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Kevin - 03 - Macumba night fever.

A week had passed. Kevin had been harnessed to take time off to devote full time to the study of discrete patterns of Lynn. What she read, what she ate, she did not like. It was not about to commit a blunder like, swallow a steak before a bloody good vegetarian Lynn.
the first appointment, it would be catastrophic. Then
Saturday came. He had scaffolded his plan: He would address in the box where he had met for the first time: The Macumba Night Fever.
He remembered with emotion, the first time he had spoken. One evening at Macumba Night Fever, the box plugged into fashion. After swallowing one after two double Jack Black to give the assurance he had found the courage to join her in the back of the room for a first contact.
She was sitting alone on a stool, mermaid on a rock dressed as a goddess of glittering top of a faded jeans and torn in places strategic. He had noticed she had the good taste to match the pink shoes needles her bag and lipstick while the mascara was remarkably coordinated purple socks that contouring of his ankle. He had approached him and asked if she would dance. His blue eyes had scanned a disdainful curiosity from head to foot as if she hesitated on the species of mammals in which it wanted to classify it, then surely having resolved to place it in some unknown subspecies of the human race She replied in a melodious voice of fishmonger market touting the freshness of its merchandise.
- I can not. I keep the bag to my girlfriend what ouatères! What memories ...

The first time is always important to say Kevin looks vague. She did not say "no" definitive. All hope was not lost. It was therefore decided to try his luck next time. And next time this would take place tonight. He had his shot well prepared and knew almost everything there was to know about it.
Lynn read a lot. "Gala" and "Here" in particular. Sometimes she bought "Oh! . Kevin had noticed it very interested in the princely family of Monaco. Maybe this was the sign of a trend royalist.
It was not vegetarian. Kevin was blocked with vegetarian since he took two months to conquer a girl, vegetarian mad that Kevin had dropped the first invitation to a restaurant because he had the unpleasant experience of sitting in front a cow ruminating his soybeans while she set out all sorts of unsavory things on the traceability of the steak he had been foolish enough to order.
Lynn, contrary, displayed a universality in the impressive nature of its nutrition. She did not seem to be addicted to diet either. She had also not needed. It also he liked it, because he was not thrilled with the idea of passing a light meal in his conquest graze the green, looking to eat a steak with an air at once envious and disapproving meaning:
" bastard, I'm taking nothing kilos's looking at you and eat you, not one gram. "
He had been pleased to throw himself on a double cheese with the rage of a rabid rottweiller. He had attended the brief agony of a double merguez pizza pepper mouthful of oil under the unforgiving teeth of the young woman. He also knew that she was paying attention to his health. She drank only Diet Coke. Do not add fat and carbohydrate was it not the basic rule of healthy eating?
Twice a day, she found her friends, always the same, three in number. They shared the same taste in clothing and reading the articles which they commented on knowledge. The same food tastes as well. They chattered like magpies, bursting into a loud laugh and acute rejection is gracefully back on the records of their chairs. They say hello in clapping sound Smacks, rolling his eyes like a child before a pile of gifts to the tree on Christmas morning with the enthusiasm of the cocker on the verge of urinary leakage which hosts his master to return from work. What a cheerful nature, what joy. That would bring a little sunshine in his single life.
Kevin had noticed that her three friends all had a boyfriend. And he had, that was the most important, that Lynn was indeed single. He would have resented the fact that a fop arrived unexpectedly while riding a motorcycle and she hugged him in an equivocal manner leaving no doubt as to the nature of their relationship.
It could, therefore, without ulterior motives, proceed to the next phase.
Kevin was thinking about all this as a final rehearsal. He put the package tonight. In every sense of the word elsewhere. Black jeans in which he had slipped a mini packet of tissues scented with mint. Thus he secured on two types of reaction from its target. Or slight bump titillating Lynn and all was well, or she was offended by this unseemly protrusion and it was enough to get out of a handkerchief Clear air and gently wipe his forehead to give the exchange and allay the possible wrath of his target. Above the black jeans, a T-shirt spotless too small in size. Just enough to emphasize the muscles of his torso. It was inevitable that the torture sessions he was required three times a week to raise the melting in a fitness club are justified.
He gave a final inspection before the mirror and, satisfied with what he saw, slipped on his black jacket and went out.
Luckily, Macumba Night Fever was not very far from home. It could therefore be reached on foot. He walks through the doors of the box at 11:00 p.m.. He stood a moment at the top of the stairs before descending on the dance floor and scanned the room hoping to see Lynn. It did not take long to find. Sitting at the bar just below a blue spot where the beam is scattered by the thick curly hair of the young woman. A glittering ball swinging in the ceiling illuminated the rhinestones of her strapless notched at regular intervals as security lighting motorway in fog. Kevin
having noticed that she had rather curtly rebuffed a fool who had approached a cavalier fashion, opted for a strategy polished but not insistent. He sat on the stool next to him and simply said good night. She looked up from his coca (presumably light) she drank through a straw with the serenity of a baby bottle.
Obviously a bad mood, she was preparing to send a walk, but Kevin was not looking at it and spoke to him more, she did not.
Kevin fixed the mirror behind the bar and ordered a double Jack Black at the waitress. Especially do not seem pushy. Immersed in the reflection of the mirror, he could hardly take his eyes off the bra lace red fire coming out Lynn's slightly bustier. Mesmerized by the moving spectacle of two rotundities promises velvet, Kevin could not utter a word. Then the first miracle happened. Lynn spoke to him first.
- It has not already seen?
Kevin would say yes, he had already invited her to dance here three weeks ago when she added:
- Oh yes I do not remember. You're the type that spread in front of the bike institute where I work.
