12/25/2014
Twas the night before Christmas,
and all through the shop,
not an scooter was putting,
not a bagger, rigid or chop.
Empty beer cans were sitting,
on the work bench with care,
obvious evidence of,
the usual hang-outs had been there.
With Harleys on the lifts,
fresh tins in the booth,
a noise I did here,
and it came from the roof.
I dropped my Coors beer can,
grabbed my 23 G***k,
if you try to rob this shop,
be ready to rock.
I looked out the door,
to my eyes did I see,
the sweetest old Panhead,
like a fifty two, or a three.
It was decked out in chrome,
with all vintage bits,
with fishtails and spokes,
this bike was the t**s!
Foot clutch and hand shift,
a sidecar to match,
a rare bike indeed,
not your usual catch.
A man standing by it,
all dressed up in red,
a sack on his shoulder,
funny hat on his head.
I asked what he wanted,
he said with great cheer,
"I was told that you wrench,
and to bring my bike here."
He pointed to the primary,
and I noted the hole,
the adjuster went bad,
and the chain took a roll.
I said, "That's not bad,
I've got the parts all right here!"
We pushed her on in,
after she popped out of gear.
I removed the chrome cover,
the adjuster had gone south,
I noted the fat man,
put a fresh beer to his mouth.
I said, "Hey there fat man,
don't be drinking my Coors!"
He said "I'll replace them,
likely with alot more!!"
So, I replaced the adjuster,
and sinched up the chain,
put back on the chrome cover,
no need to explain.
I fired her up,
with one well placed kick,
that Panhead was healthy,
solid tappets quietly ticked.
I said "Hey there fat man,
how 'bout a spin?"
He said "I'm kinda real busy,
quite the hurry I'm in."
He asked what he owed,
and I said, "This one's free.",
He mounted his scoot,
and looked up at me.
He said "Well I figured
you'd not take my cash,
so I left you a present,
and restored your beer stash."
He rode out of the shop,
and hit second gear,
he rode down the road,
his exhaust I could hear.
I went back in the shop,
to lock up for the night,
and what I did see,
was a beautiful sight.
A shiney black Knuckle,
in the middle of the shop.
It was bobbed just a little,
but wasn't a chop.
Her chrome shined like diamonds,
and here wheels were all spoked.
I held back a tear,
as I started to get choked.
I thought I was dreaming,
I couldn't see clear.
I ran to the fridge,
for another cold beer.
When I opened the door,
again I was astounded.
The fridge was so full,
My heart, it just pounded.
Beer after beer,
packed in all spaces.
Not another would fit,
there weren't any places.
A note was stuck,
to a can in the door.
It read "These are on me,
next year I'll being more!"
I sat down for a spell,
I didn't know what to think,
A mint vintage Knuckle,
and more beer then I could drink?
As I sat in the quiet,
I thought I just flipped!
I looked again at the Knuckle,
a note swung from the grip.
I reached for the note,
and read what was scribbled,
my lips, they just trembled,
and some beer started to dribble.
"For helping a stranger,
on a cold winter's night,
A reward you deserve,
for doing a brother right."
Merry Christmas.
Author: Dave63-Dec, 2010
I know some of us still ride vintage iron and the rest of us appreciate it. Merry Christmas to all -