My Second Failure at Gypsy Camping
Posted on 05. Dec, 2011 by admin in Gypsy Bikers
by Zeke Wedgewood
My second failure at gypsy camping was more of a blessing, really. I pulled off the highway a little late again, so now I have less than an hour of light to find a campground. After a lot of riding up and down country roads, I found the best spot ever and almost set up camp before I noticed the tree stand… and hunting camera… that is pointed directly at me… as I’m taking a piss. Now there are some lucky Texans with a picture of my dick. Merry Christmas Texas!
So now the sun is falling and I’m getting annoyed at how bad I suck at this. I try to turn around on a narrow road and, with all the grace of an angry bear cub, I put my front tire off the edge of the pavement. My bike is too heavy to roll back. A couple of frustrated, rash decisions later and my bike is laying on it’s side in the middle of the road – in the middle of the sticks, in the middle of Texas, and it’s too heavy for me to lift with all my gear on it.
As I’m yelling and grunting and about to anally prolapse trying in vain to lift Mona back up (the fat stupid ugly dumb whore bitch), a car pulls up and a young guy jumps out to help me. After putting Mona back rubber side down and catching my breath, I answer the standard questions; where am I coming from, going to, how and why? His name is Matt. He rides as well and has always wanted to go on an extended cross country trip. He has a farm nearby and I should come back and camp in the pasture.
I followed him back, a little wary to be honest. This is my first real up close and personal chance to observe the crazy, gun toting, racist, Texan in his natural habitat.
Matt’s not racist. Matt has 400 of the most beautiful acres I’ve ever seen. There are four houses on the property that Matt seems to mostly just fill with friends and or use as shops to work on his, like 20 bad ass choppers. He offers me a house for the night but I prefer to camp if it’s all the same. Some of Matt’s friends cook me dinner. I’m learning to never turn down charity. In doing so you rob someone of the chance to do good… and you miss out on delicious free food. I eat and socialize for a bit, and a bit turns into a while, and a while turns into all night after Matt’s friends show up and the free booze starts to lubricate interesting conversations on conspiracy theory and survival-ism. Joints are smoked, wheel chairs are ridden, guns, bikes, and survival gear are exhibited and ogled over, and merriment is had.
Matt takes me on a 4 wheel drive, drunken night tour of his land full of ponds, ravines, trails, and… are those dirt bike jumps!? I’ve never been on a dirt bike before. Why yes, I would love to go riding in the morning!
Eventually good times give way to good sleep.
Matt comes out as I’m packing my gear the next morning and pulls two dirt bikes out for us to ride. We tear ass all over his farm. We chase cows, catch air, fall down, get up and head in feeling like Prozac is for pussies that don’t know how to ride…. then we shoot assault rifles. Honestly, I kind of expected these things from Texas but I thought it would be scary and the guns would be pointed at me, not loaded and freely handed to me, like “hey, you wanna destroy some shit?”
With dirt bikes ridden, guns shot, friends made, and life lived, I left in high spirits that carried me through the shitty weather that lay waiting for me in the west.
God bless Texas. That is all…
Zeke Wedgewood
Join the forum discussion on this post - (1) Posts