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

Leave a comment


20121114-194013.jpg Our stop in St Louis has confirmed what we have always suspected about the Plains……….Aliens are beaming in here. We watched a couple land with a flash onto the Arch then tracked them to a nearby power station. The St Louis Arch is a Monument, Attraction & Gateway……. does it signify a Million things to different beings? Yes, and then some. People argue about it even being an Arch……..perhaps it has been a huge boondoggle, another weak attempt by humans to erect a stairway to heaven. We admire it for it’s precise imprecision, for knowing exactly where it stands yet doing whatever the fuck it feels like doing. Archie You Big Beautiful Crooked Bastard.

Howdy Myst,                 (Edited Version Available 2020)

Frank and Hank roared off ahead of us this morning headed for Denver, we had a good time hanging with them and their friends. Hank was kinda reflective as we were loading the gear, we could see his wheels turning. The twinkle frequency in his eyes has changed……..he will wake up to his Indivisibility soon, he may or may not let Frank in on it. They seem to have a nice life going on this round, Hank may let Frank remain oblivious to the big picture……knowing is usually harder. Kimmie Lou is happy to be on our own “I don’t like being pushed by other riders and machines………we seem to get in enough shit all by ourselves!”

The ride to St Louis is unremarkable until we get close and notice the Thrum, it isn’t constant here like in St Petersburg or Atlanta. Kimmie Lou keeps reminding us to check our mirrors for Truckers. We exit downtown and spot the landings on Archie. Aliens! They ricochet a distance……..we listen for what direction the Thrum is coming from. Remember when we thought it might be a faulty transformer in St Pete’s……..the sound had sort of an energy about it?

20121115-061541.jpg This Creepy Old Power Building on the riverfront would totally work in a Tim Burton film and is coincidentally where Aliens are processed on arrival in America. We decided not to get too close as those Alien Cyclists were watching us. When Aliens aren’t riding Harley’s they usually get around by pedaling…….it helps them burn off energy in lieu of killing everyone they lay eyes on.

“Aliens come in pretty fast…….hitting power objects softens their landing, don’t ask me how they do it.” “How do they do it?” asks Kimmie Lou. When Ridicu says “don’t ask me” he is actually begging to be asked – Kimmie Lou has figured this out. Ridicu carries on for a couple a minutes describing something that sounds pretty physicsy, blended with some far fetched Ridicu angle……..it all winds up sounding sensible in an Absurdly Simple kind of way. Kimmie Lou has also learned not to challenge any of Ridicu’s explanations, even when he talks about Motorcycles, she just nods and says “huh, I never thought of it that way.”

We Kick around the City some before continuing West (Yes, Yes, We Know All This Capitalizing Is A Disease). “Geez, now that we are west of the Mississippi I sorta feel like shooting someone…….what kind of waiting period does Missouri have for handgun purchases?” Kimmie Lou pumps hard on her front brake, the Tasmanian’s chin thumps onto our chest, “you Morons have a perfectly good slingshot buried in all that gear across my back and you haven’t used it once…….don’t even think about heavier weapons purchasing unless you’re going to blow your brains out!” A block drifts by in silence then she adds “sorry.” In recounting old worlds we have discussed various fine dining options for different calibers. Our favorite is the over and under 12 gauge where the upper barrel has birdshot, but just in case that doesn’t do the job the lower one has a great big slug to punch out the brain stem or at least massively sever one hemisphere’s blood supply……it’s nice to have the back up in case something slips.

20121117-152718.jpg Righty O (our right Ortlieb saddlebag) insisted on getting his picture taken in front of Right Field at Busch Stadium. Kimmie Lou “I don’t care if you are a Slingshot Toting Republican Righty O……..we are all carrying baggage.”

“How many Aliens have arrived already?” asks Kimmie Lou. “It’s hard to say, but they have been among us for Centuries and breed like Bunnies so it is entirely possible they already outnumber us.” “The thing about this whole End of the World thing is that speculating the how and why can spin you down into a great big pit of agony. Getting all twisted up about it is natural, but everyone should maintain some humor about it all. Maybe we don’t evolve in this world or the next, but eventually we figure it out.” “How do you know?” asks Kimmie Lou. “Think of it this way Kimmie Lou: Time is only really handy for measuring Goals………and Goals are only useful for those who have forgotten that they already have (or are a part of) Everything.”

Leave a comment


20120806-155050.jpg Outside Stone Summit – the world’s largest indoor climbing facility, Unique Outfitters adjacent. Kimmie Lou says ” why would anyone want to climb mountains or rocks without a Dual Sport Motorcycle?…I just don’t understand it.”

