Biker 1/2 Cycle 1 - Birth of a Modern Legend

Book 2: Severed

Chapter 11: Announcing the Annual Great Snake Hunt!

by Calum Wallace

=====

LEGALISTIC SHIT and RANT
Okay, let's be serious here (for once.) Ranma 1/2 is not mine. Neither
is Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Neither is Gunsmith Cats. Neither is Street
Fighter II. Neither is any other original work I rip off. Now, as I'm
hovering just above the poverty line, the people who own these original
works might as well not bother sueing me, because I haven't got any
money for them to sue me for, OK? In other words, don't blame me.
Also, please would anyone who's C&Ced me without getting a reply from me
note that I did get their mail, I did take notice, I did read it, it's
just I get about two hours a week online and I plain don't normally have
the www'ing time to reply to anything whatsoever.
I am listening, I'll start replying when I get a in-home Web connection
again, it's just that right now I have to lug my iMac up to Mum's place
(a good eight miles) to get online and to do this I have to talk her
into coming and giving me a lift as I don't have wheels. As I'm as avid
a Ranma/BGC/Evangelion fanfic reader as they come this means that most
of that online time is spent downloading my week's reading material.
I'll reply to you all when I'm back online, I promise OK?

Previous chapters of this monstrosity (including the entirety of book 1)
can be found in several places - the TASS/RAAC archives (for some reason
their bots didn't put book 2 in the Biker 1/2 folder) fanfiction.net and
Studio Asynjor (a.k.a http://www.asynjor.com/fanfic/index.html) which
for now can be counted as the official Biker 1/2 webpage until I finally
manage to get something more personalised written. Don't get onto me as
to what the heck everything's arranged like on the above sites - the
only involvement I have in them is A) guy who posts stuff on RAAC and B)
satisfied user.

I'd advise first-time readers of Biker 1/2 to go to one of the above
sites and read book 1 since I sincerely doubt you'd be able to work out
what the heck's going on if you didn't; this is the second of a series
of 100,000+ word books.

(And with that little public service announcement out the way we now
return you to your scheduled fanfic.)

Words in "{this}" kind of brackets are spoken in Cantonese. Those in
"[this]" are in wolf-speak.

=====

"He's one of a kind, say's what's on his mind, you might think he's
complaining when you hear him say -" - S.P.O.C.K, 'Dr. McCoy.'

"Looking at Ranma, you wouldn't think he was so insecure. I mean, you
look at him, you see six feet of confidence, a rock hard bikie. But once
you get past that - christ. Shellshock doesn't even start to describe
it." - Mortise Taro, interview for Channel 9 News, April 2002.

***********************************

The short-arse woman slouched quietly down the street. She had a half
empty sake bottle hanging from her left hand; all that came out her
right sleeve was a large metal hook. She was dressed in a bomber jacket,
denim jeans, a black T-shirt and hiking boots, and was smoking a
Lambert&Butler. The sneer on her face would be familiar to anyone who
had ever ran across a belligerent drunk; she reeked of alcohol, unwashed
armpits and anger.
She suddenly stopped dead in her tracks and turned round.
"Come on out, girl. I can smell you clear as a shithouse."
There was a quiet snort from the alley she had just walked past; another
woman slouched out of it, keeping her AK47 held at the ready as she
came.
"You're pretty good... who are you?"
"You're not bad yourself, kid." the midget growled. "But this nose never
lies... so who the fuck wants to know?"
"A Clan Saotome warrior wants to know. And since we've noticed you
lurking around near the house belonging to our new Lord..."
"I'm just a dumb piece of shit who lost her Clan by being too fucking
stupid for her own good, Miss Clan Saotome Warrior." the midget sneered.
"And anyway, I live around hereabouts so lose the attitude unless you
want it adjusted with this hook. Sure wouldn't be suck a pretty fucking
face if I ripped your nose off."
"You're the one who needs to lose some attitude, shorty. I fire one shot
and this place'll be crawling with battle form werewolves before you can
fart tw- hey where the hell do you think you're going?"
"Home. I've got some alcohol needing drunk." The midget stopped two
doors down and unlocked said door; she turned round on the threshold.
"Sod of and leave this sad old bitch to drink herself insensible again."
She knocked back a huge slug of her sake. "You want me out of here, you
get your boss to deal with me. I know what rank you are, girl. Not like
you ain't got it on your jacket. You ain't got the power to kick me out
of town, so go ahead and sic Lord Ranma fucking Saotome onto me, see if
I give a shit." She slammed the door in the Amazon's face.
Sao Wang shook her head.
"Sad old bitch."