Kevin felt his heart break. A cold sweat and sticky it flowed down the back. Fortunately it was seated. He clung to the bar and, under the excitement, emptied a double feature Black Jack that the waitress had just placed before him. How she knew? How could she have recognized him when he was not, he was on, removed his helmet in his presence. Front of his stupor, she explained:
- Yeah, you were at the terrace cafe just before the accident. I was supposed to go to work when you arrive. It's a shame, I had found this beautiful bike.
Kevin did not know what to say or what to do to keep himself in countenance. A small fenced convict on a pair of oars in his head. Everything time to be as perfect as possible and, wham! The ship is sinking! Women and children first. In the PA, Celine screamed "My Heart Will Go On."
It became unmanageable. He was about to retreat with dignity when the second miracle occurred.
- You came with?
In the fourth dimension for several minutes, Kevin wondered for a second: "I came up with that? . But Lynn completed his sentence.
- Oh, no, I'm stupid! You would not come in a acorn moccasins if you were on a motorcycle.
"shoes with a big penis inside, I'm sure that's what she meant. "
Then in a voice that was meant assured, he said.
- No, I recovered Monday. I took the opportunity for him to make some changes to make it more efficient. I came here as a neighbor. I live next door.
Lynn nodded.
- It's been long as you're riding?
- Some yes.
Kevin began to think that it promised much after all.
"In no time, she'll tell me she would like me to take a ride."
- I wanted to pass me the license, but I m'emmêlais in pads of course slow. She said giggling. So I gave up. But I love the bike. I find it sensual to have a big machine that vibrates between my legs. If there was a
érectomètre, Kevin would have done fart records. The final blow came in the second that followed.
- You'll find me bloated, but you do not take me one day a walk?
The Titanic had just resurfaced. Kevin in the head, the word "Jackpot" had inscribed in neon letters and began to flash. They talked together until you close the box. Without even thinking about dance. Lynn completely ignored her friends who did not take long to realize that she had a fish and rail, from discretion, they were overshadowed letting things take their course. Anyway they can while the next day.
At dawn, Kevin knew all about her. Or almost. He had become convinced that the diet coke she drank from Saturday night was the straw was loaded at Johnnie Walker, and heavily, he was referring to the rolling gait that she showed when he escorted to his car. She knocked twice the keys to the door on the ground before Kevin decides to do tell him to give up her home.
- I live near, come sleep with me. You go your car in a few hours.
- I'm not drunk, I'm just clumsy is all. Stated in a voice you it soapy.
- Sure but you know the law is severe and the cops are not gifts.
She sighed.
- Okay, I'm willing to sleep with you. But pals. I'm not a slut who lets himself go on the first night.
Kevin nodded. He would sleep on the couch if it could reassure her when her virtue. He led home by supporting it with difficulty because he was in an intoxicated less pronounced, it was not fasting either. Once there, Lynn sank into the sofa and said:
- It's cute here. Tell it where ouatères?
She disappeared behind the door told him that Kevin and emerged for a jump in the bathroom. He heard the shower running, then after a few minutes, he saw Lynn emerge, naked, her large towel "Remembrance of Guadeloupe" around the body.
- I've caught a towel that you Gene?
Kevin said no course, no problems. The towel seemed hardly contain large breasts Lynn. She kept it from the arm which had the effect of the support and back up a bit. Pretty sight.
- I'm going to bed she said, but I'm a little ashamed to make you sleep on the couch.
Kevin was about to protest. It was normal, she does not feel embarrassed after all, they only knew each other for several hours. He was a gentleman. She added:
- I am willing you to come sleep with me. If you promise to be good and do not enjoy.
She disappeared into the bedroom. Kevin went to the shower in hopes of eliminating the confusion caused al'alcool, or was it the excitement of the physique of Lynn. It did not know. A bit of both probably. But in all cases, only one remedy: A cold shower. After several washings, a squirt of breath freshener and a little bit of deodorant, he donned his robe and drew fake black satin bra by abandoned by his girlfriend in the bathroom, grabbed it and looked at the size : 95 D! Mamma mia! Just right. When he entered the room. Lynn had fallen asleep on his stomach across the bed still wrapped in the towel without opening the duvet and snoring like a chainsaw. Kevin emigrated
on his couch and slept like a log. Her sleep was heavy and hectic as bizarre erotic dreams where Lynn, towel Guadeloupe, a red bra 95D model and whiskey Coca held the lead roles.

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Kevin - 02 - First flight.

Kevin left the parking lot of the dealership on the edge of the wheels, a bit bewildered by the position of driving flipped on the front. Unaccustomed to the ergonomics of the rev counter, he spent his first few miles to look at the engine speed. For the rest, cars and pedestrians, which he called his radar cons had done the rest.
After a stop at the first station encountered along the way, he headed to his favorite bar, specifically the "Bistroquet" favorite bar in Lynn, hoping to see.
From the station where it was refueled at the terrace of "Bistroquet" he had traveled in the fourth dimension. He remembered only the tachometer and the 4000 rpm not to exceed and not the path he had borrowed. Kevin parked his Kawasaki on the sidewalk and proceeded to the terrace to admire.
Lynn was not there. It was 15 hours, Kevin imagined she was at work. He did not know what it was like Job. He should learn to be able to adopt a route and timetable to bring a chance encounter. Kevin was forced out Lynn's legs, buttocks Lynn's breasts ...
Yes, good! He blotted out, without much success, everything Lynn and scaffolding of his head, looking at his green bomb, what to edit to customize.
No way for him to ride on the bike, "Mr. Everybody." His mount had to be an extension of his body and a representation of his mental winner.
