This work proves Schroedinger’s Cat Theory: A cat imagined as being enclosed in a box with a radioactive source and a poison that will be released when the source (unpredictably) emits radiation, the cat being considered (per quantum mechanics) to be simultaneously both dead and alive until the box is opened and the cat observed. In this story the cat is very much alive!
As this didn’t actually happen, it didn’t actually happen about mid-August, 1973.
What I am trying to allude to is it never happened… and when it did, I wasn’t there, because if it were labeled as non-fiction a whole lot of people could be highly embarrassed (or worse!). Well, not a lot, because most of them are dead by now, or in jail, but just in case, and to keep from having what little I have left in life taken away from me by lawyers and other blood-suckers I guess I will just label it as FICTION! There, now no one can sue me for anything.
But those of you who were there, you will know. You will also know when I stray from the facts. Ya gotta have a little poetic license, right? I mean, hell, if Tom Clancy can use the Royal Family and sitting Presidents in his “fiction,” I guess I can use a bunch of degenerate bikers in mine, right?
By the way, degenerate is not a derogatory term in this book. In fact, at the time this DIDN’T happen (wink-wink, nod-nod) it was my fervent hope that I had reached the pinnacle of being a truly degenerate and sleazy biker!
So let’s set the scene for the time period.
It was the early seventies. Viet ‘Nam was just over, the love-ins were fading into memories (sigh) and bikers were at the top of their game.
It was just before the “Man” started to hassle us as criminals, and it was a time when young girls… well, let’s just say it was a good time to be a sleazy outlaw biker!
Okay, if this had happened (wink-wink, nod-nod) it would have been about fifty years ago, and if I were there, I would have been in my late twenties.
As we reach senility, sometimes things that happen get foggy, and things that didn’t happen seem to warp into some kind of fuzzy reality. So once again, this never happened, and when it did, it was a long time ago, and in my alleged drug-addled state of mind, it could have all just been a dream.
Or a nightmare.
