A Brief History of the EdgeWalker
Dad was discharged from the USMC in 1952. After that, he was outlaw 1%er & mom fell in love with him and his party ways & party days. They ran together for a year, partied hardy and then I happened. Dad settled down as much as he could, got a steady job operating heavy equipment. One day when he came home from work, mom was gone and I was in the crib. Her note said it all. Too much family, not enuff party.
He met another gal with two girls. The father of those girls was wealthy, he went to court and got them back to live with him. Dad and her dropped me off at his sister's house and went to Texas to kidnap her girls. Well, they got caught. Dad went to prison and she disappeared. I was adopted and raised by some good folk when I was 7.
When I turned 13, I had a paper route (120 papers) and a mini-bike. Sears with a 5 hp Briggs and a centrifical clutch. One of the houses I went by every morning was a local MC club house. I would go by every morning between 5:30 and 6 am and there would be at least one or two choppers/bobbers out front warmin up to go to work. One of the brothers came out to me and stopped me one morning. He told me "Hey buddy, bring your scooter by and we'll dial it in for ya!" So I did! I dropped it off on Thursday nite and delivered my route on my bicycle until Sunday morning. Sunday is a HUGE paper and I knew that I was going to have make two trips to get them all done. When I rode my bike past the club house, Skeeter waved me over.... I KNEW this was it! OMG... MY DAD WAS GONNA KILL ME!
Picture a Sears mini-bike from the mid 60’s. Square shape frame, weird little handlebars, basically no rake in the neck. Barely any place to put your feet much less the giant paper delivery bags. Red w/a white seat. Well, that was NOT what I now had. They had cut the neck off and welded gussets and raked it, extended the front end and I now was running a fat, spoke rim bicycle tire up front. They had shifted the seat down and back so I was sitting behind the engine. Forward pegs with extended brake pedal on the right and I had a real brake on the back tire! Seat was black and the frame and front end were shiny RED!
It handled better than it ever did... AND they had integrated a sissy bar on the back with hooks to carry my paper bags. I had tears in my eyes as I tried to thank Skeeter, but he just grinned and slapped me on the back. "Glad ya like it kid!" I delivered the papers in record time that morning and asked him if he would let me park it there for a while. He grinned and asked "Yer dad's gonna whup yer butt?" I nodded and told him “I didn't care, it was worth it”. He gave me a shrewd look and said "They give ya extra papers everyday don't they?" I said yeah and he told me to give the dropoff guy their address and I could use their house to stage the papers and just give them a paper every day to pay for the work. That way I could do my route from their house and my folks would never be the wiser. Well the plan for the papers worked great. I would stop there, fold the papers and load them up on the mini-chop for delivery. When I was done, I would park the chopper out back and take my bicycle home.
My parents caught on about the bike two weeks later when (unknown to me) they were gonna pick me up in their car on Saturday morning as I finished the route. I was bombing along flinging papers, almost to the end of the route, and a car came up from behind me... OMG IT'S MY PARENTS! I killed it, dad stepped out of the car and said "Just like yer dad, a chopper and a cheater. Get yer ass home when yer done." So I finished, left the chopper at the clubhouse and went home on my bike.
When I got home, Dad told me everything he knew about my bio-dad. Everything. Then he told me he'd beat my ass if he ever caught me at the clubhouse and he told me he never wanted to see the chopper again. I had bought it with my paper money, so it was mine. Since he forbid me to visit Skeeter, Injun Joe, Pokey and the other bros and he didn't ever want to see the chopper.... well he pretty much guaranteed that I would disobey him. He beat my ass a few times, but his heart wasn't really in it.
Drank my first beer there, saw my first girly-mag, saw my first real-life female breasts and a few other firsts.... After about a year, our family went on 2 weeks vacation. When we came back, they were gone. My scoot was out back under a tarp and they were... gone. I almost cried, but I knew that Skeeter woulda shook his head and called me a 'Puss'.
I still think the best thing was, my Dad was a biker and I didn't even know it. The lifestyle was in me, in my blood... and it always will be!
Edge "Nostalgic" Walker
This reader enjoys it !
April 25, 2012- -
-
Report
May 9, 2012- -
-
Report