This week's lesson is a tribute to funerals! The first 3 letters spell Fun, and that's how I like to keep it. The only funerals that I find hard to attend: Veterans killed in war, babies, and mine- which I will not have, I'm GONNA GET BURN'T UP. I told her not to tell anyone when this happens. If I owe you any money, tools, or bike parts... tough!
Anyhoo, back to funerals I've enjoyed! Most bikers have seen The Wild Angels. THAT funeral scene was phukin great! Most will agree Peter Fonda makes great movies, it’s his acting in them that sucks! A biker I knew was called “Crazy” John. He was killed by a truck. Anyhoo, his wake and funeral were a pretty tame affair, having been run by a priest and mortician. That is until his casket was brought to the cemetery, which is when the bikers took over.
Crazy's coffin was opened and items he liked were placed around his “Carcass”. Bottles of whiskey, beer, panties, a few motorcycle parts...anyhoo, I was helpin' to shut the lid, I managed to slip a bottle of tequila from the coffin into my sleeve before we screwed the lid down! I knew Crazy would want me to have and drink that Cuervo Gold!
As the ceremony was winding down, this biker chick (she would become my old lady) started screamin' and wailin' over Crazy's casket. I thought Far Fuckin' Out! I would later give her a $20.00 bill. When she asked me
“What's this for?”, I said I want you to be at my funeral (have since changed plans). Most biker funerals, and a few veterans ones, are party hearty affairs!
Another of my favorites was a clubber and wife who were killed by a drunk. After his funeral and at his “goin away partay”, his girlfriend showed up in her conversion van and proceeded to have sex with his best friends, which I later heard was all the men- and a few women- that were there!!! FFO!
A veteran friend of mine, a Special Forces E-6 had the family jewels blown off in Vietnam. We were roommates at the VA hospital. He wore a colostomy bag and a few more. We often talked about if he thought of “doin' himself”. Everyday, he said. Anyway, ten years later he offed himself. His twin brother invited me to his memorial which was held on the farm he owned in Wisconsin. A lot of Veterans, bikers, a few Green Bay Packers-who he loved- came by. His casket sat on saw horses next to his Hemi Road Runner in the two-car garage. On easels, there were a bunch of pictures of him from better days. With an endless supply of beer and booze, his memorial lasted a week. I had pitched my tent under a tree. There were port-a-potties, and the old milk house had sinks and showers. On the last day, an Honor Guard of Green Berets showed up in Class A's and AR-15s and fired a 21 gun salute and planted his casket across the road in the family cemetery!
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