Now Tom and Ben ne’er were the first petunias outta the patch in the mornin’. Old man Lynskey would rap on the screen and there they’d be; dead ‘n’ gurgling to all ‘n’ sundry. Now if they were to get to the business of riding they’d better be up and jumpin’, and jump they did do.
Old man Lynskey poured cups o’ tea into tha’ scratchy throats and plumped ‘em up on tater fry and good eggs and them boys did throw the whole lot down in a damn hurry.
They set abou’ greasin’ tha’ undercarriages and various miscellany, cursin’ the tyre that had been deflated by the night. It was drizzlin’ and steamy when those boys finally got on down the road, full on fry’d goods and burpin’.
Well now boys will be the proverbial and many car was treated to the sight of young Tom down to just his drawers, skipping about a field in the artistic way. Young Ben looked on, snapped up a few photos and them boys did fall about, hootin’ and hollerin’.
But those boys could ride I tell ye’, they steamed into the city with the hounds o’ hell on tha’ heels. The ve-hi-cles streamed on by, in their hot and smoky way, them roads blocked up tighter ‘n a buzzards belly, and our boys sweated away like, well, I don’t know wha’.
Ther’ were good folk to meet, Youthline folks, and the boys got fed up on good fruit and grain, and had a snatch o’ company as they ground out them hot miles north.
Soon it was just our boys again, slurpin’ on soda pop and eye’n the locals. Off they went up old north road, watchin’ the old money with respectful eyes (good boys), driving hard up them hills (brave boys), and flitting down thar hills in good time. Helensville with light to spare.
Now I don’t make no great claims to knowledge, I ain’t watch’d call a learned man, but I reckon if those two boys keep riding the way I did see them ride today, they’ll be tasting that sea air in a little o’er two days yonder.
Peace and God Bless to y’all