May 17 2008
Well gang, in the days that Ralph the plumber ran the Pik&Pak Ice House, crowds of bikers, prominently hogs, would occasionally gather in the Pik&Pak parking lot.
Those were the days when Ralph, realizing that sophisticated techniques were necessary in modern commerce to draw in customers, was considering executing a marketing campaign for the Pik&Pak.
His idea, consisted of him standing at the intersection out front of his place, wearing nothing but bib overalls, his beard, and a long barreled goose gun.
When people stopped for the traffic light, he was going to lean over and tap on the window of their car. And when they rolled down the window, he was going to say, "Come on in and have a cold beer, or I’ll blow your blanking brains out."
Ah, yes… Those were the days.
Well, during one of those days, about 17 or so hogs were spread out on the parking lot, which was a thing of beauty.
Thousands of bottle caps, some weathered, some not, covered the parking lot’s surface in a mystical mosaic pattern that only shared its deep secrets to those who had access to good acid.
At any rate, these biker guys were all milling around, drinking beer and showing off new saddlebags, modifications on suspension, home made bits of medal linkages and what not.
The old guy that tended bar across the street had the day off and was having a beer at the ice house, and decided to have a little fun.
He went up to Tom Jones, who was there with his bike, and said, "I just got me a bike, wanna see it?"
Tom’s face lit up, all pleased and happy like. Their was a tone of brotherhood in his voice; "Sure!" said Tom "Where is it?"
The old guy walked to the side of the icehouse and gestured at the bike leaning against the building.
It was an English three speed. Sort of a tannish gold in color. "It’s a "Royal Geoffrey", the old guy said proudly. And waited for Tom to crack up laughing.
But Tom didn’t crack up laughing. That would have been rude, you see. In a parking lot filled with hogs, black leather, and testosterone, Tom took his time looking over the three-speed, searching for something nice to say.
Finally, Tom stepped back, rubbed his jaw, and said with genuine admiration, "I like those gum wall tires. They really set the whole thing off."
What are you going to do with a guy like that?
You don’t, forget him, that’s what you do.
You don’t forget him.

Till next week
Helga Biermeister
Secretary