The Ninja is gone, and soon forgotten, but maybe not so soon. We’ve had some good times, right? Maybe some great times (remember those Centralian days!). But in the end, things never worked out between us and it affected me not seeing you go. You were, after all, purple and broken. Regardless, you have been sold to an enterprising young Asian lad who picked it up with the assistance of his Argentinean bodyguard. You are in better hands with Thomas, and I wish you the best of luck with getting back on the road. I even washed you and waxed you in an act of good faith, and oiled your chain.
That’s enough of that.
Days pass and zero hour approaches. I may have found a suitor to weld up that pipe and doff off a couple of cb450 headers my way. Time will tell. A new tent has been sourced from Walmart and it fits easily in my rubbermaid top box. It is looking more and more like the luggage setup that saw James Bay will be resurrected again. But will everything fit? We’ll figure it out. Ordered parts come soaring in and I’m staring at a brand new Dunlop rear tire leaning against a beach chair in the corner of my living room. It’s so cute.
Some new heavy duty tubes are strewn about the floor.
A going away get-together this past Sunday saw a collection of manchildren conjuring the spirits of ballers’ past in an epic game of beach soccer replete with plenty of alcohol. Throw in a couple of womangirls and even a ladyboy and you have a recipe for success. But listen, be careful that you don’t accidentally kick the ball into your neighbors apartment through his open third floor sliding door when juggling outside in the street. He might just be sitting there… listening, watching, and waiting for this to happen so he can rifle the ball back at you, provide a curt retort, and demand that you go down to the beach and play. Shit like this makes one regret not the decision to leave. Long Beach, a microcosm of Long Island, is overcrowded and expensive. Everyone walks around like a fucking tea kettle, boiling inside and waiting to blow their top. There’s no privacy and everyone knows your goddamn business. My neighbor’s a fucking asshole. I shoveled him out of about four feet of snow this winter. How quickly we forget!
Whatever, everyone’s aging and looks terrible. We are all getting older and there is no better time than now to strike out across the wastelands. I hear there may soon be nothing left…