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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Action & Adventure
- Subject: Adventure
- Published: 11/19/2010
New Harley !
Born 1956, M, from Windsor Ontario, Canada![New Harley !](/storage/story/1290314950Low Rider-image(416x276-crop).jpg)
We had just rented a nice house on the waterfront in Fort Lauderdale. Million dollar house, that's for sure. Scott and I were moving up. We had made a few dollars driving weed to Boston. We certainly had to after our last fiasco. I had flown to Boston with fifty pounds of weed. Fifty pounds in one suitcase and another fifty in the other. It never made it the full way. Some one stole it between Fort Lauderdale and Boston. They got a freebee. It used to happen flying out of Fort Lauderdale lots. The baggage handlers were wise to the game and would rip people off. It set us back a little, but we kept trying. Scott's Uncle was a big timer and was playing with the big boys. He had bought himself a forty seven foot speed boat and got tied up with the wrong people. I'm sure it was all fine until he disappeared from his hotel in Tampa Florida. It was in all the papers. His boat was found, but he was gone. They found him years later in a shallow grave in the everglades. His pal Mike showed up at our door. This guy was right out of the God Father movies and scary as hell. A no nonsense guy. You could tell by the eyes, they were black as coal. He wanted to know if we were up for a challenge. We were young and stupid. More balls than brains that's for sure. We agreed to go along with the plan. Rent a big truck we were told. I rented a u-haul and drove it to an all night truck stop and left the keys in the ashtray as told. I went inside for a coffee and before the first cup was poured the truck was gone. After a few cups it was back. I never saw anyone. I drove it home and backed it into the driveway. We had no idea what we would find. One thousand pounds of Columbia's best inside. We had hit the big time, but had no idea of the people we were dealing with. We had two weeks to get rid of it. The cash had to be there. Now how to do it.
We made some calls up north and had it all sold. Now to get it there. It had to go to Columbus, Ohio and Lancing, Michigan. Too much weed and not enough time to do it by car. A motor home came to mind. We looked in the paper and found one for rent. We rented it for two weeks and payed cash. The people were very happy to rent it to us. Just like the owners of the million dollar house we were working out of were. If they only knew! We had to rip out all the shelves and anything else to fit it all in. They would not be happy when they got their motor home back. I was going to be a solo driver on this one. The smell was over powering. One stop by the police and it was all over for me. I drove the limit and stopped at RV camps when I was tired. First stop was Columbus, Ohio. I sold half there and stayed over night. We were carrying fifty pound bails to waiting vehicles in the parking lot of a condo complex. Two days later to Lancing, Michigan I went. I have to admit, I was having a blast. Seeing parts of America I had never seen and doing it this way was quite the thrill. The people I was going to see were also happy to see me. They had a big farm house. They had treated me so great that I hated to leave. But I had to get back to Columbus to cash out. The drive there I decided to take the scenic route.
A few hours from Lancing, I was driving through a small town. It was still in Michigan but just another little town. I can tell you that they had a Harley shop there. I was at a red light when I spotted the bike of my dreams in the window. A 1978 Low Rider, steel grey. I pulled the RV over and took four thousand dollars out of the bag and put it in the pockets of my flannel shirt and went inside. This was before the days when a new Harley cost more than a small house. It was a busy little shop. Lot's of locals I'm sure. No one paid any attention to me. I had to make the first move. "How much for the bike in the window?" I asked. I asked the wrong person, of course. The owner came out and I asked again. Forty four hundred dollars he told me. I emptied my pockets, to the amazement of the onlookers. He counted it and said "it's only four". "That's all I have", I said. He put out his hand and said, "we have a deal my friend. It will take a little while to get her ready tho'". "Not in hurry" was my reply. I went across the street for a much deserved cold one. I was a happy camper. When I came back we tried to get the bike into the RV. No such luck. I had to leave one or the other there. I left the RV! I strapped my bag to the bike and they locked it up in the yard out back. I drove back to Ohio on my bike. So now I'm back in Columbus, Ohio to get paid out with my new Harley and I was now looking to buy a bike trailer for my new Harley to drive back to Fort Lauderdale with the RV.
