This is more of a "What Made Your Entire Weekend" bit of funny.
I get home after work on Friday, as my Cool Aunt, was rounding everyone up in the house, including daughters friends who crash here regularly. I was coming in, jacket over arm, and they are piling into my aunts vehicle and my wife's car. Not a word of hi or good bye, but a kiss from the wife as they are all dust and ass. Fine by me. I change out of my clothes as its still light out, and stood in my living room for the first time in a long time, and just breathed. No gossip, no shouts for various womens products, no baby screaming because I came home and shes not fond of me. Silence. Blessed silence. I go to my office, move four books, and slide the back board a little, and retrieve my unopened, fresh bag of Oreo's, pour me a tall glass of milk, and take the tv remote. Its Classic Sci Fi movie time. I sat in my underwear watching old movies until the cookies did not sate my hunger. I looked in the fridge, and was turned off by the prospects, just not feeling what we stockpiled.
So I decided, after checking over the Triumph Tiger, I decided to ride to the awful waffle (Waffle House) for something both greasy and satisfying. I chose the one on the almost outskirts of town, because they have motorcycle parking where you have to actually be aiming to hit a bike to hit one, and its next to my mom and dads old watering hole when they were wild, free and childless. The owner of the bar was deep family friends, where they were at my parents wedding, at my birth and most major events. But It was food first, booze second. I walked in and sat where it was the least busy for seven p.m. I had a medium rare steak, a big pile of hashbrowns, eggs, a couple of waffles and a large piece of chocolate pie, with coffee. Once I was full, I paid and hopped on my bike to ride the fifty feet to the bar.
Outside.
This was no upscale establishment, infact it was notorious for the longest time. Outside, was various biker groups in town for a poker run hem hawing over their bikes sipping beer and such. I pull in and I swear you could have cut the tension with a knife. Im not wearing leather, but just a helmet. But I am also not gunning it either. They were trash talking my classic euro import, since they drive 'murrican. I had to be a smart ass. "You do realize, that the american bike was just a carbon copy of what was developed in europe, modified since we have large and long highways, right?" That fun fact did not make them happy. Neither did my allusion to Harley Davidson stealing the Indian design. I just walked in past an overworked waitress, past the wall of pictures, trying not to tear up, as I see a couple pictures of my mom and dad, and one with them holding me at the bar's annual fish fry. I grabbed my seat at the only empty spot at the bar, and the Bartender slid me an Arrogant Bastard Ale. I have grown to like its asshole rough flavor. Its mean and tasted just right after eating at the awful waffle.
The owner whistled at me, and I went over to her table, and we shot the shit, she of course telling my mom will be missed and all. I spent a couple hours talking, and shooting the shit, when some jackass came in the bar bitching about how some bitch bike was in his spot. My dads bike is far from a bitch bike, despite it not looking like a bulldog made of metal. The owner nods to her husband, who joins me in rising and we go outside to confront the problem.
Dude is back on his off the shelf Harley waiting for me to act like I am weak and subservient. I sit on my bike and push it forward clearly not driving off with my tail tucked between my legs. This pisses him off. There is room in the lot, but not close to the door. I stand again, If you all don't know I am6'9 - 6'11" depending on the store I am robbing. I weigh 374 pounds, and as I always say, a meat brick. Not that I am bragging, I got more problems than carters got liver pills in his plant. But I am not a wimp, I just dont like hurting people. But this guy was ruining the mood as Owner's brother was on the huge makeshift grill cooking for the bikers.
"Hey xxxxxx, move your bike, let a man's bike park!"
I blotted out the slur against my sexuality.
"Fuck no, I was here first."
"I own that spot."
"Dont see your name on it."
This really pissed him off. Regulars who attend this bar for their libations know me. Know my father, who was so eloquently dubbed "Mean and Nasty." My dad had a rep of being like a blue balled honeybadger in heat. Ready to fight at count 1. Older men in their leathers and such took hold of me, because I was in the mood to fight.
"Don't do it man."
I felt like that episode of Roseanne where Dan wanted to defend himself on his birthday. I needed a good scrap. But I also did not want to further my criminal career either. It sucks to feel like I cant handle business like I could when I was younger. Just because I did not like hurting people, doesn't mean I wouldn't fight to defend myself. I could almost see my dad in this situation, and I blinked. MY DAD was there. But he made no move either way, as if to say "You're a man now son, fight your own damned battles." Well he stood their with his old friends, arms crossed like he did when he watched me and my siblings, seeing what we would do. That pissed my mom off back in the day, cause she was like "Why didn't you stop them?" and he would reply with the same word for word line, "I wanted to see how they would handle it and what they would do."
So the crowd circled up, and I was standing there, and the man put his fists up, and all my dad did was take my glasses off my face. My knee was bitching at me, since that morning it felt good so I did not put the brace on nor did I have my cane. My stance was sloppy, since the knee pain, and lower back pain kept me from squaring up properly. So I balled up my fists, preparing for the first blow. It was a gut punch. It hurt, but not nearly enough to double me over. He came in for another body blow and I let him know that, that was a terrible idea with my left fist connecting with his unprotected jaw. His blow hurt, but mine made him turn his head. His buddies had to catch him. He wasn't out but he was down, and I closed the gap and let him feel a body blow. His friends pulled him away as my dad grabbed my shirt and family friends put in overtime pulling me back to the bar. I wanted to seriously fuck up the guy. My dad pushed me onto an outdoor chair, and I was made to drink a pepsi to calm down.
