Tapping away at the keyboard, I found it difficult to concentrate.

I knew my long awaited delivery was finally due today, and when I heard the “phsssssssh!” of the truck pull up outside my house I jumped up excitedly. Outside I beckoned to the driver toward the driveway, and as I opened up the rollerdoor, he “beeep… beeep…beeeped” his way backward. A moment later he stopped and opened up the back, then moved the pallet onto the hydraulic lift and lowered it down. “Sign here” he said, handing me a clipboard and consignment note.

As he drove off I fumbled in my pocked for my Swiss Army knife, and began hacking into the thick cardboard. It wasn’t long before I got my first glimpse of shiny chrome, and I did that giggle a little boy who’d shaken a Christmas present might. 10 minutes later all the packing was removed, and I rolled my baby off the pallet and into the garage. 12 months of saving - going without dinners out, surf holidays and surfboards, paid lunches, after work drinks, clothes, and pretty much anything else I could sacrifice. And now I had it.

I opened up the small cardboard box , and pulled out the keys complete with a large star spangled red, white and blue No. 1 . keyring. “Made in USA” it said on the box, and I quietly read it aloud. Twice. I put the key in the ignition and turned it, and the gauges all came to life, and a small light saying “N” lit up on the speedometer. I looked up, and down my street, and all was quiet save the distant sound of traffic on the main road. My smile broadened as I turned the key one more click, and then all the way round - until the starter motor whined momentarily before the giant engine roared to life. The entire carport shook as I let it idle over, and as I gently twisted the throttle, I thought my house would fall down as two huge steel pistons pounded gas into the exhaust pipe. I began to laugh uncontrollably. Harley. Fucken. Davidson. YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!

Now I knew there was only one thing to do. With the sun out, and all work pushed aside, I simply had to go for a short ride along the “pose strip” that runs past all the beaches near my house. I left the motor running and ran inside, grabbing a matt black helmet I’d bought off ebay last year, specifically for this purpose. I grabbed my pair of unworn 60’s style wrap around shades ( also off ebay… US$9!! ), and threw them and the helmet on my head. I bolted outside, dropped the rollerdoor, and hit the road.

Out on the Esplanade I soon got the feel of the clunky gearshift, but mostly left the beast in second gear. I bump bum bummmmed my way into each roundabout, winding on the power as I exited, and grinned at the terrified looks on the faces of senior citizens out on their midday beach path strolls. But the end of the beach strip came too fast, and I decided I’d head up to the main road and go for a quick squirt in top gear. What could be the harm in that?

Still in the 60km/h zone I pulled up at the last set of traffic lights before the open stretch - 15km of undulating, smooth road with a 100kp/h limit. As I sat and waited, a large, black and chrome beast rolled up beside me. He gunned the engine as he came to a halt, and I turned to face him. The large red and green tattoos on his forearms and neck were now clear, and through dark shades he nodded to me, as the wind breeze from the traffic caught his substantial beard. It’s hard to say exactly what came over me a moment later, but I suddenly felt the uncontrollable urge to do something foolish.

As the lights went green, I let him off ahead of me, lulling him into a false sense of security. As I moved off a second later I noticed the skull insignia on his leather vest, and the gang name - “Coffin Cheaters” - one of Tinytown’s most notorious outlaw bikie gangs. As I hit the powerband the wall of torque lifted the whole bike, and in a moment I caught and passed him. I flat changed into second and kept the power on, glancing at the speedo, and thinking “shit… 50mph already!??”. I locked my attention back onto the road ahead, and wound out the gear as long as I could, before throwing it into third. I didn’t look back for a good 5km or so, but when I finally did, there was no trace of the bikie. I felt a warm smug glow as I eased off on the throttle, and as my pulse began to settle, an uncontrollable smile engulfed my whole body.

Now a good 20km from home, I decided I’d do a bit of a round trip since I was having such a great time. By then I was getting into more rural country, roaring past one golden paddock after another, specked with lazy black and white cows. I had got a bit carried away with it all before I suddenly took a look at the fuel gauge - and in a moment of dread saw the needle wavering around the “E”. Luckily a small town was close by, and 5 minutes later I pulled into the one and only fuel station and shut her down. For a couple of minutes all was quiet, except for the gentle “gdunk…gdunk…gdunk” of the petrol bowser as I poured Australian Gasoline into the massive, black tank. But there came a distant and familiar roar, first a way away, but getting closer by the second. I inched the nozzle out of the filler, and squeezed the last drops in, then looked up to see a rather ominous sight. Sun reflecting off chrome. Black paint. Black helmets. Two dozen of them. The thunderous sound was soon like something out of The Book of Revelations, and all of a sudden, I could feel the weight of Judgment day upon me.

It was the Coffin Cheaters. And they needed fuel…

So that was TWT for April 1, 2008. How was yours?

Tags: Time wastin' Tuesday, general //