Bear and I were somewhat awestruck by this story and it was one of those things that you either believe or you don't. War stories are always like that but George had a certain sincerity to him and you just wanted to think that it was the truth. Bear looked a little thoughtful for a few seconds and then told old George that all he wanted to do was restore the bike and ride it!

George just grinned and said "Well then, how about two thousand dollars? And I'll even throw in the military stuff that they left on her." Bear looked at the bike again and there was no sign that it had ever been anything more than what she appeared to be, a 1940 Indian model 440. Not a trace of anything even vaguely resembling the past history that George had just mentioned.

"Two thousand as that's about what it cost me to buy it and then to restore it back to what it was before the war", is all that George would say by way of explanation. Well I never saw Bear open his wallet so damn fast in all my life! I guess he figured that George was suffering from some form of post shell shock stress or something. I really can't say for certain. But it was amazing and money has never changed hands faster anywhere!

Bear started to get that misty eyed look again so I figured the best course of action would be to suggest that he load the bike into the truck while Mr. Wilkins got the title and stuff ready. George shuffled off towards the house and Bear and I set about the task of loading this monster of mechanical brilliance into his Dodge. No mean feat either with two blown tires! So Bear scrounged around and found a suitable piece of timber for a ramp and then we started to push, pull, tug, shove and all but heave the beast towards the waiting pickup. It wouldn't budge! Even with Bears considerable weight behind it shoving for all he was worth it just didn't want to leave. Must have been some sort of magnetic force holding it there.

"Richard, this ain't gonna cut it!" was all he could muster and we had moved the damn bike all of about 6 yards.

Every now and again I do have a flash of brilliance thought and I went into Bears pick up, tossed out the garbage that I found behind the front seat and came up with a possible solution to our dilemma. A can of 'Fix a Flat'. Well that and an ancient box of 12 gauge shot gun shells that made no sense whatsoever as Bear didn't own a shotgun. But what the hell, the tires were all but done for anyway and Bear would be replacing them soon enough so what could the liquid goo harm anyway? I checked the tires and found that there really was nothing wrong with them other than their age and all that had happened was they had popped off the rims under Bear's bulk! I've damn near done that myself from time to time.

Bear just stood back and watched while I emptied the entire can into the tires and what do you know, it sort of worked. Not that I'd ride the damn thing that way but at least now the tires were more or less back on the rims and had a little more of the typical round shape that tires are known to have. I took this as a good sign, a very good sign. Bear just muttered something about thank God they aren't Bridgestone's or something to that effect and then the long march began once more. We managed to get the front tire half way up the ramp before we came to a stop!

It was now well into the afternoon and the Florida sun was doing it's usual dance across the sky and with it came the heat and the damnable humidity. That's what Florida is like in the summer months, Damnable and it's at those times I sort of wish I were back north. But it's also a reminder of what February is to those same Northerners. Everything is equal in the end but we don't have to plow anything.

That's about the time that George appeared again with paperwork in hand and saw us trying to kill ourselves shoving the Indian onto the ramp.

"Hold on a second there fellas! I've got the answer in the shop!" George disappeared into the gloom once again and emerged with a come along [A what??? - Ed.] that looked like it could pull a tank! Or rip the bed off Bears truck if the bike didn't cooperate.

Can you make bigger fenders?

We rigged up the come along, and what a difference! The bike inched it's way slowly and steadily up the ramp and into the bed of Bear's Dodge. Once on the level we could manage it into the tire chock that Bear had mounted to the floor. Once that was done it was a simple matter of securing the bike with tie downs and closing the tailgate. Well trying to close the tailgate might be a better way of putting it. The damn thing was too long! So we secured the damn tailgate as far up as we could so that the bike couldn't roll backwards in a sudden burst of acceleration from Bear. Not that it was likely to happen as Bear never to my knowledge ever accelerated anything other than his old Harley with much vigor. Even that wasn't a whole lot to brag about. Bear was a leisurely, get there in your own time and smell the flowers, type of rider. I am myself now that I stop and think about it.

