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by James (Jimi Dean) Bagwell

I was recently in Denton Texas visiting my brother and his wife. Living this nomadic, gypsy lifestyle still requires me to work on occasion. The bills are not near as much as a stationary home yet they are still there.   I was down to my last few dollars so I went to the labor for hire place to see what I could do. They let me know that I would have to come in on a Wednesday or Thursday to fill out an application and then wait from 5 am till when ever to possibly get some work. This didn’t sound like a very good option to me.

I had a decision to make; stay and try to find some other work or move on and find some work at a rally somewhere. I had enough money to make it to Galveston, Texas for the last big motorcycle rally of the season, I could go to Austin Texas to meet up with Scooter Tramp Scotty, who told me he would teach me the art of washing windows, or I could go to The Halloween Biker Bash at Bikers Park in Magnolia Texas, in hope there would be a vender or two I could work for.

Another choice would be to buy some paint, number stencils and some tape to possibly paint addresses on people’s curbs for a few bucks. I had done this in California in the past and it was really lucrative. My only hesitation was the simple fact that it would take most of my money for the materials. Being in a state that I didn’t know enough about the laws on curb painting, it was a risk I was not willing to make at this time. That being the case I headed out to the Halloween Biker Bash.

I set off for Galveston a couple days early to set up camp and hopefully help the vendors set up. On my way I was stopped because I pulled off the road to allow a car to pass me by. I was riding slowly, it was late and I was looking for the right street to turn down. Besides, I didn’t want to be run over. The car I pulled over to allow to pass just so happened to be a sheriff and so he turned on his lights and asked if I had been drinking. I let him know I don’t drink and ride and told him I was just tired. He asked for my information. We went through the song and dance that so many of us have done. Where ya comin from, where ya headin, where do you live, why are you here, have you ever been arrested, blab la bla. After he saw I was not a threat, and ran my license, I was free to carry on. About a quarter mile down the road I found my turnout and pulled around to Bikers Park (a free biker campground sponsored by Bikers For Bikers).

That night while I was laying in my tent texting some people to let them know I was ok, I heard a loud thud just outside my tent. I unzipped the door to see what it was. Flashlight in hand I scanned the area to find a lump of something in the leaves. As I investigated closer, I saw what appeared to be a gopher snake wrapped around a black bird of some sort placed so perfectly about three feet away from my tent. Wow… now that is cool. I grabbed my phone and snapped a couple pictures.

After a little while a black cat came up and started to mess with the snake. I sat and watched as the cat scared the snake away from the bird. Huh, I guessed the cat wanted the bird. But apparently not as the cat chased the snake away and left the bird dead and lying there.

I couldn’t help but wonder if this was an omen. As I laid in my tent thinking of the symbolism of the bird, the snake and the cat, I felt I was where I was supposed to be. All the stress about needing money to continue to travel and not sure if there was going to be work at this rally dissipated and I was again ok and able to relax and enjoy this miraculous feat that just unfolded in front of me.

The next Morning I went to talk to Cap (the man in charge and the only guy there) about the rally that was supposed to start on Thursday. I found out that he is the founder of Bikers For Bikers, A non-profit organization that helps bikers that have been into bad accidents and need help. I talked with him for a few minutes about what they do for downed bikers and was really grateful to be in his presence. I asked him about some work around the campgrounds, it looked as if the camp grounds could use some help. He explained they couldn’t pay me, being they are a non profit. I asked if there would be venders that may need some help. From Cap’s response it seemed as if there was no money to be made at this rally, so I offered my help as a biker to get some things cleaned up. He refused so I let him know where I was camped and if he needed anything to let me know.

As I set out for my tent, the skies opened up and it started to rain. With my bike being under the tarp with my tent, I laid on it smoking my pipe watching the rainfall and thinking about what I should do next. The stress started to come back. I was down to my last 20 bucks and really wanted a pack of smokes as the pipe wasn’t cutting it. I could make it to Galveston and just wait for a week for the Lonestar Rally to start, or I could make it to Austin and learn to wash windows. Then a thought crossed my mind. I wonder if some of the vendors I’ve worked for in the past would be in Galveston?

I made a couple of calls to try to set up some work. The first to my mom for Frenchy’s number, a vender that I worked for in Sturgis selling sunglasses and boots. I think I made a pretty good impression on her and if she was to be there I’m sure I could get some work. I made another call to Scotty for Peter’s number, another vendor I helped set up and break down in Sturgis. After getting the numbers I made my calls to them and found work. Peter needed help setting up and selling his merchandise. His wife was sick and recovering, so I made the commitment to help. This put my mind at ease, so all I had to do was get Galveston and I would be able to make enough money to get me to Florida for the winter.

As the sun began to go down I decided I would join Scotty in Austin. I could wash a few windows and make enough to buy some smokes and make it to the Lonestar Rally, I was sure. If not I’m pretty sure Scotty would loan me a few bucks to get there. Besides I really haven’t hung out with The Scooter Tramp too much and would like to get to see how he travels a bit.

The next morning the rains had stopped so I was good to go. Packed up my bike and away I went.  The rest, as they say, is history.

James “Jimi Dean” Bagwell

http://www.facebook.com/Jimi.dean.images

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