Friday, January 30, 2009

Storytime in parts

--Part VI--

Overall, today was turning into a great time. His ribs were a bit sore behind his left front leg but Teddy was not going to hold one kick from a surly ol' judge against a beautiful, freedom-filled afternoon. What more could a guy want besides a brisk walk in the sunshine with his best friend across fields and down roads, behind buildings and houses and even the occasional respite under a tree? Sometimes he thought he might miss the little metal water bowl back at the house but as long as Marilyn was walking and talking to him, Teddy felt pretty good about things. He had confidence that wherever they were going that she would take care of him and so he was as carefree as ever.

This buoyancy of spirit, however, was confined to only half of the daring duo. Marilyn trudged along with the stubborn naievite of a child but was slowly starting to forget how this plan was supposed to end. She knew that she and Teddy needed to get out of this town but the thoughts of where and how were slowly walking their way through her mind with each step she took. Recollections of her now-former home began to creep painfully into attention along with an irritating realization that she was hungry and thirsty. She and Teddy had walked several miles at an expeditious pace with few stops and she was realizing that she was not only spent physically and emotionally but she was also probably lost as well.

Marilyn stopped beside a pole barn and looked around. Teddy watched her for a second but was quickly distracted by what might be in the barn and proceeded inside. Marilyn followed, welcoming the coolness of the open-sided barn and was glad to find an old mower to sit on.

"Here, Teddy. Which one do you want?" she asked, holding out a choice of candy bars to the dog.

Teddy sniffed the first one he came to and tried to bite it but Marilyn pulled it away long enough to unwrap it and then handed it back to him.

"Good, because I don't really care for peanuts." The two of them shared their few bites of candy and Marilyn slumped back in the seat of the mower with a sigh.

Teddy was just finishing his when Marilyn saw his ears go up and forward and his body stiffened. He licked the last of the candy from his lips and let out a soft growl. Marilyn then heard the voices and looked up as two men in overalls approached the small barn. They were talking to each other but one man seemed quite disturbed and was gesturing with one hand as they walked. As they got closer, Marilyn recognized the gesturing man as the man from church of whom her father had labeled "Brother Thundermuffin" for his ability to raise a ruckus about everything that happened at church, none of it ever being done to his liking.

Marilyn slid off the side of the mower and was holding tight to Teddy as the two men got closer. She just knew that if they caught her they would call the cops and she would be put in jail and who knows what would happen to Teddy then? Her imagination quickly went to places she refused to go physically and she silently promised Teddy again that she would protect him.

A quick "C'mon" was all she said and all it took to bring Teddy in right behind her as she flashed out of the far end of the barn and right over the edge of the unseen creek into and under the rapidly moving water! She heard a splash, a bark and then nothing but darkness. The two startled men were unsure what they just saw.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009

I'm a model, you know what I mean? And I do my little turn on the catwalk!

A female co-worker had a copy of Vogue magazine in the office today and I glanced through it and wondered: Looking through a womens' magazine all you see are beautiful female models in the ads. When you look at a mens' magazine all you see are beautiful female models in the ads. Where do male models wind up working?

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

I'm no schmuck!

I may not be alot of things that I should be. I may be alot of things that I should not be. One thing I ain't, though, is a schmuck. I'm not even sure of the definition of the word. It's sort of one of those things that you know it when you see it. I hate the feeling of someone trying to make me out to be a smuck when I'm obviously not one. It's sort of the same feeling you get when you're a tourist. I don't want to be like everybody else and I don't want people thinking I'm stupid. Am I the only one knowing what I'm talking about?

Here's my example: I joined the National Rifle Association in August of last year. Without exaggeration, it was within two weeks after joining that they sent me a letter asking me to renew my membership. They had not even sent me my membership card and they already wanted me to send them more money. Now, I understand that the NRA does not survive without money (I'm not stupid, remember?) but if I had wanted to sign up for multiple years I would have done so. I also don't like being asked if I want a fried pie at McDonald's for the same reason and yet I understand why they ask -- because some people are schmucks!