Bear checked all the tie downs about four hundred and twenty two times, I think and then decided that all was ready for a return trip to the east coast. Mr. Wilkins had all the paperwork done and Bear signed everything and that's when it struck him that we needed a Notary to sign off on the title! George just smiled and said that if we would just stop at the restaurant in town with the sign that said, The world's Best Fried Mullet, that "Cassie" would be more than happy to take care of that little item. No problem as he would call her and tell her it was OK and a done deal.

George asked us if we would be interested in some liquid refreshment before we left but Bear was in a bit of a hurry as well as more than a little itchy to get his prize home. So we thanked George but kindly declined his offer. That's when it hit me! The damn Vincent! I looked at Bear who was sort of on the edge by now anyway and for all the world appeared like he was looking for a big ass tree with rough bark to rub his back up against!

"Hey Bear, the Black Shadow. Shouldn't we at least put it back?" I asked him. Bear just sort of shuffled over to the Vincent and kicked the stand out of the way and started to push it back inside.

Well I was honestly sorry to see it go but then again? I had passed on the chance to ride a bike that I'd only dreamed about but this was Bear's deal so I let it go for the moment. Bear was happy, almost giddy about his new purchase so... I let it go without asking the obvious. Bear carefully placed the tarp back over the old Vincent and we walked back out in the Florida heat once again.

Maybe some other day, some other trip I'd get the chance to ride one of those I thought to myself. Maybe even if I save enough money and George still has it for sale I'll buy the damn thing. One thing I've learned is that when opportunity knocks at your door, you damn well better open it because it doesn't wait around long. It is not selling vacuum cleaners, Amway products or handing out copies of the Watchtower! But then once more, what the hell did I want with two bikes that I could barely afford anyway? The one that I own now was driving my credit card to the point of no return and the magnetic strip must be about demagnatized by now. My bike dealer loves me however so there is always a plus side to every minus.

So we said our good-bye's to old George and he made sure we knew where to find Cassie to get the title notarized.

Bear started the old Dodge and we headed slowly down the driveway out onto the road once again. I looked back and Mr. Wilkin's was nowhere in sight. Now that's odd, I sort of figured that he would hang around to see his old bike off on its next journey. But no, maybe the sun and the heat were too much for him and possibly it was hard to watch a part of your past disappear. Who knows?

Bear just kept on driving back the way we had come. I start to fiddle with the radio looking for something to listen to. Bear wasn't being very talkative and that came as no surprise. He never is really. I'm turning the dials when... Oh Shit! Bear's thinking about something and I really should be doing the same thing myself, but what?

Suddenly Bear pulls the truck over to the side of the road and stops short! "Here Richard, you drive!" And with that he was out of the cab and running around to the other side where I sat bewildered by all this. He stopped and took something out of the back of the truck bed and I slid on over into the drivers seat. Bear got back in and put that something behind the seat. Then he says "Well that's that and now we can go find Cassie". He had a non-committal expression on his face but I knew him well enough that he had something really magnificent planned and that I was to be a part of it. I would learn what that oddity was soon enough.

"OK now drive on back into town and please Richard, try to obey the speed limit, I don't need another ticket from anyone right now!"

"I hear and obey my lord" and I put the truck in gear and pull back out into the road and head back to the beach. Big mistake! Damn! I really should have gone the other way as sure as shit there's old Barney still siting in his 4WD just waiting. I check the speedometer and it's pegged on 20 mph. No more, no less. What could possibly go wrong?

I drive past Barney and Bear looks out the window and then does something I totally never expected him to do. Bear violates section 241, article 67 of the Florida State Motor Vehicle Code. Flipping off a Law Enforcement Officer. If ever there were a bigger bird flipped to anyone I've sure as hell never seen it. Bear is still smiling as Barney hits the lights, the siren, the throttle and the gearshift all at the same time and leaves a cloud of dusty coquina rock and other trash flying in the air as the 4WD grabs desperately for traction. Traction that is damned hard to come by as a matter of fact. "Just keep it at 20 mph Richard" is all that Bear says and that's what I do.

