The Rural Roads and Byways

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I’ve been out riding my motorcycle, now I’m on my way to arrive at my favorite diner for lunch, it’s where I like to go. Afterwards I’ll have dessert somewhere, maybe some ice cream. I have just passed an abandoned old school building. I get a fleeting glance. Oh wow, this looks so spooky, as with everything though, one glance paints a thousand images to one’s imagination. There are numerous horror stories just waiting to be written here.

What do you see riding along these byways, of the many rural roads you take, places you pass riding along the vast countryside on a motorcycle?

There are many sights all of full things. I noticed this abandoned school, a sign that reads, ‘Private Property Keep Out’. It gave me chills and goose bumps in broad daylight!

Amid the delight, learning as children do, playing in the school yard, my imaginations say something terrible has happened here. And this is why it is now abandoned.

Maybe there is a horror story here, like the two students who attended school, they threw eggs at the local skating rink of the time era. This school looked to be active in the 1940’s now it’s abandoned.

I remember the story: A man took his gun and shot at the two fleeing pranksters, who after throwing eggs were trying to make a clean getaway. One was shot dead by the man. The man went to prison where he eventually hung himself. True story!

Going up, I stopped along the way for a break. I was trying to think of how that my dad had once said, “You won’t get vittles this good anywhere.” Maybe he was content with the occasion. I think this had been a family reunion. He was foot soldier in a war I’ll never have to experience. Why would he tell me this story about food here and only to me?

He had said it this way because he would never speak of the atrocities of man or what he had witnessed, ever.

I was quickly brought back to the present when I heard a woman crying out, she was hurrying to leave, she had shouted, “Baby, Baby!”

Had her child been kidnapped? It was the anxiety in her voice, like a scene in a horror story. Yes, this was so scary and too, in broad daylight. This horror story or ‘would be horror story’ played out in my mind.

What would one do if they had witnessed a kidnapping?

Do we have days when we get ran over by nightmarish and hellish thoughts, and why does this happen. It is anyone’s guess.

“Good Afternoon. l will have my dessert now, a Pecan Pie, and this will be out from one of those cellophane packets you know, the ones you buy at the convenience stores. I’ll get mine from a gas station, eating it while standing up beside my motorcycle parked outside thank you.”

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Listening To The Old Man

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Yeah, I think to go by the old man’s house at around lunch time today but when I do, I think to take his watered down version,  of his frivolities (of his bullshit), I mean, just put it aside. It’s just oh, what stories he could tell you?  Yes, I get that, I really do!

There’s plenty to do down there below the surfaces, of the hush hush involved and he’s just the person do to this with. It’s just that he’s ‘The Man’ that’s for sure, the one person a fellow can trust and talk to, about anything!

He’s a dirty old man alright, and he just likes to talk about dirty stuff. It’s fantastic even-fully, but still, different strokes for different folks, and we know we learn things from the old man, and oh, how we’re learning alight.

Now he’s a lonely old man so what the heck, it wouldn’t hurt a damn thing to go visit him.

I like to put myself at risk revealing some of my own experiences and these are my little stories of what I did and shit, and I have asked him what the hell he would have done, so that the next time I will remember.

And what did I let fly. Shall we begin.

This is what I told the Old Man:

They were hippies back in the day, it was of my opinion, and her, I’ve started seeing both of them, because she is one of my Facebook friends. She is, but he is not.

He is one of my life long friends, I’ve known him for a while.

It’s a strange case you know, because many there are who are leery of today’s technology, of gadgets and computers and of the internet, he is one of them.

Sometimes she stays away from the stark realities, when I visit with them (her), and when I go to her online profile, I hear her comments. Yeah, these are referred to as fear mongering and sarcasm, which are along the lines of hate and disdain, perhaps despair. I wonder if she represses these thoughts. You know, everywhere you look there are smudges of dirt in our daily lives, it’s just the way things are. And don’t get me started because I could forever dig up sarcasm, it’s scary and undisciplined, perhaps it’s where insanity begins.

Outwardly, she adopts a more supple approach in her profile, obviously it’s this way to all of her Facebook friends, no doubt she obviously appears to be filtering herself, she posts concerns about stuff and life and she concurs to be very comfortable with her husband’s government job, his salary, even though he’s dying of the cause, of the hazards involved.