At least twice a month I get a warm and loving personal letter from Wayne LaPierre who is the Executive Vice President of the NRA. Each one tells me how smart I am for joining and how valued I am to the association and how they could not do it without me. I'm sure a miniscule part of that is true but today's letter said that if I would just renew now that I would "save the NRA the cost of sending more notices". No (head-bob) kidding! I have a better idea. If they would just quit sending me notices it would save them money on sending me notices! And quit calling me Todd..."Dear Todd", "Thanks to you, Todd", "You're so hot, Todd! Love, Wayne" What do they think I am? A schmuck?!

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Storytime in parts

--Part V--

The scene had died down outside of Ike's store with Judge Maloff and Melissa along with officer Blunt all coming to the conclusion at the same time that the real problem of the day was going to be inside the store. It seems that the violence and commotion outside was being outdone by the havoc being played out inside. The judge held his daughter behind his back while Officer Blunt approached the front door and for the second time today put his right hand on his holstered security-six.

Walter Blunt, tall and baby-faced for his twenty six years, had plans to become a veterinarian in high school but realized quickly that his grades would be a difficult hurdle to get over for such lofty plans. Serious and agreeable, Walter got along well with everybody in school including his teachers but found it hard to make more than average grades in class. He had many acquaintences but few real friends and had attended the local college with the help of his mother and with extreme effort and a couple of extra years had managed to graduate with a degree in criminal justice. He knew his mother was proud of him but he had few glories as his life's history had unfolded so far. He enjoyed the aspect of his job that involved helping people but in this quiet, quaint, quadrate little box of a community he felt his passions underutilized. That all seemed to be changing in this one moment.

Officer Blunt reached the door and looked inside. He could only see Ike's ankle and foot sticking out behind a wooden aisle filled with groceries but he could hear Ike screaming, crying, rambling incoherently and evidently doing some sort of damage to his store. Just as Blunt opened the door a worn wooden plank from the floor was pried up and tossed over the aisle nearly hitting Blunt and sending cereal boxes flying out of its path. Blunt felt himself breathing and heard himself calling the merchant's name as everything seemed unreal. Time seemed to be moving through the most narrow of hour glass as the young officer moved his body heavily around the corner.

"Ike, stop it! Aw, gee, stop it, Ike!" Blunt grabbed Ike from behind and pulled him away from the hole in the floor with Ike bringing part of a corpse with him as they both crashed into a gondola full of snacks.

"I told her to just shut up but she wouldn't do it! All day long she nagged! I told her to shut up, I told her!" cried Ike. "Even when she was dead she was loud! She wouldn't shut up! I had to do it! I had to!"

And Marilyn thought her day was bad...

Saturday, January 24, 2009

just to see if i could do it

Here's a post to prove I can do it on Ambien (2hours ago). I used to live by a guy who put a 4x8 sheet of plywood in his front yard with the words, "Stay off of my lawn Mr. McGinnis!" I thought it was strange until I met McGinnis.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Mmm...bacon explosion

Wow! Pork with pork! I never would have thought of it. Butter me up and wrap me in a 5x5 bacon weave. Ooh! Oh! Then dip me in some jalapeno cheese sauce. It's like fat-boy p&rn.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Storytime in parts

--Part IV--

Teddy was unsure about why everybody was yelling but he was sure he did not want another kick so he stayed a little way off even from Marilyn. He was not scared of her at all but afraid to get too close so even though she called him, he felt safer just hanging back for awhile. Marilyn had started to cry now as the adults discussed the situation. The judge was stomping around saying he would kill the dog if he came closer to his daughter. Officer Blunt, with his hand on his holstered revolver, was walking toward Teddy talking baby-talk but Marilyn feared the worst as Teddy looked like he was about to believe Blunt's flattery.

Marilyn took off running, looking back and yelling, "Run, Teddy! C'mon! C'mon boy!"

Teddy needed no further encouragement and ran after Marilyn with his ears back and tail down and the two of them kept on running for several hundred yards. The two men were hollering at her to come back and that it would be alright but Marilyn knew better than to believe them. She knew she was going to be in trouble now but she kept on running until she could run no further. Teddy ran along beside her enjoying the brisk run and glad to get away from the others. He slowed to a trot now as Marilyn continued at a fast walk. She glanced behind her from time to time expecting the whole town to be after her and her best friend and she promised Teddy as they continued that nobody would ever take him from her. What Marilyn failed to know was that Ike was keeping both officer and judge busy with what would turn out to be larger matters.

