Saturday, May 18, 2013

One year later

My Crazy Uncle has been gone for one year today. I miss the shit out of that guy. I was out working on my Honda and thinking about how much he would have dug my new scooter and we'd have gone riding together. Come to think of it, I was using some tools that a different uncle gave me. He was less crazy but every bit as influential. He used to drive me around in his 442 Olds. Cancer stole him too. Maybe they are hanging out together.

J.S.Mengel 



I love this picture.

So went on this ride sort of around the state. We got a room in Terre Haute and the next morning went down to the continental breakfast. It was pretty grim and offended Johnny sensibilities, such as they were. He suggests we go get coffee at the gas station. I'm thinking breakfast and coffee at the gas station are not really the same thing but he seemed adamant about drinking gas station coffee. So we load all our shit on the bikes and drive across the street to the Marathon station. There's a marquee on the front of the building and I catch a glimpse of what it says and start cracking up inside my helmet. A big van or something is parked in front of the sign so I just see it for a second and Johnny misses it. Still giggling to myself, I get a couple bottles of water for the trip, and a large coffee. Maybe some cupcakes or something, can't remember. He does his thing and we go outside to loiter in front of the no loitering sign. It's really more of a suggestion than a rule anyway. I'm standing there grinning like a dumbass. More than usual. Unk asks me what's so funny. I tell him when this van pulls away, take a look at the sign on the wall. Some lady comes out and moves the van a minute or two later. He walks over to have a look and loses it. He starts laughing his ass off. 

So we're standing there in the gas station parking lot about seven in the morning, drinking shitty coffee,  laughing like a couple of stoned teenagers. Now our friends Gymi, and Red were supposed to come with us on the trip. Things didn't work out so it was just me and Unk. He says, "Stand in front of the sign and we'll get a picture to send to Gymi". So I did. 
Straight from Unks cell phone.
So he sends the picture to Gymi and we drink some more coffee and tell jokes and try not to make eye contact with the schizophrenic urban camper who walks by. That guy was scary, he was engaged in a heated argument with himself. Seriously, he was fucking pissed. Luckily he was walking fast and more concerned with the voices in his head than the two motorcyclists speaking ill of the dead. So we finish up and get ready to saddle up and I look at him and say "What if Gymi's wife's name is Kathy?". He gets this blank look on his face for just a split second...and then starts fucking cracking up again. My face hurt I was laughing so hard. Gymi's wife's name is not Kathy, I checked. 
I hope Unk is hanging out with uncle Mark having a good time. They'll be sitting in some bag chairs, drinking coffee, telling stories...  Shit, I hope they run in to Kathy so Unk can tell her the story and they can laugh about it together. 
Rest in peace Uncle John. You too, Kathy. Whoever you were. We meant no disrespect, we were just a couple of insensitive assholes drinking coffee at the Marathon in Terre Haute. 

3 comments:

Gymi Kroeter said...

I wish I could have been there. I laughed my ass off when I got that picture. I miss his words, I looked forward to his post. He always had something funny to write about or something to get you thinking. I really liked his shoot from the hip style. I think you're right, they are hanging out together. Ride on Unk.

Shop Teacher Bob said...

Good blog sonny.

red said...

He was one of kind.