| Hard Tail
Harleys and Two-Speed Scooters |
| The Adventures
of Pancho Sanchez and Johnny Rider |
| A Gonzo Travelogueby
John Torrente |
| Tulsa,
Oklahoma
A seven-foot
giant stood in front of me. His breath reeked of Coors Lite (cans,
not bottles). His jeans were a work of art; the delicate combination
of sweat, grease and road kill.
On his left
hand, he had three thick, black under-the-nail blood blisters you get,
say, after beating a scrawny bearded pencil neck radio talk show host through
the mixing board. He was unshaven.
His hair was
a mix of sweat and frizz, giving him a halo of barbed wire. |
|
|
|
|
|
The look in
his eyes was a paradox of cuddly-bear charm and dissasociative psychopathological
thoughts realized only after beating a scrawny bearded pencil neck radio
talk show host through the mixing board.
| rogue
(rõg),
n.,
v., rogued, roguing. ---n.
1.
An unprincipled, deceitful, and unreliable person; a scoundrel or rascal.
2. A wandering beggar; a vagrant. 3. A vicious and
solitary animal, especially an elephant that has separated itself from
its herd. |
My first question
for Rogue was, "Could you tell the nice people in the listening audience
what it's like to be in an Oklahoma motorcycle gang and how much fun you
have spitting through that missing front tooth while you're on your way
to frighten little children, kick the neighbor's dog and knock off a bank?"
I finished
the interview by asking Rogue if I could have a ride on his bike.
Had I been
any closer, he would have eaten me whole. |
|
|
| Instead, he
lowered his doublewide head, grabbed the mike with the hand that didn't
(yet) have any blood blisters under the fingernails, stared through my
skull and quietly growled, "Two MEN don't NEVER ride together on a Harley." Oaxaca,
Oaxaca
Pablo stands
a towering five feet, one inch.
His belly
stretches from the point where his neck should be, to somewhere just above
his knees. And yesterday, when he kick-started his two speed motor SCOOTER
and motioned for me to hop on the back, I knew he hadn't listened to my
"Three Easy Steps To Becoming A Motorcycle Gang Member" talk show. Hoping
Rogue hadn't jumped bail and moved to Mexico, I hopped on the scooter.
Grabbing some
of the excess flesh on either side of Pablo's flanks would have made the
trip easier on my nerves. |
|
|
Offshore
Resources Gallery
|
|
|
| But if two
MEN don’t NEVER ride together on a Harley, two men who ride together on
a SCOOTER - embraced in a big "I really don't want to fly off the back
of this thing" hug - are asking for someone to open a big ole' can
of whoop-ass, enchilada style.But if two MEN don’t NEVER ride together
on a Harley, two men who ride together on a SCOOTER - embraced in a big
"I really don't want to fly off the back of this thing" hug - are asking
for someone to open a big ole' can of whoop-ass, enchilada style.I
grabbed an extraneous part of the back seat, and we were off.
Now, watching
the madness of The Scooter People as they ride through the city streets
is one thing. BEING one of The Scooter People riding through the city streets,
is another. Luckily, Pablo had no regard for cars. Or pedestrians. Or life.
WE OWNED
OAXACA.
In fact, the
hardest part of my day was encouraging Pablo to look at what was IN FRONT
of us as we cruised along. He had this fascinating habit of turning his
head sideways to listen while I yelled broken Spanish over the "roar" of
the engine and into his ear. |
|
|
| I did appreciate
his undivided attention, however, while I translated my recently written
“I'm Not Sure How Much Longer I Will Be Living Will.”
It was the
“I'm Not Sure How Much Longer I Will Be Living Will” I wrote shortly after
our ‘moment' with the Really Really Big, Really Really Fast, Oncoming Bus.
But fear
not mother, Pablo has also perfected his human ambulance siren.
The two times
we got stuck in traffic, he let out an ear splitting, exact reproduction
of the local ambulance siren. People scattered. Cars moved. The path cleared.
And there
we were, Pablo Pancho Sanchez and Johnny Rider, cruising the streets of
Oaxaca, Mexico. On a scooter. |
|
|
Offshore
Resources Gallery
|
| Following
a BA in Education with a focus on Human Services at Northeastern, an MA
in Psychological Foundations of Reading at NYU, and a degree from the American
Broadcasting School with a Certificate of Cool Radio Stuff, John Torrente
was a copywriter at bananarepublic.com (Gap Inc.), an audio engineer and
studio manager for Gizmo Enterprises Inc., a talk show host on AM 740 KRMG,
and an Outreach Worker for Covenant House. In 2001, he became inspired
by Kerouac and shocked by Elvis, and he took to the road, living or traveling
in Spain, Mexico, Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua, and Ecuador, where the
Alianza Frances saved him with a course in B/W photography. John Torrente
is a regular contributor to the Gonzo Travelogues column of Escape from
America Magazine. In fact, the column was created for his unique style
of memoir.
Additional
Resources:
Other Gonzo
Travelogues:
Contact
author John Torrente |
|
Article
Index ~ Mexico
Index ~ |