***********************************

Quite unaware of Sao Wang's shouting match a few streets away, Ranma
Saotome was presently finishing bolting his bike's engine heads back on.
He'd spent most of the morning stripping it down and cleaning it's
internals, this being his personal favourite form of meditation.
He glanced up as Herb and Mortise walked into the room.
"Mornin' guys."
"Morning Ranma." Mortise replied. "So, guess we're headed for Ryugenzawa
as soon as we've got the ceremony out the way, huh? Hey Herb, what was
that you were saying about one of Donna Skel's less successful
experiments?"
"The Yamato-no-Orochi? Think of it as eight enormous snakes with their
tails tied together and an extra head on their collective arse.
Altogether you couldn't quite fit it in a forty foot trailer. Each
'body', if you will, is about fifty feet long and eight to ten feet in
diameter. The tertiary heads are around the size of a saloon car, the
main head is around the size of a truck cab, say Nodoka's rig's cab if
you ignore everything in front of the windscreen. According to what I've
heard it's a carnivore, Lady Skel used to feed it entire cows. Then
apparently one of her menagerie attendants fell into it's pond and it
started refusing to eat anything but werewolf. So they tried feeding it
kidnapped humans and it refined it's tastes to women only. Sometime
during that mess someone dropped a sake bottle in and it gobbled it - it
started getting more and more pissy until they took the hint and started
throwing it casks of booze. By the time they dumped it in that cave it
was at an advanced stage of alcoholism - it drank on average a hundred
and fifty to two hundred gallons of sake a day."
"So we're talkin' a sexist cannibal monster piss artist, right?"
"You got it Saotome."
"How many times I gotta tell ya not ta call me that?"
Herb chuckled. "Sorry Ranma."
Ranma grunted. "Okay. We're gonna need a buncha th' hardest-hittin'
guys. Me, ya two, Dad if he wakes up in time, Spike, Lime, Mu Tze, Soun.
Anyone else?"
Mortise shrugged. "Hmm... Maybe we'd best bring a squad of Amazon ranged
fighters with anti-tank weapons?"
Herb shook his head. "We don't wanna hurt it that badly, it's still
property of Clan Skel and Lady Donna kind of likes it - she'd be really
pissed if we blew it away... There's a couple of other Amazon men who're
well worth a mention - Mark Vance and Sun Lao."
Ranma shot bolt upright. "Mark Vance? Ya mean *th'* Mark Vance? Th' guy
who kicked three shades o' shit outta th' Moo Thai champ Sagat a couple
years back? Th' man's a fuckin' genius! Worth a mention? Fuck, I
wouldn't rate me own chances against him!"
Herb nodded. "Yup. He's a former Daarak clanner and was at one stage the
United States national kung fu champion, one of the best staff fighters
I've ever seen to boot, he wound up marrying into the Joketsuzoku about
eight years ago. Sun Lao's the guy who taught Mu Tze everything he
knows, he's been teaching Amazon boys his hidden weapons techniques for
centuries and he reckons Mu Tze's the best student he's ever seen."
Ranma grunted and turned to the Amazon who had been assigned as his
personal lackey for the day. "Couldja get Mark Vance, Mu Tze, Soun
Tendo, Spike an' Sun Lao down here? I wanna chat wiv 'em an' I gotta
make a peace treaty wiv Mu Tze. An' see if ya can find Lime an' Spike
while yer about it, huh?"
She nodded and dashed off somewhere. Ranma watched her go then grunted
again. "Bloody hell."
"I see you're getting the hang of being incredibly important." Mortise
remarked. "You know, I dunno why you complain about having large numbers
of lovely young ladies running around doing your bidding."
"Because I work fer an livin'."
Mortise snorted. "Ranma, I've got a little advice for you. Say you were
running that motorbike customisation business Genma has. Of course you'd
hire people to do the bits of the business you didn't have time to do
because you were always up to your ears in motorbike parts. Clan Saotome
are asking you to run the Clan. That entails doing everything you can to
ensure their continued survival. Akira Saotome was a shitty example of a
Clan leader, as are the Lords of Clan Hakkenan and Clan Daarak. All of
them see it as a chance to throw their weight around. I once heard you
say to your mother - 'live and let live and if some bugger don't, kick
their ass'. Take your own advice. This is your chance to make damn sure
several million people get the chance to just get on with their lives
without anyone daring to shit them about, because if they do they get
