A. Blinken….. The voice recorder my Honey gave me has made it possible for me to capture the wisdom of people around us. That’s how I happened to record this conversation between Granny Wise and Billy Bianco. We visited him while Tally spent time with her mom. Billy is a character, even now at 80, even with arthritis in his back so bad he can scarcely walk, even with emphysema, even with huge, thick glasses. His white hair is still so thick a comb will stick in it, and though he is thin and hooked to oxygen, the foundation of broad shoulders and powerful arms remain. Granny and I went to his little house on the shadowed side of the river. It’s a small run down brown house, rich with moss this time of year. We knocked on the door and he shouted, "Yah?" Granny shouted, "open the door, it’s the cops." After a minute the door opened and Billy Bianco was there, sitting in his wheelchair. "Jesus Christ," he said, "I wish it was the cops, now. Come on in, Brighid, who’s the young feller?" Granny introduced me, and he invited us to have a beer and sit down. Granny and Billy chatted for awhile, and I looked around at pictures and mementos on the wall. There were several jackets from different motorcycle groups, lots of pictures of much younger and scarier Billy: with other scary guys, with motorcycles, with big breasted women. Not only Harley Davidson® bikes, but a great many other bikes and trikes as well. The conversation turned spicy, and I asked if I could turn my recorder on and perhaps use some of their conversation. Billy just waved at me, and they continued talking about the old days. (note: "fkn", "cskn" "mfkn" and so on refer to expletives)

Billy: Yeah, it really has got so the individual guy has no rights anymore. So many fkn laws. I saw it coming in 1966. That’s the year the Federal government passed the Highway Safety Act of 1966. That’s when the idee of "health, safety, morals and general welfare" was used to protect people from theirselves on motorcycles. (wheezing)

Granny: It’s for your own good, Billy.

Billy: Fk my own good. I’ll figure what’s for my good. I fought helmet laws for over forty years. (wheezing, coughing) See that picture there? That’s me and Heavy Garalin and Mike Harrison. We got arrested in Nevada fighting the damn helmet laws there. I think it was 1977, it says on the picture there. Helmet laws have gone back and forth, thanks to biker groups. Bikers know how to say, "Fck You, Uncle Sam." The seat belt laws have stuck, and now there’s mfkn cops on the cskn television threatenin’ me for not wearing a mfkn seatbelt. (wheezing, coughing) That’s because the average person doesn’t have a fkn spine. God Damnit, I’m glad I’m old. (wheezing) This ain’t no world to live in. If I was a young man now I’d have to rampage, to be honest.

Granny: Well, the young men do go to jail these days, Billy.

Billy: Not enough. ‘Sides, they go to jail for ventin’ their madness in the wrong direction. Boys need to get together, and instead of going to war for Gottrocks, they need to go to war for freedom. (wheezing) Fk ‘em, Brighid. Instead, they get us to fight each other. Look at them gangs today, I don’t mean bikers, I mean the Mexican kids. They fight each other, like we did when we were young. That’s stupid, that’s what they want you to do. Fk that, turn around back to back and fight the cops, fight ‘em all the way back to city hall, then go in city hall and tell those bastards, either things get better and you get off our ass, or we’ll shut this mfkn city down. But, young guys don’t know how to do that.

Granny: They think with their balls, Billy.

Billy: Well, old guys, too, Brighid, we just can’t get around very well. For awhile I thought young Black guys might get some of our freedom back. They talk a good plan, but, let ‘em get a little money, and it’s all about shiny underwear and tight, big butted Black girls.

Granny: I know you’d do better, Billy.

Billy: Ha ha! (wheezing, coughing) Well, you can have a fight for freedom and big butted Black girls, too, Brighid. I’ll tell you this, if I could, I’d still be enjoyin’ both. I still ride every so often, my nephew comes over and we take the hawg out. It’s been quite some years since I had a big butted gal. I just talk about ‘em, I can’t play anymore. I still know what freedom is, though, and I miss it. (wheezing)

Granny: Nothin’ scarier than freedom, Billy.

Billy: For some. Yeah, that’s true, for the most of people, they’ll piss themselves if they’re ever free. Some guys think it’s natural to be free, but really, it’s only natural for some guys. Freedom means you have to be out there for yourself. You can’t whine and piss yourself and have someone come runnin’. That’s the part most people don’t like about freedom. (wheezing) Like helmets, you don’t wear a helmet and some day you’ll grind your skull down to the brain on the cold hard pavement. See this dent in my forehead? Hit a pickup in a rainstorm, bastard didn’t have brake lights. The corner of the tailgate busted through the helmet and into my headbone. If I hadn’t been wearing a helmet I’d have dumped my fkn brain in the back of the pickup! Still, I should decide when to wear a helmet and when not, it isn’t up to the fkn law to tell me, it’s up to them to make sure the asshole in the pickup has brake lights. (wheezing, coughing)

Granny: Well, that’s what freedom is, the difference between what you do to yourself and what you do to others.

