Saturday was a gorgeous fall day here in my nape of the woods, bright, sunny, mid 70s. I got a call from Frank, one of my best friends on earth, he wanted me to come over and see his new gun cabinet.
Any excuse to hop on the bike and ride on a day like this is a good one. I pulled on some jeans and a shirt with the sleeves cut out of it. Add the Chuck Taylor High Tops and I’m off.
Frank has a really nice house in what we in the south call a “white flight neighborhood” … Me, I live in a plain old suburban lower middle class town home complex that I have owned since it was a white flight neighborhood back in the early eighties.
I pull into the driveway, park the bike and knock on the big Oak door. Frank answers and guides me upstairs into his office. At first glance it looks like a big dresser kind of thing, people like Kayden would call it an Armoire I think.
It’s big and has a black lacquer kind of finish with two handles made of deer antlers in the center. He pulls them open and the width of the gun case doubles, spotlights come on automatically to showcase the guns in the center and in both doors. He pulls out a flip up table from the center, it’s for working on or cleaning the guns and it even has high edges around it to keep small parts from rolling off or whatever.
In the bottom shelves are thousands of rounds of ammo in various calibers.
Frank designed the whole thing himself and had it built and it really is impressive, and nice, and cost more than all my current vehicles combined.
I comment that it’s a nice day, that he should fire up the Harley and lets ride. He says he has to take the bike to get a tune up done….I’m like hey that’s cool …I will ride with ya. We head to the garage and he pushes the button to raise the door. He tells me to move my bike so he can back the van out. I thought we were gonna take your bike to get a tune up I remarked. He said we are.
On the back of his Lexus SUV is a bicycle on one of those carriers. Could this be the bike he meant? How do you tune up a bicycle? When I was a kid and my bicycle started sounding rough I would just replace the playing cards that were clothes-pinned to the fork to rub against the spokes, giving it a throaty roar as I pedaled my ass off.
Sure enough, we hop into the Lexus SUV (His wife is out in the Lexus convertible) and we drive to something called REI…I always thought they sold insurance or real estate or something. He pushes the bike in and while he is talking disk brakes and what kind of tires are best for the style of riding he does, I look at the price tag on a bike just like his.
Fuck Me! His bicycle cost more than my truck.
On the way back, we talk about his wife’s new Armani dress and about his collection of fine wines…..I’m basically zoned out but agreeing with whatever he says.
I asked if he has had lunch, he replied no.
Great lets go to that little french deli place you like.
He says I have a better idea, let’s go to the house and see what’s playing.
I interrupted him….I don’t want to watch a fucking movie.
He says no this is nice, it’s downtown (now I KNOW I don’t wanna go) and you order and they bring your dinner while you watch a first run movie.
I say lets just go to the little deli and get something cheap and easy, there’s no movies out I even wanna see, besides I hate movie theaters, I like to watch Netflix streaming movies on my big wall mounted TV while I sit up in the bed in my underwear and update mikesouth.com. I can scratch my balls if I want to and there’s no rug rats crunching popcorn right behind me and no cell phones going off and no distracting people tweeting about the fucking movie.
After this diatribe Frank looks at me and says you know what your problem is, it’s just not low brow enough for you.
There it was, an epiphany, my whole life summed up accurately right before my very eyes and in only two words. low brow.
When I consider it, it’s obvious. I go on vacation to Dayton Ohio to hang out in a blue collar strip club. My friends are all strip club managers, strip club DJs, Rock and Roll DJs on the radio, strip club patrons, porn people, bikers, bouncers, ex convicts, under house arrest or some combination thereof.
My girlfriends are porn chicks, hookers and strippers and yes there is a difference….just ask any one of them, they will be happy to explain why theirs is the more respectable of the three. One of my most serious long term girlfriends is currently a guest of the state of Florida, for trafficking.
I carry a concealed weapon almost always.
The closest thing I have to a designer shirt says Mexico Beach Artificial Reef Association on it.
I drive a 1997 Ford Ranger Truck with 275,000 miles on it. I once took the truck to one of those pressure car washes where you pay to wash it yourself and I opened the doors and used it to wash the interior because I wanted it to be clean when I picked up Kayden Kross the next day.
I prefer classic rock and roll or hard core country music. I prefer fried chicken over pretty much anything else you can do to one.
Frank acquiesced and we went to the little french place which he corrected me is a bistro not a deli….whatever. The food is good though and the French guy who runs it is big and happy and speaks English with a heavy french accent, I’m sure he would be very low brow in Paris.
When we finish I offer to pick up the tab.
My credit card is declined…..I look at Frank…..Looks like YOU get to pay….
Ya, low brow, that’s me.