My computer smoked this morning, like the first time I fired by ’48 Panhead. The pistons screamed and exhaust shot through rusting holes in the 50-year-old pipes. I tore it down the next day. My computer was trying desperately to send me a message. I responded and clicked on that button to download new e-mail messages. It’s strange how one message screamed at me over the others. It danced across the screen like a rabid animal losing its mind. I wondered what the hell was going on. With the constant bullshit onslaught of devastating viruses, I lingered to open it. Waiting for the firewalls to check it, and virus protection software to download protective measures, I paused. Scary shit.
I finally got the balls to open it and discovered that Sucker Punch Sally broke up with Donny and Jeff, the company owners. It’s actually worse than that. Another girl strolled into the shop and proclaimed that she was Sucker Punch Kristen and that Sucker Punch Sally didn’t exist. Less than a week later the girl who posed on the Red Clip-On bike, Nicole, demanded that the company name be changed to Sucker Punch Nicole.
”I don’t remember,” Jeff said as another hot tamale strolled into their new shop, as if she just inherited the Ford fortune.
”Take that Sally bullshit down,” She said pointing a demanding finger. “It’s Sucker Punch Spring from now on.”
Jeff buried his face in his hands and shook his head. “I don’t know,” he muttered. Ken Conte, the SPS marketing guru, called an AA representative. Seems Jack Daniels was involved. He called the Love Potion doctor ‘cause he knew women were involved. The future of the company demanded quick and efficient reconciliation.
In walked Donny, the tall, lanky, hard working stiff behind the SPS line of bikes. A no-late-night-bullshit family man he kicked at the deck and scowled at the broad with her hands planted firmly on her hips.
”Would you like to by a motorcycle,” Donny said and pointed at one of the models perched on the glistening Cincinnati showroom floor.
”That’s our Brown Bobber, Priced at $20K,” Donny said. “It’s got a stock rake and stretch, SPS frame, 100-inch Evo, 5 speed,hyd. clutch, super moto bars and controls. The seat was custom leather tooled by Lance. Front and rearwheels are both 16s, and that’s a classic ribbed rear fender.”
Spring sniffed around the bike and knew immediately, some other girl had straddled it.
Spring’s dismal attitude didn’t phase Donny. He stepped up to the silver and red Cowboy. “That’s our Clip-On,Priced at $30K,” Donny said trying to ignore Jeff. “It should be on the cover of THBC in the next issue. It has an 80-inch Evo, a 5-speed tranny, PM hydraulic clutch, super moto controls,39 mm narrow glide front end with clip on bars, 17-inchx190 rear wheel, reworked 804 tank by Jeff, SPS frameand exhaust by Jeff Cochran.” He didn’t blink in his carefully rehearsed description. Hell, he had his hands buried into most of their bikes during design and assembly. She didn’t blink either and turned her back to him.
”Priceless,” Ken Conti said and ran to the side of the Work Truck Bike separating the ride from the girl. It was his private SPS special.
”It has an 80-inch Evo, 4-speed kicker, stock rake and stretch rawframe with pinstriping,” Donny said as if he’d sell the bike in a hot flash. “It’s got a 3-inch open belt, SPS H-bomb oilbag, fat bob tanks…”
”It’s a killer riding bike,” Ken said, “and it’s not for sale, goddamnit.”
Spring eyed the Work Truck SPS bike like a tired woman eyeing a comfortable bed. Ken stood his ground.
”This one was meant for you,” Donny said not knowing that Spring had straddled the brown Shovel during one of Jeff’s late night photo shoots. “The price is just 20-grand, and it’s punched with a 103-inch S&S performance Shovel motor, a 6-speed trans and our tough stock SPS frame.” He emphasized the SPS, not realizing that it could also stand for Sucker Punch Spring.
Spring spun on razor sharp stainless steel, 8-inch high heels and spread here luscious legs over the ride as if she had just settled in for the night. “I’ll take it, if you cut me a deal,” she said and looked over her satin shoulder into Donnie’s eyes. “I’ll even forget the other night, if you treat me right. He can have Sally, Kristin or Nicole. I just want to ride.”
Donny’s sales paper work emerged at the drop of a hat, and he filled in an amount that made Spring's soft cheeks blush. “You got a deal,” Spring said.
Ken slipped Jeff a half pint of Jack. “You’re gonna need this,” He said and kicked the work truck bike to life.
”Just another day on the job,” Ken said and peeled down the street.
