Thursday, April 6, 2017

Call me Captain Hilts.

I got signed up for my motorcycle course and was talking about it with a long time biker. He agreed I did the right thing taking the full 5 day course.
Then he asked me how long it had been since I had ridden a bike. To make a point I went straight to the sarcasm department.
"Last time it was a German bike I stole after I busted out of Stalag Luft III back in '44." I said. He chuckled.
A young guy behind me went wide eyed and interrupted. "You broke out of a prisoner of war camp during WW2" He asked, wide eyed.
"Yes," said the old biker. "This is Captain Hilts. He stole a German motorcycle and jumped two barbed wire fences but didn't get through the third."
"It wasn't a souped up Triumph like they used in the movie, either," I added.
The old biker said, "Yeah. He used a 1940 German army BMW and not only that he still had the sidecar attached. Now THAT'S Old School!"
The kid looked at me. "You don't look that old," he said.
"That's because I don't drink cheap booze," I said. "I only drink first class liquor off the top shelf and plenty of it!"
Hook, line and sinker.
The old biker looked at me and shook my hand and with a straight face, said "Good to meet you, Captain Hilts."

Us old guys stick together.

To find out why the blog is pink just cut and paste this: NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED IN THE WRITING OF TODAY'S ESSAY

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