Billy: Oh, hell yeah. Like helmet laws for kids on the back of a bike, I never fought that. You take your kid or someone’s kid on a bike, you put a helmet on them. That’s just smart. What if they fall off and do a willy skidder into the curb, and I seen it happen. They need a helmet. But, for adults, it should be up to them to decide. Same thing for dope or hookers or fkn skydivin’ or anything adults like to do to relax. (wheezing)

Granny: I can’t see it getting’ any better. I see folks on the television, and they have no idea of what freedom is. They think it means more kinds of clothes, more gadgets. If they ever had a real taste of freedom I think a lot would die of the experience.

Billy: And, that’s fine, too. That’s a big part of the problem with over protectin’ people. A lot live who really shouldn’t, and it’s bringin’ the standards down for the rest of us. Helmet laws are still a good example. A lot of riders now are fat butts, post war babies who sat at a desk all their lives and now they’re older, they want to feel the roar of a bike between their legs before they die. They’re gonna die, anyway, a lot of them, from diabetes and fatty carburetors or whatever. (wheezing) An old friend of mine and three of his buddies dropped by the other day. They were all ridin’ big bikes, big dollar bikes. All were stock, but they were chop-stock, you know what I mean? Nice bikes for store bikes. Anyway, of the four of them, there were two diabetics, a guy with heart disease who’d had three bypass operations, any my buddy who has more iron parts than a panhead, but who still can’t get his crank hard, you know what I mean? Ha ha ha. (wheezing, coughing) Anyway, those boys shouldn’t have to wear their helmets, even though they ain’t that good as riders. Those fat desk jockeys are who’s dying on bikes these days, and it’s the best for everybody. Hell, they should pass a law makin’ it illegal for them boys to wear a helmet. If they don’t die having a great time, they’ll linger and hang around using medical dollars and stinkin’ the place up like I do. (wheezing) Jesus, I wouldn’t wish this on Adolph Hitler. Makes me feel like takin’ a fast ride in a hard rain right now.

Granny: Christ, Billy, you’ve become quite a whiner. It’s a good thing I brought you some of this. (Rustling of plastic bags.)

Billy: Weed! Damn, thank you girl.

Granny: It’s my stuff. Not much by modern standards, but it gets me over the rainbow.

Billy: There’s a bong in that cabinet, boy. Put some water in it. No, this is tits, Brighid, thanks so much. I have to get it from my nephew, and he gets me hothouse crap and adds ten bucks to the price. This will be great!

Granny: Throw the seeds out back this spring and tell your nephew to kiss your ass.

Billy: I’ll do it! (wheezing)

Granny: Course, they might bust you for growin’.

Billy: God damnit! Mfkrs! (wheezing, coughing) Goddamn I hate this crap, Brighid. I fought in Korea, you know. I didn’t fight to come back and be fkd with like this. I’ll grow fkn opium if I want to. Turn my oxygen off, there, will you boy?

(Bubbling sound of a bong; coughing)

Granny: Let ‘em put you in the jug, Billy.

Billy: That’s real smooth, Brighid. Here. No, they won’t jug me, my medical bills are too high.

Granny: That’s the upside to bein’ this old, Billy, no one wants anything to do with you. You have a shitty smell like a baby and cost as much, but you ain’t cute no more. (Bubbling sound of a bong; coughing)

Billy: Ha ha ha! Give it to the boy.

Granny: No, you smoke it, Billy, he’s drivin’ and he don’t need no challenges, if you know what I mean.

A.B.: I’m good, Mr. Bianco, thanks.

Billy: What about some chorizo? I got some chorizo a friend sent me from over on the coast. It’s made with javellina and has tequila and habeneros, damn, it’s good. Take just a minute to fry it up. We could send the boy out for more beer. (wheezing, coughing)

Granny: No, we got a pregnant gal to pickup. She’s getting’ paid to help me out at the cabin.

Billy: Damn, how can I get a pregnant gal to help me out? If I ask for help I’ll probably get someone like this guy here. Drink my beer and steal my girlie magazines, wouldn’t you?

Granny: Don’t cry, A.B., he’s only foolin’ you.

Billy: Ha ha ha! (wheezing) You’re all right, boy. You help your Granny out?

A.B.: Some.

Billy: You ride a bike?

A.B.: No. I had a Honda 350 when I came back from the war.

Billy: Well, that’s almost a bike. What war?

A.B.: Gulf war, 1991.

Billy: You getting’ benefits?

A.B.: No. I’m fine.

Billy: You should try to get benefits. It’s money you fought for. The Veterans help me, thank God.

A.B.: I’ll see.

Granny: OK, boy, start the truck. So long, Billy.

Billy: Come back again!