Born Too Late Chopper Show
Yeearrrgh me matey’s, the Cappy is back and he comes now bearing tales of wreckless debouchary and impossible coolness. 2 weekends gone by, ’twas a saturday I believe, me old deckhand & 1st mate Paul ‘Petal’ Beadle told me of a gatherin’ of fellow pirates at a showdown named “Born Too Late Chopper Show”. Now the Cappy is unfamiliar with these noisy metal steeds they call ‘choppers’ but the Cappy is all too familiar with ‘avin a good ‘ol time and these ‘ere rugged lads know nothin’ better than polishin’ off some tastey ale and lettin loose!
The chap ‘ere was impossibly cool, he took his metal steed out in front of the metal string quartet there, kicked her harder as a muel so she grunted like a pegboy on the poopdeck. Once she was a bellowin’ the sir in question let her sails open to the wind and her wheels spinning like a hell horse smokin’ hooves and all. He made them tires squeel and burn till the place was filled with smoke like the pits of hell.
This ‘ere is the speedo of the trusty steed above. As yee can see tis mounted beside the fuel tank. ‘Spose there’s no reason to know ‘ow fast yer goin’ when yee feel like yer goin faster than hell.
1st mate Petal summin’ up the antics nicely, words teeterin on his lips “Feckin bad arse!”.
The smokin steed in question:
Another steed that was all the rage was this ‘ere orange fellow, fiery as the piercing eyes of Satan. Her Cappy had bestowed on her all the trimmins as she gloated all her controls on them there steerin’ things call ‘andle bars’. Didn’t look much like a bar to this cappy but the lads was all to excited ’bout ’em anyway. Just behind sir’s leg there was a lever there they call a ‘suicide shifter’, looked mean as hell and considered quite a rogue fer ‘avin one.
Another beaut, looked classic and smooth as the seven seas, not quite complete and ocean going yet but you bet she’ll be a classy dame when she’s done, worthy of the admirations of any sea wench.
This ‘ere is Sid’s bike the young fella who be puttin’ this ‘ere pirate shindig’ tagether. Most young fellas would be strugglin’ ta put together a piss up in a ale house but this fella in particular ‘as knack fer radness and we was havin’ a swell old time drinkin’, hollerin, listenin ta metal guitars blasting and rubber tires screaming. Tis a good ol’ life! Cheers Sid!
‘Ere be a pirate of old. T.White, scurge of the seven seas and the 3rd Beach of Van. He’s donned the business suit and adopted the wee scallywag named Ace but dont’ be fooled by his responsible demeanor there still lies a pirate within dormant until the evil ales take hold.. T has become quite the metal steed connoisseur himself and was fitting to see him sinking pirate juice at the ol’ bike show.
Arrgghh! Many metal beasts were there in all their glory but this one below was rather magnetic. She kinda brewed a sort of essence that truely embodied the word chopper. She had the longest rake of all, custom Tank, custom leather satchel (fer carryin’ pirate juice no doubt) and reminded me of Denis Hopper cruisin down the highway of a long dessert road on his layed back chopper. A true tribute to Easy Rider she was!
If yee’ve made it this far, yee’ve proved to things: 1st yee can read, well done. 2nd yee be goofin’ off at werk, now get back to it ya scurvy bastards!! Row row row, arrrrrrggghhharharhar!