Unaware of what was happening at the crime scene, Marilyn and Teddy hiked towards the horizon. Thoughts of home and family flew across the child's mind as she went. Quite sure she would never see them again, she padded on, determined to remove Teddy from harm no matter the consequences. Her heart was still racing as she remembered how this trip started and she wondered how long it would take until her mother came looking for her, interrogating her with questions about milk, Teddy, and...candy bars! She realized to her horror that she had accidentally run out of Ike's with a candy bar in each hand and had not thought about them since she first heard the commotion start when she was inside trying to decide which one to buy. She had slammed one into each pocket as the fracas ensued and now it dawned on her that not only was she running away with a wanted dog but she, too, was a wanted outlaw; a common thief on the run.

Her choices were clear. There was only one way out of this.

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Quiet cussing

Several times lately I have heard people cuss but when they come to the naughty word they say it real quietly. What's up with that? You know how it is. "What the (say it real quiet) is going on here?" Does the volume determine the offensiveness? It's also usually accompanied by a quick head-bob on the word for effect.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Storytime in parts

--Part III--

Teddy was disappointed with the lack of contents of the Hershey wrapper he found outside of Ike's. He was sure he needed something to eat and continued to search for a snack all the while keeping an eye out for Marilyn. Hopefully she would bring him something so he kept close to the door the best he could but there was alot to see and smell around here. In fact, something smelled wonderfully dead but he was unsure exactly where it was.

He saw something else that he thought might be tasty just as two cars pulled into the small parking lot. To Teddy, the only thing better than a snack might be a new friend and so he ran typically dangerously close to where the first car was parking and waited for the door to open with his long tail waving a welcome. Maybe the new friends might even be bringing him something to eat, he thought, and drooled just a little at the anticipation.

The first car to enter the lot was driven by Irwin Maloff, the county judge; a man with little patience for much of anything besides his pre-teen daughter who was passenger of the big Buick and who had whined long enough about wanting a Fanta that his Honor finally stopped to get her one. He knew she would probably just drink a few sips and throw it away but buying her one was easier than trying to argue against it.

The vehicle to pull in just behind the Buick was a squad car, gleaming black and white with importance and conspicuousness, driven by Officer Walter Blunt, the town's finest. Blunt had two whole years on the police force and had seen Judge Maloff down the street and had decided to pull into Ike's after him with some guise of buying something in hopes that the judge might see him and who knows what benefit that might bring even if it was to just break the monotony of the day? Blunt parked the cruiser just as Melissa Maloff screamed.

"Ow! He bit me!" squealed the startled girl.

She had not seen Teddy until she had opened the door and he nosed in to smell her. When he did the girl jumped and her knee hit Teddy's mouth with a thud. Teddy jumped back and waited for the girl to get out of the car so they could greet each other properly but before he could even catch a whiff of her a heavy boot crashed into his ribs just behind his front leg and lifted Teddy up and over a surprising distance. His yelp was as hurtful to Marilyn as the blow was to Teddy. She came busting out the door with each hand unconciously clutching a candy bar and screamed at the judge who was eyeing Teddy for another potential wallop.

The judge was hollering at Teddy, Melissa was crying, partly from fright, partly from embarrassment, Officer Blunt was swearing he saw it all and Ike was being ignored as he cried something unintelligible about "killed her" and "beating of her heart". Marilyn, too, was adding to the chaos as she called for Teddy to come to her and at the same time pleading his case to the adults at the scene. It seemed unreal to Teddy who failed to understand why they were all screaming. All this and he was pretty sure nobody was going to feed him anything.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Sassypants Dori-Belle

This is my sweet biscuit Dori. She's not big enough to jump into the bed of a truck but if you don't think she's a real dog then you and 4 of your toughest friends meet me outside right now!

Storytime in parts

--Part II--

From the front door of his little store Ike Elsheim had fair perusal of most of the town. He stood there for a moment after turning the "Open" sign over and unlocking the door. Probably nobody would have even noticed the door being locked during the middle of the day. Business had been slow and if anybody did ask he would just say he had personal business for a few moments and that should put a stop to any further inquiry.

