I’m not a fan of diversity. Or vibrant youths. Or aspiring rape stars or whatever the hell we are supposed to call them these days. Mostly its all trouble and the resources invested has not been worth the return. Any rate, I ran full into some vibrant, urban youths a few days back. I haven’t said much because I wanted to make sure the anger had passed and I could relay the story correctly. Here it goes
On our way back from breakfast at Duncan Donuts to her hospital, when, from our right, a white sedan crossed the yellow line into our lane. I swerve, and look over to see whats up. What’s up is a car load of black dudes laughing their ass off. 4 young adults; 2 kids who cannot be older then 9. They get back in their lane and I bleed off some speed, down shifting to keep the rpms high, looking for a good escape route. They start screaming stuff about crackers and what not and pull into my lane again, pantomiming running us over with their car. I bleed off more speed, downshifting again, no longer looking for an escape route. I am telling G1 to get off the bike and lie behind it when I stop. I’m not doing much more then walking speed at this point. They do it again, I grab the brake with my right hand, mash down on the rear brake with my right foot, violently stopping the bike. While they are getting out of their car, I am yelling at my girl to get off the bike. She complies, I drop the bike and pull my gun
This is when shit gets intense. I am yelling at Girl#1 (G1) to lay down behind the bike, yelling at the urban diversity to shut the fuck up, get the fuck out of here etc or I’ll kill them. G1, she is yelling at me about Lord only knows what, the vibrants are yelling at me, all kinds of shit and about me pointing a gun at them when they have kids in the car…..racial slurs are flying. Inwardly I am calm. Dead calm. I am taking in intell, processing data, managing my actions and words to keep them in check. What G1 and the urban diversity see is a muscular man, dressed in leathers, nearing a killing rage, ready to go off at any provocation. Any sign of weakness on my part and they will move forward and I will kill them. 20 bullets, 6 of them, three per target with two left over. I don’t miss at this range. Ever. Even without that little read dot from my CrimsonTrace on that fuckers forehead. The closets one is within two steps of me. One step forward and he dies. If he puts his hands in his pocket or reaches behind his back, he dies. He is as close to death as he will likely ever get without dying, but seems completely unaware. They are yelling what ever they are yelling. I am telling them things like shut the fuck up and the kids die 1st. The full size XDM in my hands has put them in check put they are not disengaging. Why aren’t they? To dumb to realize how near death they are? To use to fucking with pussy ass White people who never fight back? High? High on all the bullshit victim mentality they feed themselves? Who fucking cares.
This goes on for however long it goes on. Traffic is piling up. Folks coming from the opposite direction are slowing down their cars to look at whats going on ( dumb asses). Folks are dialing 911. Some firemen in a ladder truck see the whole thing go down and called 911 when the urban diversity made their second move. Apparently cops hang out at hospitals, and this has been an on going issues. Vibrant youths trying to scare motorcyclists of the paler skin variety that is. Three cops worked it out to arrive at more or less the same. Smart move on their part. I did not hear their cars pull up. Not relevant really, but I wonder why they didn’t use their sirens
The cops have their guns on me. Not an issue. I am the guy with a gun and the biggest threat to their safety. They order me to drop the gun. I tell them I will not comply until they get at least one gun trained on the fuckers threatening my life. Took them a few moments to figure out what the hell I was saying, why I was saying it, and complying with my request. One cop moves up and to my right. I say thanks, drop my gun on my bike and put my hands behind my head. one cop moves up, cuffs my hands behind my back and helps me walk backwards. I tell him I have a knife in my front left pants pocket and a set of brass knuckles in the right side pocket of my cut.
More cops show up. I start talking to a sergeant.The ranking officer on the scene. Well he starts asking me questions. I ask for a minute, to let the adrenaline subside. We chit chat about the NFL, my bike and my tatts for a few minutes. I tell him I am good, but would like the cuffs off me because of massive amounts of shoulder pain. He moves me behind a cop car, takes off the cuffs and I give him my story, answer his questions. He hangs out with me, makes some comments about what I did, random stuff while we wait for a detective. He tells me my story more or less matches what the fireman and G1 said. And he tells me this sort of thing has been a minor problem this summer. Locally and nationally. I go through the whole thing with the detective again. The firemen bring me and G1 some juice boxes. This drags on for ever, but is probably way less then an hour.
To my surprise I get my gun, knife and brass knuckles back. Huge surprise. I was due to leave the country soon after this. I ask the sergeant about that, and he shrugs. I get the file number from him, and permission to pick up my bike. This is when he asks me about my concealed carry permit. Which I have on me, but I was doing open carry when this went down. I was a little surprised the cops didn’t hall off the vibrants until after CPS showed up and took over the kids. Not really an issue, just struck me as odd. The cops, they were laughing and joking with me inside 20 mins of showing up. They told me the other guys said I tried to run them off the road, started it by screaming “nigger” at them while I flashed my gun. Huge lie on both parts but shows a complete lack of understanding about motorcycles. I carry my gun on my right hip, I cannot reach my right hip with my left hand, and on a bike, you need your right hand like you need your right foot in a car. So if I had my gun out in my right hand, there is no way I could have been riding along side them waving my gun. One told a Black cop they were just messing, and I over reacted. Thank God for stupid enemies.
So far, its to soon to say what, if any, the fall out will be. My lawyer laid out the worst case and best case, and told me the best case is WAY more likely. I’m at ease on that end. I cannot express how surprised I was with getting my gun back and how at ease and comfortable the cops were around me. Real buddy buddy like after 20 mins or so. Which I am glad for, don’t get me wrong.
Girl 1 is a different story. She has heard the stories from eye witness, seen me compete and what not but is still off her center after seeing me. I doubt its a deal breaker, but I can tell she is struggling with with the duality of me being the world”s happiest hillbilly and what she saw that morning.
Such is life, but I am alive to ride, fuck, and fight another day.