By setting his bike and letting his mind wander, Kevin already saw as a layer superimposed on photoshop. On the bike brand new accessories for the completion of his dream were added to form his creature. Within a very short time it would be dressed in a green bubble, the muffler (although the seller told him it was specified in titanium and very light) far too quiet and that the roundness disproportionately shocked his sense of harmony of volumes per model oval of her favorite brand: Leo Vince.
course, there would be a wheel and tire licks if this green kawa flashy. Tips of green anodized handlebars and he would paint the front rim in green but leave the back in black, it's less messy. Finally, the icing on the cake, he would mount a neon fluorescent green under the ramp to illuminate the engine injectors. Finally he could make his sensational arrival in the life of Lynn. The woman of taste would notice it was for sure.
It was not his day. Lynn did not seem to come and his gang would not join the bar for 20 hours.
Kevin got up from the deck and dropped some coins on the table in settlement of its consumption. Then he went a step tinged with a male to insurance ZX10R stepped over and rammed into traffic.
He did not want to work today. He would be satisfied with a quick stop at the office, give some instructions to vendors and would go for a walk to start running in good conditions and, especially, to pass the time pleasantly until nightfall.
Kevin went to a small winding road he knew well, and, thanks to a red light, turned his gaze and looked at her reflection in a shop window. The picture was flattering. He, Kevin Ouèch-Magueul, sitting on a crazy device for which it had cracked and pulls play and common sense. What was it reasonable for a 180 hp engine and 180 kg? Nothing!
Yesterday he stood before this same window, the flat handlebars of a motorcycle utility 500 cm3 here today, he referred the mirror image of Kevin switched on half handlebars of a rocket cut out for the fight to death on a trail just settled down for the road. One hundred eighty horses that had nothing placid Percheron loans rush of all their strength to the lower right hand rotation. Seated
until the light turns green, Kevin detailing his beautiful. That the effectiveness of the service performance. Cut to the sickle, recessed wherever this does not affect the stiffness, green an'en more power, it seemed already to go fast to stop. The small road
he knows now scrolls under its wheels. The engine temperature rises obediently and smells of plastic and sealing compound that heat for the first time come to his nostrils the smell of new.
The first new motorcycle he offered. Kevin enjoys the smooth control, lack of play in the lever and brake pedal. It is almost as baffled his organization had made to the specifics of his old Honda. They would have to both learn about each other.
The throttle is direct. The engine response surprised him almost. The "10" asks only force the pace when she was only a few miles on the odometer. The needle of the rev counter goes up as if there was no inertia in the movement of engine parts.
Not more than 4000 rpm the first 200 miles and then no more than 6000 for the following two hundred. The wait will be long.
He might say he rode one mile, and one of the most powerful, but he was small, bright, easy. Easier, almost, that the Cb 500. She did almost the same weight, but weight distribution was not the same. Large curves were swallowed without thinking. Just one look at the point rope and, without effort, the machine bowed as if she was gifted with a life of its own. She was not seeking any grip to tilt. Kevin was not fooled and told him something that day he would send the needle on the tachometer collapses faster than the other side of the dial, the song would not be the same. All in all, it was not worse there have a break. It's possible to get acquainted. A sort of salutation between the frame and rider. After all, you do not package a pretty girl without having been presented if it was the slap assured. It was the same with bikes. Him get into it point blank should end with a masterful slap in a ditch or another vehicle.
At 130 km / h, the "10" down the road smoothly, effortlessly, like a runner who has yet to lengthen their stride. Kevin has the spirit was careful that everything should be run. The brakes still accusing some teeth, clutch, tires. The seller had the article of the anti hopping clutch.
You see, impossible to block the rear even downshifting as a marmoset.
the next bend, Kevin went to third and sixth in the clutch abruptly released. The rear wheel hesitated half a second, then the clutch collects the energy and dissipated gradually. The engine caught her breath without the slightest tremor and the bike had no jerkiness.
He was in love, and Kevin felt that the romance would last a while.
Time had passed without noticing. Kevin took the road back towards the city center, delighted by this first trial run.
At first light, he found himself behind a car in which sat a small boy of ten years. It looked like this green monster roaring behind the car of his father. Kevin gave him a little wave of the hand and the child smiled visibly intimidated by osmosis superb rider and his machine and sat down properly on the bench at the behest of his father. Amused
Kevin followed a moment the car and the child often turned to watch the motorcycle from the corner of the eye. The child's father, who brushed the right side of the road for a while to let him pass, lifted his foot, muttering cons "This big cunt biker myself without a meter stick has to decide to double by his snoring engine as a moron, rogntdjuuuu! "Bad
reflex! Kevin who followed the car at least a meter does not strike on the two red lights that lit up the back of the car. In less than a second, the front tire of the motorcycle struck the bumper of the car and Kevin had an excellent excuse to change some parts that would give substance to the customization of his mind he imagined the winner a few moments earlier.
It was the end plugs right that dropped first, followed in the next tenth of a second fairing and exhaust.
In any mechanical solidarity, the two footrests rights retreated more than expected and broke. In a reflex unnecessary at the time of the initial shock, Kevin tightened on the brakes but only succeeded in turning the throttle which made up the switch scheme. Hand stuck under the body and the handful of front brakes, it could not immediately release the pressure. The engine continued his long lament for a good minute while a bystander the charity come unstuck.
The man, who had come out from behind the wheel could think of nothing better than to overwhelm his victim.
- It is 500 meters that I shave the parked cars to let you pass. Do not you have enough of me to put the full green retro? But what I damn such a slouch! And stopping distances? You know? It's well worth it to buy such gear. You're lucky the car did nothing. Here, do not bother to make a statement. Well you're hurt? Kevin
still in shock, said no, everything was fine. The man climbed over without a glance in his car and set in motion the first. Kevin does not know what made him the worst of his wounded pride or noise as the nose of the fairing did when he was snatched by the tow bar of the car restarted.
