| Author | Message | ||
     Firemanjim |
"And get better lookig---"Just another reason why I like you Chris.  | ||
| Dasxb9s |
Steveford... I must first say that I would be the last person they would use as a poster child for normal... and I have been accused by KC Mob members of being mentally unstable... and have issues with multiple personalities... and if you are curious... go to storm fronts... then KC Mob... and read some of my adventures and postings. I cannot deny any of there observations about my sanity! Of all the things I have lost... I miss my mind the most!!! And hell... one of them voices in my head just might be female! I am also a firm believer in the fact that it is easier to ask for and get forgiveness than permission... So... sir... Mr. Steveford... I ask your forgiveness... but I have lost control of my restraint... and am asking for some clarification from you pertaining to your posting. I know what an X1 is... I want an X1W so bad... I am trying to sell my 14 year old son... I am working on the ebay posting this weekend. ...and I know what an XB is... as I have an XB9S with a race kit... and LOVE the machine!!! I have also once before been 44 years old... and I can relate to that age group... But I GOT to know... why did you tell me you were a cross dresser? I realize that what people do in the privacy of their own home with their spouse... is entirely no one's business... and I am the kind of person that does not judge people... I accept them for the unique person that they are... and will stand up for a person who is oppressed... this is a free country... and I have spent all of my adult life in government service... going in harms way... to maintain this American life style. But... I can't feature why something like that would be pertinent... in this thread. But... I accept you as a brother Buellaholic... and am glad you and the others responded to my postings... So...when a cross dresser rides a bike... would that be only pants suits... and dresses... and never tight skirts... and wouldn't there be a chance of ruining one's nylons on the headers??? Wait... Sharon just slapped me in the back of the head... and explained to me that you formerly rode a full dress Harley Davidson. ...and now ride a X1 and an XB. never mind!!!! Please understand I was only doing what the voices in my head were telling me. If I have offended you... please forgive me... and maybe I should ask Sharon to explain before I ask questions. There are so many people in here... that it makes my head hurt!!!! May I suggest that next time you refer to your full dress HD... you word it a bit differently!!! | ||
| Dasxb9s |
P.S. if we ever meet.... PLEASE DON"T HURT ME!!! | ||
| Darthane |
Well, I'llbe 23 in April, I got my Blast when I was 20 and the XB not long after I turned 21. However, I recall reading something not all that long ago that the average Bueller age was 39. I would not be surprised if, as suggested above, the XB line has dropped that a bit. | ||
| Tucsonxb9s |
Guess I'm right in the demographic. Just turned 37 in October, married with two boys. Had a 98 Sporty but it just wasn't for me. Maybe a bigger cruiser in the future. | ||
| Wyckedflesh |
Gee and I figured he meant he flipped a coin when he got up to see which bike he rode that day...  | ||
| Blake |
My average age is currently 20.5 years. | ||
| Henrik |
42 years young, and like everyone here get better looking by the day. Own a '98 S3 (for sale) and a '96 S2. I'd love to own a tuber S1WL - all black if I had the choice. But then I'd also like to have a Roadking for cruising with Melissa and a VFR or even an ST1300 for long distance sport touring, a prepped XB for track days, a Ducati for profiling etc. etc. etc. So many bikes, so little time  Henrik (damn Fireman - you *that* old?? - I mean ... really  ) | ||
| Richieg150 |
Blake,is that DOG years,or some other animal other than human years?  | ||
| Nevco1 |
Blake...Average Age...Is that like Average Speed in LA? You know, you get stopped for 85 in a 55 but your onboard computer shows the cop you only averaged 30 miles per hour over the last 100 miles.  | ||
| Pbr1893 |
24 M2/S1 88 conglomeration. Sits next to older wiser brothers GSXR1000 dragbike and GSX1300R (So big I call it the goldwing)in garage. | ||
| Brianbuell |
I am 24 and bought my bike when I was 22. | ||
| Dasxb9s |
