks Kimmie Lou. We take a small curve then look over at the Train again. A Winchester is out of the window, waving hello “actually, that was a crack shot, wadda ya say kids………wanna play?” Ridicu started this game and it seems rude not to let him finish it, we open throttle to take position further down the line.

The tracks veer away from the highway and we take a Concession Road South to get close. We have clocked the train at around 50mph (80 kph) and it’s approach seems slightly quicker on this pass. “Straight for the head again?” “Why not?” Ridicu relaxes, this is my shot…….the stone I picked up is slightly more round than flat – it will twist gently on its way to the Engineer’s forehead (we’ll see how good he is). I am bringing my left arm along to lead the window slightly…….I loose the stone as the He appears just inside the window – standing stock still. We can taste the bone in the Engineer’s skull as the rock curls in…….then the left hand comes up and out the window. As we watch the Locomotive crank on, the hand waving goodbye has our stone between it’s thumb and forefinger. Almost involuntarily, our right hand springs up and waves back.

The Train is halfway by when we finally stop waving, Kimmie Lou a little ways ahead of us slowly turns her forks back our way “Who was that guy?” Ridicu and I cross eyes…….almost too long, we stumble around a bit and eventually are able to keep upright by holding onto Mr Fandango and Kimmie Lou’s saddle. “Gotta get another look to be sure.” Kimmie Lou starts up on her own, “well then git on up little doggies, let’s have a look see.” Kimmie Lou’s Spaghetti Western accent is hilarious, we need a minute to crack-up before we can get a leg over her. She Giddy Ups like a Dragster……….we fishtail shoulder to shoulder until we have to start slowing down to make the old Left Turn onto the highway. When we are up to speed on the Blacktop “do you have a pretty good idea?” “I’m almost positive.” Ridicu and I have one of those swirls going where Kimmie Lou can’t quite read our minds, it’s making her a little manic too.

In Around a minute and 52 seconds we are doing just over 100 mph (160 kph) in the wrong lane. On our right crawls a dozen cars tailing a Semi, we still have a ways to go to get by. On our left is the Caboose merrily wiggling and clacking it’s way along. The corridor narrows as the tracks wander over beside the road – now half sunless. A VW Bus rounds the bend ahead and enters our path, the thing about Ridicu is, he likes meeting oncoming traffic. Kimmie Lou knows we are going too fast to merge back into our lane and completely opens her carburetor, Ridicu and I duck down over Mr Fandango, the little extra speed might be enough, with the shadow it’s obvious the VW hasn’t seen us. At the last car before the semi we start drifting for the Rigs Front Bumper, with our head and shoulders into the sunlight the dude in the V dub eases over towards his shoulder.

The yellow line in a situation like this does dance around time, our left elbow drops open as our hand releases Kimmie’s Left Grip………..we wave a low Howdy to a guy who looks just like James Dean in the VW, he is giving us the peace sign and smiling warmly. Our Trucker has gotta have some Italian in him as he has drifted right with us. The wind effect just as we are all shoulder to shoulder is like a friendly spank on the ass and we suddenly pop forward onto a different plane of existence, only still here. Bringing our fingertips up into the Blasting Wind jerks our Left Hand upwards and all our arm strength is required to land it just over our Left Shoulder, we manage to keep our elbow behind Kimmie Lou’s fairing by leaning right. With our wrist and fingers we get off a little wave to Trucker Tony and he starts his air horn laughing.

Easing off on Kimmie Lou’s throttle does nothing “I’m stuck wide open boys.” The instruments are relaxed…….RPM nowhere near the redline and the speedometer’s needle has cooled off to about 17 7/8, but we are cooking like Wile E Coyote is coming for dinner. Kimmie Lou’s Trip Odometer Dials are spinning like a slot machine in slow motion. The traffic has disappeared behind us and the road ahead is empty……we can smell it. This Fucking Freight Train is on fire, we are barely overtaking it, “I can’t decide what I like better: Oncoming Traffic or Derailments.” Kimmie Lou is Howling and her tone begins to soften as we come up beside the Engineer once more. Our speed and position on the road is constant as can be and none of this steadiness is us. The Winchester crests the windowsill smoothly, it barely settles and another puff of smoke, ding! Tickling a machine is pretty hard but that shooter knew exactly where to rap Kimmie Lou’s crash bar. She’s giggling like a 18 year old single malt being mixed with lemonade.

