Way back, before roads, before bandanas, there were these bikers. Not cyclists. Bikers. Like the muscly braided type. The first bikers. They started it all.
Anyway, every year they got together in a little patch of West Texas grassland. Some people think it happened literally in the town of “West“. Others like to think it happened in what is now a suburb of Odessa. It doesn’t matter where, but it happened.
For the first few years, they weren’t entirely sure what to do with themselves on this little patch of West Texas grassland. Besides that, they were all doubly determined to meet up with one another once they found out there were obstacles in their way. There were no roads, for instance, so wherever they were from, they had to figure out how to get there. That gave them a goal. And they were a determined bunch. Surely a lack of proper intra-state infrastructure was a problem they could solve.
They all seemed to solve the problem at the same time, and they all finally met up at the agreed location (that little patch of West Texas Grassland) at the same time, but the joy of their collective accomplishment was momentary. It reminded them of that Tennyson poem. You know, the one about the Odyssey? So, what do a bunch of bikers do with nothing to do on a little patch of West Texas grassland?
They tell each other stories. Or, that’s what they came up with this time, anyway. I can’t really speak for bikers in general, but these bikers definitely told stories. We know this because they kept minutes.
Shirley, a biker from the Gulf Coast, was designated as the Designated Minutes Taker. As the DMT, it was her job to jot down all the stories in what was now the First Annual Biker Story Telling Convention.
The bikers now had a new purpose: to muster up their best biker stories. They built a big fire in the middle of their little patch of West Texas grassland and they all stood around it. Some of them sat in front of the standing bikers. Shirley sat on a little stool at one end of the fire with her shorthand typewriter, while the storyteller walked around the fire and tried to project loud enough to make sure everyone heard their story.
Initially, the stories were a hit. All the bikers congratulated themselves on a plan well thought out. Who knew such a little patch of West Texas Grassland could host such a spectacle?
Big Nick, a gargantuan Triumph owner from what is now Houston, told a tale of the first time he filleted a river trout. Sally, a mechanic from Marfa, detailed her ride through the Colorado Rocky Mountains. Some stories made the bikers laugh. Some made them cry. All of the stories made them go, “You got that, Shirley?”
And she did. She got all of them down. Until, of course, Meddlin’ Mike.
Some say Meddlin’ Mike was the first outlaw biker. In a time before the modern concept of laws, Mike’s outlawishness was certainly something to behold. And they did. The group of bikers heard his story, and they were dumbfounded. They were shocked at its vulgarity. How could one of them, a biker, come up with such vitriol?
No one asked Shirley if she got it down. She didn’t get it down. It was a horrible misrepresentation of everything that was “Biker”. Or so I’m told, anyway. The bikers wanted Meddlin’ Mike to take it back somehow, to put his story back in his saddlebags and ride off. But he couldn’t. And he didn’t want to, anyway. It was just there, on that little patch of West Texas grassland, forever.
Reflections
I told this to my brother. He’s not keen on stories or really anything that I’m studying in University so I had to spice it up for him. I actually really enjoyed King’s version of the story and tried to keep a similar voice because I knew my brother would respond well to it. He actually kind of liked it, except for the end. He was upset that I didn’t give him the analysis of the moral.
That was kind of interesting to me. It’s not really an open ended story. But it got me questioning the idea of a moral: does everybody feel the same way? Are we all supposed to learn the same thing? What influences our reaction to it?
“City News & Announcements.” City of West. N.p., n.d. Web. 30 May 2014. <http://www.cityofwest.com/>.
King, Thomas. The Truth About Stories: A Native Narrative. Toronto: Anansi Press, 2003. Print.
I love that you used Bikers for the theme of the story. Its really good, but I wish there was more!
Its interesting that a story about evil and witches could be unpacked to talk about orality and morality. I think, to answer your question, that while we intend to keep the moral of the story unchanged, the moral changes depending on the reader. Its like that game of telephone that kids play. It will be interesting to see how each of us (students of english 470) will respond to the story, and how we each will interpret the moral story differently.
I think it’s what the reader makes of the story. Even if you had made the moral of your story explicit, the reader may feel otherwise. I liked the fact that the ending to your story was a bit ambiguous, because I enjoy having something to ponder about. Personally, I think lessons are best understood if people come to their own conclusion of it, rather than having directly given. It would be interesting to know why your brother was upset that you didn’t give him the moral.
What a great story – I loved it; but I want to know more about the differences between the telling and the writing? About the process of ‘taking’ a story and making it your own, telling the story, and then writing the story — you don’t need to write about this, if you are too busy, but please do reflect upon my questions. Yes, what a great story. Thank you so much 🙂
I really enjoyed your story man. I think the concept of morality is open ended and constantly in flux. This inner perception is both shaped by and reshaping the morals of others. It is a trait that is uniquely human due to our social nature. Yet, we are supposed to learn the same thing in one way or another. One particular place of interest that discussed this idea in the academic community is the idea of empathy. Here is an interesting article from the New York Times that discusses this, http://www.nytimes.com/1995/05/09/science/scientists-mull-role-of-empathy-in-man-and-beast.html?pagewanted=all
Our reactions to this sense of morality I believe are shaped by our inner empathy to our fellow man. What do you think?