Clan Saotome upside the head. That is exactly what the Lord Packmaster
of a Clan is *supposed* to do. You're the protector of your people, and
the least you could expect in return is a little respect. The Reformist
Amazons already see you in that light - just when they were about to get
their heads blown off you popped up and gave them sanctuary, and
Amazon's don't forget that kind of favour in a hurry. I've known the
Joketsuzoku since 1985, and they are collectively the most honourable
people it has ever been my great fortune to meet. Hell, by their mindset
you as good as own them. You're a werewolf, Ranma. You're a large
dangerous supernatural creature and it's about time you started acting
like one."
"So what th' hell's that meant ta mean?"
"That means stop complaining about things you have every right to stand
up and *demand* people give you when they turn round and give you those
things by their  own volition! I've been friends with these people for
years, and they're part of your family! It just so happens that you're
the head of that family and they're the part of the family that has to
fight to prove it's loyalty right now. There's several million Saotome
clanners out there who'd sooner eviscerate any Amazon on sight than give
her the time of day! And you've already been to Hell and back for their
benefit - have some respect for the fact they're grateful to you! You
earned it, man! Your parents got hospitalised, your home got trashed,
your sister got vamped then got amnesia, you got teleported to the wrong
damn continent and your wife got blinded fighting their fight - of
course they worship the ground upon which you shit! You're their own
personal Jesus Christ! Nine out of every ten of those girls are
hopelessly in love with you - just when the civil war they'd been
dreading for over a century was finally blowing up you came to them, you
let them eat of your bread and drink of your wine, you armed them with
your guns, you gave them shelter, food and friendship, you fought like
Lucifer himself to defend them - and they're from a warrior culture!
You're the one who cheerfully stood up and pulled all the stunts most
likely to impress an Amazon, now have the courtesy to accept the
results!"
Ranma sat back down.
"Shit, man - I wuz just doin' what any decent guy'd do."
Herb shook his head.
"You did a hell of a lot more than that, Ranma. In case you hadn't
noticed, the Conservative faction outnumbered the Reformists by nearly
two to one. Every Reformist Amazon in Nerima, you saved her life that
day at Joketsuzo. You've won their loyalty, their gratitude and their
love, not necessarily in that order. And if I ever hear anyone say you
didn't earn it, I'll ki blast his ass into Mars orbit. Clan Saotome is a
gigantic wolfpack, and you are the undisputed pack alpha male, with
Akane and Xian Pu as the alpha females. That's what Mortise meant by
acting like who and what you are. You're a straight talking, no bullshit
bikie. You're a top-notch brawler and a fucking amazing rider. You're
also a fairly large timberwolf. Listen to that wolf you've got in your
head, Ranma. He knows what he's doing."
Mu Tze, Lime, Mark Vance, Spike, Soun and Sun Lao chose that moment to
walk into the workshop, blasély ignoring the burnt-out tank in the end
wall.
"Morning son." Soun called over.
"Mornin' guys. Hey, Mortise - Herb - fill 'em in, I gotta talk ta Mu
Tze."
Mu Tze chuckled.
"So you finally learnt to pronounce my name right?"
Ranma shrugged. "I figured me mispronouncin' Chinese names all over th'
place wuz makin' me look like a twat so I got Herb ta gimme a hand.
C'mon over here man, we gotta talk."
Mu Tze followed him over to the saleroom half of the SCC building.
"What about? Xian Pu?"
"Well, her an' I wanna apologise fer th' shit I put ya through."
Mu Tze shrugged. "No apologies needed, Mr. Saotome. It was about time
someone beat a bit of sense into my thick head... Look, if you ever hurt
her I'll gut you like a fish, get my drift? I do still love her."
"If I fucked her around ya'd haveta go fer her leftovers..." Ranma
extended a grubby oil-streaked hand. "Friends?"
Mu Tze accepted the proffered handshake.
"Friends indeed."
"Then call me Ranma."
"So, what's going on?"
Ranma turned and headed back to where the others were talking round the
partially reassembled bike.
"Ya know how Akane got blinded an' Mum got a broken back? Well, there's
somethin' I can do about it, but I'm gonna need hard-hittin' guys ta do
it." Ranma shut up so as to not talk over Herb.
"Ah," Herb said. "Let's bring the latecomer up to speed..."

