Heavy Musical Instrument (Part Vi)

Part VI of Fuck Me Twice

(scroll downward the spider web log for parts 1-5)


In the middle of the block betwixt 53rd together with 54th, I could encounter The Skunk.  From nearly 50 feet out she looked ok, but equally I got closer things took a plow to the gruesome.  The tail lite was broken, equally were both dot lights, raise fender crinkled, together with the raise tire flat.  It got worse equally I came closed to the left side of the machine, the gas tank was dented to hell together with had deep gouges from what I guessed was beingness dragged on its side, because the topographic point encompass was shredded, together with the left exhaust pipage Blue Planet through.  Gauges smashed, the headlight, mirrors together with forepart dot lights equally well, the forepart tire also flat.  Hewn wires dangled similar vinyl covered copper entrails.  Someone had wantonly smashed every inch of the motorbike amongst a heavy instrument, slashed the tires together with left her to croak inwards this grotesque wasteland.

I wasn't certain how to feel.  Of course of pedagogy at that topographic point was anger.  I wanted to kicking some motherfucker's teeth in.  But I was also afraid.  The sheer violence amongst which my motorbike appeared accept been attacked was shocking, could the perpetrator live lurking inwards the darkness somewhere, total of to a greater extent than malice together with savagery?  A stranger inwards a foreign dry soil I was clearly non equipped (or armed) plenty to handle, my person turned a sickly cold.  Had my roommate Kevin non been at that topographic point I may accept only run away, a white streak inwards the dark night.

"Can y'all ride it amongst ii apartment tires?", he asked.

"Really slowly."

"Start it upwards together with let's go."

I swung the kickstart out together with nearly buckled my goddamn genu when the lever refused to move.  The motor was locked upwards solid.  My other pes slipped together with I move noticed the dark wetness all over the tarmac beneath the bike.  The heartless bastard had pulled the transmission drain plug together with cutting the oil delineate of piece of employment from the injection tank together with allow the really lifeblood of the machine drain into the gutter, together with thus he must accept started the motor together with allow it run until it was move overcome past times friction.  Who inwards the hell steals something exclusively to utterly destroy what niggling value it has?  I could accept wept, if non for my overwhelming disgust.

It was dead.  About equally dead equally a motorbike tin get, together with it's lifeless corpse had been raped together with desecrated past times some lowlife slice of shit.  You know how on those cop dramas the tough nevertheless sensitive detectives are ever telling the household unit of measurement they don't desire to encounter the trunk of their loved 1 afterwards a horrific murder?  Well, I got a feeling they are likely right.  It wasn't a especially fancy motorcycle, together with prior to this it had its bumps together with bruises, but it was mine.  My hands had sprayed the paint, covered the seat, replaced the clutch together with a yard other smaller, forgotten chores.  We had cruised the dorsum roads of upstate NY, ridden the interstate 400 miles to Philadelphia together with hundreds of other jaunts.  And this is where it was going to end, some godforsaken metropolis street, zip to a greater extent than than a pile of fossil oil oozing scrap?

It was equally good much.  Even amongst ii apartment tires, I was going to force that 400 addition pound affair dorsum home.  I would rather accept had a see assault doing thus than leaving it there, a forgotten casualty inwards a fucked-up war.

  

Not a skillful identify to die, fifty-fifty for a 1976 GT380.

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