SLE Sports

STACEY SOMEHOW ENDS UP WITH A GIANT CHOPPER!!!!.

I'm not really good with cars and stuff. I've wrecked more than one. Sometimes, I could blame the elements. A 2004 blizzard took a BMW from me IRL. I fell asleep behind the wheel after a triple shift once and wrecked my favorite car, the beat up Jeep that I drove around in high school. I've taken a bicycle off the road and down the side of Mount Cardigan in New Hampshire. I sank a Jet-Ski in a needless, drunken orgy of nautical mirth.

My crowning acheivement behind the wheel was when I decided to just sort of slink around one of those road detail things and I made a cop jump down into the hole that the DPW guys were digging. I wouldn't recommend doing this... unless, like me, you are very pretty, and can speak in such heavily-enough-accented French/English that he thinks you are a tourist (I live on Cape Cod, IRL). It also helps if you can cry on cue, and if your daughters join in... much like the wolves do, as my husband is prone to say.

Even the most justifiably angry policeman can only take about 20 seconds of this. All except the cruel get into that field to HELP women and children, and the 200 cars that are driving by don't know that the woman had just callously run the poliecman off the road (mere weeks after 9/11, I might add) because she didn't want to miss an appointment for a manicure. They just see a giant cop screaming at a crying woman. I ended up getting an apology, and one of the town workers somehow came up with two lollipops to quiet my children.

Some would say I'm lucky to be alive. I just think of it as me knowing my strengths and limitations. I'm smart, but clutzy. There's nothing wrong with that, as long as I don't get a motorcycle or a stock car. Cape Cod would suffer mightily if I ever came into possession of one of those monster trucks, for instance. Not that I'd do anything cruel, mind you.... I just tend to corner sharply and intimidate pedestrians.

It's better if I just have a Volvo, and if my husband drives anywhere farther than the market. This, however, quells my vibe.... which leads to overcompensation, a la the sunken Jet-Ski incident at the mouth of Green Harbor. The conflict threatened to tear me apart, until I found SL.

Now, in just mere months, I have been able to take part in a furious bout of downhill skiing that would have infuriated the doctor who fixed my IRL broken leg, drove a NASCAR at 172 mph, jump off a 5th story roof, drive a Mercedes knock-off into a benefit concert (I didn't mean to do it, but the humor was not lost on me... even immediately after the fact), and enact maybe another 500000 manifestations of my death wish.

I crossed another line last night, which is where this article is going. I occasionally do charity events for sports groups that I've worked with through the SLE. Sometimes, this charity work involves me dancing on a pole while dressed as a cheerleader. Last night was one of those sometimes. My friends at the Bad Azz Gym in Vegas Live were having a soiree that featured a contest with a prize of a SWEET motorcycle.

Again, this is an area where it is very useful to be Pretty and French. Even among a crowd of dancers and martial artists, El Stace comes through. I win a toy that, due to my IRL difficulties mentioned above, I had honestly never even THOUGHT of purchasing in real life. It is a tremendous thing to get a hold of out of nowhere, I can tell you that.

The bike (pictured above, unless I get into the wine before I get into the File Manager) was custom built by the good people at American Pride. No sushicycle for Stacey Cardalines, folks... nuck fo! I like hard American steel throbbing between my legs as the wind whips my hair over my shoulders, the exhiliration and speed driving me forward into a sort of ecstacy,,,,,,, forward, harder, faster, faster!

Mmmmm..... brb

OK, where were we? Oh yeah, bikes. To be honest, I haven't figured out how to work it yet. I may be too small to sit in the seat and reach the handlebars, and my AO might also disagree with the notion of Stacey-as-biker. The bike is bigger than the living room of my first apartment, which in itself makes it cool. I spent a great portion of last night rezzing it at places I hang out at a lot... then hanging around next to it, hoping to fool my friends into thinking I'd driven it there. I told one guy who asked to see me ride it that "rocket fuel costs 5000Ls a gallon."

Jealous? Wish you had legs like mine, toned by hours of gymnastics, Ultimate Fighting, ghetto street basketball, Herculean cheerleader regimens... legs that win you motorcycles in dance contests? You could do what I did... join a wrestling group, get tossed around by a bunch of huge lesbians, and eventually (through peer pressure, mostly) open up the Edit Appearance thingy to crank Leg Muscles up to 88 or so.

Or, you could do the sensible thing... which is contacting my friend Chad Law at American Pride and having him hook you up with a fat custom cycle. He doesn't go for the low-rez stuff, no... his stuff is the difference between a fiddle and a Stardivarius. If you ask this guy for a moped, he may slap your mother.

His store is moving into the Bad Azz Gym in Vegas Live. He has a business relationship with the BAG. I 've done some work with both EastCoastTony Dubois and Big Tom Stratten of the Bad Azz Gym, and they are both the salt of the earth. Big Tom is a gentle giant who rules so hard that you should pay taxes to him, and Tony has built a MMA complex so large and sprawling that I get lost in it trying to find the nightclub, pretty much every time I go. Chad Law made the right call here.

He currently has 16 models in his shop, and that number would happily go to 17 if you walk in there with an idea that doesn't match 1 through 16. He can crank one out in 3 or 4 days, for amazingly cheap prices... as low as 500 in some instances, which is less than I pay for boots. He can design the bike to overtake F-16s at takeoff if you need him to. He did not deny having the ability to arm a motorcycle ("like 'Spy Hunter,' yanno?") when I asked him about it, maybe 4 questions in. Like I know what a manifold valve does... lol.

He spends so much time building bikes, he was unable too tell me if there are biker gangs out there. I'll probably find one in my travels. We did discuss my theory that only true lovers of the craft buy motorcycles and Formula 1 race cars in a world where everyone can fly... most of his customers tend to be people who have low-prim bikes and are looking for an upgrade. I'd recommend skipping the middleman and going right to the upgrade at American Pride.