***********************************

"Hey man," Kasumi asked. "What's the like, long face about, man?"
Mu Tze chuckled. "Is it really that obvious? You've heard all the
rumours that're flying around about the Moss of Life, right?"
"Like, yeah, man. So what's the like, story?"
"It exists right enough - only we're going to have to fight a monster to
get it."
"What kinda monster?" Kasumi asked worriedly.
"Some call it a dragon. Others call it a demon. It's a gigantic nine
headed snake."
"Wow, man... Like, how's that arranged?"
"Imagine eight giant snakes with their tails tied together, and a ninth
enormous head as the knot. Each tail is about twenty yards long. Each
minor head is about the size of your car, and the main head is the size
of a cab-over-engine truck's cab and sleeper cab put together."
Kasumi frowned and stubbed her joint out; she turned round and grabbed
Mu Tze's shoulders, frowning stonedly into his eyes.
"You be real like, careful, man. I *finally* kinda got a boyfriend and I
like, don't want him getting kinda waxed, dig?"
"I love you." Mu Tze replied.
"I like, love you too, man."

***********************************

"Ah, Tiger, how are things coming along?"
Tiger sat back from cleaning her machine gun's mechanism and skidded
round on her arse to face Mi Soon.
"Elder Mi Soon. I have selected all teams, they are presently
familiarising themselves with the weapons Colonel Honda supplied us. Do
you have news of mechanised support?"
Mi Soon nodded. "Indeed. The first tanks are arriving onsite right about
now, and the infantry fighting vehicles will be here in twenty hours.
Instructors are taking a little longer to find, apparently the armoured
regiments are being a bit sticky about giving up more of their men to
the Special Operations Groups. Helicopter gunship support has been
detailed from 344 JASDF until our pilots have completed their training,
and 601 SOG are to provide us with transport helos for that time."
"That's good to hear. Everything we need for the operation is here,
we're only waiting for everyone to be certain that they know what
they're doing. I took the liberty of arranging some trial runs for
tomorrow."
"Good, good. I'm glad to see you have the situation well in hand." Mi
Soon headed back towards her house.
Tiger watched her go for a few moments then snorted and went back to her
gun.

