So Apparently You Need A LICENSE To Buy A Motorcycle Now!

Well, suffice it to say that my preparations for the impending apocalypse have hit a minor snag.

It is a well-established fact that the post-apocalyptic nightmare world to come will be ruled by warring cannibal motorcycle gangs. This is simply the default human response to a breakdown of law and order - we return to our baser instincts and resort to tribalism and motorcycle maintenance. We need only to look at current events in power vacuums such as Somalia and Tennessee to see evidence of this.

So thusfore my post-apocalyptic survival plan has been to join -- or preferably start -- a cannibal motorcycle gang. I already have most or the prerequisite qualities: ability to lead, charming good looks, rugged individualism, and a callous disregard for human life. The only element I'm missing is a motorcycle.

Not a problem, I thought. I can always buy one. So this morning I withdrew some money from my savings account (mattress) and took the bus to my local motor-cycle store ready to make this absolutely necessary for my future survival purchase.

At first, the smarmy goatee-clad salesman was friendly enough. But he seemed to turn suspicious when I asked him if the brake pedal was on the left or the right in this particular model - a perfectly legitimate question under the circumstances, I would think! He then began to interrogate me with a number of insulting, personal questions: how long have I been riding, when did get my license, have I been drinking, do I even know how to drive, and what have you.

The smarmy salesgoatee was un-abated in his questioning even when I brandished a wad of cash, saying he was "uncomfortable" selling a "motor vehicle" to me.

Apparently the power-clad overreaching liberals in the government have made it illegal to drive a motorcycle without a license. THANKS A LOT, OBAMA!

No doubt, this is undoubtedly part of the government's plan - to keep us powerless and motorcycle-less when the end comes. And the motor-cycle dealerships are all in on the conspiracy, hoarding all the half-cars for themselves so they'll have an ample post-apocalyptic supply. I'm on to you, Mr. Salesgoatee! You are most assuredly not welcome in MY gang!

So three weeks to the day from The End, I do not have a motorcycle. But I do have a Plan.

You see, my neighbor Dave owns a motorcycle. He is one of those pseudo-skeptic science-believers who refuses to accept predictions of the coming doomsday, and has not made any preparations whatsoever for the post-apocalyptic world to come. So I expect that he'll be one of the first to die, after which I will easily acquire his motorcycle without any resistance.

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