Alerted by the noise, the driver stopped and, disdainfully, unhooked the foot piece of plastic that clung to inform his car windscreen as a turd on its sole. Kevin blessed the iridium visor. Nobody saw the tears of shame and rage streaming down his face and were sucked by the charitably padding of his helmet. Thanks
bubble iridium, he could see without being seen, that Lynn had witnessed the whole scene has the beauty salon where she worked.
- Directly opposite the site of the crash! It is not my day. He says. Kevin
could say that every silver lining, but the positivity of the thing (knowing where her husband worked) does not appeared to him at first. The second either. Kevin
somehow straightened his bike lying in the middle of a pool of petrol with the help of some charitable souls and leaned against a wall, then he worked on picking up the scattered debris that littered the road.
He looked back to the beauty parlor and saw that she was still looking at him, chewing his gum chewing mouth wide open.
How to call the dealer does without her seeing his face?
Kevin did not run the risk that the subsequent recognition like the moron who was embossed to his job. As input in one does better and more "style" that stupid crash.
providence came to his rescue, however. Lynn was admonished by his boss and returned to file the toenails of some old client cacochyme anonymous and at the bottom of the dispensary.
Kevin withdrew his helmet and dialed the number of dealer with a trembling hand on her laptop. After explaining his troubles and place of loss, he had the unpleasant sensation of hearing a loud laugh a fraction of a second before cutting off communication. Half an hour
later, the bike was strapped to the platform of the truck repair and joined his owner who had returned to the store by bus, his helmet in hand, my cousin!
A quick inspection had helped to quantify the damage. Kevin asked for the changes and replacement of damaged parts with those of his choice. If he had known when he was still on the terrace that he would change his bike an hour later. It would not have believed it. The availability of parts depending on the importer, Kevin was left with the prospect of being on foot for a week.
In the window of opportunity, a Honda CB 500 seemed to look the amused eye of the company violated the honor of attending a sadistic satisfaction tinged with disappointment from her ex and his mistress younger and Gironde.
He would turn and head back the way home when he saw a young woman approaching her old brown Honda and spend an affectionate hand on his tank. He shrugged and turned away more than a glance.

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Kevin - 01 - Genesis.

Kevin Ouèche-Magueul is tough. A hard up in the morning. Kevin wears a revival week. Often, at the dawn of Saturday, exasperated by the strident tone of the craft, his arm describes a curve upward and then let fall the fist that is at the end in an act of brutality and saving jubilant. Little alarm clocks that resist treatment, especially as Kevin, particularly cozy, do not choose that, depending on their vulnerability to shocks.
Yet this morning, no genocide watch. No hazardous foot outside the bed, no glassy stare in the mirror over the bathroom, no breath that smells like feet. Just a small pat of the crotch to the limit of scratching testicles.
Today is a day like no other. This morning, Kevin will take possession of his new mount. This day point between St. buildings G. Ladalle-Enpante, where he has his bachelor, gets up on a dream of two years.
Two years of savings to meet the minimum contribution of his future bike. Two weeks age of sixty hours in the pharmacy video rental which it is responsible stewardship. Two years grimaces commercial customers who are never happy and are a scandal if they have booked the DVD has been reduced by the previous client in due time. Two years to fight against these same customers who forget to bring their film time and time and which are abnormal that they be charged the excess duration. What
shitty life. But today, it no longer exists. Today, all these absurdities are justified. Now exit the Honda CB 500 which was carried for commuting for two long years or brain turbine as fast as the rev counter of his craft. Two years
Homeric rides where he saw himself in thought, according to magazine tests, riding a Hayabusa, a GSXR, R1 a shiny all over each other.
And, above all, two very long years to undergo the age-old question of buddies:
"So when you buy the tone monster? ".
They were comfortable friends.
Michel on his Hayabusa black who rides on the highways. Some slanderous whispers behind his back he was lost when he left a four voices.
Philippe grasshopper on his orange. A KTM 990 Adventure "special Dakar" with GPS and trip master. Kevin smiled, thinking that this machine had never set rally nipples tires other than on the asphalt.
Anyway, Kevin thought, fear of falling down take it as soon as it moves from a radius of over a hundred kilometers. What adventurer!
And Ludovic and his Yamaha Vmax. Never left the city. World champion of the street (even side) Run a red light. Pampers his motorcycle until Yamaha Vmax sort of 21st century.
these sad lords had speculated that the monster of Loch Ness was related to the new frame Kevin. Everybody was talking, making assumptions about its shape, color and brand, but nobody had seen.
Someone would see there a day?
Traitor, Ludovic had added that even Kevin, except maybe some Saturday nights in the bottom of his glass of Jack Black, did not know what she looked like. No matter
arrived with a motorcycle already gone out of fashion when your friends rolling on the cream of world motorcycling. He could have a more aggressive bike earlier, he was an excellent opportunity aged two years would have corresponded to its budget, but he wanted to strike a major blow. Kevin made it a point of honor, it would be a new bike, better, a sportswoman of the year, possibly the first to be delivered in the region. History
shut them up.
But which one to choose? For months, Kevin was tortured mind. Reread all the tests, weighed the pros and cons, tried to be rational. But can we be rational when we talk about passion? Of course not. Then one day, the click took place in the form of a phone call from Michael.
- They have received the new Kawasaki! You would see! She is great!! Michel said without even a hello. Come see it and drink a beer!
Kevin jumped on his 500 and headed for the concession. Arriving in the parking lot, Kevin stand next to the Honda Michel, who was waiting for sitting on his Hayabusa black before the workshop. A handshake later, they entered the showroom and ..... Kevin felt his jaw fall off. It was the first time he had the opportunity approach a Kawasaki ZX10R in 2006. It was love at first sight.
