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His Philosophy

Before I start into this article, I just wanna thank Dan Rugh, Sandfly and J.T. for stopping by Chapel Hill, NC and coming to see a Buzzsawyer show and buying us shots of Jager and Beam for the outrageously high North Carolina prices and havin’ some fun, and riding the subject of this article, My Kick Ass Bike, around at 4 a.m. A word of advice to all who get beer muscles, but haven’t lifted weight one in a year: don’t get into an arm-punching contest with Dan “RhinoArms” Rugh, even a friendly one. I got his Holyfield-sized knuckles imprinted into my now yellowish greenish purple-ish shoulder, and the dude never even gave me 50% of his total foot-pound punchability. The searing pain is just now beginning to subside and I am able after 5 days to ease a T-shirt on without taking a shot of whiskey or biting down hard on a broomstick.

But, of course, it was all in the name of Fun, and 100% Worth It. Now, I digress….

Dude. I got this Huffy Vortex at the Salvation Army for like $2.36. I can’t believe I only paid that much for it, an ’86 Vintage Vortex Supersport. It’s a muscle bike. It had gray plastic hubcaps on it, but I took those off. I’m not about the hubcaps. I’d rather have straight spokes than caps. But I’m saving up for some magwheels. That’ll be sweeeeet. I can’t believe someone trashed that totally rad set dude, and I picked it up for under 3.

It has pedal brakes . . . and handbrakes – a DOUBLE THREAT!! I used to have freewheel pedals on my cherry red Spalding. Shhh!! Don’t tell anyone. I know, I was a total goober then. You can’t even PEAL OUT with freewheels! But that bike did have a sweeet set of magwheels. Then some punk stole it. Dude, his ass is grass if I ever find that kid dude.

I ride my ’86 Vintage Vortex Supersport to and from work every day. Everyone else rides mountain bikes – they must think I’m cool. My muscle bike has one white tire and one black one, which makes it cooler because you get the Yin Yang effect – that’s TAO-riffic! The wheel with my white tire’s a little wobbly – not taco wobbly – but probably burrito wobbly. Geeez!

On my way home sometimes these fraternity brothers sit outside of their fraternity house and they fraternarily laugh when I ride by. I think it’s because they’re jealous of my muscle bike. It’s jealous laughter, is what it is.

I never met a dude named Roy. I think Roy’s a cool name. Roy’s the kinda dude that wears a dawnsky-purple netted football half-shirt with a double zero in large titanium-white block lettering, and wants to play catch all the time and listens to classic rock radio and calls himself “a High-Life Man”. He also eats a lot of vandyke-brown hot dogs on plain titanium-white bread with lots and lots of crimson-red ketchup. No, catsup. He uses crimson-red catsup.

Oh yeah, back to my ’86 Vintage Huffy Vortex Supersport.

By the way, Roy exists . . . . in MY world. In MY world, Roy exists. Bob Ross told me so. If I wanna put a happy little pine tree in the foreground, I can put one there. If I wanna put snow flecked posies on the hillside, so be it. And if I want Roy to lean against the covered bridge eating a hot dog with crimson-red catsup, then by God, I PUT him there, mister. So there’s Roy, up there, 2 paragraphs ago. I hope I didn’t make any happy accidents.

I’m working on my bunny hops. By this summer I’ll be able to wheelie. I’m gonna ask my dad if he’ll build a half-pipe in my back yard, next to my clubhouse. Dang it! It just occurred to me, I don’t live with my dad anymore. Nuts! I don’t even have a clubhouse. But my bedroom is sweeet.

I had a blue bike in college. I was known as a Super Hero on the campus of the Indiana University of Pennsylvania: The Blue Destroyer. I used to go save people from the dreaded evil deeds of my nemesis, Sobrietron. He was an evil robot that went around shooting a ray into innocent drunken people’s heads, which made them sober again. I used to block the ray with my Blue Bowl Shield made of the frozen, highly alcoholic and inexpensive malt beverage Blue Bowl. I have a BA in Truth, Justice and the American Way.

My blue bike in college wasn’t a Vintage SS or anything, but it was still sweeeet. It was an ’89 Open Road BMX Special. I once tried to hop over a 3-foot rise into a parking lot behind Al Patti’s bar in Indiana, PA (which sells beer by the can), and I ate shit. True story. I was fat at the time, which made it more funny. Now I look like Adonis. (“Phhh! Chyeah right! ADRIAN Adonis!”) Shut up Robert! (“Make me N’at Man!”) That’s the Blue Destroyer!