By now Barney has all but lost it he's so pissed off. The truck is starting to fishtail back and forth and I watch all this in the rear view as if it were happening in slow motion. Fascinating stuff really. Barney is weaving back and forth across the road like a he was on a hot buttered roll and there's no telling what or where he's going to end up doing next. That answer comes pretty fast as I see in the mirror that Barney is about to lose it! The Flashing lights sort of blink a few times and then he disappears off the shoulder and into a ditch. A ditch that is about four feet deep with muck and water! Damn but it was spectacular. The lights are still blinking and flashing but the siren sounds odd. Barney is now trapped like a rat. A rather wet and very pissed off rat I might add.

"Pull over and stop for a second Richard. There's something I have to do. Wait here and I'll be right back."

I do as I'm told and Bear opens the door, reaches behind the seat and removes whatever object it was that he had put there earlier. Then he walks slowly over to old Barney's now slowly sinking vehicle and edges his way down towards the trapped cop. Water is slowly filling the interior of the car and it's almost hysterical to see the cop trying to kneel on the front seat to keep his shoes dry.

"Hey there Deputy dog, You need a hand or something.?" Bear goes over and having learned from past experience he breaks off both antennas from the hapless Police vehicle. This while a terrified officer watches as Bear produces a screw gun and proceeds to violate yet another chapter and article of the FMVC that being 'Screwing the doors shut on a Police car'! Barney was now a prisoner in his own car and no way in hell could he call for help!

Bear just grins and says, "I'll tell them you need help as soon as I get into town. I'm sure someone will come along soon and pull you out. I'd stay and help you myself but you really need a four-wheel drive to get out of all that mud and stuff. Oh yes, Look out for those water moccasins by the way. I wouldn't recommend opening the windows unless I was absolutely sure that it was safe. Or then again if the water gets too deep you might think about climbing on the roof, but that's your choice, I'd wait for help if it were me. You take care now, I'll send help as soon as I get to town."

Bear lumbers back to the truck and gets in and says "OK Richard, Onward and upward to find a Notary!" I pull out once more and head towards town. Bears just sits there and says nothing. I don't bother to ask, as I don't want to know. Sometimes it's just better to be dumb as snot and let things follow their own natural way. Oh sure, it'll catch up with me sooner, not later but maybe it's all worth the ride anyway?

We pull into town and stop at the same restaurant and Bear and I go inside and Cassie signs and puts her seal on the title and Bear just smiles. He now owns a nice old four cylinder Indian and he's a very happy camper. Not to mention that he's wreaked havoc on one of the counties finest.

"George called and said you'd be stopping by. Glad you found him and he seems pleased that his old bike is going to a good home." Cassie says matter of factly. "You guys are welcome back here anytime now and don't hesitate to stop in and just say howdy. The Mullet is always fresh caught and any friend of George's is a friend of mine."

We thank her kindly and turn to head out the door. "Oh by the way," Bear says turning back, "You just might want to send a tow truck out to where your police officer is always parked. He seems to have got himself in a bit of trouble. It's going to get worse if it rains, so I'd hurry if I were you. I told him I'd send help when we got to town. You really can't miss him, he's in a ditch about a mile from here."

Bear and I return to his old Dodge and Bear starts the engine and backs out. Inside we can see Cassie on the phone and Bear smiles once again. "Isn't life just grand Richard? That poor SOB thinks I gave him my real drivers license and that the tag on this thing is mine. Remind me to pull in at the first rest stop we come to and change the plate."

The ride home was damned uneventful all things considered and Bear drops me off at my door at 2100 hrs and says good night. "I'll call you soon Richard and maybe we can do some work on this old bike sometime. Maybe even go for another ride?" He laughs and pulls out of my driveway once again and I head into the house still not knowing where the hell Bear lives. Maybe something's are just better left alone.

I wonder if anyone would ever believe anything that happened today? Probably not. Sometimes the truth is too much to comprehend.

But it always comes down to one thing and one thing only. That being "Occam's Razor."

Whaazzat you ask? Well simply put it means that "When you have two competing theories which make exactly the same predictions, the one that is simpler is the better." Hey, I'm all for that.

See you all back here another time and maybe, just maybe, Bear will have more to add. You just never know with friends like him. One thing you can count on, Bear will never have to pay the ticket and he'll never get caught for screwing a police car. Nobody would ever believe a word of this anyway.

[Don't ask me... I just edit the stuff ;-) - Ed.]