- Let your office and allowed the school you will. Mike said, the dealer, handing him the keys to the testing machine.
Kevin did not do again. He stepped over the machine and what struck him first and foremost, it was the lightness of the craft. Almost the same weight as his Honda. Kevin gauge nice driving position, resting on the arm but not too ...
- Good going! First and shoo! he said by way of goodbye.
A half hour later, Kevin brought the bike, all hot and vibrant at the door of the workshop to Michel who smiled knowingly.
- Go ... And tell me the truth eh?
- Yeah ... It is quite far from what I know, but not bad. Kevin admitted with an air that was meant detached. But it was useless. His friend knew him too well and knew he was hooked.
Two hours later he went back home with him in the head to take a decision: a choice between faithful companion a bit rustic but reliable or capricious mistress volcanic ....? Kevin
studied all night flyers Kawasaki, learning by heart all the hackneyed clichés of marketing for the Japanese brand. It was just a glance and a short gallop of half an hour to go to hell all that rational analysis was able to construct for months to choose the chosen one among the super sports of all brands.
Barely two days of discussion had passed, he returned to see her future and sign the purchase order.
is why this morning, the garage door would open for the last time the brave little twin. For the last time he would insert the key into the barrel of Neiman shaky. For the last time he tickles the starter button on a specific code known only to himself, as a sacred ritual the gods of the mechanism to give life to the two parallel pistons. This morning marked the beginning of the real-life biker Kevin Ouèche-Magueul. It would finally ride a machine worthy of him. Distinguish themselves from ordinary mortals. Exist finally has his eyes like those of others.
Gaillard as a rat in a cheese, he came down the stairs four at. His breakfast was comprised of a cup of coffee and glances at his watch every ten seconds waiting for the opening hour of the concessionaire. Three days earlier he had calculated how long it would take for the journey home - concession. Motorcycle, at nine o'clock in the morning he put thirty minutes to travel the distance. The dealership opened at nine o'clock, he was en route to half past eight.
Kevin, atheist, began to beg God to open the hourglass of time to elapse and the silica crystals faster. To beguile the time who decided not to accelerate. Accelerate! Just this term brought him back to the bike, he decided to change her bedclothes. It had been three weeks since the signing of the order, it tacky sheets of moist and strange dreams where he rode pell mell his Honda, Lynn, the tall blonde he had noticed at Macumba Night Fever and the object of his desires would have it in less than an hour.
Tapping the pillow to put in place the pillowcase, an erotic vision seized him within a fleeting moment. He saw a pair of buttocks instead of the cushion. Buttocks that could only belong to Lynn, he knew by heart from the time he looked furtively.
Kevin then went to the cupboard in the entrance and left a box containing the headphones that came to afford: A model Arai "Nakano Replica". He unwrapped the protective cover of his helmet and proceeded to change the translucent visor by another, a model smoked. He then took down a peg his new leather jacket and connected to the larger size pants that went with a zipper, became combination. A deluxe model kangaroo leather with shells integrated so useful to enhance its stature as an athlete.
At eight twenty-nine, he inserted the key into the Neiman. The Honda started uneventful, happy as a dog revere go for a walk while his master took him to the vet do sting.
The chrysalis was about to begin its transformation. At the height of impatience, he barely took time to warm up the Honda. He set off and slipped into the circulation.
Half an hour later, he stands his future ex-rim glass door that only a few signatures and separated him from retirement. He took off his helmet, took his keys and rushed into the store. Mike, who had seen it happen, went to meet him.
- Hello Kevin. She is ready. More than a few formalities. This sadistic
waving a bunch of keys as it holds out a carrot to a donkey to move forward. He could have presented to Kevin any paper, even his death sentence, he would have blindly signed. Explanation of credit, various papers and testimonials sign and make photocopies, Kevin still heard only bits that seemed as incomprehensible as if spoken to in eastern Balochistan. All he wanted to finish it as soon as possible and go with her beauty that was waiting in the adjacent workshop.
Kevin thought he was having a heart attack when the photocopier fell stranded in the middle of the duplication of his pay slips. He had also wanted to inflict the latest outrage was the little brown under cattle, apparently impervious to anything biker and even then not understand the importance of this long-awaited event: the reception of a new motorcycle, when she said, giggling:
- Wow, there's more ink.
She said, chewing a chewing gum mouth wide open as to complete the dying:
- And I reckon that it remains in the reserve.
Two black looks to the ruminant hair and brown a few cold sweats later, the photocopier ended his whim and all the paperwork was in order.
- We go to the workshop?
But how! It's thought that since this morning. He passed the door after Mike stays away from him not to walk on both envy was urgent.
Then he saw her. She was there. A few yards away, lying on his side falsely nonchalant. A bit like a pinup saloon when she pretends not to notice that men look.
- She's beautiful, eh?
course she was beautiful, it was his. And fast too. Finished get turned by all these queer that made him "Wabroo" red lights. Now they all crashing. Kevin
detailed dress apple green highlighted with black lacquer with textured matte in the background, the voice of the dealer who made her recommendations to break. Kevin nodded his head occasionally as if he followed what he said. He took the keys handed him a hand and placed it in the barrel of the switch and turned on the ignition. The digital display will briefly show the maximum speed: 299km / h. Kevin pressed the starter to give life to his creature: Nothing! From a smirk, Mike laid a sacrilegious hand on the switch circuit breaker of the bike, his bike, and turned. Kevin rested for the second time on the starter and a slight hum of the injection and was heard for the first time, awoke the bike. A rumbling sound promising sensations unlike any other.
