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     Gearheaderiko |
Written shortly after the crushed Blast ads came out but before "The Great Demise" of Buell MC The Buell Civil War Posted on Sunday, July 26, 2009 - 04:37 pm: The year was 2009. America had a Black president, Russia was no longer relevant and Kim Jong il was ready to fling nuclear bombs at anyone who would pay attention to him. It was a brave new world and things were about to change. The Buell civil war was inevitable. Our once benevolent leader had now turned into a ruthless dictator, seemingly over night. 'The father' denounced the Blastards as heretics and proclaimed "we will crush them". Nothing much changed in the beginning. We still went on group rides. Still participated in online Buell forums, but little by little it did. The group rides frequently began to have more and more 100+ mile stretches between gas and comfort stops. The animosity was subtle at first. Disapproving glances, halted conversations, but being left behind began to become commonplace. Soon our B.R.A.G. cards were torn up at Buell events. Pegasus emblems were ripped from jackets. We'd show up at a dealer for parts and be ignored, oftentimes they wouldnt even bother coming out from the backroom to 'help' us. We'd pretend to be a 'twinner' by ogling over the newest Heliconite in the showroom. But they knew who we were and they werent about to help any Buell mudbloods. It wasnt long before we were driven underground. Daytime rides became the peril of those that must. The rest took what work we could find at night. The once bright colours of our Blasts replaced with black. They drew too much attention. Sure we had our sympathizers. The 'Euro boys' would let us ride with them. They didnt ask any questions. They knew about being 'different'. They knew what it was like to ride a bike you couldnt get parts for. The Harley riders? We were just invisible to them. We dressed funny. Occasionally someones wife would be 'Blasted up' and they put up with her until she could get a Sportster of her own. The 'Tubers' were the worst though. Sure, we had our sympathizers there. Often a former Blast owner or they had a family member that was a Blaster. It stopped there. "We might share some of the same parts, but y'aint one of us". These militant Buellers were bitter, having been left for dead by 'The Company' years before. But they were Buellers to the core, bled the Kool Aid, towed the company line. To them, the ends justified the means. Sometimes, some poor Blastard would get caught out in daylight on their own. The 'Tubers' would surround him. You couldnt out run them. You couldnt out handle them. Your only hope was that they'd break down before you ran out of gas. Then came 'the cubings'. In the early days we'd show up at the dealer for some free giveaway. A hat, bag, shirt, we'd take anything we could get. You'd park your Blast round back and go inside (you'd learned years before not to park out front). They'd insist you'd have to test ride the new Buell to get your trinket. You'd give them your license. You get back to the showroom, riding past the back lot and notice your Blast was gone. You'd go inside, heart beating out of your chest, seeing the salesmen holding the keys to a new twin in one hand and the bus schedule in the other. "Whats it gonna be" he'd ask you as you look to see your Blast paraded out front, crushed into the shape an ottoman. The Gals were a brave bunch. They'd have to make the parts runs. They could often get away with riding a Blast in daylight (as long as they showed the right amount of shame on their face). It was 'accepted'. They had to be careful. Blast parts catalogues had been burned as part of the heresy decree, so they had to ask for XB parts. Sometimes they'd strike gold and the parts clerk would say "we only got this one, its says Blast on it, but it'll work. You can have it for half price". They'd slip sometimes and ask for a part by the Blast number. I've never seen it, thank god, but I've heard the story. Upon hearing the part number the parts manager appears out of his office. Realizing her mistake, she dashes for the door. Its always too late. Its gone and she can now hear the wine of the crusher as it finishes off her beloved Blast. Once, we never again saw one of 'our own' after a parts run. She never came back. We'd heard about a re-education camp, near Troy. We heard of someone seeing a girl there that matched her description, 'tatted' up like an inner city subway car, on the way to Sturgis on the back of a Road King. They swear they saw a tattooed teardrop under her eye, with "P3" underneath. Occasionally, we'd get word of a 'real Bueller' talking of wanting a Blast 'for their wife'. After some mild scrutiny, one of us who have been hoarding Blasts, allowed one to be sold. We'd find out later about the 'cubing party' they had. The XBlasters were folk heroes even before the Summer of '09. Having done what 'The Company' dared not do, they earned a special status. It also earned them a daring responsibility. They were the ones that were able to move amongst the 'real Buellers' without detection. Our moles were able to tell us of new giveaways, possible sympathizers to our cause, parts stashes and new models being announced. They also scouted and led the parts raids. Sneaking into camps, lopping of front cylinders, stealing cams, even whole engines, which we'd then remove the rear cylinder and seal it off with JB weld. Our hope and what kept us going was always that 'the father' would announce the production of a new single. A Motard, an enduro, a GPbike, we didnt care. We hope that the owners of these new 'haploids' would see us as kin. Join our cause. Some say it will happen any day, 'the father' wont let us down. Those of us more jaded by time dont see it. But we keep on, we dont have a choice, we never did. Better suited to the "Tales from the Dark" side thread. But THIS is clearly Blastphemy. No Blasts were harmed in the writing of this story. Any similarity to persons real, dead or alive is purely coincidental. This does not reflect the views of Badweb, its custodians or Buell MC. Thank you Upton Sinclair. | ||
| Ezblast |
And so thus the prophet spoke and so it has come to be!!!! GT - JBOTDS! EZ |
