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Jerry_haughton
| Posted on Tuesday, December 23, 2008 - 07:48 am: |
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...and all through East Troy, not a creature was stirring save for one little boy. His name was Erik, yes, with a k more elf than human, and he sure loved to play. with motorcycles, that is, all kinds and styles but mostly with Buells, this gave the most smiles. what comes next? |
Spiderman
| Posted on Tuesday, December 23, 2008 - 08:03 am: |
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With Ferris and Spidey all tucked in their beds, With visons of Curvey Roads in their heads. When out on the drive what a rumbling should appear! But a midsized, dark haired man on a Uly should appear. With leathers all black and knee pucks a scraped, A bag of new tires and fresh CF, just baked! (Message edited by spiderman on December 23, 2008) |
Spiderman
| Posted on Tuesday, December 23, 2008 - 09:37 am: |
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He slipped into the garage all Quite and neat. And left us new boots, for our feet. Then he approached our jackets all hung with care, In the hopes he would place a new Buell patch there. Some oil and lube for our motors, and one of those rare, tuber, OEM rotors. |
Wolfridgerider
| Posted on Tuesday, December 23, 2008 - 10:22 am: |
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NOW! Hammer, NOW! Slaughter, NOW! Spider and Buellinator, ON! Tramp, ON! Court, ON! Glitch and Strokizator! To the top of the porch!! To the top of the wall!! Now wheelie away, Wheelie away, Wheelie away all! |
Xl1200r
| Posted on Tuesday, December 23, 2008 - 10:25 am: |
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Then all of the sudden, it came out through the fog, the most sinister looking motorcycle of all. He was dressed in all black, and it was hard to be sure, but by all known accounts, This was the Phantom rider on a brand new CR. He twisted that throttle and let out a peircing scream, Fire shot from the muffler and from his ears shot steam. He tore through the garage, with a high-revving motor, And set fire to all the gear, Yes, even those rare, tuber, OEM rotors. |
Rainman
| Posted on Tuesday, December 23, 2008 - 10:30 am: |
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And I heard him exclaim as he roared right on past. Merry Christmas to all, damn, this bike is a Blast! |
S2pengy
| Posted on Tuesday, December 23, 2008 - 10:58 am: |
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T'WAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS,WHILE OUT IN THE SHOP, NOT A CRANKCASE WAS LEAKING, NOT EVEN A DROP. THE STOCKINGS WERE HUNG BY THE CHIMNEY WITH CARE, WITH HOPES THAT ST. NICHOLAS SOON WOULD BE THERE. THE KIDS WERE TUCKED IN, ALL SNUG IN THEIR BEDS, WHILE VISIONS OF MINI-BIKES ROARED THROUGH THEIR HEADS. MY WIFE AND I, IN OUR BIRTHDAY CLOTHES, HAD JUST SETTLED IN, FOR A PEACEFUL DOZE. WHEN OUT IN THE YARD, THERE AROSE SUCH A RUMBLING, OUT OF THE WATERBED, I CAME A STUMBLING. UP TO THE WINDOW, I MOVED IN A FLASH, KNOCKED OVER THE NIGHT TABLE LAMP,WITH A CRASH. AND AS I GAZED OUT, BEYOND THE SNOW LADEN LOGS, I SPOTTED A SIDECAR, AND EIGHT SHINY HOGS! WITH A STOUT GUY A DRIVE'N, SO LAID BACK, YET QUICK, I KNEW IN A MOMENT IT MUST BE ST. NICK. FASTER THAN LIGHTENING, HIS HARLEY'S THEY CAME, AND HE WHOOPED AND HE HOLLERED AND CALLED THEM BY NAME. NOW SPORTSTER! NOW KNUCKLE! NOW FLATTY! AND SHOVEL! ON PANHEAD! ON BLOCKHEAD! MOVE HUMMER, ON THE DOUBLE! UP TO