Kevin put on his helmet, got the zipper of his jacket, he rolled his shoulders to build the hulls protections, grabbed his chin to adjust his helmet, lowered his visor.
He mounted his bike. He was now officially own a beautiful 2006 model Kawasaki ZX10R. Kevin set in motion the first and released the brake. With gentleness, "10" began to roll into the yard to join his element: the road.
The chrysalis had disappeared. The butterfly stretched its wings to its first flight.

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After succeeding his arrival so our chick can not possibly be satisfied with the start and banal summary of any biker lambda (I remind that the stunned biker lambda is you and I).
In the case of our chick departure must be worked as was the finish. In order
(commendable) to warn the good people that he is gone and it is therefore useless to seek it, the first thing that will make a chick on the departure and approach the Meeting in a loud voice (the voice must cover discussing a crowded bar as the subway at rush hour, including the terrace) with the jukebox in working order (It must be within 120 decibels. Below the effect is missed). This announcement stating the next place he goes and the time has that there will be if perchance you missed his company.
For once it gives service to onlookers impervious to "chick way of life". These, if they want to pass on an interesting evening will know where and when it should not go. Go
rot is a tire. Adage
repeatedly verified when one is faced with a departure kékéien. But unlike the arrival kékéienne, where two opposing schools of thought, there is a method of starting kékéien:
For the record I remember the two schools arrived kékéiennes:
- The basic chick, who arrived on the deceleration by blackmailing Leo Vince.
- The chick stunt, whichever comes stoppie and / or dented.
The difference is small between these two states as the border is thin. Many are taken and will cross again if they persist.
It should be noted that often the chick stunter changes category and become again the basic chick after sensational arrival (within the meaning of the word for him ... figuratively as reflecting upon the good reputation assured). It remains for ever or for the time away Kekette Velpeau his bands (the string that protects not much if you fall) and agrees to retry the experiment. Our
chick on the departure time, begins putting on his sunglasses (glasses with black glass - see some kékés that is termed "has been" a scornful tone - glass mirror). And that attention is important, whatever time of day or night.
Remember that the important thing for the chick is not to see but to be seen! Surely a guy with a ray bans seventies glasses mirror mounts hyper sports car painted like a school Samba Rio has one in the morning, It shows.
Good thing it's done! Our
chick will therefore proceed to his machine by sending a nod Kekette who has always al'affût his chick desires raises its head in half a second and runs a rolling gait to her mate while sending of "bye-bye" to 120 decibels flock of turkeys by ensuring that they meet again at the next refueling point.
a motorcycle arrived at the same time, we must ride the motorcycle, débéquiller, turn the ignition, clutch and engage the first fraction of a second after pressing the starter. If the sequence of action is perfectly controlled, the way Beijing has the impression that the bike magically wakes up when the pilot came on board.
But I tell you, when the chick you it puts his helmet? He did not threaded. At least on the head. The helmet is at his elbow. Why? For two reasons: One is
Art: Top Gun my friends! Emblematic film (Bible, I should say) the average chick. You see Tom Cruise with a helmet? No it would spoil her smile and it's mind-blowing bit rebellious. The second is crass
practice Try to see at night through colored lenses "look gray steel approved", sunglasses and a visor iridium. In addition, having to remove glasses before donning the helmet and then put them back is unsightly at best. The bespectacled chick is not a plea. Spread the word!
A pair of glasses in a pocket, it does not show and it is useless. And then you tell me:
"sunglasses at night it is useless either. "
is a good point, I grant you. But the chick does not ask what it was used, but what makes it nice! Never lose sight of this vision of the thing, this is who heads the chick.
Here's our hero makes his heat engine, and it does so manly. Loved large gas switch is cold, this is what will bring the whole mess until Kekette ale over his representation.
She joins her mate in a gesture of studied nonchalance. The Kekette base, tall and blonde, tanned skin is one of those women, or it takes forever between when they leave a cigarette from its case and he or they expel their first puff of smoke, while looking straight their interlocutor in the eye male, with quiet aplomb that provide measurements of anatomical generous and a total lack of modesty. When viewers
them, they are doing their best to support the look of Kekette, aware that any other view taken elsewhere would put in a weak position. Well it does on purpose. A low-rise jeans full of string cast on a rash exuberant, a bustier maddening in the crack of a leather jacket. Titillate the fantasies of what any male partner developed an interest in the biker thing. This interlude
a primal eroticism of a stifling dampness makes a chick to raise the temperature in carton and be sure that everyone is watching. When ready, he made a small burn three seconds a couple times (times that the female does not understand at first it's time to ride the beast).
Why three seconds? Because it is the maximum time that our specimen is able to hold in burn. Point!
At this signal Kekette ride. It should rise to a rotation motor ample hip. Once seated on the ottoman passenger (yes I know what you think! A pouf on an ottoman that is a repeat ... but I can not do otherwise. Thus !) Kekette hollow kidneys and stretch the buttocks as if she wanted to live more comfortably to withstand the tremendous acceleration of the amazing machine it has a chance to ride with his chick. It is not. It's just to highlight his tattoo in the lower back by her pink thong out to give the coup de grace to onlookers who wonder how far she can fall into the ridiculous.
Yes! It's heartbreaking but it is able to go that far. In
around the waist of his driver with both arms, she hangs her neck between her mammary protuberances him providing a headrest (Semi) natural (reminder: the chick does not wear his helmet) to cash acceleration and can be totally focused on the beginning of his run. Keke
give a few strokes of gas in neutral and will initiate the first without the plan is totally fell in slow motion so that the machine makes a small step forward and that the switch emits a "clack" sound. This to the audience that everyone is aware of the staggering power his engine. He then quickly disengage
print has Kekette cringe also intended to demonstrate a seated twinks "that it causes serious post "and push the plan to the red zone throttle at 50%. Plus, you risk the wheelie (with a big potential crash. Not crazy chick!) And too early, people have not the time to realize the exceptional show that offers their very eyes.