Howdy Myst,                 (Edited Version Available 2020)

Continuing North out of Locust Grove, Ridicu starts back up, ” Pelican Felons, Mind Bending Ice Cream, Spanish Moss Remembrance Charms and now Telepathic Cheerleaders !” Kimmie Lou scoffs, “c’mon Ridicu, everyone knows that Cheerleading requires basic telepathy as a minimum…..don’t you boys get together with a few buddies and throw me 17 7/8 feet in the air without everyone dialing in their Vulcan Mind Meld first!” Whew! Kimmie Lou really can off road reason! Ridicu takes a beat “now that you mention it, I have always wondered how they juggle each other like that.”“It does make sense doesn’t it….I mean, no telepathy – that’s just crazy!”

Nobody says anything for around another 20 miles or so, the outskirts of Atlanta seem like any other North American city…..except for this weird buzzing that is getting louder as we approach. Dropping low behind the windshield we tilt to listen, “it’s not me” says Kimmie Lou. Straightening back up and putting our feet up on the highway pegs “what is that?” We begin scanning the sky for aircraft, the roads bordering the freeway for equipment, I even run a hand over our visor to make sure something like a candy wrapper isn’t wedged in….flapping steadily in the 70 mile an hour breeze we are generating.

As our left hand settles back onto the handle bar “oh, that’s what it is.” Looking in our mirrors – we see two semis barreling down on us, we are in a middle lane and the trucks are coming up fast on each side of us. The right Freightliner is black and it’s twin on the left is white, as we roll around a curve we can see the black tractor has a white trailer and the white’s trailer is black. “Awe Crap!” Kimmie Lou can’t look out her own mirrors and says “what is it?” “It’s doom….nothing to worry about, this will all be over in a couple a secs.”

We have straightened back out as the big rigs thunder by – the buzzing is so loud now it is all we can do not to vomit in our Tasmanian Devil’s helmet. Kimmie Lou shudders like a Jewish Vegan at a Pig Roast…we are buffeting so wildly that the rear wheel comes off the ground and it’s for a few seconds because we actually have to roll the throttle back to keep from redlining. When the diesel fumed turbulence is worst our rectal pressure spikes up to about 17 7/8 PSI and this is what saves us…..that involuntary knees together – pelvic thrust that happens when one is about to shit one’s self.

The bags, all strapped down, but bouncing like tufts of cotton candy in a hurricane are suddenly stabilized when our shoulders arch back in to them. Our knees clamp onto Mr Fandango which is our only attachment to the front of Kimmie Lou because our feet flew off the pegs and the bars wrenched out of our hands at the height of the death wobble. When Kimmie Lou’s rear tire touches the pavement everything shifts….our hands settle effortlessly onto the bars as our sandals come squarely and comfortably onto the pegs. That everything in slow motion for the final few seconds of your life has resumed its freeway pace and the sound has been turned back on.

Except,…something’s not quite the same.

The sky has lost its haze, a different smell is in the air – right in between Caramel and Hay baled high to the rafters in an old barn that leans, ever so slightly forward. As this smell triggers the memory our hearing begins registering….the thrum…. just like Mirror Lake! Then it hits us ——

SPLATLANTA…..WE’RE BACK IN SPLATLANTA ! Way back to the future in the cosmos around the corner where we once hung out, every so often we would hang in Splatlanta ! Kimmie Lou says “so this is Splatlanta?” Hang On! “Did those Cheerleaders pass along some ESP to you….we didn’t actually say anything about Splatlanta.” “Hey Kimmie Lou, you know Ryder and I don’t invade each others thoughts, that’s just not cool.” Maybe it’s the near death experience or us ganging up on her, but Kimmie Lou chokes back a sob before saying “I know you two were thinking of cheating on me with that Sea Doo last summer! Don’t even get me started on the Sailboat – that witch – and now I find out YOU ARE FROM ANOTHER COSMOS !….it’s like I don’t even know you anymore.”

We let a few exits go by and then “look Kimmie Lou, the Sea Doo was just going to be a buzz around the bay, riding those chicks gets pretty boring after a while. As far as the other cosmos, well it really isn’t possible to be “from” another cosmos, you can exist in two or more, but once a being gains awareness of multiple planes of existence, then you are pretty much “from” everywhere.” Another couple of off ramps go by (we can tell by the tone in her exhaust that Kimmie Lou is digesting this). “And as far as the Sailboat goes” ” YEAH I KNOW – YOU LIVE ON HER !

