I'll tell ya one goddamn thang, we were all out at the Evelynn Rivers Toy Run this past Christmas. This is probably the oldest run in Amarillo, Texas.

Once upon a time it was a real cool deal, sponsored by the now-defunct S&S Cycle, been around for more than 20 years. Now days it is a watered-down version run by the local HOG chapter and starts out of the local dealership, Tripps Harley-Davidson. Now you know your old pal Boomer does not regularly darken the steps of a dealership or hang out at HOG events, especially after 1994 when the entire Amarillo chapter of HOG rode by me when I was broken down by the side of the road, out in the middle of nowhere without so much as a wave, all pretending not to notice me and my broken down shovel as they rode by on their monthly run. But I grew up going to the Toy Run, so this was different. Most of the old-school crowd still participates in this function and makes a good party at the end of it. Plus it's nostalgic and it's for a good cause. The parade is pretty cool as well, with about 1,000 bikes. They block off all the traffic lights and the ride winds across town to the fairgrounds to deposit the toys and suck down free beer. Even the anti-socials you never see anymore show up for this run.

Well, I had just gassed up before getting in line and registering and, unbeknownst to me, my top crossover line had come off. Naturally, being the dumb ass that I am, I overfilled my tank to go along with it. I was pleased with myself for getting there early and getting in front of the line. For those of you who don't know, being in the back of very large packs of yups who don't know how to ride in formation is not fun, and plus all the fumes can really suck in a group that large. I was off and walking around, looking for friends to hang with when an older gentleman riding an old Norton informed me that I was leaking gas and he was concerned about it. I thanked him and went to take a look. Sure enough, gas was all over the place. Some further investigation proved where the leak was from and I just decided to ignore it for the time being since it was already correcting itself.

I went on about my business trying to navigate through the crowd of yuppies and find some of my own kind when a couple of HOG officials came and hunted me down. They found me as I was standing among several friends. They began to tell me that I needed to move my bike since it was leaking all over the pretty parking lot, that they did not want to stain their sponsor's parking lot, that he had left specific instructions about it! I tried to explain to them that it was already stopping and that there was nothing to worry about. They told me that if I didn't move it they would call the road captains over and move it for me. Well, you could have stirred it with a stick at that point. The friends I was standing with, Hoss, Preacher, Bad Andy and a few others, were all ready to back me however I decided to handle it. You know the understanding looks and gestures among close friends, the simple fact that every head spun around and everyone stepped forward spoke volumes. The HOG fags really had no idea what they were about to step into. Their eyes betrayed them as they stood there trying to stare down a half dozen long hairs, gray beards and patch holders, and of course none of their buddies were running to their aid. I was really about ready to make a scene and get the show started. Then a Christmas angel descended on me at that moment, yes really, and said "Cool it dumb ass!" I stood there red faced, fists clenched and grinding my teeth. I looked around at all the toys strapped to bikes and all the kids running around laughing and playing. I realized that there is place and a time, and this wasn't it.

This is really against my nature but hey, you know, for the common good...blah, blah, blah. I told the HOG officials that I would move it in a few minutes but first they needed to get the hell away from me. Of course they backed off with parting words like they were coming back with the road captains and the law, my daddy is bigger than your daddy, etc. Whatever. I was not impressed. After an appropriate pause for effect, I moved my bike onto the street, losing my place in line for the parade and a bit of my pride. About this time, that dumb ass Wrong Way wandered up. He's a true burned-out wannabe that has read too many magazines and seen too many movies, earning his nickname because he is such a lousy wrench his bike usually only makes it one way. He is one of the craziest mothafuckers that you'll ever meet. He was walking around out there drunk off his ass. He had a cardboard sign hanging around his neck. On the front side it said, "SHOW ME YOUR TITS!" On the other side, when he would flip it up, it said, "BITCH!" He showed it to just about every woman, young and old, who was out there. Pretty soon here came two road captions from the HOG group and a female cop, yes I know, that's funny in itself. I had just finished moving my bike. They zeroed right in on Wrong Way.

They told him that he was going to have to take the sign off or leave the grounds. Well, you know what a dumb mothafucker he is. He told them, "Fuck you goddamn pigs! This goes for you too, bitch. Show me one of those fat ass pig tits." They took him off to jail, numb nuts and all. What a dumbass. But before they could get him cuffed, this one little old lady walked up and told him, "You dirty little bastard." Then she pulled her T-shirt almost over her blue-haired little raisin-wrinkled head and right there in front of us all lay two of the most shriveled up little titties that I've ever seen. They looked like two yellow squash with all the juice sucked out, laying right up there on her belly. The road captions left her alone, pretending it didn't happen and somewhere in heaven as those two old Christmas tits rang out, an angel got its wings.

Wild Boomer