The Rented Motorcycle And The Fork In The Road Late At Night Ordeal (Part One)

The Rented Motorcycle And The Fork In The Road Late At Night Ordeal
Part One


I can't remember exactly what inspired me to take the Blue Danube bus into Montego Bay to rent a motorcycle that day but I am pretty sure it had some thing to do with the ganja I'd been smoking, eating and drinking.

At first I was alone waiting on the side of the narrow dirt road down the street from the home I rented waiting for the first bus of the day. The early bus never comes the same time but it always comes around first light of morning. I sat on an old five gallon bucket under a breadfruit tree, near the bridge over the river by the sea wall and watched the sun rise and light up the emerald green sea and the Eastern sky. Dogs were barking off in the distance as cats returned home tired from their nightly prowl.

Vendors were setting up little wood tables to display their wares down the road a bit in the center of this small town on the West Coast of Jamaica, each waiting for another days at market to begine. Fishermen were heading back to shore; their boats loaded with fresh sea food delights. One by one school children, day workers, people with business in Mogo Bay and
vendors slowly gathered around me all waiting for the early bus. Conversation and ganja was in the early morning crisp air as we waited.

Eventually we heard the bus horn blowing, announcing the bus was coming around the light house bend. Jump ropes, soccer balls, jacks, conversation, pocket sized bottle of rum and half burned spleefs were all put aside as we lined up to board the bus we could see in the distance kicking up dust as it came ever closer. I waited for the women and children to get in the bus then made my way to a big bench seat all the way in the back of the bus to sit with the men on their way to find a days work.

Stopping every few minutes to pick someone up or drop some one off made the one hour bus trip last almost two hours but no one seemed to mind. A pleasant trip was had by all as reggae played on small transistor radios and conversation mixed with ganja filled the air. The driver stopped and picked so many people up, to make more fare money there were people sitting up on the roof of the bus and one fellow, a older rasta man was sitting on the hood of the bus, looking in through the windshield at us all with a big toothless smile on his dirty red eyed face half covered with his natty dred locks. How could I ever forget that bus ride, my first on the early morning bus to Mogo Bay.

II.

Once in Montego Bay I took a few pictures of the old clock tower standing in the center of town by the straw market then made my way right to the Rent A Bike place. I talked to the man who owned the Rent A Bike business for awhile about bikes, even smoke a spleef with him in the back of his shop where he showed me his personal bike then, after we became new friends and only then did I ask him to rent me a bike, for a week or so. I knew I'd get the best bike he had to rent if I took time to make him a new friend before I ever told him I wanted to rent a bike. My plan worked so well I not only got the best bike he had for rent but he gave me a free full tank of gas and bought us some meat patties and a cold red stripe. Of course I returned the favor by getting us a few fruit patties and a few more cold red stripes.

We each burned another fatty and talked about everything we could think of and lost all track of time. Before we realized how much time had passed it was late afternoon. I had a long ride in front of me, a new ride, the first time I ever rode a motorcycle by myself in Jamaica. This may not seem like a big deal to you but the folks in Jamaica drive on the left side of the road, not the right side, like I am use to driving on. Try driving on the wrong side of a road for the first time ever doing the speed limit or more, on a rented motor cycle all blown out some time... yes; it was a big deal.

I got on my bike, said goodbye and thanked him for everything. "See you in one week" he said as I took off heading West on my way back to the house on the hill I rented from Rasta Dixon not too far from the bridge over the river near the sea wall by the bus stop. It was not so easy at first getting use to this driving on the left but before too long I got the hang of it and everything was going just fine until I stopped at a road side cafe/rest stop/gas station place I found out a little too late was also a ***** House for something to drink.

I parked my bike right in front of the small wood building, found the owner, paid for the red stripe I grabbed out of the bucket of ice and beer and sat down on a bench under the shade of some trees. The owner came over to me and we started talking. At first we talked about motorcycles, then Americans in Jamaica; both hippies and tourists, then the subject switched to women and by the time we were on our third beer we were the best of new friends.

