Bikers and Bushwood

Stupid Drunken Things Not To Do

Bum Wine and cheap liquor own you…

53. [Not drunken, but similarly stupid] Drive behind the old insane asylum and the University power plant on your CB350 with 8Barrel riding bitch. Even though it’s dark out, don’t use your headlight, because this dirt road comes out where the cops were waiting for you that other time.

Oh shit!

Those were railroad tracks you ran over. No problemo, dude, you just nailed them with your frame. Oh, but dude? That trail of liquid from the tracks to your house was not from 8, who you scared the piss out of. It was your oil – your pan is cracked. Hmmm, just like your Marquis.

54. Inspired by sterno bum culture, share a bottle of Night Train Express with your buddy Sheen. After your innards are pickled, head off down the dirt roads south of Fife Lake (or some other random small town). Drive as fast as your Marquis will take you.

Sheen: Sometimes dirt roads have curves or sharp turns
Me: No way!!!

Turns out, 200 yards later, Sheen will be proved right. Celebrate your lack of grisly impalement on that giant oak tree directly in your path by accidentally finding some road, named after your friend Scott. The other, other Scott. Someone will rip the street sign out of the ground with He-Man like strength. Stick the trophy out the window of the car like a jousting pole as you careen back to loony base alpha on 2 wheels.

caddyshack al czervik

55. Pretty Boy’s wedding is at some golf course clubhouse in suburban Detroit. The reason there is an open bar is so that you (personally) will sing, dance and do your famous air band to the Stray Cats. Request “Dancin’ with myself” for Scott Roseypalms, in honor of an important moment at a Founder’s Day banquet.

Once you have become the Penis, Lord of Scum (think Cornholio on sohoco), try to hotwire the bulldozer in the parking lot. Ignore the frat brothers and security guards that try to talk you down. When you come to at Ribble’s mom’s apartment in Roseville and see that he and Scott brought home dates, but said “no cooch for you,” insist on staying conscious and making snacks in order to maximize your buzzkill effect by scaring off the girls.

Fuckers. Next time bring enough pussy for everyone.

No, you did not drive the bulldozer back to the apartment. Coleman Young himself is grateful.

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