***********************************

Akane missed having Ranma's bike to lean on. She was as usual sitting in
the living room and letting the sounds of The Sisters of Mercy wash over
her and through her head; she was by now quite firm in her belief that
blindness was a dead bore.
She had noticed she could easily differentiate between every member of
the household by the sound of them walking; from Shampoo's quick, light
step to Ranma's creaking leathers and clicking toesliders, from Nabiki's
nervous shuffle to Kasumi's stoned blunder they were as different by
sound as they were by sight. Talking of which, the scuffing noises from
the hall announced that Nabiki was approaching.
"Hey Nabs."
"Morning Akane."
"Is it? I lost track of time again."
Nabiki shuffled over, heaved her kevlar-lined denim jacket onto the back
of the sofa and sat down beside Akane.
"How're you doing sis?"
"Same shit different day."
"You like me to read some more of that book?" Nabiki had taken to
reading her cyberpunk novels aloud to Akane; Nabiki had a private love
of reading aloud and Akane found it helped while the day away. They were
presently halfway through Snow Crash, a read they were both greatly
enjoying.
"Yeah."
However, they were both distracted from further thought of science
fiction by the door crashing open, admitting Ranma and Mark Vance
halfway through a conversation. "-ts gonna be a hard fight. That thing
is tough." Mark explained.
"When th' hell ya take it on, man?"
"About eighteen or nineteen years ago, similar reason as we're going
after it this time. An old friend of mine - girl from Hong Kong, she's
with Interpol, she got smashed up pretty bad when some fucker tried to
knock her off, she kicked him out a twelfth floor window but she was
hospitalised, in a coma and the quacks didn't reckon she was going to
make it. Me and Craig Guile - a pal of mine from the US Air Force, she's
his little lady - got some of our buddies together after my wife told me
about the Yamato-no-Orochi. Let's see... we had my favourite rival Ken
Masters, he's the reason I'm no longer the US champ, a pal of his he
trained with - Japanese guy by the name of Ryu, y'know, *the* Ryu,
myself, Guile and a semi-retired fiendbrid Sumo wrestler called
Yoshikaze Honda. So we had what was at the time five of the greatest
streetfighters in the world. It took us twenty minutes to beat the damn
thing into submission. I tell you, we got back to Seattle just in the
nick of time."
"Figure it can't handle Prince Herb o' th' Musk." Ranma remarked.
"Mmmm.... nah. He'll roast that sucker. I've got to get home before me
little lady gets pissy, I'll catch you later."
"Yeah, see ya man."
Akane waited until she heard the door close behind Mark before asking
the question that was plaguing her mind.
"Who's that?"
"That," Ranma said, "Is Mark Vance. Onea th' three greatest martial
artists in th' world today."
Aakane whistled. "As in *the* Mark Vance?"
"So who's the others?" Nabiki enquired.
"Yup, *the* Mark Vance... Ken Masters an' Ryu're th' others."
Nabiki blinked. "Ryu? You mean the guy who was instrumental in shutting
down the Shadowlaw crime ring back in the early Eighties, right?"
"Yeah, him."
Akane nodded; that had always been one of her favourite slices of
history. "So did anyone ever find out Ryu's surname?"
"Fucked if I know. It's probably in th' JSDF files." Ranma chuckled.
"Hell, I don't even know if th' guy's human."
"He isn't." Nabiki replied. "According to the JSDF files he's a Skel
clanner. Full name Ryuunosuke Nishajima, born in 1923 in Yokohama."
Akane gave her a gentle slap on the nose. "Why the hell didn't you tell
me you know his surname?"
Nabiki shrugged.
"I've had a lot on my mind. I only found out last week, just before we
went to the States. I just didn't think of it."
"Hey Ranma."
"Yeah Akane?"
"Let's go screw."
Nabiki rolled her eyes. Akane had never been the most subtle woman in
Japan, and she'd just got less and less subtle over the last two months.
Since getting her face (previously the only part of her anatomy she was
willing to allow anyone to see) filled with shrapnel her dress sense had
deteriorated dramatically; right now she was wearing her traditional
choker and trenchcoat, a skintight black PVC boob tube, her cartridge
belt, a purple silk loincloth and thigh high rock boots.
Akane had gone from androgynous goth to very much not androgynous goth
slut in two short weeks. But then, Nabiki mused to herself, maybe Akane
did have a point. Ranma was usually very perceptive, but some points had
to be rammed home into his head with a trip hammer. Two weeks ago she'd
felt bad about fancying her sister's husband. The last two weeks had
made her realise that A) Akane was actually more Shampoo's wife than
Ranma's wife and B) she (Nabiki) didn't give two hoots and a whistle
what anyone else thought. Ranma was A) sexy (if you liked your guys
badassed) B) very intelligent, C) already liked her a lot and D) seemed
to have almost endless affection for any woman within a mile of his
hairy self. Between Shampoo and Akane he already had the nucleus of a
harem fitting for an emperor of old, and the last two weeks had made
Nabiki realise she was damned if anyone but herself was getting the
chance to be the third member of said harem.
She narrowed her eyes to slits as she watched him guide Akane up the
stairs.
"Yeah, big man." she whispered. "You ain't got a chance. The Ice Queen
gets what the Ice Queen wants... and right now the Ice Queen wants you."
A knowing chuckle came from behind her; wheeling round she found Shampoo
grinning at her.
"You look to join our so, so tiny club Nabiki?"
Nabiki contemplated her choices for about five seconds.
"Fucking right I am."
"Come with me." Shampoo said. "We notice you make eyes at Ranma often
before Second Battle. Akane and I, we come to decision."
Nabiki slid to her feet.
"And that decision was?"
"You want in, you take strain. Right now Ranma not know, but he suspect.
You pass test, you in. You not pass test, you not in."
"And who decided that?"
"Akane is state terms of test."