Lank and homely with narrow eyes and a Roman nose, Ike was extremely intelligent, always civil if not a bit too passive, and was able to seem interested in his customers even when they bored him with their domestic stories when he sacked their groceries. Could they not understand he just wanted to do his job in peace and quiet? The women (who made up the vast majority of his customers) all seemed to want to tell Ike about their kids, their hair, their silly husbands. Ike just smiled and nodded his familiar, if ungainly, head. "Get moving, get moving!" he shouted silently in his mind while he smiled at the customer.

As Ike turned away from the front door he looked at the spot and picked up a solitary black hair from the wooden floor and with his usual acute tidiness he casually dropped the hair into a half-full trash can, emptied the trash into a larger can and then took that can to the dumpster. He was strangely calm. His heart rate was back to normal. His hands betrayed no tremor. Even his mind seemed serene, almost peaceful. He should have done this a long time ago, he thought. It was liberating. An involuntary "Ha!" surprised him as it left his lips and spawned another half-giggle as a reaction to it.

He caught a glimpse of a figure outside and looked up to see young Marilyn run past his door laughing at the dog nipping at her heels. Ike felt almost as carefree and innocent as the little girl running in circles in his parking lot. He knew Marilyn from the neighborhood. Her mother often brought her and sometimes several other kids into the store and he did not usually mind since they were all well-disciplined. He opened the door and with oddly patient repetition called her name and invited her in.

Marilyn sighed and walked to the door, canine companion in tow. Ike was surprised that she did not ask to bring the dog into the store but assumed correctly that she knew better.

"Sit down right there, Teddy. I'll be out in a minute. Ok? Good boy!"

At this point Ike felt like he could have welcomed anyone into the store and not have to worry about his cryptic concealment. The dirty deed had been cleaned up, evidence obliterated and his conscience almost absolved. He smiled what nearly felt like a genuine smile as she traipsed in.

"Mr. Ike", she said, "Do I have enough here for a gallon of milk and a piece of candy?" She held out an open hand that had clenched a dollar bill.

"Yes, Marilyn, I think you do." Ike said generously.

Marilyn beamed and skipped over to the candy aisle just a few feet from the spot. Ike's heart gained a couple of beats but he stifled his worry with the fact that she was paying attention to nothing that was not sugar-filled. Ike watched as Marilyn scanned each confection-filled container. He found himself nervously pacing behind the counter watching the girl with one eye as he walked and realized that he was needlessly working himself into anguish as she lollygagged. He knew that there was nothing incriminating in all the store much less to the eyes of a candy-starved school girl.

Ike tried to busy himself with tidying up around the cash register, his mind now unfortunately ablaze with self-questions and insecurity. He had left nothing to chance and had been agonizingly thorough in his clean up and disposal. Why worry? He checked the status of the girl's decision and heard a low, invariable thud coming steadily from her direction. He imagined the girl softly tapping her foot but could see little movement in her legs at all except to slowly slide to the next choice of candy.

The noise continued its rythmic cadence as Ike felt compelled to walk around the counter and have a closer look. Marilyn was now standing exactly on the spot and he felt sure she would hear the noise and ask him about it but she concerned herself only with the all-important conclusion of candy-buying.

Ike realized that he was sweating and tried unsuccessfully to calm himself. He walked over to the door and opened it and took a gulp of fresh air but continued to hear the confounded beating. It was ridiculously loud and he knew now that Marilyn heard it. How could she not? She was not deaf and yet she wandered around the store with a mocking imperviousness that started to anger Ike. Why did she not just ask him? The noise was almost unbearable now. Ike winced with each beat and grew more and more agitated. He was about to yell at Marilyn to get out of the store when there was a commotion outside that even the child acknowledged.

Monday, January 12, 2009

Golden shoes, Golden Globes

Sometimes when a man's alone, all you got are your dogs and they meant the world to me.
--Mickey Rourke, during his acceptance speech for Best Actor at the Golden Globes.


She’s like a giant Xanax, you know? I’m not going to get religious...but I truly believe God created dogs for a cause. They are the greatest companions a man could ever have.

Storytime in parts

--Part I--

Circa 1955. Smalltown, Pennsylvania

Milk was hard to keep in the house with so many kids around. It seemed like the refrigerator was always being opened and closed and mouths were being opened and closed and growing children especially wanted and needed milk. Not that it was expensive. Mom always thought she was buying enough for the week, but the demand seemed to grow in proportion to the supply.

"Marilyn!...Marilyn!! Come here!"

