NotThatGuy
06-14-2019, 04:09 PM
I have been cleaning out my shop and selling off some Harley parts that I know I will never use. So far it's been alright, met some decent guys, made some money in my pocket. I got an email for a set of bars and exhaust off of a Road King, guy sounded knowledgeable and knew exactly what he was looking for. He sent his number, I called him, we talked for a bit, turned out he was looking for a few other parts that I had for sale. We set a fair price and he said he would be on his way. In the meantime, I had a guy coming by to pick up an exhaust from my old Electra. The Electra guy came in (my shop is a odd place, hard to find, exactly how I like it), paid for the exhaust and stuck around shooting the shit, seeing what I was working on. Older guy, talked bikes for a bit, all is well. Another knock on the door and this black guy was standing there. I opened it, asked him if I could help him and he said "Um..yeah..my name is Mark, I talked to you a hour or so ago about the Road King parts?" I didn't know what to say, here was this black guy, early 30's maybe, dressed like a straight up fucking thug, talking perfect English. No Ebonics, no nothing. He came into the shop, I showed him the parts, all the while the old biker coot was sitting on one of the chairs, just eye-balling him. Nigger paid for the parts, left and that was it. The old guy and I sat there just kind of in awe of what just happened, it was like out of the Twilight Zone. The old timer finally looked at me, picked up his pipes and said "Let me know when this episode of Candid Camera airs, keep the rubber side down." and walked out.
My nigdar must be way off, usually I can tell fairly quickly if I am talking to a simian or not, guess I need to go back to Minneapolis for a few hours for a "nigdar recharge". Fucking weird.
My nigdar must be way off, usually I can tell fairly quickly if I am talking to a simian or not, guess I need to go back to Minneapolis for a few hours for a "nigdar recharge". Fucking weird.