***********************************

The bear grunted to himself. He was presently having a rather unpleasant
dream about being chased by demon hunters in helicopters with machine
guns. He was trying to shoot at the helicopters with a bazooka, but
every time he managed to get his paw round the trigger the pistol grip
fell off, forcing him to hide behind a rock to put it back on, a task
made quite difficult since the only substance he had with which to glue
it back into place was an almost limitless supply of Spam. And to add to
his problems his shapeshifting refused to work. "GROWF!"
If he had been in human form, that would have come out as a shout of
'Bloody bazooka!'
In the room next door to him, his wife smiled as she listened to his
annoyed dreaming grunts and growls. They had never really liked each
other all that much, but over the years they had in a way got used to
each other; although they (fortunately for their equilibrium) didn't see
each other every day each found at least a little comfort in knowing the
other would still be there when they looked back. Each had or had at one
time had someone else, but they had their little understanding; all the
same, she was surprised at how happy she found herself to hear those
annoyed bear noises coming from his ward.
Dr. Tofu stuck his head into her room.
"Ah, Mrs. Saotome..."
"Don't worry, he's dreaming." Nodoka smiled. "Genma always did have the
weirdest dreams all the time... it's a good sign."
Tofu nodded. "That it is." He paused. "A young man by the name of Mark
Vance was past earlier. Apparently Ranma's friends have tracked down a
solution for your back, and they will be departing to get it tomorrow."
"I thought so. Any news of the ceremony?"
Tofu nodded. "Yes, you are invited to attend if your doctor thinks you
are well enough to be moved."
"And does my doctor think I am well enough to be moved?"
Tofu nodded again. "Your back is as healed as it'll ever get through
conventional medicine. Magic may well do a better job, but then I'm just
a doctor, not a magician more's the pity."
Nodoka chuckled. "Damnit Jim I'm a doctor not a magician!"
"Someone's been watching too much Star Trek."

***********************************

Ranma was pissed off for the first twenty seconds when today's lackey
knocked on the door while he was somewhat involved. Then he heard the
message the Amazon had to impart.
"My lord, please accept my apologies for interrupting you, but Elder Mi
Soon instructed me to tell you that Doctor Tofu called. Your father is
waking up."

And another one down.

NOTES
Next - Time to smash overgrown animals.
Oh great. Tony Blair you fucking wanker. George Bush you fucking wanker.
You're supposed to be running fucking DEMOCRACIES! I dunno about the
Americans, but us Brits don't want any part in this blowing up Iraq
crap. Please oh please, get your head out your arse!
You know what this shit makes me want to do? It makes me want to grab
Tony by the jug ears and scream 'What the fuck do you think you're
doing' into his face at point blank range, preferably with a substantial
supply of spittle going everywhere. Seen as how a couple of million
people wandering round London going 'Cut it out Tony' didn't work maybe
a set of knuckles upside the smarmy grin would get the message across.
In other words, Tony: get the fuck down the pub you English bastard and
work out that public school aggro on consenting drunks, not the Iraqi
population.  Or even better, sling all that smarmy double-talk into
getting that fucking retard George Bush to extract his knobbly cranium
from his anal passage, he might get some understanding of what's going
on on this particular crummy little planet if he can see something other
than his own shite. And anyway, if you can prove Saddam has some
connection to that pack of retards who decided to ram a few planes
upside a few buildings why don't you get your act together and show us
it, OK? That might sway a little public opinion here. I really don't
want to get blown up by some Arab over your pathetic little penis. Go
see a psychologist and get your screws tigtened before you hurt someone,
man! I used to be proud of being British - as soon as my present
passport runs out I'm going to get the next one with the nationality
listed as 'Scottish citzen'. After all, us Scots have the proud record
of having never had our government bomb some other country. Mainly
because we didn't have a government for a while before bombs were
invented. I'm living in a long-term occupied country and now you're
turning it into an aggressor state just so you can have some laughs?
Smarmy little jug-eared creep.
Oi, Bush! Go ask your daddy why he didn't finish Saddam off back when he
ran the USA and public opinion was behind him, wontcha? You got a family
grudge or something? Trying to complete Daddy's unfinished business, are
we? Hurry up and grow a brain, you might find it helpful in that arcane
process known as thinking! Saddam didn't shove those planes up the Twin
Towers, it was Bin Laden and his fuckup mates! You know, Osama Bin
Laden, spelt very differently from Saddam Hussein, isn't it? Don't tell
me you're THAT dyslexic - even my sister can tell the difference and
she's SERIOUSLY dyslexic! And while you're screaming about weapons of
mass destruction, try checking your own military's inventory why don't
you? You'll find a whole bunch of nukes and nasty chemicals and anthrax
and stuff in there! We'd better get the UN weapons inspectors in, hadn't
we? It works both ways, dickhead! Go destroy your own stash of naughty
little secrets, and I don't mean the sheepshagging tapes you got off
your redneck cousins!
Obsessive-compulsive retard.
You know, both of those shitheads have Mad Cowboy Disease.
Laters,
Calum 'Doghead' Wallace.

