SPYKE AND MIKE

Whoa, Nellie! If you missed it, you missed a whole lot of beautiful steel horses in one place. If you were there, you know that no words can totally convey what went down the stretch. I’m squawking about the Great American Motofest that ran at the Boss Hogg ranch.

MOTOFEST MADNESS

Mike, Cherry, and I were so busy treating the fans to one hell of a mechanical equestrian event that we totally lost track of time. Before we knew it, most of our friends were beating the dusty trail home in front of the inevitable rain that was en route. All day long at the ranch, Mother Nature was leading the pack with no precipitation in sight. There was a decent gallop from cloud cover and a fairly nice breeze blowing up from behind.

Mike interrupts, “Rein it in, Spyke. Mother Nature? No precipitation? Cloud cover? Fairly nice breeze? You sound like you’re calling the fifth race at Churchill Downs. I know we were at a ranch but there were no four-legged steeds named after weather conditions to be found. I think your birdbrain got a little fried from the lack of rain and smelling all the unburnt hydrocarbons coming from the awesome iron ponies at the event. You’re the only biker bird that would’ve wanted to see some rain. The rest of the crowd would’ve scattered.”