Speed has run itself out as we look across to the Waving Winchester, our hands come off the handlebars and Wave Back Wildly. The gun is drawn back inside and the Engineer’s Torso extends into the air. The Captain’s Cap is blown off and out falls Spectacular Shimmering Silver Hair To Die For. With her left hand inside the top of the window the Engineer arches backwards until it looks as if her hair is straight off the top of her spine in the wind. Her right hand has been stretched back towards the tracks, but now it moves upward in the most graceful arc to the neck of her overalls. Ever so slowly she begins to drag her zipper down to her belly, the center of her Chest is Revealed and suddenly there is no doubt…….all doubts have vanished.

The next zipper to open is the Train pulling off the Tracks, when half of the Train is airborne the Locomotive drifts out over us, she stays over us while the tail end comes off the tracks. We don’t need to look back or search the sky to know she has gone, Kimmie Lou’s controls are back in our hands. We are completely quiet riding into Colorado, eventually Kimmie Lou starts to sputter and we switch the lever below her tank to reserve, another gas stop soon. “She is the Most Spectacular Woman of the trip right?” asks Kimmie Lou. We look down at the trip odometer………7 7/8…….she could have taken them all but only counts herself as one.

Eve,

We get gas in a place called Eaton Colorado, nice little town, we are leaving the gas station to have a look around when we see it out of the corner of our eye……..KFC…….another round of original recipe seems in order. “So She’s the Original?” asks Kimmie Lou. “Time doesn’t start in one place and finish somewhere else Kimmie Lou, everyone is original, then gets confused, then senses their origins again………..it’s No Big Deal. We are sitting outside, eating a 3 Piece Meal off Righty O, standing feels good, we are going to be in the Saddle for quite a stretch today.

Kimmie Lou loves the smell of KFC now, “When is the last time you saw her?” “It’s been a while………666 I guess.” The Tasmanian is hanging off Kimmie Lou’s right grip……..he used to be an all white Helmet before our Airbrush Artist Buddy transformed him into the bad boy. The Bullet grazed him somewhere, we just can’t tell where………he’s so scuffed up, we haven’t really taken good care of him over the years. “I hung out with Eve in the early 60’s.” Every sphincter in our body changes pitch. “And you never told me!” Ridicu and I sometimes split off and carry on different lives, it’s nice to kick back in another Universe that you can have all to yourself.

The Thing About Ridicu Is, he finds it Hilarious when he’s got something going on that I Don’t Know About………..he just freaks out sometimes when I keep stuff to myself. “Yeah, funny thing doing this Universe again, quite a bit of Monkey Business going on.” “Waddaya mean?” asks Kimmie Lou. “Oh, I dunno, can’t really put my finger on it.” Kimmie Lou knows when I get all vague that I just really need to talk my way around a bit until things get clearer (sorry if I am a bit of a rambler). “What about your Megalomaniac……..would he know?” Ridicu has been steaming a while, “He probably would know, he and I have been talking and we think he should get to speak up.” Our Megalomaniac is really quite a coarse fellow, he and Ridicu seem to get along like a house on fire, which is fine, I just don’t think he should get to say anything on the Blog. “Why can’t Meg say anything on the Blog, I’m certain she would be quite well behaved,” interrupts Kimmie Lou.