GLOSSARY OF TERMS
Alternator - Higher tech version of a generator.

Artic - The UK term for a semi truck. Short for 'articulated lorry'.

Astro-Creep 2000 - The title of a White Zombie album.

Binned - crashed. Normally means written off. Derived from 'bin' as in
'rubbish bin' (the British term for a trash can)

Chain lube - Motorbike chain lubrication oil. Comes in a spray can and
looks a bit like snot.

Conrod (connecting rod) - The bit of metal that connects the piston to
the crankshaft. Shaped approximately like a flat dumbbell.

Engine clicking - An internal combustion engine heats up when run. Run
it hard and it heats up more, then when you switch off the engine will
start emitting a series of sharp clicks as the metal cools and
contracts.

Final drive - the drive chain that goes from the gearbox to the back
wheel and the cogs (final drive sprockets) that it runs on. Not to be
confused with the primary drive - the chain/sprocket or belt/pulleys
between the engine and gearbox.

Gasflowing - trimming off excess metal from inside the cylinder heads to
aid the burn rate of fuel within the engine. Gives a small horsepower
boost.

Gixer - Slang for a Suzuki GSXR (one of the craziest bikes they make).

Happy gas - See 'Nitrous oxide.'

Header tank - Tank that contains the spare water for the radiator on a
sealed cooling system as found in most cars and some high performance
bikes.

Honda CG125 - Small single - cylinder 4-stroke road bike. Not very much
of anything but supremely reliable and dirt cheap. It's reliability
stems from having very little to go wrong and a low - revving 4-stroke
engine.

Honda 250 Superdream - CB250. The next up the Honda model range from the
CG125 and just a bigger version of the same.

Honda 500 Superdream - CB500. A CB250 with a bigger bore and heavier
frame.

Honda Fireblade - Insane Honda sportsbike. Mad but beginning to show
it's age.

Kill switch - The engine's 'off' switch. Turns off power to the
ignition.

Kuso - As far as I know this is the Japanese translation of the word
'Shit'.

Lid / skidlid - Slang for a crash helmet.

Nitrous oxide - Laughing gas. A petrol - nitrous mix burns faster than a
petrol - air mix therefore produces more horsepower and more wear in the
engine.

Ratbike - A motorbike made to look as fucked up and unroadworthy as
possible while still being street legal. Normally painted flat black.

Steering damper - a long, thin shock absorber that fits between the
forks and the frame. Helps steady the steering. A steering damper is
essential for disabled bikers who have lost the use of one arm as
without it there's no way you'd be able to steer at low speed or pull
away one armed.

Stocker - unmodified factory-built vehicle; I think this comes from the
term 'sales stock'.

Supercharger - A pump driven off the crank that forces more air into the
engine thus forcing it to run faster.

Toby - An Inverness Collegeism; slang meaning something along the lines
of widget, gizmo or thingy. Derived from angling parlance (toby = a
small wooden fish used as a lure.) May be related to the epithet 'Toby
Tishbein' and can be said 'Tobyracho' for no apparent reason. (I'm not
making this up! Honest!)

Top yoke - The yokes are two pieces of metal that hold the front forks
together and  to the bike. The top yoke is the upper one. Known as
triple clamps in the US.

JASDF - Japanese Air Self Defence Force. The Japanese air force.

JGSDF - Japanese Ground Self Defence Force. The ground forces arm of the
Japanese military.

JSDF - Japanese Self Defence Force. The collective Japanese armed
forces.

What likes - Slack Scottish grammar. Means something along the lines of
'please could you explain that'. Only considerably less posh.

Wheelie bin - a square green plastic trashcan about the size of a normal
bin, with a flip top and two wheels.