Well... since I started this thread... I guess I can deviate from it a bit... and tell you about my evening... and what happened when I was reading the postings. NO HUMAN BEINGS OTHER THAN MY SELF WAS HARMED IN ANY WAY! There has been a killing. I have been in professions my entire life that have involved going into harms way... and carrying firearms in the service of my country. I have also trained with Navy Seals... British SAS... narcotics entry teams... and "SWAT" teams. I have trained hundreds of people on the use of fire arms... and shot competitively. ...and there are very few firearms I have not either shot, handled or studied. One thing I have never done... is hunted. Well, there was that Hereford bull I shot... and was dragging to my Chevy when this farmer got really angry... but that is another story! Well... I was sitting at the very computer I wrote this on when I heard screams from my kitchen. Having heard a commotion just seconds before this... the scrambling of feet... the scooting of chairs... there was something terribly wrong in the Casa de Bankrupt! I sprang to my feet... took a quick step toward the doorway from the den into the kitchen... and I recoiled as I approached the door!!! It seems my boot lace had caught on the roller of my heavy office chair... and upon hitting the end of the shoelace... I looked like a horizontal bungie jumper springing back into the huge office desk. About 2 minutes later I regained consciousness... slowly having the world return to focus... at first I thought I was once again hanging up side down from the rain gutter... then I realized I was IN the house... and not again hanging from it!!! I was still hearing sounds of distress from the kitchen... and knew my sweetie... her adopted son and my son were in peril. I HAD TO CLEAR MY HEAD... FREE MYSELF FROM MY TETHER... and come to their aid... my family unit was in need of rescue. I heard one of them scream... "GET BACK... IT WENT THERE!" ...and could hear them all scramble to the other end of the kitchen. You have to realize... that even though I live in the city... I have a big lot that adjoins a creek. In my back yard I have bunny rabbits... the constant scurrying of squirrels... I bet a racoon or two wander through... maybe even an opossum... hell... I have even read that bobcats have begun to return to wooded areas in these parts. I look out the window of my den... and sometime forget I am in the city... and feel like Daniel Boon! BUT... I realize these furry little creatures can be vicious... running in packs... killing adults... dragging off small children and domesticated animals!! My fear was one of these rabid creatures had infiltrated my home... and was terrorizing my family. Or could it be... an intruder... as I have had prowlers on my property? I AM A MAN... I MUST PROTECT MY FAMILY AT ANY COST. Well. Not any cost... I still have some Christmas shopping to do! I pull out my knife to hack myself free from the deadly entangled boot lace... just then I had flash backs from my little accident with my knife when I fell off the roof. So... I put the knife away... and reached up on my desk for the scissors. (Being very careful... as the knife wound from that little accident when I fell off the roof has not yet fully healed... and I did NOT want to again injure myself!) I run... well that is not quite a correct description... only wearing one boot... it was more like hobbling. Anyway... I am on my feet... and the dizziness was beginning to subside when it happens. I realize the other boot lace was also entangled on the chair. Since I was hobbling... I was not traveling at the velocity of my previous attempt to save my family... so I did not bungie back into the desk... the lace came free... and I went face first... into the door frame. About 2 minutes later I again regain consciousness... hear more sounds... and realize what had just happened... and feel a very sharp pain... in my left thigh. You know how your mother always told you that you should never run with scissors... well wouldn't ya know... she was right! In my hurry to investigate the danger in the kitchen... I had failed to place the scissors on the desk. I guess I REALLY should not have sharp objects... so I consider I should get something less dangerous to myself... so I grab my gun... WHAT CAN GO WRONG!!! I am dizzy... my vision is blurred... I am limping and bleeding profusely from my thigh... (hey... it has to take several minutes