The thing about Kimmie Lou is, I have figured out that she can be quite the Little Shit Disturber. Don’t get me wrong…….we are a happy trio, I am just not sure we can handle a fourth, even if it comes in the cutest of packages. “I could make sure things remain reasonable.” Normally this is where I would piss my pants laughing, but Ridicu doesn’t throw “reasonable” out that often and it seems I’m out numbered anyway. “Yeah, sure, whatever…….she can drop in a few lines at the end of each post.” Maybe now I won’t have to listen to Ridicu going on and on about what Our Megalomaniac Is Always Saying.

“So what do you remember about the early 60’s……..with Eve?” purrs Kimmie Lou. Like I said…….Shit Disturber.

It was the early 1960’s……..forget Acronyms, a few of us formed a team and got fed assignments. The rewards were great, generally we had lots of time off between gigs and our expenses weren’t accounted for. I was a solid mid level operator whose partner had just transferred out. The best part of this job was the variability…….a good variety of agents and we all complimented each other. I was beginning to get spun out of the organization on “Custom” jobs, either flying solo or accompanied by one or two operatives.

During the past little stretch I had been fumbling around the office, reviewing strategies and trying to piss somebody off so I could get back into the field. After a while I sensed they wanted me all frustrated, all cagey. The more I paced and grew restless the more I savored the assignment to come……..it had to be sweet.

One sticky afternoon in walks this kinda dumpy auburn haired kid, she’s wearing a cardigan over a turtleneck and looks as cool as can be while I’m sitting in my corner wearing a tee shirt and sweating into the crack of my ass. She is standing in the middle of the office slowly taking everyone in……..nobody seems to notice. Finally she looks my way, I can’t put my finger on it, but I know we know each other from somewhere, suddenly she is standing in front of me and drops a file onto my desk, “Hiya FuckFace, looks like we’ll be working together.”

I’m looking thru the file and it’s a really juicy job, then I get to the last few pages where my new partner’s profile is outlined and freeze in my tracks. “Are you really just shy of being 18?” She looks straight into me, like I’m hollow, her eyes open a little wider and they soften down to about a preschooler, then notch up through decades getting harder until I am seeing and being seen. This little punk is disturbing, it’s not a question of falling hopelessly, stupidly in love with her………..she already completely understands I have and it’s fine……..no problem, let’s get on with it. I’m scratching my head, reading how she pretty much just skipped high school and bounced into UT Austin Philosophy courses for about a year and a half, then got bored. The last page of the report has our Division’s application form……….none of it is filled out, instead she has written diagonally across the sheet – I’m Interested In Killing Assholes.

We walk down the back hall to the Rack Room to get fitted out for the mission “What should we do for code names?” I smile at her “well FuckFace is where you owned me………what shall I call you?” “Eve is fine.” This three lettered name was all there was in the file, her scoring across the board was phenomenal – I knew a better partner couldn’t be had. I basically knew Sweet Fuck All about her yet felt completely comfortable………..this was going to be fun. We put together our gear pretty fast, not traveling light but things would be manageable. Before we loaded I turned to her and said, “Missions like these don’t come by often……..you know what this means right?” She shrugged, “I’m not worried about being killed the day after the job if that’s what you mean.”

We sway around a bit on the ride in, I began looking Eve straight in the eyes again………I couldn’t help it, she looked straight back and still…….not one ounce of discomfort.

It’s near midnight when we are set up at HQ. Purely because it is a habit, I start to run down the op one last time, she stops me a little ways in, “I’m running the op.” I don’t know what to say to this, it wasn’t in the file, but I have to admit……..I’m not really opposed to doing whatever she tells me to do. She sees I am conflicted and slowly unbuttons her Cardigan, she is much more fit than I imagined……..there is padding inside of the Cardigan to conceal what lies below her Large Perfect Breasts. Below Lefty sits a Colt .357 Python, Righty covers enough ammo to shred a station wagon. I am staring at how genius this set-up is when I notice her taking rounds out of the Revolver…….except for one, then she spins the cylinder and holds the muzzle to her Right Temple, “here’s how we’ll decide” CLICK.