He then sets off the second of which he will undergo the same treatment to enjoy the roar of the city center of his big machine as long as possible.
That dear friends. You know almost everything about the art of driving kékéienne. Train yourself with the application.
It is tough to be chick!

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Recipe kékéien stop.

All First, get to the deceleration in high-rise high enough in the first or second (for the more adventurous). In order to blackmail Leo Vince and prevent the citizen that chick is coming to town. Let it roll to a standstill on the final meters to give a few blows to the curb raging gas and store his bike on the cob (the first time) was quoted motorcycles kékés arrived before you. Then, a carefully studied gesture foot, unlock the stand by cutting the ignition immediately after a final blow gas in neutral.
All this must be chained so fast to give the illusion that everything was done at the same time, an infallible sign of a biker who knows his subject.
From there, it's your Kekette play. This should get a motorcycle large rotation of the hip in an arc of perfect circle of the leg. Once down
motorcycle Kekette must remove his helmet, snapping his long hair with a sudden head movement like Bo Derek in "It" when it leaves the water of the beach is so pretty with its white sand and coconut (good Kekette must have seen this masterpiece many times to grasp the nuances of the movement).
Then a hand, your passenger will open his jacket to allow his Wonderbra to breathe a little and cause additional tension in the audience a male who is within range. The message is clear:
- Did you see what you miss?
so doing, it flatters the ego of his chick who knows he is the only one who can enjoy and also attracts the attention of female viewers, who reflexively atavistic, will engage in a mental evaluation of breast volume.
Those with the comparison will not go in the direction of the flattery of their egos, give a pat on the neck of their spouse and rewarding an angry look to regain control operations. The message is clear:
- Okay mine are so big, but they are natural and if you're not wise belt tonight!
But back to you. It's your turn to get off bike. Again, a full rotation of the hip in an arc of perfect circle of the leg.
You will then remove your helmet and once this is done, walk your eyes in a slow pan left and right with your eyes steel gray in the purest style:
- I live the life donf and I return from hell. Ouaich big! J'maîtrise.
If you do not have steel gray eyes, buying colored lenses because this type of scrutiny is as unavoidable as Kekette of 95c.
notify you and salute a hard look friendly but your friends who think you arrive casually sitting on the terrace and you head toward them, speaking as loudly as possible (so that everyone knows your conversation) how you have successfully completed your burn everything over there, far away (so far nobody has seen you do) but your friends in solidarity kékéienne, knowingly approve adding, on the same volume, they burn (or wheeling or Fenwick or gossip has them they were there, too far) you will need to hurry to approve your turn to show solidarity. During these civilities
important Kekette will be held at a respectful distance, one step behind you, hand on your shoulder. NEVER hand in hand. Is too low, people could not see. And frankly, happen in a public place with Kekette hand. Finally
me what I say ...
By placing his hand on your shoulder, your female symbiote sweep the assistance of a haughty look at doing so unequivocal marking his territory. It's you, it was his chick! But not!
Then, leaving you with your friends, she will join the group for Kekette giggle with her as hysterical turkey who knows that she will get fucked at Christmas.
A variation of this exercise. Arriving at the place of a deceleration, you can perform a braking determined to amaze onlookers with a stoppie. This dramatic method is not recommended. First
was because of the potential mess. A stoppie misfire, and it carried the shame, not to mention that if you damage Kekette
... In addition, it is very hard to pan left and right with a credible steel gray eyes after a caper that will cost you at the lowest EUR 2000 and whose impact has made you lose your colored lenses.
Second, stoppie being a silent figure, it's a safe bet that many people on the terrace falls head upon hearing the sound of slamming the shock when the bike falls on her rear wheel or "aaaah "and" ooooohhh "pushed by your friends.
The real chick risk averse, he prefers to grow a vocalise a Leo. Less risky!

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Definition "objective" of the chick. Warning

The person named in the title above belong to the species homo motardus "(I know it hurts, but in all families, there are branches shameful). The chick
listening to music from Keke. (Which is distinguished by its construction and pentatonic based on binary "ksss poom! Ksss pum!).
The vehicle is a sporty chick. Which is instantly recognizable to the pure sports.
The pure sports is usually "full power" with just a little Yoshi 'which is fine. The sporty chick
is "full option": paint, fluorescent bubble, footrests and handlebars anodized nipples, real fake carbon inserts ...
level of dress, the chick has a penchant for bright colors that marry a taste lacks clarity. The idea base is that it should flash as possible. The summit of art being attained by the few Jedi Knights kékéterie according to the principle of psychotic chameleon.
Principle I remind you of the following formula:
You take a chick, you clothe his ceremonial dress and you put a chameleon on his shoulder. If the reptile rolls his eyes as if he were put on a kilt and become hysterical, changing color at random: the goal is reached.
The chick comes out that his horse at the weekend when the weather is definitely riveted on the weather. The lower stratus isolated an azure sky gives him cold sweats. He goes out at night too (of course, during the week they work like everyone else. You have to pay the credit of the sport "full options") but only in areas lit. Let us not forget the basic principle of any chick: die or be seen.
The chick is sociable and research company. Gaining entry into the circle of a chick is easy.
First, there is no need to own a motorcycle. Just marvel at his craft. This flattered you will drink he invented technical reference and as a measure (I met a Apprenticeship chick who assured me that without laughing his 750 genes of 1988 was 180 HP!), references meant, I said, to impress the guy like you. Do not be afraid to ask a stupid question. The chick will thank you because you put so worth with his entourage.