to bleed out from a femoral vein)... blood is in my eyes... I stubbed my toe in all the attempts to exit the den... I think I might have a couple of teeth loose... BUT I MUST GO ON... I MUST SAVE MY FAMILY. ...and what I saw when I entered my kitchen... will be burned into my memory for the remainder of my life. My son is hanging from the ceiling fan over the dinner table... my sweetie somehow has wedged herself in to the top opening of the cabinet over the kitchen sink... and her son is on top of the refrigerator... and they all are screaming and pointing... and I can't make out what they were saying. Maybe it was the concussion I got when I went head first into the door frame... maybe it was that my head was not quite clear from being knocked unconscious... twice... maybe it was all that cough medicine I had drank... because I was out of Vodka... but it was clear... something had them in fear of there life. Slowly I came to realize what it was... it was not some deranged intruder... it was not some wild animal... IT WAS ME! In their eyes they saw... a stumbling... bleeding... blurry eyed... adrenalin charged... semiconscious... barefoot... intoxicated man... with a .45 automatic... and he was entering the kitchen... drooling... talking incoherently... and waving a loaded gun all around the room. I had walked into a situation where a mouse had run across the kitchen floor several minutes earlier. Startling them all. So I am standing there... and as two teeth fall from my mouth... and a stream of blood squirts across the room... in a high arch... painting an abstract design on our little white dog... I realize... that when I walked into the room... they all were standing in front of the refrigerator... discussing a mouse... they had looked directly at me... and had scrambled to safety. My head was beginning to clear a little more... and I realized they were all yelling at me to drop the gun... so I did... right on the toe I had stubbed! After giving them all a French lesson with the language that spewed out in a stream of profanity... from the searing pain that traveled like a bolt of lightning up my toe... through my entire body... I began to think clearly... I WAS A MAN... and NO mouse was going to cause this much turmoil in MY house! I sent my Sharon after some duct tape to use to bind my wound... and stop the bleeding before I passed out from blood loss. I sent her son to get my glasses... to see if that might clear at least some of the blurry vision. ...and I sent my son to lock up the .45 automatic... and retrieve my pellet pistol. There was going to be a killing! As they went about to tend to their assigned chores... I thought I would walk closer to the refrigerator to try and locate the mouse. Well... I guess I was still not thinking clearly... and this kitchen... like most kitchens... has a very smooth... a very shiny... in this case... a very wet floor... from where I am bleeding out... I moved about half a step... when both my feet went straight out... my body was suspended horizontally for a split second... like one of those scenes from The Matrix... then BOOM... I am on the floor. About 2 minutes later... I regain consciousness. My son is crying... Sharon's son is crying... Sharon is crying... and she wrapping duct tape around my left thigh to stop the bleeding. Remember the scissors? Well... when I got the .45 automatic... I guess I did not put them down... and I still had them in my left hand. The key word here is HAD... because now... they were no longer in my hand... they were sticking out of the left cheek of my ass. And after all the bleeding after I had pulled them out of my thigh... they were just fine where they were. (A decision I would later regret when Sharon drove me to the emergency room!). It was at this time my head began to again clear... and I realized they were not crying because of my predicament... well that is not exactly correct... they WERE crying because of my predicament... BUT... they were crying tears of laughter! Well... I had a good shot of adrenalin... and I was gonna kill something! I AM A MAN!!!! ...and this is getting long... and it really hurts to sit on my left cheek... so I will shorten up the story and tell the end. The little mouse is hiding behind a cabinet... which we had exposed by moving the refrigerator out... and I was not going to wake up dead... from being mauled by a rogue mouse. There was