Please contain me here, perhaps she doesn’t know what the facts are or has out weighed the odds. Help! Who is to trust anymore. As for myself, I’d get the hell out of that situation so fast it’d make your head spin. He hazards himself knowingly? I know this because I know him personally and I’ve gone over to their home on a few occasions. I’ve know him for what seems a lifetime.

It has to be the Church, the services they regularly attend, which by the way, curtails our little friendship. I can’t seem to get him out of going to church, not even for one Sunday, to go for a ride on our motorcycles, it’s not happening. It seems weekends are perfect for riding and Sundays are no different. She would never let him forego going to their little church on Sunday mornings, eventually we would never go riding on Sundays.

She seeks closer friends of her liking, as she’s stated, “Sundays are for going to church and resting.” I think she has a real big crush on the pulpit minister, that’s what I think. I have to believe that she sits close to the front row towards the center aisle in order for him to have a better look at her and for him to notice her. It’s a small chapel.

Well, that’s a bit old fashion isn’t it?  Go eat a big Sunday dinner after attending morning worship all morning long, yes, I’d be wore out with it, that’s for sure. Now after all this, read the newspapers and eventually fall asleep, no way, I can’t stand to do such as that.

I can’t seem to get him to go the distances either, between her and him, there’s just no way. I remembered one year it was our last hurrah together, one last ride of the season where we waved goodbye on that last turn, on the fly we make our ending this way every time. This was in October, shall we begin… Now, in December of that same year we receive a Christmas card from them, this was her doings. Oh, it was their usual Yuletide blessings. Can you imagine, in her own writing she wrote, “See you all next Spring!” Hello, we just live across town from each other!

The couple live way out in the country and near a tributary, a creek. We spoke one time and I’ve talked to him about the idea of me riding my bicycle out there near where he lives. There is a rather large tributary I’d like to see out near their home, it’s near the county line. There is the creek I want to go exploring, possibly canoeing and getting there by bicycle is a good way to do this. You just park your bicycle somewhere and hike to get to the creek. I will be accessing the creek along the railroad tracks.

On one occasion we carried a jon boat out to the creek from the road. This was with a friend of mine, we were exploring the creek. This is a remote area. We use paddles to move along the creek in a small jon boat . That was so cool.

Now I think to ask my friend if it would be alright to park my vehicle at his home, that I would bring my bicycle along with me and park my vehicle in his driveway. They live not too far from the tributary. This was okay because he recognized it would be too dangerous to ride my bicycle all the way out there with little or no shoulder on the sides of the road.

They must have had deep aspirations I guess, when they were younger and when they married shortly after high school. Together they found some land and moved a little ways out into the countryside. Okay, this was their dream, to live five miles from the little community out on some curvy road, what the hell good is that?

So, I guess the food the locals grow is all good for them while, they may know no otherwise. I mean, there’s a great big world out there in which we live nowadays. They on the other hand have lived here all of their lives. Oh, but someone’s brought the fear of God upon them, that’s for sure. She made him do all of this, she’s so weird!

I haven’t done this yet to go ride my bicycle out their way but I still might one day and I’m thinking I’ll be going alone out there to their home, and I know he’ll be at work.

We haven’t ridden our bicycles together since we were teenagers.

And while she may either be there or not, either way if she engages herself to come along with me, just her and me, what will I let fly? Oh, Plenty!

 

 

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Abandoned

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I’ve been out riding my motorcycle, now I’m on my way to arrive at my favorite diner for lunch, it’s where I like to go. Afterwards I’ll have dessert somewhere, maybe some ice cream. I have just passed an abandoned old school building. I get a fleeting glance. Oh wow, this looks so spooky, as with everything though, one glance paints a thousand images to one’s imagination. There are numerous horror stories just waiting to be written here.

What do you see while out riding along these byways, of the many rural roads you’ll take, places you will pass while you’re out riding along this vast countryside on a motorcycle?

There are many sights, all full of things. I noticed this abandoned school, a sign that reads,

‘Private Property Keep Out’. It gave me chills and in broad daylight!

Amid the delight, learning as children do, playing in the school yard, my imaginations say something terrible has happened here. And this is why it is now abandoned.

