Last night I wrote an email to Hugo about this.
Let me publicly express my deep and abiding love for Hugo and Ruthie. May God bless them until they cannot stand to be blessed anymore for all the wonderful things that they have done for me in bad times and good, including providing me with the use of their basement couch on occasion. Now, the fact is that Hugo loves motorcycles, and moreover, he is a Harley man.
Spike is not a Harley man, but he has his real soft spot for motorcycles as does his wonderful landlord, Pat, even more so.
But here was the frosting on the cake. Within the last day I finally tracked down my good friend Tonya from Dallas. I have known Tonya since the mid-nineties. She kindly took an interest in the blog and read these damned entries from the beginning to the end. She is the first Texan to have read it. I told her to correct me about anything that I have said concerning Texas. What I had forgotten was that her beloved Jerry is a motorcycle enthusiast—big time motorcycle enthusiast who participates in organized rides and all. Well now, the very last thing that I would wish to do is hurt the feelings of any of those folks because right here on this Bible immediately to my left, I swear that I love them all.
So here is what had aggravated me about the motorcycle hobbyists at Luckenbach. They did not give a damn about the music. It was just another destination for them. They would roar in unmufflered right in the middle of a great song, drink beer while they chatted with each other oblivous to the music, and then roar out unmufflered right in the middle of another great song. I am getting upset about it as I write this, but I am going to keep it under control. I am not going to say that on a couple of occasions, I wanted to call out two of them at random and beat the bastards to within an inch of their lives right in front of their womenfolk. But you see, my motorcycle people, Hugo, Ruthie, Spike, Tonya, and Jerry, would never do that sort of thing.
Also, it is important for me to be realistic about another aspect of this. Luckenbach could not survive without the income derived from the bikers. Simple as that.
Here are members of the Blue Knights motorcycle club, I think they called themselves, in the line waiting for hamburgers. These men and women were okay. They were a delightful crowd. Of course there was no music being played there over the lunch hour, but still. . . . . . I'm just saying.
Similarly, with regard to the boat enthusiasts, I used the term “boat morons.” I also made some other disparaging remarks about boat owners. And here's the deal about that. My first wife, Maria, appears here occasionally in the comments section as msmith2671. She lives in Florida and is married to Gary. Gary is a prince. Gary and I have had some discussions that were wonderfully helpful to me in connection with my rock star rehab of a couple of years ago. He knows whereof he speaks. Gary is also a boating enthusiast. However, Gary sails his boats. He does not race up and down the water slicing and dicing the fish with twin 250 horsepower unmufflered Evinrudes. Gary's boats glide quietly, gracefully, and fetchingly across the water. So I should have been more precise and used the phrase “motorboat morons,” because I was not referring to Gary at all.
I feel better having made those clarifications. Now on with the fun.
I did attend the kaffeeklatsch this morning. I will get to that later. Right now I need to get back outside for awhile.