Get a call from a bro who runs a towing service..Little Ricky went down hard,,it doesn't look good..
Damn I had not talked with him in months..In fact since I sorta took the high road and stopped the serious parting ways we didn't see much of each other, in passing at the shops or dives..runs and such..Life happens and we move on. Leaving a bad thing sometimes costs you a few good things..it the price we pay for what we do..
I can't say when I meet Little Ricky but it was back in the day where riding a Harley made you a rebel and we lavished in the lifestyle..He was little Ricky when I first remember him, the name was a joke..He stands about 6'8" and tipped the scales at over 400 at times..That nasty ass home cooked white poweder had slimmed him down over the years..
We all have something we do in our lives that makes stand out. Ricky is the God of Gas..Ass gas..Captain Pooter..He was proud of his abilities..He saw a moment of silence as an opportunity to share..He could play a wooden bar stool like a fine tuned Fender Strat..He kept notes on what food would produce certain sounds and odors.. He is a sick puppy but aren't we all in some way..
Back to the wreck..They haul Ricky to the trauma center..out cold and beat to shit..Call his wife and tell her she had better hurry it looks a severe head trauma..She's about an hours away and goes like hell to get there..Runs into the trauma ward only to hear Ricky yelling at the top of his lungs...Find me a doctor who can speak english and own a pair of fucking shoe's..I guess the doc was wearing his native sandles..
Sorry Ricky looks like the devil don't want your smelly ass right now..I'll be seeing you soon old son..
Sand Casting Blues
4 hours ago