only a gap of less than 3/4 on an inch... there was no way to get him out alive... and I WAS NOT sleeping in this house with such a creature running amuck... there was gonna be a killing! So... propped myself up against the other doorway... with a good view of the creature... a bright flashlight... a pellet gun... and laughter and tears in the background. I took careful aim... and... one shot... one kill. Well... one shot one kill if you don't count the accident shot I fired into my stubbed toe, when Sharon bumped the scissors hanging out the cheek of my ass as she walked through the doorway... it wasn't really her fault... she was in tears and laughing... and could not see well. There was one minor problem... how do I get the carcass from behind the cabinet? Or maybe the better question... how much will it cost to replace the cabinet... and repair the wall from where I used my cane to pry the cabinet out to recover the body? Anyway... there was a burial at sea... which was another mistake... as the little cardboard coffin I made had clogged the toilet... and flooded the bathroom! AND... this is based on a true happening... a killing... I have the medical bills to prove it! ...and soon the bills from the carpenter and plumber! | ||
| Aesquire |
At age 45, having been bikeless for 5 years, (kids/etc.) Told a pal about missing riding, and always wanting a Buell, advised to get off my %^&, go to the store & try one. I sat on this compact screaming yellow wasp surrounded by a sea of black & chrome Hogs. It fit, so no test ride (it was raining). So... First New bike, a '01 M2L new, leftover & overlooked till Halloween 2002.  | ||
| Blake |
Das, I think the moral of your story should be something like... If you had a pussy, you wouldn't need to hunt. | ||
| Darthane |
Aside from the proliferation of elipses, your blood loss doesn't seem to have affected your typing much!  <~~the last thing a cornered mouse sees...and admit it, he was laughing too hard at you to dodge anyways! | ||
| Bartimus |
49 on the 19th of DEC... 1 Buell, 3 Harleys, 5 Honda's, 1 Indian. I agree, growing old is mandatory, growing up is optional | ||
| Unibear12r |
Turned 47 back in July... 1 Buell (they are the best!),1 Harley and 1 Kawasaki. Also 3 kids, 3dogs, 3 jobs and no wives. I just relised Im doing things in threes. Im young and haveing fun........BUT NOT YOUNG ENOUGH FOR THREE WIVES! | ||
| Nevco1 |
NOT YOUNG ENOUGH FOR THREE WIVES! Young enough has nothing to do with it. Rich enough does! At 55, I have two down and am interviewing for Number Three!!! Damn, I love the "interviewing process!" | ||
| Cmodtopgun |
Going on 54, got the 2000 S3 in 01, after spending 3 years trying to make a sportster sport handle like a buell. Been riding since 1966 | ||
| Bykergeek |
39 and getting younger, on my 1st Buell (2 yrs) and 5th motorcycle overall. | ||
| Daves |
40 about to be 41 if i make it til March 14th Started riding when i was 8. Started riding Buells when I was 36. Best thing that ever happened to my riding. Ride to the edge! Dave Iowa HD/Buell (Buell Cycle Center) | ||
| Viros |
Funny how at 22 I feel like im 44, and I look like im 30.. I guess its the 60+ hours a week of work and the 4 years of living on my own. | ||
| Oconnor |
27, 1st buell (xb9r) and running away with the Marines to run away from a girl who wants to replace the motorcycle. Its not that life is so short, its that you are dead for so long. | ||
| Steveford |
DASXB9S, While I can't promise not to hurt you, selling your offspring to buy an X1W sounds like a capital idea! The Firebolt's a better bike but the X1 is my favorite. Steve Ford P.S. No, I don't want any of your children. | ||
| Firemanjim |
Henrik--its all about the healthy lifestyle----   | ||
| Nevco1 |
Viros...Don't sweat the small stuff. You're doing fine. It's the women that cause premature aging. Soon as one gets on your nerves, trade her in on a new one! Above all...Never say "I Do." | ||
| Viros |
thanks for the advice Nevco1 | ||
| Nevco1 |
No Charge! The first two were lost to the divorce courts in Orange County. For punishment, I have been economically exiled to Wisconsin at least until the real estate prices drop. Ugh. | ||
| Mikej |
"Average HD rider is 47 years old and makes $75,000 a year. I don't know Buell's specifics. " Specifically speaking, I am underpaid. But after reading Dasxb9s's episode I think I will leave well enough alone. |
