the moped army...

a few weeks ago i received an unsolicited message from a black-eyed guy named "joel." he told me that he had seen my myspace and that he was someone i was going to want to know, being that i'm down with mopeds and all. he told me that he was the president of the local grand rapids chapter of the moped army. the moped army, unbeknownst to me, is a national organization that recognizes and encourages one wacky and inexplicible love of the moped. so far my moped romance had merely been folly, but joel tells me that it's justified and there's a group of people right here in grand rapids that would love to meet me, hang out with me and talk about our mutual love of mopeds. he told me they meet every monday night at a bar on the north side of downtown, have a drink and chit-chat and then go for a ride around the city and that THEY would welcome my attendance. at this, i looked beyond the wolves that had raised me and realized that this may indeed be my real family.

so last monday i joined up with the moped army to see what this hoopla was all about. i showed up, recognized joel and his healing black-eye immediately and took a seat by the blonde-curly headed girl eating a happy meal. i was greeted by several of the members, ranging in age and occupation from a hip young factory worker comic book lover to a fashion designer with a perfect nose, as i suggested to her, who was a recent import from kalamazoo. the first question one asks you, in my post-collegiate years of experience, typically is where to do you work. i was expecting this, but actually had a chance to tell no one of my current career pursuit, because the only thing they were concerned about was what kind of bike i rode. though i knew it was a 1980 batavus...that was pretty much where my knowledge subsided. i realized immediately that in this setting of oberon, leather jackets, and war stories of repair jobs on the highway, it was ME that was the geek because i currently had no moped (damn you opie and your inefficiency) to ride, let alone awesome stories of heoric rides through the hills of kentucky. i decided to take the role of furtive observer, something i'm not accustomed to doing, sit back and take it all in.

when they got on their bikes i stood there watching them like a 10-year-old at a cheetah girls concert, watching, waiting and knowing that something magical could happen at any moment. they wished me well, invited me to come back again when my bike was ready, and hopped on an ecclectic variety of old-school mopeds and rode off like a pack of tough-guys into the west michigan sunset.

more to come...