Adam and Wooley made their way along mountain roads their bikes running better than ever on Brian's Kudzu Super Fuel. There was talk about building a much smaller portable unit that could be carried in a saddle bag or back pack and used to make fuel wherever kudzu is found but that would be a ways away. In the meantime, Wooley and Adam were just getting off on the amazing acceleration and the increased fuel mileage the new fuel was providing. "Take that, OPEC!" Adam was heard to shout as he rounded a corner and twisted the throttle on his hog.
"Take that, Big Oil!" Wooley shouted as he exited the curve right behind Adam. All afternoon right up almost until dark the two of them shouted and laughed as they sped through the curves burning off the stresses of everyday life. Then right on schedule they rolled into Bearclaw Holler the campground where they planned to spend the night where Ronald Reagan had everything set up, ready and waiting. Including their dinner.
Veggie was off to visit a professional arborist to get his roots trimmed so he wouldn't grow into the ground. This was something Veggie had been forced to do every few months his entire life since having uprooted himself from the compost pile years ago to take up day-trading and take back control of Wackemall Inc. Some people have to have callouses sanded off, Veggie has to have roots removed.
Donny finally finished making the new engine side cases. We never managed to find the blueprints so we had to draw up prints of our own, make templates, check for fit and then make the actual cases. It took Donny a really long time but when he was finished we were sure they looked just like new, Wackemall logos and all. Veggie would be proud when he returned to see his masterpiece running again after all these years.
After we bolted the covers on we poured new oil into the crankcase, "Is it me or does this oil taste funny?" the motorcycle asked."
"It's synthetic," Donny replied, "You probably never had any synthetic oil before."
"Why not?" the motorcycle asked.
"Because," Donny replied, "back when you were running before there was no such thing as synthetic motor oils."
"Well," I added, "actually there were synthetic oils back then but only airplanes got to use them."
"Does that mean I'll be able to fly now?"
"No," Donny answered, "but you'll feel good enough to fly. Let's fill up your fuel tank."
As Donny began to pour Bryan's Kudzu Super Fuel into the tank the motorcycle began to recite another poem
"That's alcohol, not gasoline,
don't pour that in my tank!
My seals will swell, my gaskets rot,
take it to the bank..."
"Wow," Donny laughed. "Arb, where'd you ever learn a word like that?"
"I know lots of words," the motorcycle said, "probably more words than you know. And you know what else?"
"What?" I asked.
"I'm not going to start until you drain my tank and fill me with real gasoline. That's what."
"Now wait a minute," Donny said, "I didn't spend all these weeks making new parts for you only to be told you're deliberately not going to start."
"I am not going to start and that's final."
Wooley and Adam broke camp early the next morning even before Ronald Reagan and his wife Cathy could get up and make their usual mountain sized breakfast that they serve to visitors. Adam was excited to see the Black Iron and wanted to get there fast. Wooley was just happy to be on the road and didn't care where they were going as long as the wheels were turning and the wind was blowing. Late that afternoon the two of them arrived at a cabin in a secluded area north of Nashville. "This looks like the place," Adam said as he pulled off his helmet.
"Are you sure?" Wooley asked.
"Well, it's been about 20 years since I was last up here but it still looks pretty much the same."
An old man was standing just inside the door looking out, "See he's got his left hand behind the door frame," Wooley said.
"I sure do," Adam grinned. "we know what that means. Billy told me you'd lived in the mountains. Hello there, Sir" Adam directed his attention towards the old man, I'm Adam Farmer, is Joe home?"
"Joe had some trouble," the old man said, "Some varmints tried to steal his motorcycle so he loaded it up and went to Kentucky, tole me to give you this envelope when you get here. He said you'd be able to find him."
"I sure hate to hear that," Adam said, "Is Joe okay?"
"Oh Joe's fine," the old man said, "mean as a snake. They weren't but six of them, Joe sent them all running but figured they'd be back with more next time so he loaded up and got the hell out of Dodge."
"Well," Adam said, "That's probably the best thing Joe could have done. If you talk to Joe before we do, tell him we're praying for him and we're on our way."
"Will do," the old man replied as Wooley and Adam sped north, "Y'all ride careful now."
I had just dropped off 2 bags of chicken feed at home and was headed to the shop from Compare Foods with a whole pig I'd picked up for a pig picking when Wooley and Adam returned. Compare is the only grocery store in Greensboro that carries chicken feed and the only grocery store I know of where whole pigs are sold. My cell phone rang and it was Adam expressing concerns that things were not going as planned. I told him we were on our way to Kentucky, hung up the phone and called the shop. "Hello," Donny answered, "Us Machine and Cycle, how can I help you?"
"Lock everything down, get Steve and meet me at the Alamance County Airport by the Wackemall Inc corporate jet. It's an emergency."
"We've got a corporate jet?" Donny asked.