A few of the working girls who had their rooms in little wood houses in the bush not too far behind the store came to see who this hippie was sitting behind the store smoking with the owner. Every one was having fun smoking, talking, laughing and jokeing drinking red stripes, eating cheese and bun, fried fish and time passed . One of the Jamaican woman, the youngest of the group had the biggest blue bed room eyes I've ever seen and a pretty blue eyed slim chocolate skinned Jamaican woman is as rare as hens teeth: I had to have her. One thing lead to another and next thing I knew I was in her room with her all tangled in a sweaty lovers knot. It was dark, well after midnight when I had my full and decided it was time to go. I was only about half way home and had a long trip on dark narrow roads in front of me.

I got screwed and got screwed real good when I found out I was being charged for all the beer every one drank, the cheese, buns and fried fish, the ganja we smoked and a twenty U S dollar charge for the ladies favors and was more than ready and glad to leave.

The Rented Motorcycle And The Fork In The Road Late At Night Ordeal (Part Two)


III.

Pretty well drunk and very well stoned I felt tired until I got back on the bike and headed home. The fresh cool night sea air blowing in my face not only refreshed me and sobered me up but it reminded me where I was. There's something special in the air down in Jamaica that makes the air smell different, special, almost magical. No where else I've been on this planet does the air smell like the air in Jamaica or at least not to me. I was zipping along at around 50MPH doing real good on the bike all things considered when I knew I was coming up to a fork in the road and a left turn right after turning on to the left fork. The right part of the fork in the road is the main road and the left part is not only narrower but also goes up a hill. I knew the fork in the road and the turn was coming up soon but just was not sure exactly where it was. It was not so easy to see in my condition and there was no moon that night just gray storm clouds waiting to break open any minute.

I was zipping along when suddenly, right there on my left was he fork in the road and my turn; "turn now" I said to myself with out even giving any thought to what it was I was telling myself to do!! Why I didn't just stop, turn around, go back and take the left fork and the left turn is beyond me. For some reason in that same moment I thought "turn now" I turned the handle bars all the way to the left, didn't lean left and next thing I knew I was heading right for a big old bolder near a big old cluster of breadfruit trees damn near laying on my side with the bike on top of me. With all the strength I could gather I some how pushed the bike up and away from me then rolled to a stop on the dirt road while the bike continued on towards the bolder and trees and then hit hard.

I got scratched up pretty bad and just sat there in the dirt for awhile looking at the bike against the trees and bolder. Once I gathered my thoughts I realized I was still a few miles from where I wanted to be and that I had to walk. I knew I couldn't leave the bike laying there; it would be gone when I retunred. There was no choice, I had to bring the smahed bike with me and push it all the way home. By the time I got down the road past the sugar cane fields and the small cluster of wood homes near the bottom of Dixon Hill, the hill my rented home was on I was exhausted from my long day and pushing the bike. I dropped the bike and sat down on it to rest at the bottom of the hill . Early morning birds were singing songs of the new day, dogs were barking at first light of day dissolving the darkness as cats were all heading home from a night on the prowl.

Finally I saw another human, he was on his way to the outdoor market but when he saw me and the bike all banged up he offered to help me push the thing up the hill to my house. I was very thankful for his help. Once up the hill I thanked the man and when I stretched my hand out to shake his hand he handed me a small wad of bakery paper folded up and told me to enjoy and then said goodbye.

I pushed the bike through the gate into Rastas yard and sat down next to it thankful to be home. I was a bit worried about what this bike was going to cost to get fixed and how I would ever get in back to Montego bay. I felt so bad from getting thrown off the bike and I was sore, hung over and tired. I felt tears of joy to be home forming in my eyes when I heard Rasta say "'morning Jim mon, what go on"

IV.

Rasta Dixon stood there looking at me all scratched up and the bike laying on the ground next to me with the front tire and forks all bent up speechless, waiting for me to say something. I had nothing to say and just wanted to see what was in the wad of bakery paper the man who helped me get the bike up the hill gave me. When I saw it was ganja, enough to roll a big fatty that's exactly what I did and using the thin bakery paper the gift was given to me in I had one twisted up in no time. Rasta announced he was going to go get us some lime leaf tea, boiled banana, ackee, tomato, fried fish and more ganja...

