Jump to content

You never know who your friends are going to be. A several part story


Recommended Posts

One day, not unlike any other day of the week except Sunday because I don’t work on Sundays I was desparately trying to convince one of my clients that there was just no way I could cut her hair to make her not look fat. I mean for cryin out loud! Some people just have to take a bit of responsibility for personal issues. This issue being a prime example. Here’s the equation: Your 5’5” and weigh somewhere around 200pounds. Your hair is above your collar. Your head is round and very squishy if you know what I mean. Do you really think that your hair being another quarter inch longer or shorter is going to take off 70 pounds? Is it really within my ethics of scrupulous personal service to even try? Maybe I should have told Celeste that when I was finished all would be well with the world and that I would never give her a haircut that would make her look fat! No! I don’t think so! Your fat! Learn to like it or do something about it, that’s what I always say. Do you see where my frustration level is quickly approaching?

………Do you think Christian and Shane would be able to get off early? We could go hit the back roads. Maybe head out 215 past the church. Find that crazy old bastard in the crop duster that always likes to race the 20 miles to the dam. Two ducks and a beemer racing a crop duster through the twisties. OH yea! That’s always a hoot! Even though we never win. You can hardly smell that pungeant rotten smell as you pass the dairy fields for all the adrenalin…………. “Yea, I made sure to not make your back look like a man Celeste. You know I don’t like the butch look either!”

She sucked, I was having a sweet daydream. Just then I looked out the window for a quick peek at my bike. It was just a glance and for a split second there I thought I was seeing double. It was no illusion though, there were two bikes. Someone had squeezed an identical R1100RT into the same parking spot. Same color, same Corbin seat…. Who drives an RT? I don’t know anyone with an RT! Wait, Colorado tags. Cool! Man, I couldn’t wait for Celeste to leave so I could go investigate this bike. You know how us bikers are. We always have a connection to other bikers. It doesn’t matter about age, profession, or how long you’ve been riding. If you’re a biker you’ll connect. I knew I was gonna enjoy talking to this guy. I could just tell, all the signs were there. Colorado tags in rural Mississippi, BMW RT, BMWMOA Sticker. *&^% it didn’t matter; it was a new traveling biker in a strange town and if for nothing more than to recommend the best burger and beer I was gonna find the owner of that bike. I just knew we had things to talk about. Like, what was he doing? Oxford wasn’t on the way to anywhere. Where was he going? Does his seat suck as bad as mine and I needed to know if it should be broken in yet with 32K.

I stood looking at the speedo on that bike trying to assess the kind of owner who possessed such a beautiful machine through the mileage. No luck there were only 7 thousand miles logged. I heard a distant voice. “Is that your bike?” I looked up to see a gentleman sitting across the street on the courthouse lawn. “Excuse me?”……”No, this is my bike.” Pointing to the gracious neighboring black beauty. “Is this yours?” Of course it was, I knew before I asked. He immediately rose from his grass seat to introduce himself. We met in the middle of the street, exchanged pleasantries, yady yady ya. You know how that goes. Then came my questions. Come to find out he used to live in Oxford, attended Ole Miss and was visiting some friends on his way back from Florida. Coincidently he and I had many of the same friends. After ten minutes of chatting with Steven I saw my next client walking up the stairs to my salon. Not being one to make my girls wait I told Steven to come on up after a while and we could finish talking.

As I crossed the street my new friend said “Hey Aric… I’m going back to Aspen in the morning you want to ride with me?” My first thoughts were “OK this guy thinks I’m gay” “what will my girlfriend say?” “So what, who cares what she thinks?” “*&^% yeah!” “I’m booked all week what about all my clients?” “*&^% yeah!” “I don’t even know this guy.” “Can I afford it?” “Well we are fighting right now.” “*&^% yeah!” There were just too many questions to answer too fast. I had to get to my client so I told him to come see me in an hour when I was done for the day and I would give him a solid answer.

You see, this question couldn’t have been posed to me at a better time. My girlfriend and I were on the verge of a break up and she was actually supposed to move out that week. What a great way to get out of the house, at least for a couple of days. I just didn’t know how I was supposed to reschedule all those clients in a couple of hours. It wasn’t possible. “OH well, screw it!”

Within twenty minutes I had told the current events to Audry who knew I was crazy anyway and had decided I was at least going to western Arkansas to get in some good camping. Steven came up early and reassured Audry he was no serial killer. I agreed to go part of the way and we made plans to meet at five am on the square. I made phone calls and cancelled the next day’s appointments. Now I just had to go home and face my nemesis. Remind me to tell you about the time she shaved her head cause she was pissed at me. Here’s what happened.

I get home and it’s about 7pm. I packed my bags and went to bed. When my girlfriend got home somewhere around 10 I told her I was going on a road trip with a strange man, didn’t know where or on which highways, and didn’t know when I would be back. OK, I know, not very smart right? So what! I hated my job, hated my house, was not liking my girlfriend very much, didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life and that *&^% rooster, 3 goats, 5 dogs, 2 cats and a favorite sweater eating rabbit were about all I could handle. Come 5 o’clock I’m a free man for a few days. Good night!


to be continued....






Link to comment

Hey, get back to the story. smile.gif What kind of cut did Celeste get? What did the girlfriend say/do? Did any of your clients pitch a fit? Does the strange man have a name and is he homicidal? Do you make a habit of picking up strange men? Since he had a BMWRT sticker on his bike, might we know the strange man? If you're coming through Western Arkansas, maybe you would not mine if another strange man joined for a few miles?):) Keep the strange tale going. tongue.gif

Link to comment
Doug 'zarly' Walker

Wow, sounds like you really could use a break. Can't wait to hear how this story ends. By the way, the picture you attached looks like the town square shown at the beginning of Forrest Gump. You know, the one where the feather is floating all around and then lands at Forrest's feet? Anyhoo...

Link to comment


This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.

  • Create New...