Eventually we exit for Unique Outfitters – a shop that still carries the 2002 Gear of the Year award winning Optimus Nova multi-fuel stoves (since discontinued as they were just too good…don’t you hate that). As we park, Kimmie Lou says “what’s this Stone Summit place?” The sign at the parking lot entrance said this was the largest indoor climbing gym in existence and that they would be soon holding the World Championships for indoor rock climbing – we all saw it plain as day. “It’s an indoor climbing gym.” “Sounds retarded…and this new camp stove – I suppose it will be using gasoline out of my tank?” We have been talking about getting our hands on one of these for weeks – she knows this, “only if it’s alright with you Kimmie Lou.” A pause while her Muffler ticks twice as it cools down, “I guess it will be fine, but you Morons will have to stop relying on my trip odometer to tell you when I am thirsty….if I’m going to nurse Wittle Baby Opti you just can’t be running me down to reserve !” “Absolutely Kimmie Lou….we’ll make much more regular fuel stops.” Another tick “I want to hear it from him!” ” Okay, okay we won’t go much beyond 100 miles before refueling – you’ll get topped off when you’re still basically half full, we will only go onto reserve when we’re in town.”

“What shall we call him?” We both say “Baby Opti sounds great!” (like we were going to suggest anything else).


Contraption Attachment Disorder


Howdy Myst,                 (Edited Version Available 2020)

My Kawasaki KLR 650 sometimes gets a little jealous of my sailboat, so I promised to ride her around the Smokies this summer….we both need a break from Miami. I got Kimmie Lou off a Broward car lot a few years ago, she was a repo, only had 3,200 miles and told me her Asian Mama was a back-up singer for a big artist named Lou…..who “had a dark side”. We got to talking for a while and eventually narrowed her paternity down to Lou Reed or Lou Rawls. Now I know that KLR probably stands for something like “Kawasaki Long Range” or whatever,(seriously I don’t want to know what every one else thinks) to me she’s just Kimmie Lou Rawls/Reed.

Kimmie Lou was sporty from the start, I threw a leg over her and she sassed up her Japanese accent and said “nice nuts round-eye, wanna take me for a spin?” The car salesman had been watching me for awhile and brought out her key once I took a seat, he said “looks like you two have got aquatinted.” I got a little self conscious thinking maybe they saw me chatting away and laughing to myself (sometimes my lips do start moving, even when I’m having secret conversations). The ride was only a few blocks, when I turned back for the car lot Kimmie Lou said “who’s your friend?” “Later” I said. The salesman knew I was leaving with the bike when he brought me the key, he was a good sport about pretending I was in some position to negotiate. “They will take less” Kimmie Lou kept protesting as we went through the motions of haggling. When we started the paperwork she said “ooh big spenda, how bout get Kimmie Lou synthetic oil change?”

Fort Lauderdale is 20 miles North of where I live and it took me half the distance back to explain “my friend” to Kimmie Lou. “Ha ha ha ha – you mean I am a nice Dual Purpose Bike for nice fella with Dual Personalities?” “Something like that, yes” I said. “Yippi” she said “I get two guys to ride around with, I know what regular name is for paperwork……what you call each other?” Well, I”m Ryder” I said …..“and I’m Ridicu, nice to meet you Kimmie Lou”.. “Tee he he” laughed Kimmie Lou “you da funny one – kinda mischievous too right?” “At times” Ridicu tightened our thighs, wiggled into the saddle and swayed back and forth a handful of times in our lane for around a 1/4 mile. We all laughed till we got bored and straightened back out.

Ridicu doesn’t fit the split personality criteria quite like you would expect……he says we’re partially fused so we can easily talk to each other (most of the time). There are things each of us do without the other knowing (I have been married for about 20 years and Ridicu only caught on at the millennium). We don’t really hide things from each other, we just sometimes allow the other to figure stuff out at their own pace. When we directly ask a question, the answer is plainly given, it’s one of our rules. We don’t get into anything outrageous when the other isn’t looking, mostly it is just playful stuff we laugh about later.

HW – Honorable Wife or Horrible Woman as Ridicu likes to tease, knows we are going to blog about our trip, she just doesn’t want to be mentioned, so there will be little else said in the marital department.

To keep Ridicu happy we put his name first in the blog, if it were up to me we would be RyderRidicu since I do most of the logistical and higher functioning stuff. Ridicu pitches in – he just goofs around too much to be all that productive – mostly he makes up for things with entertainment value. For example : he has this thing where I am always stuck with 17 7/8 “Angles of Ridicu”, he calls them, I never know exactly what they are because he swaps out at least a couple every night while I am sleeping. Every morning I wake up and know he has rearranged the furniture somewhat, often I can’t quite put my finger on it until I trip over something. One of our most consistent Angles of Ridicu is we have been aloft on 2 wheels for almost 40 years and most of it has been in shorts, tee shirts and sandals. Now I know that may just seem stupid or irresponsible to most of you out there, but you really have to couple it with another Angle……16 of our past 20 years as a RN have been in the Emergency Room.