Rasta returned and as we ate and drank I told him the story of me going into town to rent a bike, the new friends I made and how I got screwed and why I smashed the rented bike up. "Ya mash dat ting up gud mon" Rasta Dixon said then went on to tell me about his little blue Thames Pick-Up Truck and how we could use it to take the motorcycle back to Mogo Bay if we could get the little blue Thames Pickup running.

After asking every one near by and in the town a few miles away that owned a car or truck if they could loan us the battery out of their vehicle or if they had an extra battery we could use to get the little blue Thames pickup running finally we met a guy that knew a guy and so we headed out to meet him and hopefully come back with a battery.

Luck was with us and by late afternoon that day we were back home with a battery, had it in the truck and after much ado finally got the little blue Thames pickup truck running. It was late evening when we ate dinner outside the house in Rastas yard near the little blue Thames pickup Truck and the destroyed Motorcycle. As we ate dinner with Rasta Dixon's whole family he and I made plans to leave for Mogo Bay in the morning to return the bike.

A little afraid of not knowing how the man that rented the motorcycle to me was going to take me returning with a smashed up bike Rasta assured me if I bring enough money along to offer enough money to cover the damages and for the mans trouble, on the spot, things would go as well as could be expected wiht all things considered... so I did and things went down better than I thought, so much better I even left there with another bike.

As it turned out I was not the first red eyed blown out hippie to crack up one of these rentals so it wasn't anything new to the man who rented the bikes even though it was all new to me...

Jim Nasium (AKA: Jimmy Too Bad)
7.22.2014

Great story! I've been riding in the US for years, but the first time in JA took some time to get used to.

Great story!

hi Jim :-)

great story thanks for sharing.

A Man And His Ferris Wheel

He lived down the road from a junk yard
would work down there now and then
one day it finally dawned on him
so he took some rods and started to bend
when he had a bunch of rods bent just right
he started welding them together
and every day he worked on the thing
it looked better and better

He fashioned many little seats
made of rod and wire mesh mat
he welded them all together
not wearing a welders hat
and slowly one day at a time
his idea finally came to life
no one knew what he was up to
not even his loving wife

Finally about a month later
saw him with pink paint gallon cans
I asked him what he was doing
he asked me to lend him a hand
so we painted his Ferris wheel
man powered and very crude
I told him it was beautiful
I didn't want to be rude

We spread the word around the bush
come get a ride for a dime
and he would be ready all day
he wasn't concerned with the time
it took two men to pump the thing
to make it go around and round
and the same men had to jump and hold on
when they wanted the thing to slow down

The children all seemed to love it
he was making a few dollars each day
how the thing managed to stay together
is something that no one could say
but I was happy for him
he was able to make a dream come true
and if you look at the picture
you can see what I'm trying to explain to you...

jn


Attachment 37779

Loving this story...is there more?!

Yeah, great stories! What could be better than bragging about riding a motorcycle drunk and stoned, sleeping with hookers, then crashing the bike? Irresponsible at best, dangerous and deadly at worst. Lucky it was an inanimate object you hit and you didn't kill anyone or yourself.

IRIEchic, there's more - my guess is he will be along in a bit to post a link to his website so you can buy them from him. He's a writer and this is to catch your attention so he can sell you something.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by HarryS

IRIEchic, there's more - my guess is he will be along in a bit to post a link to his website so you can buy them from him. He's a writer and this is to catch your attention so he can sell you something.

---

HAHA! I fell for the banana in the tail pipe..LOL...I must say while I enjoy reading it I was thinking...is this real...LOL

I WILL NOT post any more links to my site. I forgot that is not allowed here. I WILL NOT Invite yous to take a peek at the rest of my work on line in my web site: stories about (my) adventures in negril back in the day, my art and stuff and I WILL ONLY post a short story or poem here, for yous to read if yous wanna and comment on if some'a yousguys wanna from now on. I am sorry I gave you the impression I was trying to sell something... I AM NOT!!!

re:
my guess is he will be along in a bit to post a link to his website so you can buy them from him. He's a writer and this is to catch your attention so he can sell you something.

