This is a true story that took place last Saturday. So it's Friday night and I've got all my gear ready to load in the morning. I'm thinking "this should be cool, new people to ride with." Lately I've been stuck riding with my brother,who can't seem to ride unless he's medicated, the herbal kind. Which just scares the hell out of me! I figure if the dumb ass gets hurt it's his problem. I just don't want to see him hurt someone else. Picture this 300 lbs of prime blubber on a Banshee with an I don't give a damn attitude. Kind of reminds you of an elephant on a roller skate. Oh, and don't forget the cooler bungeed to the back. Filled with beer, in case he gets thirsty. I've only ridden with him twice and the last time I told not to even bother calling if he planned on getting high when riding. About ten o'clock the phone rings , my brother. He wants to ride Pueblo Saturday, promises not to get high and says he'll drive. I rarely go against a gut feeling, this time I did. I agree to ride with him he'll pick me up at 7 a.m. Five till seven, He's right on time. He brings a buddy, seems like a nice guy. Load and go. I've got the back seat to myself so I strech out and decide to nap. Great way to make a two hour ride go by. Just south of Colorado Springs I wake up to screaming Metal music and what's that smell......... Damn it these two nimrods are smoking dope and it's barely 8 a.m.! I'm pissed, first I'm a militant non smoker I hate it, second cigarette smoke is bad enough pot smoke is worse, third now I reek like I've been smoking it too, fourth the only reason I'm in this vehichle was due to an agreement not to get high! Here it comes the justification "Dude, we're hungover it will make everything better. Lighten up." At this point the top of my head is about to come off. Screaming match is over and I've got the back windows down trying to air the truck out. We pull into Pueblo first thing he does is cut some guy off as we get off the ramp, the one fingered peace signs fly, words are exchanged, they try to run each other off the road and away we go. They pull over he follows and I'm thinking screw this! I'm not going to have anything to do with this one. Fortunatley the kid in the Grand Am did the right thing. He saw 300 lbs of attitude and split. Now these two are congratulating each other for being "American Bad Asses" and I'm thinking this was a mistake. The remaining three miles or so to PMM were uneventfull, thank GOD. All I want to do is unload my bike and lose these two bozo's. My plan was to head out by myself for a while and try to hook up with the group a little later. There's no way I want these two geniuses tagging along. Someone might think I'm like them, I still reek of smoke. I get all my gear on and get ready to go. As I kick my bike over I hear "dude where you going wait for us". No way I'm outa there. I'd put a few miles on and stopped for a drink. I figure it's about time to try to find the group and here comes my brother. His buddies clapped out CR won't run and they need help starting it. I follow him and just as we are coming up on him he gets it started, dumps the clutch, spits him off the back of it and launches the bike down a steep hill. So far this is the best part of the day. I can't tell who's scratched up more Jim or the CR. Both of them are pretty ragged. It seems Jim has spent most of the last two hours picking his CR up and picking the gravel out of his wounds. We pick up the CR and try to make it ridable. The bars, shifter, clutch, brake levers all bent. I figure I better follow them back to truck just in case one of them tries to do anymore stupid human tricks.We get to the truck and they want to go home! Jim is whining that he is to hung over and to beat up to ride and talks my brother into going home! It's only 12:30! I'm pissed again. I have no choice I have to load up. Compared to the ride to Pueblo the rode home was pretty uneventful. Just a lot of whining, Jim was pretty scraped up. It seems they were bummed out about the beer they had put in the cooler. They were'nt smart enough to buy canned beer they bought bottles. Guess what glass breaks! Plus they had thier pot in the cooler with the beer. When they dumped the beer out of the cooler they dumped the pot out also. All I could do was chuckle about all the whining and think that it had something to do with Karma. Moral to this story, you can't choose your relatives but you can sure as heck choose to stay away from them. Part two Monday I'm laughin now. I was pissed Saturday though. Reading this thing over and looking back on it , it was pretty funny. I talked to my brother((Tom)). I guess Jim's in a big hurt, bruised and scraped from shoulder to shin. Plus his old lady was pissed because he snuck out Saturday morning. I guess she had his day planned and dirt bikes, dope and dos xx's weren't included. But, he wanted to know if I was really pissed and if maybe we could do that again. I can't help but laugh! The guy can't wait to do it again! Next time I'll just bring the camera, drive my own truck and laugh my ass off. I can't wait to see what they do next.