Marilyn was called because she was the closest child when Mom realized they were out of milk again.

"Yes, Mama?"

"Marilyn, I need you to run up to Ike's and get a gallon of whole milk. Look at the date and get the one with the latest date on it. Understand?"

"But, Mama, I was playing with Teddy and we were about to go exploring. Don't make me go to Ike's! I was..."

"Take Teddy with you, then. I don't care. Just go now. I need the milk to cook dinner tonight. Go on."

Marilyn knew better than to argue too much and since she could take Teddy maybe it wouldn't be all bad. Teddy was the best dog ever. He was a collie; well-built and sturdy for rough-housing but good with kids and best with Marilyn. Rarely was one not thinking about the other. He was good company when company was needed. He had come to live with them when the next door neighbors had moved out and left him in the back yard by himself. Marilyn's father said they could keep him over night until somebody else could be found to take him but Teddy had never left and everybody including Teddy seemed to like the arrangement.

The two took off for the store in no hurry. There was too much to see and do along the way and besides, surely Mom wasn't too serious about being in a hurry to get the milk or she would have gone herself. It was just down the street and around the corner and between Teddy and Marilyn there might even be some fun to be had. Little did either one know what a trip to the grocery store held for them today.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

My wife doesn't understand me.

Seven years I've invested and it has come to this. She doesn't understand. She doesn't have a clue about how I feel and how it hurts that she won't even try. I have tried to explain myself but she makes me feel bad when I try. She makes me feel that my wants and needs are not real and that I'm wrong for thinking I have them. She says I'm wrong, weird and even unpatriotic. Can you believe it?

Well, I can't help it. My needs are real and if I want to do certain things, does that make me less of a human than she is? Does that make me unpatriotic? Does that make me wrong? I mean just because I enjoy Mexican Inn tortillas so much that I want to roll myself up in buttered cornmeal, does that make me wrong? If I happen to have enjoyed the delicate goodness of Bosses Meatlovers pizza so much that I want a ham hat and a bacon vest, does that mean I don't love my country? Ok, maybe homemade brownie underwear would be problematic but if that makes me wrong...I don't want to be right!

Friday, January 09, 2009

Why Storytime?

Friedrich Nickerbocker, when asked what his story was meant to prove...

"That there is no situation in life but has its advantages and pleasures - provided we will but take a joke as we find it."

Wink at the camera, Andre!

I once had a friend whose dog liked to watch TV. It got into a fight and lost one eyball. I said that the good news was that the dog only watched half as much TV anymore. Now this guy has saved the taxpayers some money because now we can take the TV out of his cell.

Wednesday, January 07, 2009

I have C.B.A.

Well, I don't think it is going to kill me (much to the chagrine of some readers) but I'm pretty sure I have another disease. And it is a disease! I watch enough lawyer shows on TV to know that all addictions are basically diseases because we just can't help ourselves. We cannot cure ourselves of these insideous maladies no matter how hard we try. Because I have tried to stop, and have failed, I now qualify as diseased. I don't have the willpower or the mental fortitude to refuse and so now I qualify for government funding and probably some kind of drugs. I haven't pursued it further yet but the first step is admitting you have a problem, I know that.

My ailment is C.B.A, better known as Chronic Book Addiction. I'm addicted to buying books. My disorder is especially heinous in that it is both hereditary and cultural. My father's C.B.A. is in its final stages and he doesn't even recognize that he is infected. He has a Stage 3 library and has no more room in his house to store any more books although he keeps buying them. His non-fiction count is extremely high and although he says he can quit anytime, the family all knows better. His bookshelves won't last much longer. It also is so ingrained in our culture that our society almost encourages it. There is a Border's or a Barnes and Noble on nearly every corner and a public library in even the smallest towns and we continue to turn a blind eye toward this obsession.

Just today I found a Half Price Books in a part of town I would never have expected. I was just driving by minding my own business when I saw it in the strip center sitting there like the foul temptress it is. I couldn't help myself. There were so many books! And they were half price! Some, I hate to admit were even cheaper. I felt so dirty leaving there with my two grocery sacks full of books, some even made to listen to in the car while driving. I bought four Tom Clancy's, for pete's sake! Somebody stop me! Stop the madness before it's too late! I'll never read all the books I have right now and the sad part is that if I were honest I could tell you that I am looking forward to buying again. My only hope is that Obama will bail me out of this horrible pox and I can hold my head up with pride.

