Chuck Norris 03 Kawasaki 636 ZX6-R?

Chuck Norris 03 Kawasaki 636 ZX6-R?

My son ran across this add on Craigslist & I really enjoyed reading it. So, I have reprinted here, unedited except for the #'s etc.  for your reading pleasure:



Chuck Norris 03 Kawasaki 636 ZX6-R - $4800 (dallas)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Date: 2010-03-15, 4:58PM CDT

Reply to: sale-y49mk-XXXXX@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------





OK, let me start off by saying this Kawasaki ZX6-R is only available for purchase by the manliest of men (or women). My friend, if it was possible for a bike to sprout chest hair and a five o'clock shadow, this Kawi would look like Tom Selleck. It is just that sexy.



It was never intended to drive to the Galleria mall so you can pick up that adorable shirt at Abercrombie & Fitch that you had your eye on. It wasn't meant to transport you to yoga class or Bath & Body Works. No, that's what your vespa is for. If that's the kind of “bike” you're looking for, then just do us all a favor and stop reading right now. I mean it. Just stop.



This sex-machine was engineered by 3rd degree ninja super-warriors in the highest mountains of Japan to serve the needs of the man that cheats death on a daily basis. They didn't even consider superfluous, nancy-boy amenities like navigation systems (real men don't get lost), heated leather seats (a realman doesn't let anything warm his butt), or On Star (real men don't even know what the hell On Star is).



No, this brute comes with the things us testosterone-fueled super action junkies need. It has a 636cc engine to outrun the cops. It's got specialblood/gore resistant upholstery. It even has a first-aid kit in the back. You know what the first aid kit has in it? A pint of whiskey, a stitch-your-own-wound kit, and a hunk of leather to bite down on when you're operating on yourself. The Kawi also has 5 gears so if you're being chased by Taliban-terrorists, you can outrun them with a gun strapped to your back and shoot them at high-speed intervals. It's saved my bacon more than once.



It has room for you and the hottie you picked up on the way to the gym to blast your pecs and hammer your glutes. I also just put in a brand new stator to replace the malfunctioning one from The Man(ufacturers) that sucked.





My price on this bad boy is an incredibly low $4,800 but I'll entertain reasonable offers. And by reasonable, I mean don't walk up and tell me





you'll give me $2,000 for it. That's liable to earn you a Burmese-roundhouse-sphincter-kick with a follow up three fingered eye-jab. Would it hurt?





Hell yeah. Let's just say you won't be the prettiest guy at the Coldplay concert anymore.



There's only 17,000 miles on this two-wheeled hellcat from Planet Kickass. It is in pristine condition, not a scratch on this monster. Trust me, it will outlive you and the offspring that will carry yourname. It will live on as a monument to your machismo.



Now, go look in the mirror and tell me what you see. If it's a rugged, no holds barred, super brute he-man macho Chuck Norris stunt double, then contact me. I might be out hang-gliding or BASE jumping or just chilling with my homes, but I'll get back to you. And when I do, we'll talk about a





price over a nice glass of Schmidt while we listen to Led Zeppelin.



To sweeten the deal a little, I'm throwing in this pair of MC Hammer pants for the man with rippling quads that can't fit into regular pants. Yeah,





you heard me. FREE MC Hammer pants.



Rock on.



shoot me a text if you fit the description of someone who can handle sex on wheels,





214 772 XXXX





ace



•Location: dallas





•it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

 

 

 

Here is the link: http://dallas.craigslist.org/dal/mcy/1645662880.html

 

I emailed ace and he never replied. I got several laughs while reading this and Twittered the link but I thought I would repost it here for your reading pleasure.

 

Ride on,

Torch

Embarrassing Moments in Riding

Embarrassing Moments in Riding

I have had many embarrassing moments as a motorcycle rider when I hoped and prayed no one was watching. I’ve only been riding for a year and a half or so now and at times I still feel like a bull in a china store on two wheels, with a blindfold on. Here for your entertainment and pleasure, in no particular order is a list of some the stupider things I’ve done. Kids, please don’t try these at home.



