we were supposed to have a photographer from the SF chronicle trail us tonight, but we quickly found something much better to do.
lately, there has been an outbreak of moped theft in san francisco centered around the caltrain station downtown, where good-for-nothings and child molesters have been cutting cable locks of bikes chained on the street. stolen was a puch maxi, a vespa bravo, and another bravo i think at a different location.
as we left sadie's for our ride tonight, a lone moped was spotted down the block. we immediately tore after it, zig-zagging through the maze-like streets at the foot of potrero hill.
even with polini power between our legs, this pederass knew his terrain well, dragging us through a series of mud-covered construction sites and dirt paths. at the end of a makeshift parking lot my magnum lept off a two-foot-tall drop-off of some kind into gravel as graham cornered the baby-toucher.
"it's my friend's bike!" pleaded the hapless dirty-dread hillbilly lowlife. he sped off into the dirt, with newport and me in pursuit.
some chainlink fence and lake-like puddle later, mr. scumsucker lost us around a corner. newport and i split up to look in the dark for him. at the end of a parking lot i spoke to the attendant, who had previously seen a couple of extremely dirty fellows hanging out with mopeds under some overpass wasteland. i rode back, met up with newport and the rest of the gang, my insides burning with feelings of failure and disappointment.
well, shit-fuck, leave it to our antagonist to stupidly ride up toward us on his stolen goods. fifteen or twenty of us raced back to our bikes and took off after him across the china basin bridge, whatever it's called.
i saw nothing but sewer-dread's taillight as i pushed the magnum up to 80+ km/h over some very bumpy and ill-maintained roads. the little red light headed out over some dirt again, but graham, newport and i stayed close behind, with lee charging right behind us on the all-stock-modified hill-toucher of a maxi that he engineered but is unfortunately selling to some undeserving lad. in the pitch-dark we did not see the jagged chunk of concrete we had to jump onto, and i slammed on the brakes and lept off the bike as newport took a dive over his new clip-ons. lee somehow drove his bike over this vertical chunk of jagged conglomerate.
we immediately jumped back onto our rides and raced the pug-fucker down the block. he approached a circa-1995 beige mazda mpg, dumped the bike, and hopped in. graham, newport, and i surrounded the van, chains in hand, as the others roared to catch up.
"drive! drive, steve, drive!" cried the incest-bred scat defender.
"get the fuck out of my car!" yelled steve, the driver.
none of us wanted brains on our chains, so we let the thief go, since we had the bike. steve wouldn't let him back into the car until the cops appeared down the block, and they sped away. we have their license number.
casualties: only a bunch of loose shit on newport's pinto, lost homoet mount on my magnum (and thus a bad exhaust leak), some skin off doug's leg. it was worth it. even newport and i bonded a little.