THE ROOFTOP, THE HARLEY'S THEY FLEW, SIDECAR FULL OF TOYS, AND ST. NICK TOO! AND THEN IN A MOMENT, I HEARD THEM SHUT DOWN, GETTING IT TOGETHER, I SLOWLY TURNED ROUND. AS I BENT, AND LOOKED UP, THE CHIMNEY INSIDE, I SAW ST. NICK, COMIN DOWN ON HIS HIDE. HE WAS DRESSED ALL IN LEATHER, FROM HIS HEAD TO HIS FOOT, AND HIS JACKET WAS DUSTY, WITH ASHES AND SOOT. A SACK FULL OF TOYS, HE HAD DROPPED ON THE FLOOR, AND I COULDN'T BELIEVE, WHAT WAS THERE TO EXPLORE. HIS EYES! HOW THEY GLISTENED, HIS GOGGLES SO BLURRY, HIS CHEEKS WERE ALL FLUSHED, AND HE SEEMED IN A HURRY. HIS HAIR, IT WAS BRAIDED, AND TUCKED OUT OF HIS WAY, AND THE BEARD ON HIS CHIN WAS SHAGGY AND GREY. HE HAD A BIG HEAD, AND AN OVERSIZE BELLY, THAT SHOOK WHEN HE LAUGHED, LIKE A BOWLFUL OF JELLY. HE WAS TENDER AND TATTERED, A RASCALLY SORT, AND I LAUGHED, WHEN I SAW HIM, AND LET OUT A SNORT! HE SPOKE NOT A WORD, BUT WENT RIGHT TO HIS WORK, FILLING THE STOCKINGS, THEN TURNED WITH A SMIRK, AND PUT THAT LONG FINGER, ASIDE OF HIS NOSE, WITH A QUICK NOD, UP THE CHIMNEY HE ROSE! HE HOPPED IN THE SIDECAR, THE BIKES STARTED ROARING, AWAY THEY ALL FLEW, THE WHOLE BUNCH WAS SOARING. THEN I HEARD HIM SING OUT, AS HE MADE A TURN WIDE, "MERRY CHRISTMAS" TO ALL! AND TO ALL A GOOD RIDE!!!!! HAPPY HOLIDAYS |
Vampress
| Posted on Wednesday, December 24, 2008 - 08:24 am: |
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Yuletide Buellride Twas the night before Christmas In the land of 'Down Under' The skies were filled with the usual Downpour and thunder This posed a problem for poor old St Nick because of the weather all his reindeer were sick When he said to his elves "Oh, what shall I do?" They said with a smile "We know some elves too" So they got on their elf phones to Erik and the clan and together they came up with a brilliant plan Before St Nick knew it in the blink of an eye his sleigh was hooked up and ready to fly The team in front glistened as they roared into the sky and St Nick was heard shouting fore all passers by "Come Uly, come Cyclone Come Thunder and Battle-twin Come Firebolt and Citycross and my faithful Westwind" But heading the pack as they rumbled on past was the glowing bright nose of the racing red Blast As he placed the last gift under an Outback tree Santa mumbled quietly a voice filled with glee "I hope that next year my reindeer are sick... 'cos these guys are awesome, and Man are they quick!" So he went to Erik and the elves and struck a deal for Yule Now 'Santa Down Under' is sponsored by Buell! Ride safe and have a great Christmas! V |
Wolfridgerider
| Posted on Wednesday, December 24, 2008 - 09:15 am: |
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Good one V! |
86129squids
| Posted on Wednesday, December 24, 2008 - 09:47 am: |
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+1 Vampress! Youn's a poet an di'nt know it. |
Cityxslicker
| Posted on Wednesday, December 24, 2008 - 12:10 pm: |
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Im Mister Brown Christmas, Im Mister Mud Im Mister Dirt Rooster Ive got dirt to throw I ride my muds cycile, I gots my knobbies you know They call me MUD BUG, DirtSlicker, Where every I go Theres got to be dirt and puddles ah MuDs the stuff. I never want to see a day when I come home with a clean bike I would rather stay out and play gettin coated in mucky chunks and the like They call me MudBug Whatever I touch Gets dirty and might fry my clutch Im Mister brown Christmas, Im Mister MUD Oooooh Im too much |
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