I have managed to walk in the house with my helmet still on, looking like an astronaut walking on the moon, a couple of times, not on purpose. Duh!



I’ve leaned over forgetting my helmet was on with the extra clearance needed, and banged it on things, so much for keeping it in pristine condition. Is klutziness inherited or communicable?



I’ve knocked my helmet off the bike onto the cement scuffing it up. Permanent marks don’t you know and I’m still looking for decals to cover them up.



Almost looking like a cheap fake bake, I have gotten sunburned on my face, ears and hands from not wearing sunscreen on a long bike ride. I now carry a bottle in my saddlebag, thank you.



I’ve been caught in the rain and my clear riding glasses smeared with road grime when I tried to wipe them off with my gloves so bad I could not see out them any more. I finished riding home looking over the top of the glasses. I learned my lesson and will no longer attempt to wipe them once it starts to rain; it’s hard to ride by sense of smell and sound.



I rode off from work half cocked once without strapping my half helmet on and had to pull over off the access road, remove my gloves and fasten it on. Boy did I feel like an idiot. Maybe I am?



I’ve driven off haphazardly several times forgetting to put my eye protection on. My windshield does not block everything from hitting my face, that’s for sure.



I found out that new leather boots are not waterproof and need to be sprayed down with something to waterproof them. Then I found out that you have to reapply the water proofer periodically ever few months or the boots will loose their waterproofness.



One time I neglected to buckle my saddlebag just closing the lid and wound up loosing a good pair of clear riding glasses on my way to a bike night. That’s just brilliant, huh?



Not long after getting the bike I almost dropped it the first or second time I pulled out of my driveway on my way to practice riding at a nearby parking lot. I ended up with a black and blue bruised up and soar leg from that one. OK, so Evil Knievel I’m not.



I completely lost one whole saddlebag while riding home once when I was exiting the freeway. I felt like a two inch tall moron in leather pulling over to walk back and get it. At least I can still use the damaged bag, go figure.



I stalled the engine once like a teenager learning how to drive a standard transmission, after coming to a stop to make a left hand turn into my neighborhood. I think I was too distracted by the cager coming up fast on my six.



One really freezing cold day I got stuck in traffic on the freeway while on the way home from work and the motor was not warmed up enough with the enrichment lever (choke) turned off and it stalled while I was in the fast lane when I came to a stop and I had to pull over to the left shoulder to restart the bike, and I call myself a commuter, geesh.



On at least two occasions I have gone to put the kickstand down and my foot lost grip and slipped leaving my leg above my ankle with a nice scrape down it. I must confess that I may not have been wearing the proper riding foot gear at the time which may have contributed to my pain. What does ATGAT stand for again?



Believe it or not, plastic melts on hot engine. I found that out one day when I left the end cover of my battery tender connector loose and it laid a little too close to the rear cylinder head. It also makes a strange burning odor when this happens.



Several times I’ve had to make the biker “Ya, I’m Cool” move putting my left foot up on the floorboard, while checking to make sure the bikes in first gear. Yes, I’m so cool I’m downright cold.



I have accidently taken off from stops in second or third gear, having forgotten to down shift when coming to the stop. That’s a real impressive look taking off lugging the poor little V-Twin down slowly gaining speed like a trolling motor pulling a forty foot yacht. What was I thinking, or, maybe not?



Every now and then I still hit neutral instead of first or second up-shifting or downshifting. Some times I hit it several times in a row for effect. Yes, that was me revving up the engine and not going any where fast.



One cold but blindingly bright day I put down the internal smoke colored visor inside of my full face helmet as I drove off from work. It immediately fogged up so I could not see, and I was in traffic. Feeling like Stevie Wonder on two wheels, I attempted to put it up but could not feel the lever with my winter riding gloves on, so I opened the face shield and popped it back up. Then when the regular shield started fogging I tried to open the shield and could not open it. When I got home I found that I had accidently locked the visor down tight like a chastity belt when I attempted to put the inner visor up. At least I had not permanently broken something.



