It was true, not a single Yamaha part fit the old motorcycle. While the motorcycle looked to be an XS650, a motorcycle unmistakable to any of us who have ever owned or wrenched on an XS650, not a single XS650 part would fit. Alternator covers, clutch covers, carb mounts, swingarm, shocks, fenders, axles, exhaust pipes, spark plugs... everything we tried was a little too big, too small, too this or too that. Even the bolts were all wrong. While XS650 Yamahas have metric threads just like all universal Japanese motorcycles, every thread we checked on the old motorcycle was standard Society of Automotive Engineers spec. If this old motorcycle wasn't an American made motorcycle then there has never been an American made motorcycle.
Of course, knowing this was in-fact the Wackemall 750 built by my old friend Veggie Head Stalker brought about more questions than answers. Veggie had recruited me to ride with him during my early days as an outlaw biker with the Wild Salsa Gang. I went from being a bad guy to being one of the good guys only like Veggie, I was branded a bad guy by the Fascist corporate ruled government. You see, Veggie had been waging a war against genetically modified foods for decades and the corporate farms and multinational corporations that are poisoning and monopolizing the world's food supplies with patented, copyrighted and genetically modified foods had spent years trying to stop Veggie and I as we wiped out one corporate farming operation after another all over the world. They killed millions of children with Obesity, Birth Defects and poisoned addictive foods but we were the ones they called green terrorists.
That's why my family, including my brother, Donny, never learned about what it was that Veggie and I did all those years. For had they known they too would have been targeted by Monsanto just as Monsanto and their CIA hit squad had executed Veggie Head Stalker and as it now appeared, all these years later, planned to do to me. For you see, in my mind the only reason anyone could have for arranging such an elaborate plot as to make sure I got my hands on the one and only Wackemall 750 was to see me dead. Besides, who besides the US. Government or a corporate giant like Montanto had the ways and means to pull off such an elaborate plot? And for no more than a joke? I didn't think so.
But there was some reason they hadn't already pulled the trigger or detonated the bomb. Were they not sure who had bought the motorcycle? Surely they had hacked into the dozen or so Internet based cameras at Salvage America where I bought the old bike. Scrap metal theft is such a huge problem for salvage yards that cameras are literally monitored 24/7. Having formerly been the general manager of that very salvage yard I know that to be true. Apparently they thought there was more they needed to know, some secret they though they needed to learn about me or my partners, my friends or the people who come and go in our shop. Well if it was secrets they wanted then we'd just give them a few secrets. Even if we had to make them up as we go along.
"Why are you covering me with that tarp?" the Wackemall 750 asked.
"I'm moving you to our secret shop," I replied.
"You've got another shop, a secret shop?"
"Yep, sure do."
"But how will I know the way if I can't see where you're taking me?"
"You won't know the way."
"But what if I get lost?"
"Stay where I tell you to stay and you won't have any problems."
"But what if something happens?"
"Like what?"
"You know, like what happened to Veggie."
"I guess we'd both best hope that never happens," I replied. It was then the old motorcycle began reciting his second of many poems:
we'd launch our plan
to conquer time and space..."
I remembered with fondness when Veggie had told me of that very same attempt to enter the Isle of Man tt years before I was even born.
Continue to Wackemall Inc.