So right here, I’m thinking………no sweat – run the op as she hands me the gun, I’m holding it southpaw, our eyes are locked, I’m not tempted to peek at the chambers, put the gun down or talk. The way she is looking at me is fascinating………I pull the trigger, CLICK.

Swiftly, Smoothly, She has the weapon back against her Temple. CLICK.

Our eyes are full with the other’s, she understands I fully intend for Her to run the op, but I’m begging her to please, please let me pull that trigger one more time. The gun is in my hand again and No Matter What, I’m Content……………..CLICK.

It’s a great big day and we giggle at breakfast like Morons……….I time a joke perfectly so Eve laughs milk out her nostrils. When we head off to work we are all business, nothing could possibly interest us more than this kill today, I can’t imagine ever being happier.

I am handling the upstairs and Lee Harvey does pretty good for a guy with a bolt action.

Eve shoots from the grassy knoll…………she splatters JFK’s brains all over Jacqueline, he wasn’t a bad guy, he was rolling around some pretty decent concepts. The thing about Eve, she doesn’t mind most assholes, but when Privilege starts buying itself more than one wife or another few shovelfuls of bureaucracy to protect its interests then things need to be brought back into balance. A whole lot of Shitheads have tried getting Mileage out of this hit over the years – the Mob, The CIA and all kinds of little clubs have puffed out their chests with this one (wink, wink).

Who Should We Whack Next? Anyone can drop a Fat Cat, a Politician, a Mail Carrier or a Class Room Full Of Children. We picked a King, then gave you a few decades to think about it.

A few hours later with the Moon Smiling we swim naked at Devil’s Cove in Austin. We started out near shore washing each other completely and I have never felt cleaner. Now back in the shallows, Eve stops ahead of me and she kneels with her Bottom at the Surface and her Hands Towards Shore. I lack thoughts at this moment, I Simply Dive Into The Sands At Her Knees. She keeps me pressed between her thighs gently, my elbows fall behind Her Knees and My Palms Rest On Her Calves. We sway like this for a long time and I do not need air, every want has left me……..

With Tenderness, I am held by the neck and moved along the sand, my shoulders shake through her thighs and I advance until I see her smiling down on me. This Which Is Whole, A Splendid Circle, I am Lifted from the Depths and held at her Breast, her Lips come to my Ear and she whispers “Breathe.” We Rise far up out of the water………She Is Impossibly Tall. My ejaculate strikes Her Flank, it is not Reflex, it is Barely Sexual, I Am Just So God Damned Happy.

Dying There At Her Breast In The Night, Fully Awake!

Hello Lovely Readers,

I am very pleased to be part of this wonderful cast. In case you haven’t noticed, the Pendulum has finished it’s Arc and will be dropping by shortly. Establish Balance……….Be One With Nature or you can take your chances. Whatever you decide is fine, JUST KNOW Momma’s back and she’s riding One Very Interesting Snake.

Author: ridicuryder

Cloaked & Variable Character(s) who only make sense if read from the beginning - start at the Ride Along Reader's Guide (Nov 2012) then pick up Contraption Attachment Disorder from July 2012. RidicuRyder is a fictional adventure layered over an actual trip. Our Adventurers have strange takes on things like Lisps, Motorcycles, Montreal Steak Spice, Mental Health and The End of the World (Evolving our species just sorta happens by accident). New for 2013 - opinion pieces in between trip stories.

9 thoughts on “Nebraska : 4 And Out

  1. Chasing trains just so you can watch them go by again? It’s the sort of thing I do, but then of course I’m a stupid fucker, as you put it so nicely on our first encounter 🙂

  2. Do hoboes still ride Freight Trains across Nebraska?

  3. Absolutely thrilling! If only one could join you on your harebrained adventures!

  4. RR,

    Voice like “a brown corduroy jacket over white painter’s jeans”. That’s perfect.

    Paragraphs 6 and 7 made me breathless and dizzy.

    “Every sphincter in our body changes pitch.” – This sentence delights me.

    The last …in the sand … beautiful beyond words. You make me ache for something I’ve never known.

    NO

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