"No time for questions," I shouted as I hung up the phone, "Just meet me there now!"
Of course, what I didn't tell Donny was the fact that I had long since fired the Wackemall corporate pilot. Oh well, I thought, he'll find out soon enough anyway.
Continue to Rumi In The Hills.
"Take that, Big Oil!" Wooley shouted as he exited the curve right behind Adam. All afternoon right up almost until dark the two of them shouted and laughed as they sped through the curves burning off the stresses of everyday life. Then right on schedule they rolled into Bearclaw Holler the campground where they planned to spend the night where Ronald Reagan had everything set up, ready and waiting. Including their dinner.
Veggie was off to visit a professional arborist to get his roots trimmed so he wouldn't grow into the ground. This was something Veggie had been forced to do every few months his entire life since having uprooted himself from the compost pile years ago to take up day-trading and take back control of Wackemall Inc. Some people have to have callouses sanded off, Veggie has to have roots removed.
Donny finally finished making the new engine side cases. We never managed to find the blueprints so we had to draw up prints of our own, make templates, check for fit and then make the actual cases. It took Donny a really long time but when he was finished we were sure they looked just like new, Wackemall logos and all. Veggie would be proud when he returned to see his masterpiece running again after all these years.
After we bolted the covers on we poured new oil into the crankcase, "Is it me or does this oil taste funny?" the motorcycle asked."
"It's synthetic," Donny replied, "You probably never had any synthetic oil before."
"Why not?" the motorcycle asked.
"Because," Donny replied, "back when you were running before there was no such thing as synthetic motor oils."
"Well," I added, "actually there were synthetic oils back then but only airplanes got to use them."
"Does that mean I'll be able to fly now?"
"No," Donny answered, "but you'll feel good enough to fly. Let's fill up your fuel tank."
As Donny began to pour Bryan's Kudzu Super Fuel into the tank the motorcycle began to recite another poem
don't pour that in my tank!
My seals will swell, my gaskets rot,
take it to the bank..."
"Wow," Donny laughed. "Arb, where'd you ever learn a word like that?"
"I know lots of words," the motorcycle said, "probably more words than you know. And you know what else?"
"What?" I asked.
"I'm not going to start until you drain my tank and fill me with real gasoline. That's what."
"Now wait a minute," Donny said, "I didn't spend all these weeks making new parts for you only to be told you're deliberately not going to start."
"I am not going to start and that's final."
Wooley and Adam broke camp early the next morning even before Ronald Reagan and his wife Cathy could get up and make their usual mountain sized breakfast that they serve to visitors. Adam was excited to see the Black Iron and wanted to get there fast. Wooley was just happy to be on the road and didn't care where they were going as long as the wheels were turning and the wind was blowing. Late that afternoon the two of them arrived at a cabin in a secluded area north of Nashville. "This looks like the place," Adam said as he pulled off his helmet.
"Are you sure?" Wooley asked.
"Well, it's been about 20 years since I was last up here but it still looks pretty much the same."
An old man was standing just inside the door looking out, "See he's got his left hand behind the door frame," Wooley said.
"I sure do," Adam grinned. "we know what that means. Billy told me you'd lived in the mountains. Hello there, Sir" Adam directed his attention towards the old man, I'm Adam Farmer, is Joe home?"
"Joe had some trouble," the old man said, "Some varmints tried to steal his motorcycle so he loaded it up and went to Kentucky, tole me to give you this envelope when you get here. He said you'd be able to find him."
"I sure hate to hear that," Adam said, "Is Joe okay?"
"Oh Joe's fine," the old man said, "mean as a snake. They weren't but six of them, Joe sent them all running but figured they'd be back with more next time so he loaded up and got the hell out of Dodge."
"Well," Adam said, "That's probably the best thing Joe could have done. If you talk to Joe before we do, tell him we're praying for him and we're on our way."
"Will do," the old man replied as Wooley and Adam sped north, "Y'all ride careful now."
I had just dropped off 2 bags of chicken feed at home and was headed to the shop from Compare Foods with a whole pig I'd picked up for a pig picking when Wooley and Adam returned. Compare is the only grocery store in Greensboro that carries chicken feed and the only grocery store I know of where whole pigs are sold. My cell phone rang and it was Adam expressing concerns that things were not going as planned. I told him we were on our way to Kentucky, hung up the phone and called the shop. "Hello," Donny answered, "Us Machine and Cycle, how can I help you?"
"Lock everything down, get Steve and meet me at the Alamance County Airport by the Wackemall Inc corporate jet. It's an emergency."
"We've got a corporate jet?" Donny asked.
"No time for questions," I shouted as I hung up the phone, "Just meet me there now!"
Of course, what I didn't tell Donny was the fact that I had long since fired the Wackemall corporate pilot. Oh well, I thought, he'll find out soon enough anyway.
Continue to Rumi In The Hills.