What could be better than bragging about riding a motorcycle drunk and stoned, sleeping with hookers, then crashing the bike?


==> Maybe going to The Pink Pussy Cat??

The Pink Pussy Cat

time came our days were repetitious
there just wasn't any thing new
was only so much in Negril
back then Hippies could do
keep in mind things were different
there was no Mall, no electricity
but the few of us gringos living there
were safe and very happy

some of us wanted to go to Ocho Rios
since we spent most of our time in Negril
my buddy and I wanted something different
we were looking for women and a cheap thrill
we thought if we went to The Playboy Club
it be real easy for us to find
a working girl for each of us
long dancers legs, nice big firm behind

we got turned down at The Playboy Club
because we didn't have a key
they said "not dressed in the right clothes"
and we wanted a place to be
right down the street from The Playboy Club
was a place called The Pink Pussy Cat
some working girls were standing out front
most of them short and a little fat

my buddy got all excited
was in a wild sexual frenzy
he said "there's got to be a woman there
just for you and one for me"
I agreed with him and said "let's go"
as we made our way to the place
my heart was beating really fast
he had a great big smile on his face

soon as we got to the front door
and I swear to you this is a fact
three women went straight for my buddy
pulled him in the place, started to attack
one of them pulled his pants off
that's when I walked away
found myself a sweet young thing
was willing to pay to play

a few hours later
found my buddy laying on the floor
he was mumbling something about
what a bad idea it was to get a *****
I had to disagree with him
had myself a real nice day
to me it was worth every cent I spent
and that's all I'm going to say

EXCEPT that I KNOW you are reading this
and I know you know who you are
jn

What could be better than bragging about riding a motorcycle drunk and stoned, sleeping with hookers, then crashing the bike? Irresponsible at best, dangerous and deadly at worst. Lucky it was an inanimate object you hit and you didn't kill anyone or yourself.


==> the thing is the motor cycle story is about 15/20% truth and the rest is fiction. It's a story: a short story from my collection of short stories, about being a hippie gone wild back in the day when there were very few hippies in Jamaica ... maybe a bit before your time, I do not know; i do not know you harry but I'll tell ya what if you think the story is 100% true i got a bridge I'd like to sell ya....

re: HAHA! I fell for the banana in the tail pipe..LOL...I must say while I enjoy reading it I was thinking...is this real...LOL

IRIEchic
Like i just told Harry no, the story is not 100% true; it's a story. It is not a True Story, it's just a story based on some truth. Yes, there could be more but I get the feeling my work is not so welcomed here; sad. I've so many tales, stories, poems and photos about a place i hold dear in my heart and the way things use to be there back in the early 70's it would of been nice to have a place to share them...

IRIEchic, there's more - my guess is he will be along in a bit to post a link to his website so you can buy them from him. He's a writer and this is to catch your attention so he can sell you something.

==> I'm not a writer, just some guy with a head full of memories and way too much free time on his hands. Just a guy who likes to share his stories, but most misunderstand. I am not an artist, I just like to draw, surrealistic renderings of things, I imagined or things I saw. Just a guy with a lot time, to listen to my Muse, sing her siren song of inspiration, can't refuse, there's no use. I am not trying to sell anything; got nothing to sell. Just a guy trying to share; so many stories to tell.

jn ;-)

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Jim Nasium

re: HAHA! I fell for the banana in the tail pipe..LOL...I must say while I enjoy reading it I was thinking...is this real...LOL

IRIEchic
Like i just told Harry no, the story is not 100% true; it's a story. It is not a True Story, it's just a story based on some truth. Yes, there could be more but I get the feeling my work is not so welcomed here; sad. I've so many tales, stories, poems and photos about a place i hold dear in my heart and the way things use to be there back in the early 70's it would of been nice to have a place to share them...