Maybe there is a horror story here, like the two students who attended school, they threw eggs at the local skating rink of the time era. This school looked to be active in the 1940’s now it’s abandoned.

I remember the story: A man took his gun and shot at the two fleeing pranksters, who after throwing eggs were trying to make a clean getaway. One was shot dead by the man. The man went to prison where he eventually hung himself. True story!

Going up, I stopped along the way for a break. I was trying to think of how that my dad had once said, “You won’t get vittles this good anywhere.” I would soon be at my favotite diner for lunch, I could almost taste the food, especially the fried chicken. Maybe he was content with the occasion. It was on these occasions that we had experienced good food, real home cooked meals. He often said this at the family reunions. He was a foot soldier in a war I’ll never have to experience. Why would he tell me, a child, this story about food, there at this place and only to me?

He had said it this way because he would never speak of the atrocities of man or what he had witnessed, ever!

I was quickly brought back to the present when I heard a woman crying out, she was hurrying up to leave, she had shouted, “Baby, Baby!”

Had her child been kidnapped? It was the anxiety in her voice, like a scene in a horror story. Yes, this was so scary and too, in broad daylight. This horror story or ‘would be horror story’ played out in my mind.

What would one do if they had witnessed a kidnapping?

Do we have days when we get ran over by nightmarish and hellish thoughts, and why this happens is anyone’s guess.

“Good Afternoon. l will have my dessert now, a Pecan Pie, and this will be out from one of those cellophane packets you know, the ones you buy at the convenience stores. I’ll get mine from a gas station, eating it while standing up beside my motorcycle parked outside. Thank you.”

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A Seasonal Job

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Micki says she probably should get a seasonal job or something as mundane.

“How about the shoe department, will this work out for you? You’ll work nights?”

“Whew, I don’t know,” Micki replies, “That’s tight!”

Micki, she’s toning it down one level at a time, where as we know, attitude is everything.

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Third Person

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“It’s a sin of you to think I’m speaking about you this way.”..

It’s such a beautiful day, and you, he, she, we had, they, them, this young couple, including me, apparently we all went out and about, but not all together, yet we all had a wonderful time, seemly, even though, you are not like me and we are all not alike, of course not. I’ve just migrated here, just like a snow bird, because I’ve just came here to this place, I’m an outsider.

I like the sequences of events, these episodes, each person and I think it’s fitting how that I like to put you, if you can believe that.

Well, with these happenings, about our little outings, I’ve decided to invite you all over, you, them, her, him and his mother over for pizza.

Now, to make my pizza, I have used coconut as mozzarella, because I don’t have shredded mozzarella. I have used ketchup as tomato paste, because I don’t have tomato paste. I do have flour and salt.  I hope everyone will understand, you know, you, them, her, him and his mother too.

I wasn’t talking about you..silly!

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Romance

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First, my intentions were good, they were correct, no harm no foul, however this interaction with her daughter led me towards someone else, by intervention, she became our host, she was her mother.

One night I let myself slip into a dream, it was right grim but I allowed this to happen, it felt so real as she pulled on my arm and my eyes, her mother knows of my heart’s intent, knows of my imaginations, she’s obviously had a few herself and I’m sure there were quite a few, perhaps many.

I’m attracted to her daughter, she is good to me, she has great talent. She is this young thing, a pretty young woman. She has a very nice fresco or an etching outside on her patio wall, she is the artist type.

Her door leads to a patio outside, looking from where she sat inside of her kitchen, she could view her own artwork, she displays this proudly.

I have viewed some of her work, as she posts them online. She has some amazing talent, an ability to paint some of the wildest things, stimulating to look upon.

Her artwork just behooves something to absorb, and while taking this all in, I gaze upon this artwork and wonder. It’s an erotic painting, so one would wonder perhaps. I was pleasantly surprised.

It’s the beginning of the day. This work of hers has all been done by herself, it’s probably the rhapsody inside of her head, her thoughts are raging, it is completely etched out. She’s having her morning coffee.

The Girls who were hippy types back in the day, they have been high jinxing the very young, the gullible and getting something they want from them, this is something they took. One of these girls is her mother.

