On The Mark

  Thursdays are bike nights at the Corn Fed Choppers clubhouse. They are supposed to be “shop nights,” where people work on their machines, but more often than not, very little work gets done. Sometimes Chef Carl has the grill or smoker going and he’s preparing something delicious that he’s been marinating all day. “Chopper Daddy” Ryan has done racks of ribs in a device that looks suspiciously like it might have been a 55-gallon oil drum. Sometimes it’s just hotdogs from the roller in the corner, or maybe a pizza delivery. Frequently, there’s nothing to eat, but some of the boys like to have a malt libation or two. Their favorite is currently a product that claims to be “low carb.”

I try to contribute to the event, so I’ll text Chopper Daddy and ask if they need any supplies before I go over. Most of the time the message will come back “We’re good” but occasionally he will say the fridge needs a transfusion, so I’ll stop and get a mix of the low-carb brew, some sodas, and a couple of those boxes of assorted chips designed for moms who pack lots of lunches. My favorite of the latter is the 42-pack that includes two kinds of Cheetos. Honey-roasted peanuts are another of our favorites. It’s a small price to pay to share some of Chop Daddy and Chef Carl’s BBQ creations.

The other night, I was riding the V-Strom and checking out a new set of riding gear when I made the store run. The guy at the store said I looked like a spaceman in the Gore-tex getup and flip-front helmet, which is probably true. I run a big, metal top case on the V-Strom and large, soft saddlebags, so I got a 30-pack of suds (we have at least half that many souls at the gathering). It turns out that the 30-pack more than fits in my top case, with room for sodas. The side bags will swallow quite a few sodas, suds, and snacks too.

Let me set the stage for my arrival at the clubhouse: there I was, riding what may be the only Suzuki V-Strom in the county, pulling up at a place where hardtail Harley choppers are the vast majority of bikes and denim and leather are the uniforms, wearing what to all intents and purposes was a nylon space suit. To say that a few people looked askance at me is putting it mildly. The regulars weren’t all that surprised, but a few of the infrequent visitors gave me the evil eye. I got off and called to one of the more evil-eyed dudes and said, “Can you help me out here?” He reluctantly sauntered over, whereupon I opened the top case and handed him the 30-pack. Suddenly, the Suzuki Spaceman wasn’t such a bad guy after all!

It was kind of like in “Alice’s Restaurant” when Arlo Guthrie talks about how the guys on the Group W bench moved away from him when he said he was arrested for littering, but buddied up again when he said, “And creating a public nuisance.” That led to some interesting conversations, as none of the hardtails has any luggage, and the crew was curious as to the potential carrying capacity of my machine. I could see the wheels turning in their minds, imagining a high-capacity beer mule at the next big cookout or campout.

Mentally, I was transported back into the movie “Cool Hand Luke,” where Luke declares that he can eat 50 eggs, except my personal claim to insanity was saying “I bet this bike can hold 200 beers.” The reaction to that claim was about the same as the inmates’ reactions to the egg challenge and there was an immediate hubbub and side bets being taken on whether the poor little V-Strom could handle the load. By then, the Suzuki Spaceman was in too deep to back down in the eyes of the grizzled hardtail riders, lest I lose face…or part of it.

So now, I have to wait for the appropriate occasion – a picnic at the clubhouse or a big BBQ night – to answer the mail on the “200 Beer Bike Challenge.” In the immortal words of every fighter pilot ever, “It’s better to die than to look bad in the pattern,” so I have to deliver, literally and figuratively. I think the big top case can hold 60 and each saddlebag about 50, leaving me using some Rok straps to get another 40 on the rear seat, with room for a 42-pack of snack chips on top. I might even get some honey-roasted peanuts in the tank bag…