Right before I was ready to go, I got a call. I had to fly home now they said. They wanted their money. These mob guys weren't playing. Right now they said! No time to drive home. These guys you didn't keep waiting. How am I going to do this? I now have the money from the rest of the Ohio drop off, but still need the final pay out from Michigan. I thought they were being stupid with me flying with all that cash. I rode the bike back to Lancing and we brought the RV to the farm. I stacked all the money into a airline bag. It was full to the top. So the RV was no big deal nor the bike. They took me to the airport, and I couldn't leave fast enough. I bought a ticket home with a plane change in Detroit from Lancing. Good ol' Detroit, the crime capitol of the U S at the time. It changes by year. Miami had it for a while. I don't think they give them a plaque for that! I bought my ticket and checked a small bag. I had a hold of the bag so tight that my fingers were going numb. After a few drinks in the lounge to calm my nerves, I had to do the check in. Put the bag through the x-ray machine. This didn't work so well. It showed a block of something. All cash of course. A little ol lady was in charge at the Lancing airport. I had to open it and she freaked. I wasn't ready for this. Time to be a fast talker is all I knew. I told the tale that I had made up in my mind while waiting for this. My parents had just sold their farm and had moved to Florida, I told her. It worked! She scolded me and said I should have called ahead for a security escort. I was pleased more than words can say. Next stop Detroit! It also went well. This time it was a sexy young girl running the x-ray. I had to open the bag and I gave her the same story. She wanted to come with me. Sure, I said, let's go. I'll buy your ticket. I boarded the flight to Lauderdale, and relaxed in my seat, with the bag on my lap. A few hours later and I'm home. Then I spotted him a few seats ahead of me. Back in Lauderdale a few months before, we had done business with this crazy Russian guy. He hardly spoke English. He had sold us a few hundred pounds of weed. He had been one scary cat. He lived in a warehouse and slept on a mattress on the floor. I remember seeing the machine gun next to his bed. He was the type to use it. He didn't see me on the plane, but I sure saw him. Now I'm thinking rip off. If I lose the mob's money I'm a dead man. It didn't happen that way, thank God. It sure made for a nervous flight home tho'!. I found out later that he had family in Detroit and was just returning back to his Lauderdale home. I made it home without a hitch. I handed over the three hundred & twenty five thousand dollars to Mike and then we got our cut. After a few days of relaxing, I flew back North. I bought a trailer for the bike and drove the RV home and took the long way.
Irie, Big Red.
New Harley !(Chris Larkin)
We had just rented a nice house on the waterfront in Fort Lauderdale. Million dollar house, that's for sure. Scott and I were moving up. We had made a few dollars driving weed to Boston. We certainly had to after our last fiasco. I had flown to Boston with fifty pounds of weed. Fifty pounds in one suitcase and another fifty in the other. It never made it the full way. Some one stole it between Fort Lauderdale and Boston. They got a freebee. It used to happen flying out of Fort Lauderdale lots. The baggage handlers were wise to the game and would rip people off. It set us back a little, but we kept trying. Scott's Uncle was a big timer and was playing with the big boys. He had bought himself a forty seven foot speed boat and got tied up with the wrong people. I'm sure it was all fine until he disappeared from his hotel in Tampa Florida. It was in all the papers. His boat was found, but he was gone. They found him years later in a shallow grave in the everglades. His pal Mike showed up at our door. This guy was right out of the God Father movies and scary as hell. A no nonsense guy. You could tell by the eyes, they were black as coal. He wanted to know if we were up for a challenge. We were young and stupid. More balls than brains that's for sure. We agreed to go along with the plan. Rent a big truck we were told. I rented a u-haul and drove it to an all night truck stop and left the keys in the ashtray as told. I went inside for a coffee and before the first cup was poured the truck was gone. After a few cups it was back. I never saw anyone. I drove it home and backed it into the driveway. We had no idea what we would find. One thousand pounds of Columbia's best inside. We had hit the big time, but had no idea of the people we were dealing with. We had two weeks to get rid of it. The cash had to be there. Now how to do it.
