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.
Originally Posted by HarryS
