In June of 1964, I decided to drop out of the Brooklyn Polytech Aeronautical Engineering program and get a real life. Do some shockin shit, you know. Buy a chopper, get more 'n just a few tattoos, some serious offensive body piercins, have m' tongue dyed black and m' eyes dyed red . . . hit the f$#@in road, and hit it hard.
First stop . . . grandma's house to borrow some cash for gas, but after that, I'm f#%^in too cool to deal with, so back the f$#% off I'm warnin ya.
Second stop . . .
Me: So, I'm outa here. Wanted to say bye for now.
Sister Mary Elisabeth: Oh, David, my best spelling bee student. May the Lord go with you.
[She gives me one o them famous Sister Elisabeth hugs 
. . . . Fade to white . . .]
Outa Jersey I pick up a psychotramp for weekend kicks. Drop her off at her mom's trailer park in West Virginia, where I load up on some toxic sh#t she brews in the shed out back, and it takes two weeks for my eyes to work right again, but sh#t the imaginary visions were so worth the loss of sight who, I ask you, the f#%@ needed eyesight when there was all this sh#t happenin in your mind. I ask you . . . who?
"Doc says you'll live", I hear someone whisper . . . "he won't promise more 'n that though."
"Can I get this sh#t over the counter?"
"Got a sense o' humor for yourself, I see. Why don't you linger here a while and . . . ."
I cut her off. Chicks (and their mothers) are always tryin to rope down us road guys, but there's this code we live by, and it starts with a kickstart, the rumble of a two cylinders, a screech and the smell of burned rubber. It ends with some babe wipin the tears outa her dustblown eyes tryin to catch a last glimpse of me fadin into the sunset.
I aint a hard hearted guy, you know, it's just that I got lotsa sh#t to get done in places I aint ever seen before.
page written by Dave Leo