My dad told me the fight was over when his friends had to catch him. I am not here to say im some patrick swazte roadhouse super mortal kombat fighter, winning fights and busting up faces. Like I said, I am a peaceful kind of guy, except when my tank is on empty, which has been happening often since my mothers passing. PornHubby was right, I can be a right and proper dick when I put my mind to it. I told my dad he was still standing. He said no son, he was wobbling, any further and it would be you with another midnight date with a jail cell. The man and his friends had left when they worn out their welcome, not without attempting to knock the bike over, which was stopped because my dad had apparently went looking for me at home, used his key to get into my garage and take the Norton, he still owns the Triumph, as I am storing it for him since my youngest brother and sister returned to the nest to keep an eye on him. So I nurse a couple more pepsis and get messages on my phone from the new neighbors about a suspicious looking truck in my driveway, I reply that its my dads truck and he came to borrow a motorcycle.
My dad is eating some late night (10-11pm to me is late night, far past my bed time, lol.) Ever notice how when we were young kids we bucked the bed time set by our parents, but as we get older, we impose one on ourselves because we have shit to do the next day? Funnily Ironic. I only had legitimately two beers, so I waited and hung out a bit longer so that I could be damned sure I was cool to ride. I blew into a breathalyzer that was required to leave as they would not give you your keys back until you did and blew almost all zeros. This place might be an outlaws den, but it wanted to stay open, and letting people ride off drunk in Florida is the quickest way to get your liquor license pulled.
I blew good to go, paid my and my dads tab, though I doubted he was charged for his drinks, and I put my helmet on and rode off into the night searching for more trouble. I figured I'd go grab a thick metal chain and hunt some bike gang down. Not in my wildest dreams. The rush from the fight was coming down and I just wanted my nice comfy bed, and fluffy blanket. I take the long way home, and once I get in I wash the night off and crash into my fluffy bed. Some badass biker fighting dude I am, huh.
Saturday Morning.
3 AM.
My dad is returning the bike. The garage has an alarm as does the whole house, but this one with a camera is set to go off with an annoying "Garage Door Open." every 10 seconds, as the intruder alarm was way worse. I had it set to let my wife in as she works late shifts, and as long as I or she puts in the code, the real annoying alarm doesn't go off. I get up look on the screen to see my dad parking the bike where he got it, and leaving. I hit the code in, close the door and return to sleep.
When the sun was licking my face I woke up to see the bruises from the punches were purple already. A bowl of cereal, some juice and cartoons later I had a list of things to do. First and most annoying was to uncover the pool and shock the water again. The same thing I do every year, but I decided to do it early because its looking to be an early summer this year. After I was done, I put another mulberry tree in the ground next door, then it was time to work on the kit car. I had already built the engine but found some problems. my buddy at the speed shop told me to bring the entire block in, and luckily I had a cherry picker (no, doesnt do that, get your mind out of the gutter! hahaha) that honestly was not really needed as the engine was a quarter of the size of a normal engine, so I and Terry put into the back of my suv on a bunch of news paper.
I found out at the shop that the block is cracked, the cylinders were not good. Basically the engine sat too long, not stored properly and it would cost more to repair than its worth. BUT the junkyard apologized, and let me poke around, until I found an engine that was decent, which meant I brought someone to verify. So new engine secured, and the whole day was spent putting it on the frame.
Kit car is 32% complete.
Sunday.
I needed to sort out some thoughts in my head, so I got dressed and went to church. After Church I joined my church friends for lunch at the Chinese buffet we tend to flock to. Some talking and good food later, I wanted to go to the nerd den. A game/comic.collectible shop. Its been awhile since I cleared out my pull box there, and they let me know, as there was a pile of white boxes being brought out. I paid for it all, and picked up the last light novels of a series I have been reading and was going to sit under the shade of my Loquat tree and kill a Sunday afternoon as I did when I was younger.
But life isnt as simple.
I was on my way home when I notice Henri and his husband broke down on the road. They seen my SUV and flagged me down. They were coming back from antiquing and an estate sale, and their truck died. They had a full trailer and I made an off color joke and they looked in the back of my SUV to see the boxes of comic books and other nerd trappings, and made their own off color joke. So I looked at their truck. I called my dad. Told him everything they told me, and my dad said it was the sensor in the distributor on the end of the rod going down. Sure enough after a trip to the part store, I did as dad said and the damned truck started up like nothing was wrong. A small piece of plastic and metal shut down an entire truck. Fuck that.
Henri paid me back for the part and they went home with their haul, and I was longing for the shade of a tree when I turned into the neighborhood, Julie (a friendly neighbor, who is part of the Watch. She often comes over to see my wife. Mother of elementary school kids, and also sometimes boss of my youngest daughter for babysitting.) is outside looking at a smoking riding lawn mower. Her husband is visiting his sick parents, and she tried to cut the grass on her own. Then the mower stopped working and started smoking. I looked it over, too much of the wrong type of oil and an empty gas tank. I told her to wait there. I ran home, changed, grabbed my tools and since her riding lawnmower was similar to mine I stock up on oil, so I brought some with me. Three hours later, sun is still up, and with the right oil and a full tank, she was able to cut her grass. She paid me back with a wad of bills, and I was again rounding the corner to my nerd heaven, when my new neighbors across the street were in a tizzy.
The old couple had a built in watering timer system on the house, and they wanted to remove it. One more trip out. And as the sun was finally saying fuck it to the day, they had a regular faucet installed in their front yard. I was pulling in as all hell descended upon the house as everyone who lives and crashes there came home all full of life and energy. I had just pulled in, and they crashed upon my peaceful castle like barbarian invaders. Wife gets out, and helps Ashley and Princess out, and from the inside, a chorus of teens scream about dinner as they raid the fridge. I wanted to roar. Wife says lets go out for dinner, as cool aunt was departing. So we go to Denny's and then we stop by Wally Land, to get groceries. I make them put them up as I manage to read 1 of the many, many comics i missed reading.
But the best part of it all....
I felt whole, for the e first time since last march I felt whole. And thats is what made my weekend.