C.B.A. is a disease that we can conquer if we all pull together. No longer will we be outcasts, untouchables if you will, (never touch me) with burning desires for dangerous hard-backs or rare finds. I pledge to stop buying books but I need your help. Just send in your non-tax-deductible gift to this blog immediately and I will research ways to quit buying books with my money. And please hurry. There is a first edition O. Henry I have my eyes on that would look great above my desk.

Tuesday, January 06, 2009

Deathly serious -- putting the fun back in funeral

I don't know what has made me think about this lately but I feel the need to express my last wishes. Ok, not the last wishes I ever have but, you know, my wishes for when I'm gone. Well, not when I'm really gone because if I'm gone I can't really wish for anything but, anyhow, wishes for my funeral. I'm not dying, at least not any faster than anyone else, I just want to be prepared.

The details of what is said and sung at my funeral are not all that important to me, actually. There are lots of good old hymns that might be appropriate or maybe some worship songs could be sung by friends who do that kind of thing. It's a tough question to answer when asked what one wants people to say at your funeral. He was nice. He was a good guy. He didn't sweat much for a fatty. Whatever. Hopefully that part will be short.

What I want is a party! Seriously, a fun party! I don't want people to leave thinking about how much they are going to miss me. I want 'em to leave thinking about what a fun funeral that was. My sister said years ago that she wanted everybody at her funeral to wear shorts and eat pizza! What a great idea! Maybe if I die first I can steal her idea. What's she gonna say?! But if not, I'll have to go with everybody wearing funny hats and singing karoake. How about that? Yes, I want karaoke in the church by my casket with the lid up so I can hear it! It's my funeral and you better do it, or else!

Monday, January 05, 2009


----Stupid Boys----

Several years ago I found myself in the unenviable position of teaching Sunday School to a bunch of four and five year olds. I don't remember why I was asked to do the job. Evidently all of the qualified parishioners were unable at the time or were taking a well-deserved break. However it happened, I wound up in a large room with about a dozen heel-biters and only my intelligence and wisdom to see me through the hour. I nearly died.

Actually, not all of the kids were acting up. The girls were all being very sweet as they braided each others' hair and shared baby dolls and took turns with coloring books. They waited patiently as the boys would steal their toys and pull their hair and tried to pull up their frilly dresses. I followed the boys around the best I could and just repeated the words "stop it" and "put that down" as often as possible. No wonder nobody wanted this job. Stupid boys!

Finally, I had an idea. I somehow managed to corral most of them into a circle and with extreme effort got them to all sit down. I rolled a ball to the first little girl and asked her what she wanted to be when she grew up. "I want to be a princess", said the little cherub as she gently rolled the ball back to me. Wow! I'm a genius! I have their attention. I am engaging their little brains and their hands at the same time and it's working. I rolled the ball to the next little girl and asked her the same question. "I want to be a teacher" she said sweetly. "Oh, that's great, Becky" I gushed. "You'll be a great teacher!"

Then I rolled the ball to the little demon-spawn of a boy sitting next to the future teacher and before I could even ask him the question, he grabbed the ball and jumped up shouting, "I want to be a pee pee man! I want to be a pee pee man!" and then every boy in the circle jumped up screaming about being pee pee men as the girls just rolled their eyes and went back to hair braiding.

Sunday, January 04, 2009

Sounds like some of my old rides...

From craigslist: I have a homemade bike me and my brother built many years ago. Runs and drives but the back tire kind of rides sideways. The seat blew out a few years ago and I made do with a sofa cushion, duct tape and a couple of 2x 4's ( the ultimate fix! ). It runs like a champ but does smoke alot especially if you are hard on the gas. Uses about a quart of oil for each gas fillup. I usually just put the oil directly in the gas as it is going to burn it anyway and that way it is easy. Can't drive over 12 miles or so at a time as the motor gets red hot and starts loosing power so probably a good bike for someone who drives locally. Does backfire and squeel pretty loud occasionally so I usually wear earplugs of some kind. DOES NOT pass emmissions so would need to be registered in a county without emmisions check. Great first bike otherwise!

h/t bb

Saturday, January 03, 2009