Once, like a football player in his first ballet class, I was turning into my neighborhood and had not slowed down enough, so I swung way too wide, and headed for the right curb like a bird spotting a new clean car. Target fixation had kicked in but I managed to lean her so far enough over I scraped the left floorboard with a jolt. I still managed to slightly scrape the right curb with the other floorboard and I almost dropped her. I’m sure the people in the neighborhood watching were probably wondering what the heck I was doing. Just think of all the sparks if it would have been darker.



I hope you got some laughs on my behalf, and maybe, just maybe, picked up a tip or two so as not to replicate any of my stupid antics. Please feel free to share some of your own; it’s a lot easier now that I got rid of that other comment program.



Ride on,

Torch

To Wave or Not to Wave?

To Wave or Not to Wave?

To Wave or Not to Wave? The debate rages on. This question has been showing up on blogs, forums and magazines for a long time and has been popping up again here and there lately. This is the funniest read on waving I have personally run across and shamelessly stolen from the b.a.r.f. website. I searched for the original by the author and could not locate it. Seriously, take your time and read it through. It is well worth your time reading:

To Wave or Not to Wave

By Shalom Auslander

I love motorcycles, and I love riding. Like many of you, what first drew me to bikes was not just the experience of riding, but the feeling that I'd become part of a special community—a brotherhood, really. Nothing calms me more than a long ride down the interstate, waving to the members of my beloved clan. Except when I pass Harley guys. I hate Harley guys. Hate, hate, hate. When they pass me on the highway, you know what I do? I don't wave. With their little tassle handlebars and the studded luggage and the half-helmets—God, they drive me crazy.

You know who else I hate? BMW guys. Oh, I do hate those guys. I don't wave at them, either. They think they're so great, sitting all upright, with their 180-degree German engines. God, I hate them. They're almost as bad as those old bastards on their touring motorcycles. You know what I call those bikes? "Two-wheeled couches!" Get it? Because they're so big. They drive around like they've got all day. Appreciate the scenery somewhere else, Grampa, and while you're at it, I'm not waving to you.

Ducati guys—I don't wave at them either. Why don't they spend a little more money on their bikes? "You can have it in any color you want, as long as it's red." Aren't you cool! Like they even know what a desmo-whatever engine is, anyway. Try finding the battery, you Italian-wannabe racers! I never, ever wave at those guys.

Suzuki guys aren't much better, which is why I never wave at them, either. They always have those stupid helmets sitting on top of their stupid heads, and God forbid they should wear any safety gear. They make me so mad. Sometimes they'll speed by and look over at me and you know what I do? I don't wave. I just keep on going. Please, don't get me started on Kawasaki guys. Ninjas? What are you, twelve years old? Team Green my ass. I never wave at Kawasaki guys.

I ride a Honda, and I'll only wave at Honda guys, but even then, I'll never wave at a guy in full leathers. Never, never, never. Yeah, like you're going to get your knee down on the New York Thruway. Nice crotch, by the way. Guys in full leathers will never get a wave from me, and by the way, neither will the guys in two-piece leathers. And I'll tell you who else I'm not waving at—those guys with the helmets with the loud paintjobs. Four pounds of paint on a two pound helmet–like I'm going to wave back to that! I'll also never wave at someone with a mirrored visor. Or helmet stickers. Or racing gloves. Or hiking boots.

To me, motorcycling is a like a family, a close-knit brotherhood of people who ride Hondas, wear jeans and a leather jacket (not Vanson) with regular gloves and a solid-color helmet with a clear visor, no stickers, no racing gloves and regular boots (not Timberlands). And isn't that what really makes riding so special?

I hope you got a chuckle out of that, I sure did. Here is what I think he is saying. If we don’t wave because of every little thing about someone we don’t like; we will never wave at anyone. As for me, I will wave or acknowledge everyone on two wheels I see in time, as long as it is safe to do so.

Ride on,

Torch