A few backfire noises came out from the back of his mopad as he reached a wall of brush.
"No brakes? Dad forgot to get to repair the brakes? I wish I had not clipped my toenails, I could have used them to smash the spokes and stop the bike! Damn the luck, I am finished! I just hope the bike survives so Dad can get to me funeral!"
He smashed through the shrubbery wall, as the motorcycle shot over a five foot ledge into a pool of liquid pig manure. Harold flew one way, and the bike the other. He had found his Uncles moonshine hideout.
Suddenly his Uncle rushed out of the shack with an AK 47 and began spraying the pig pen with a few well placed shots at the mopad, which just lay next to Harold. He shot out the last remaining right side mirrors on the bike.
"No!" Harold screamed "The bike will never pass its inspection for the road at Blinders Inspection Shop ever now! Dad is going to be pissed!"
Another shot ripped right down the center line of the seat, causing a flurry of feathers to come out and cover Harold.
"Stop Uncle Twootleminder! It is me, your half son in law! The one your brother cranked out of my mother! Dad sends his greetings, but he will be some mad when he has to drive in the winter months on that now metal seat of his on his mopad!"
Uncle Twootleminder from the great Twootleminder tribe from some Paradise in the Central Pacific came over and glanced a little more at his son in law in a half.
"Why, I drank so much moonshine, It looks like there is three of yeahs all lined up there tarred in pig shit and feathers. Harold, you say? From the great Wannapus clan? It does ring a bell..."
To be continued...