I keep telling myself that her mother is hot, but how can I tell if she’s interested in me? She’ll slaughter me with her laughter, laughing at both her daughter and me, and only one time will be enough and for good!

I’m not pretending, because with her mother I should use caution, when and if I hear her mother’s laughter, laughing at me, wanting me.

I’m likely to get mad, at both of them, her mother and her daughter. But I will most likely come back around for more, I know I will. I’m a seasoned sailor and I’ve been around the block more than a few times.

I genuinely like both of them, her mother though is one tough customer.

We arrived as the place began to get crowded.

“Join us, if you want,” I pointed this out as gently as I could to Angela.

Oh now look, her daughter is wailing, this is not good, it’s probably to get what she wants, yet still, we’re distracted and I’m just a little leery. What has gone wrong?

If I’m not happy, if I’m not satisfied, I can just get up and leave, it will be in a public place!

Then her daughter simply asks, “What remains?”

I led the conversation back to her mother.

“Ma’am, I know I’m prey to your flock.”

We soon all departed and went our separate ways. And wasn’t it for the better? Her daughter Angela, she is so young, she much prefers being with younger people of her own age.

The mother, from then on often invited me over for a visit. These were her plain kisses:

Now Her Plain Lips was where she parted her lips with my tongue and she kisses me deeply. Her plain lips didn’t have lip gloss on them, they were raw. We made out with our deep kisses. She likes for me to introduce this kissing and she kisses me ever so passionately. We made out like this when no one was around and when her daughter wasn’t home.

I loved her for the fear of it all, yes, perhaps, or it was otherwise lust, or just the excitement of getting caught!

The Bedroom and night-time were for Big Kisses, Teasing and Touching!

“What have I done,” she asks, and,
“What do I do?”
She sounds just like her daughter Angela.
“I dunno,” I say.
I felt her hand touch me. I waited.

I loved her out fear, just of her sheer innocence.

Lying back looking towards the stars,the ceiling as it were, lying awake at night, I waited.

She lifted me up where I lay.
Afterwards we drank and ate.

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The Afternoons

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Now let’s see, when it rains in the afternoon and if I’m at home, I will need a nap:

1. I will need a nap during the day so I can recoup from the sleep I have missed. I’ll roll over to wake up eventually and at a good time, before it gets dark outside, because you know, that’s when I will go to bed.

2. I need to wake up in the Czech Republic or in Prague but perhaps and more likely, as is the case, in the North of Italy. And yes, when I wake up, I’ll need a drink as an appetizer because it will be near dinner time, you know, after my nap. Okay, I do like being in the North of Italy and yes, I want some of their wines. So yes, I’ll have a glass of wine.

3. The weather, well okay, it would need then to have rained during my slumbering, where I have slept so soundly, and that’s during my nap and it did just that, and I never heard a thing. The rooms you know are so sound, the windows and the tapparella’s are shtick (shut) tight. The rain has been gently pitter pattering down upon the tiled roof all afternoon. The tiled roof is deadening the sound of the gently falling rain. It’s on those clay tile roofs, the way they are made over there in that part of the world, I will have slept soundly, in fact I usually do whenever there are these siestas.

4. I will then be awaken after having drank my wine, and this is after my nap, waking up after a sufficient enough wine, add the sugar levels as this helps to make me wake-up promptly.

5. Now that I am awake, after my much needed nap of my afternoon siesta, this being during the daytime and while there is still light outside and in the afternoons, while it has been raining and while the sidewalks have been rolled up. Now for dinner, I will want something to eat. I wish to smell those fragrances of food as they are being cooked, as this fills the air. I will much more prefer to recognize the smells of oils as they heat up to fry the skillet fish and the fresh produce as it is made into a salad or something, fried finocchio (fennel) and the fruits. I want them to be my favorite dishes.

6. Later, we’re taking our walks outside and down to the little village bar and that’s in order to eat our ice cream and meet our friends and acquaintances, to touch bases so to speak. I’m thinking I’ll be there until midnight, forcibly so, because now, I’m well rested because of my nap.

7. This is just what we do, sometimes and most all of the times. The plates we ate out of, we never spit in them. We love our little place in the world. This was our way and for us a pattern of life, yes, this is what we do and we do it out of love. It’s because, this is what the good people of the world do.

Ciao!

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