We made some calls up north and had it all sold. Now to get it there. It had to go to Columbus, Ohio and Lancing, Michigan. Too much weed and not enough time to do it by car. A motor home came to mind. We looked in the paper and found one for rent. We rented it for two weeks and payed cash. The people were very happy to rent it to us. Just like the owners of the million dollar house we were working out of were. If they only knew! We had to rip out all the shelves and anything else to fit it all in. They would not be happy when they got their motor home back. I was going to be a solo driver on this one. The smell was over powering. One stop by the police and it was all over for me. I drove the limit and stopped at RV camps when I was tired. First stop was Columbus, Ohio. I sold half there and stayed over night. We were carrying fifty pound bails to waiting vehicles in the parking lot of a condo complex. Two days later to Lancing, Michigan I went. I have to admit, I was having a blast. Seeing parts of America I had never seen and doing it this way was quite the thrill. The people I was going to see were also happy to see me. They had a big farm house. They had treated me so great that I hated to leave. But I had to get back to Columbus to cash out. The drive there I decided to take the scenic route.
A few hours from Lancing, I was driving through a small town. It was still in Michigan but just another little town. I can tell you that they had a Harley shop there. I was at a red light when I spotted the bike of my dreams in the window. A 1978 Low Rider, steel grey. I pulled the RV over and took four thousand dollars out of the bag and put it in the pockets of my flannel shirt and went inside. This was before the days when a new Harley cost more than a small house. It was a busy little shop. Lot's of locals I'm sure. No one paid any attention to me. I had to make the first move. "How much for the bike in the window?" I asked. I asked the wrong person, of course. The owner came out and I asked again. Forty four hundred dollars he told me. I emptied my pockets, to the amazement of the onlookers. He counted it and said "it's only four". "That's all I have", I said. He put out his hand and said, "we have a deal my friend. It will take a little while to get her ready tho'". "Not in hurry" was my reply. I went across the street for a much deserved cold one. I was a happy camper. When I came back we tried to get the bike into the RV. No such luck. I had to leave one or the other there. I left the RV! I strapped my bag to the bike and they locked it up in the yard out back. I drove back to Ohio on my bike. So now I'm back in Columbus, Ohio to get paid out with my new Harley and I was now looking to buy a bike trailer for my new Harley to drive back to Fort Lauderdale with the RV.
Right before I was ready to go, I got a call. I had to fly home now they said. They wanted their money. These mob guys weren't playing. Right now they said! No time to drive home. These guys you didn't keep waiting. How am I going to do this? I now have the money from the rest of the Ohio drop off, but still need the final pay out from Michigan. I thought they were being stupid with me flying with all that cash. I rode the bike back to Lancing and we brought the RV to the farm. I stacked all the money into a airline bag. It was full to the top. So the RV was no big deal nor the bike. They took me to the airport, and I couldn't leave fast enough. I bought a ticket home with a plane change in Detroit from Lancing. Good ol' Detroit, the crime capitol of the U S at the time. It changes by year. Miami had it for a while. I don't think they give them a plaque for that! I bought my ticket and checked a small bag. I had a hold of the bag so tight that my fingers were going numb. After a few drinks in the lounge to calm my nerves, I had to do the check in. Put the bag through the x-ray machine. This didn't work so well. It showed a block of something. All cash of course. A little ol lady was in charge at the Lancing airport. I had to open it and she freaked. I wasn't ready for this. Time to be a fast talker is all I knew. I told the tale that I had made up in my mind while waiting for this. My parents had just sold their farm and had moved to Florida, I told her. It worked! She scolded me and said I should have called ahead for a security escort. I was pleased more than words can say. Next stop Detroit! It also went well. This time it was a sexy young girl running the x-ray. I had to open the bag and I gave her the same story. She wanted to come with me. Sure, I said, let's go. I'll buy your ticket. I boarded the flight to Lauderdale, and relaxed in my seat, with the bag on my lap. A few hours later and I'm home. Then I spotted him a few seats ahead of me. Back in Lauderdale a few months before, we had done business with this crazy Russian guy. He hardly spoke English. He had sold us a few hundred pounds of weed. He had been one scary cat. He lived in a warehouse and slept on a mattress on the floor. I remember seeing the machine gun next to his bed. He was the type to use it. He didn't see me on the plane, but I sure saw him. Now I'm thinking rip off. If I lose the mob's money I'm a dead man. It didn't happen that way, thank God. It sure made for a nervous flight home tho'!. I found out later that he had family in Detroit and was just returning back to his Lauderdale home. I made it home without a hitch. I handed over the three hundred & twenty five thousand dollars to Mike and then we got our cut. After a few days of relaxing, I flew back North. I bought a trailer for the bike and drove the RV home and took the long way.
Irie, Big Red.
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