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Georg E Mateos

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Member Since: Dec, 2005

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A Canadian HD Bandit
by Georg E Mateos
Monday, February 22, 2010
Rated "G" by the Author.
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You perhaps have forgotten Easy Rider bikers, but we old geezers that had that wild vibrating thing between our legs, don't! heeeeeeeeeeeehaaaaaaaaawwwwwwww!!!





Dedicated to Fred "Harley Davidson" Rideout




I promised to no naming Fredís name to Rose,
Oops! I done it again, like falling from the roof
when prancing up there like red nose Rudolph
up there only an absent minded biker will do.

Bikers wives have no place in their garages,
if the Harley Davison must be kept out the snow
her car will be relegated to be alone outside
as they said, left to wonder all by itself in the cold.

But I am with Fred all the way on Route sixty six,
of those sterilized highways I am not very fond,
I like the twisting road going though little towns
and when it rains, we ainít in no way waterproof.

Sleeping under the stars when the moon is not there,
with a coyote wannabe Sinatra with a pitiful voice,
gas ainít too expensive if you have a rich uncle when
grabbing grub on those eighteen wheelers pit stops.

Riding a souped up old monster from Milwaukee,
no Smokey will ever catch up on those Japís jobs,
at hundred and fifty miles he will eating HD dust
and on the horizon Fred and I will be just ghosts!

But man, Easy Rider on the open roads of yesterday
wouldnít see, not the bikerís bohemia, not anymore,
but Electric Glides with automatic warming butt seats
and hi-fi stereos full of Mantovanis and Manilows.

OK Fred, we should give a little time to our girls,
if you start by giving plenty of sugar to your Rose
I promise to be a good boy and go that extra mile
on my old Harley D to get us a full crate of Coors.



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Reviewed by Peter Schlosser (Reader) 2/24/2010
Hope this ride don't end like Peter Fonda's in Easy Rider!
Reviewed by Ed Matlack 2/24/2010
You are a sick, sick man, using vibrators and such...& when are you going to get some class and stop drinking that Coors piss...jersey
Reviewed by Andy Turner 2/23/2010
Whoosh, a grand look back to days when men were men and cows were scared.
Never understood about road 66. But coors, yikes, is a weak lager. Better to nip out for beer. Try Old Speckled Hen, Old Thumper, Newcastle Brown, Abbott's. Haha, Jap Jobs. Over hear they're called Jap crap. If they are not recalled.
Reviewed by Roger Ochs 2/23/2010
A fun look back to the days of monkey hangers and raw power. Sadly, i must agree with the others that Coors is dreck. Give me good Canadian brew anytime.
Reviewed by Karla Dorman, The StormSpinner 2/23/2010
Too funny, Georg! I enjoyed this ride down the highways on your chopper. =] Well done!

(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Reviewed by Kimmy Van Kooten 2/23/2010
All that for a nasty Coors! Heineken is where its at, Georgi! LOL!
This sure brought back some good ole' memories! I always rode on the back, leaning against the sissy bars, dodging bugs and leaning out of the turns...never road Rt 66 by bike, but wouldn't mind it one iota!
The Pocono Mts. was my winding roads...the feel of the breezes, open air on your face, passing sun-streaks that flicker between the greening trees...it doesn't get much better than that...with a Heiney!
You are one funny guy! :)
Love and Peace~
Kimmy~
Reviewed by Liana Margiva 2/23/2010
VERY NICE!!!!!!!!!! Liana Margiva
Reviewed by Dawn Anderson 2/23/2010
Clever and fun write, Georg!
Reviewed by Patrick Granfors 2/22/2010
Hey there mister! I once had a Jappo Honda CB350!!! Rip roarin' between the leg beast! Ok maybe it was more like my electric toothbrush. But you get my point. We do have to talk about your Coors fixation. Patrick
Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado 2/22/2010
Cute write, Georg; well done! Enjoyed this one~

(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in America, Karen Lynn in Texas. :D
Reviewed by Mr. Ed 2/22/2010
Wow - old geezers with wild vibrating things between their legs. I sure hope Ma don't read this!
Reviewed by Karen Vanderlaan 2/22/2010
very clever!
Reviewed by Victoria's Poetry & Voices of Muse 2/22/2010
Georg...I am puttin on my HD tri gold earrings
my leather chaps/gloves & fringe
and all necessities for Biker Chick
my bone bead leather vest & jacket
and ....riding we shall!
lets just stop for rain & Patron
wavin & knoddin
Vickie
Reviewed by Christine Alwin 2/22/2010
Georg, This is brewing with fun~
Reviewed by Karen Palumbo 2/22/2010
Oh the days when life was freer and easier with the wind in brushing across the face, what fun indeed...

Be always safe,
Karen
Reviewed by Morning Star 2/22/2010
Love the bike and your words are awesome!!
Wow I don't know who's having more fun you
Fred or Route sixty six lol
Your words just convince me that I need
Art go buy a Harley Davidson so we
Can join you at Route sixty six!!
I love this wonderful tribute to Fred!
Awesome write!!
Wishing you Peace Love and Light...


Reviewed by Fred Rideout (Reader) 2/22/2010
Thank you kindly Georg. I do remember the Easy Rider choppers of old, I still watch the movie at least once a week. Your poem had the wind flowing through what's left of my hair. No more is it down to the middle of back; 30 years of Military took care of that.
I also love the twisty roads, the thrill of cutting a turn and the boards sending sparks flying as you twist on the gas coming out the other side. But alast I look outside and the snow brings me back to now, but wait I hear the rumble, and it's coming sooooonnnnnn.
Reviewed by Rose Rideout 2/22/2010
This is GREAT Georg, I just sent it to Fred. You have to come here for a visit and I promise Great cooking, wonderful friends and whatever Coors you want Ice cold.

Make no wonder I love ya Georg,
Your Newfie friend, Rose
Reviewed by Kate Burnside 2/22/2010
words and picture: BRILLIANT! Wish I had me one of those throbbin things on Route 66 last year when I was down that way... all the way to Santa Fe! Or is that Santa Fee??? I bet HE'S hiding away in the grease and gearbox of this poem somewhere, along with Fred and Rose... Jerry Garcia rocks! :)) xx
Reviewed by George Carroll 2/22/2010
A flash back at history and the good old days.
Reviewed by JASMIN HORST SEILER 2/22/2010
A Harley fell on me once, I remember making passionate love, to the low purr, and I been down ever since, I am not complaining, it sort of grew on me, we resided poems about tantric love, on 66, at sunset overlooking Alberquerqui I think, there was smog in the air, but it must have been the joints, to kill the pain so to speak, but I never, never inhaled, I swear, I leave that to Jersey ha.
Nice you raised Georg. Blessings! Jasmin Horst



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