Despite his tendency to frequent the cafe terraces, the chick does not drink more than others (no less), the only drug that is simply the admiration or curiosity it triggers in others.
Weekdays, nothing really distinguishes a chick from a human lambda. Contrary to homo motardus standard version, the chick recalled silly string lacks any sign of his biker activity in everyday life. It comes to life on Saturday when he dons his suit of lights like a bullfighter before entering the arena.
Because that representation is about. Certainly there will be no killing (the chick does not like risk as evidenced by a thorough study of his rear tire) but it's a parade, a celebration of man and machine.
This leads to talk about the essential accessory of the chick. This accessory without which no machine so beautiful and it is also shiny, would be nothing: The female chick.
For convenience, we call Kekette. Freudian nickname if any, but oh so in the spirit of the subject. Kekette to delete its a chick and it is nothing. Not even a shadow of chick. The
Kekette often shy at first. Nature is somewhat reserved and of average intelligence (even low average) in his everyday life, his personality needs of symbiosis with a chick (and vice versa) to speak on Saturday evening. But put several together and they are agitated Kekette like little crazy and chat with a chuckle as the turkeys who know they will be filled with Christmas.
The style of dress Kekette is a mix of heterogeneous tissue whose dominant color is reminiscent of holding his chick. This so they are easily recognized in the crowd. That said, it incorporates some ingredients typically female in order to further enhance its chick. A neon pink thong
it will show a willingness on his John's hipster in arching the back, tattooed with a tribal pattern esoteric passenger on the ottoman of his sports chick. A chest
(95c natural or not is the minimum required to be an acceptable Kekette) generously overflowing the top of a small flake "like Brittney (size 12, bought on sale at The Gallery Farfouillette) worn under a jacket imitation motorcycle always open.
It is obvious that wearing boots needle, a navel piercing and tanned to have the UV is highly recommended. Gustatory customs of chick that he likes doing the turkey breast, it is necessary and even desirable that it is golden none. The
Kekette is attached to its chick in a symbiotic way. Without it, no social life. Without this relationship, Josiane Kekette remain the central fund of Leclerc down the ZUP including the duration of the weekend. But thanks to chick, that sees in her what she was hiding in the depths of his being and who has managed to fill this need for social recognition and give him the material, she can finally enjoy the world of its radiant existence . She loves her
chick until the end of time as long as it continues to provide him with the lifestyle she deserves. Otherwise, what do you is the harsh law of survival.
But do not complain too hastily the fate of our chick. Kekette knows that if she indulges take overweight or if it is not the best equipped in terms of plastic, it will repudiate as fast as a sports showing 3000 km on the odometer. Keke
be ruthless if it has failed to start and if it loses some of its freshness because of some scratches on the tank - there stretch marks or understand this is most noticeable on a Kekette. The chick
appreciates the mythological stories motorcyclists. Stories countertops, knees on the ground, wheeling to a background of 6, "How I ate pizza with Valentino Rossi" and "Last week when I was in the States, I rode a shovel Jolleen Farmer "etc..
Such is life. Kekette chick walks on his motorcycle doing well psychic keep the engine running in order to benefit everyone (including those that it does not interest) for his exceptional life. The chick is an exhibitionist who loves to pervert what others (men or women) admire his Kekette.

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Before entering the Grand Kékéien ridiculous, let your mind empty. Forget that you're on the net, open your chakras. Take a deep breath, observe the silence, turn off the light, light a candle and USING it, ignite a stick of your favorite fragrance, install it in its burning smell and get ready to explore the universe even before kékéien.
What you read is not representative of the Community Motard, these are just the worst ambassadors, exhibitionists, absurd, néantissimes, and if they were Americans, could all be called George W.
Unfortunately they are far from home. You see them on Saturday night, they are the ones who tarnish your well deserved rest with their exhaust and free fatty populassiers their laughter.
you hear them? Roar you hear these savage 4 in 1? They are coming into our bars lead our beers and clutter our sidewalks.
Follow me, friend (s) drive (trice) ... Do not worry ... I'll guide you through the maze of life kékéienne. If, by chance, none of the great vertigo makes you turn your head, take my hand and never let go.
Me and only me know the way home ...

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Foreword

When we wrote a foreword? At the beginning? At the end? It seems to me that this is the end, when the entire text was written and the author may finally have an overview of his work.
As I am doing nothing like everyone else, I write this foreword nor before writing the following text and even less at the end. I wrote it when I was somewhere between chapters 7 and 8.
What does it in a foreword? Hemingway said he should always start from the beginning. That makes sense, but it does not help me. Stephen King said he must always tell the truth when writing. I'm going to blend the two and start with the truth:
Everything you read in these pages is based on a background of reality. I have not written anything that is invented from A to Z. When you read a chapter, you say that most of the situations described, funny or less funny, took place. The characters are obviously not as described in the text. Otherwise, the ins and outs, got out of my imagination and could happen, and sometimes, often, I would have preferred that it ends as I write. That's the advantage of creating: chance is not involved.
So I started. I wrote a chapter entitled spring returns. Born from an observation I made in passing a café terrace in a particularly temperate winter day and sunny. Then the people I read on the forum's website The Lair Of Motorcyclists asked me afterwards. So I wrote chapter two, then three. Then for convenience I created the character of Kevin. I have no idea where this will take me or how and when it will end. I manhandles according to my mood. I guess it will end when Kevin Arai me his stick across his face and I mean that he is tired of suffering the insults of his creator and Lynn begging me to save her beloved chick and let them live in peace, or when you, readers, tell me:
Stop! You we drunk with your chick.