---

I don't think a lot of people come here to read fiction. It was pretty transparent to me right from the jump.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Jim Nasium

IRIEchic, there's more - my guess is he will be along in a bit to post a link to his website so you can buy them from him. He's a writer and this is to catch your attention so he can sell you something.

==> I'm not a writer, just some guy with a head full of memories and way too much free time on his hands. Just a guy who likes to share his stories, but most misunderstand. I am not an artist, I just like to draw, surrealistic renderings of things, I imagined or things I saw. Just a guy with a lot time, to listen to my Muse, sing her siren song of inspiration, can't refuse, there's no use. I am not trying to sell anything; got nothing to sell. Just a guy trying to share; so many stories to tell.

jn ;-)

---

You can go back in the archives and see what he posted before. He comes along every couple of years and starts a thread (like this one) to entice new readers to check him out. As he says, "He is not a writer" just a hippie who (as Jimmy Buffett says) "..is an over 40 victim of fate".

Maybe people are just growing up a little and don't find his reckless behavior as exciting as he remembers it.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Jim Nasium

I WILL NOT post any more links to my site. I forgot that is not allowed here. I WILL NOT Invite yous to take a peek at the rest of my work on line in my web site: stories about (my) adventures in negril back in the day, my art and stuff and I WILL ONLY post a short story or poem here, for yous to read if yous wanna and comment on if some'a yousguys wanna from now on. I am sorry I gave you the impression I was trying to sell something... I AM NOT!!!

re:
my guess is he will be along in a bit to post a link to his website so you can buy them from him. He's a writer and this is to catch your attention so he can sell you something.

---

Harry,

He did post a link to his website where you can buy his books and artwork. He promised last year he wouldnt do it again until he became a sponsor. His link was edited from his post.

Jim,

Thank you for once again saying you will not post any more links to your site until you become a sponsor as Elise Pittman and Roberta Pryor both have done. They are both artists/writers as well. It is not fair to them to allow you to advertise for free. Your website states that you are trying to sell both your books and your artwork. The links for both are on your main page. Your books range in price from us$25 to about us$40 and your artwork for about us$30 including shipping. Since I can find this information from the links directly on your website, this does rather give anyone the impression you are trying to sell something.

As I mentioned to you last year, you or anyone else for that matter can become a sponsor on Negril.com for as low as us$150 a year plus GCT. We are a Jamaican owned and operated company, pay our Jamaican staff and pay Jamaican taxes, which seem to be going up every month... (grin)

If you or anyone would want to become a sponsor - please feel free to contact us at sales@negril.com.

Thanks again for your understanding man!

great story.
just wonder why you went to mo bay to get bike?

to Original Spanky :
in 1971 there was no other place to go. Negril was a tiny little fishing town with just a few buildings by the old bridge and roundabout, just a few homes up on Monkey Hill and not much else...


To Rob:
Yes, that's true; there are links to buy my books and my Art for sale on my web site but I wasn't offering any thing to any one here: honestly wasn't trying to sell anything and won't try to sell anything man

To all ya all:
I understand some'a yous are not into fiction and would rather not see any of my work here so with that in mind I will not post my work where it is not wanted...
jn

Well,I found it amusing as I find a lot of "stuff" on here amusing,I was just reading it for what it was with out trying to judge...

call me crazy but I liked the story although knew most was not true from the get go, it was different.

The only person who should give a $hit about this is Rob as the OP linked in his site and advertised on this site with no ad fees paid. Besides that who cares if it is fact or fiction. Either read it or do not, if it is not your thing move on. I like a good story as it seems others do as well, so Jim post away, just pay up if you want to advertise your book.

Speaking of authors, Kahuna has been quiet as of late. Another man that tells a great story......

Where you at Roland?

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Shaggy

call me crazy but I liked the story although knew most was not true from the get go, it was different.

---

Gotta agree! I find it kind of nice to have an option to read interesting stories..fact/fiction/ or a mix of the two, especially about Negril or Jamaica. I am an avid reader, so carry on.........No harm done IMHO. :)