Biker Road Tales

Roo’s Mis-Adventure—Part 3

ORIGINALLY THE plan was quite easy: ride the Tail of the Dragon to Atlanta; pick up Ron and Rhonda from Dandenong HOG; meet up with my USA friends, Dan & Bridget; then zip down to Biketoberfest at Daytona Beach.

Big Ballz’s cock up on the Dragon caused me a bit of distraction; nevertheless, the ride to Atlanta was uneventful and boring—riding on interstates is no fun; set the cruise on 90 mph and watch the world pass by.

When I arrived in Atlanta, I checked in a Holiday Inn, and checked to see if Big Ballz had arrived on the bus. Big Ballz will attest that Greyhound buses in the USA carry the flotsam and jetsam of USA society. He sat next to a young African America who played loud hip-hop music and offered him something for his pain which he kindly accepted and pocketed. Who knows what it was but it was very generous, I guess.

Dan & Bridget, a Californian couple I had met in Sturgis in 2006, flew to Atlanta to meet me and travel to Biketoberfest. I can now count them as close riding friends as we always have an awesome time together. I told them about Big Ballz and Dan couldn’t wait to start ripping it into him.

Ron and Rhonda arrived late and it was then that my mind started creating Ron’s nickname. It was obvious—Turbine! He rides fast but never stops whining! I guess when you have ridden overseas a few times you understand flight delays, baggage waits, security, taxi rides, new currencies, etc, etc. This was all new and worrying to Ron.

roo in use

The next day we visited the local Eagle Rider franchise to pick up a Road King for Ron & Rhonda. The dude at Eagle Rider was a Southern boy and drawled out instructions, rules and regulations to Turbine. As Australians we are quite naive, and it was only Dan who picked up that Southern boy had a 9 mm in his back pocket.

Of course Big Ballz, having had the piss pulled out of him all morning, was even happier when he found we couldn’t get a one-way bike for him so he would have to bitch on my bike until we got to Florida. Big Ballz’s baggage was distributed across the three bikes and we were ready to roll again.

As we left the franchise the Heavens opened! We pulled into a gas station to fuel the bikes… lucky we did, as Southern boy rode after us because Turbine had forgotten the bike key.

We hit the interstate and headed south in the rain. Turbine and Rhonda (later to be named Tiler) wet-weathered up with the rest of us bearing the elements.

After the first fuel stop we decided to get some breakfast/brunch. In the south they have great fast food outlets called Waffle House. The food is okay, cleanliness a bit suspect, but the atmosphere is good and you usually meet some interesting people. This could have been the end of Turbine and Rhonda’s trip. As we moved off from the lights to turn left into the Waffle House, Turbine proceeded up the wrong side of a separated road. Traffic dodged left and right—it was a good laugh.

Just across the Florida border we started seeing Welcome Biker signs; and we saw one on a little country pub so we stopped the ventured inside. Once in we were committed! It looked like an incest convention! Hairy, disshelved, toothless creatures, smoking, drinking and playing pool, and some of the men were nearly as bad. One guy thought it would be funny to pull his sister’s breast out for us. We stayed about an hour, had a few drinks, played a few games of pool, and had some laughs. Rhonda was like a cat on a hot tin roof as Turbine ogled at the young things hanging their body parts out. Oh well, it is the fabric of travel, isn’t it.

Due to Biketoberfest, accommodation was impossible to come by; St Augustine was as close as we could get.

St. Augustine is the oldest, continuously-occupied European-established city, and the oldest port in the continental United States. It was founded by the Spanish in 1565. In 1586 it was attacked and burned by Sir Francis Drake. In 1668 it was plundered by pirates and most of the inhabitants killed. In 1702 and 1740 it was unsuccessfully attacked by British forces from their new colonies in the Carolinas and Georgia. The city is a popular tourist attraction, for the rich Spanish Colonial Revival Style architectural heritage as well as elite 19th century architecture.

The place is rich in history and old things. I can attest to this personally. On my 2005 Biketoberfest jaunt, I met a lovely little Southern Belle who, at the age of 24, had been married four times. When I returned, she insisted we catch up (she had been remarried) because she had a friend she wanted me to meet. Being the gentleman I am, I agreed to meet and of course to bring my friends along. Bad move! It was late that night as we all met in a jazz club that I realised her friend was indeed her mother! Now I am sure she was a very nice lady, but between sniggers from Big Ballz, I felt a quick escape would be warranted. Apart from an abusive call from her daughter, I escaped fairly unscathed.

Our next journey would be down to Biketoberfest at Daytona Beach, a mere 30 miles of $40 taxi ride—no point riding if you’re drinking. Turbine and Rhonda decided to view the historical sights with Dan and Bridget while Big Ballz and I were in the party mood.

We ordered a taxi and waited 40 minutes. The cabbie asked did we mind taking another passenger as he had a friend who wanted to go down to Biketoberfest. We said no problems, let’s go, as long as she’s female.
He grinned and said, “Oh yes, she’s a hooker!”

This lady joined us in the taxi (obviously the cabbie was her regular transport). She had false front teeth, hair like a gargoyle, continually dropped out her breasts, and suggested she had never done brothers before (Good one, Big Ballz; he told her I was his elder brother).

“Yep,” said Big Ballz, “and it looks like you aren’t going to have that fantasy achieved either.”

On the trip twice we pulled into bottle shops so the lady and the cabby could get a beer! We couldn’t wait to get out. At the end she asked for some $$ for her showing her tits. We laughed and said, “Yeah, right.”

Wow, it’s only 2 pm and we haven’t even started to party yet at Biketoberfest. Great times await…

Roo’s Mis-Adventure continues next month…

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