Thursday, March 10, 2011

Sexy Biker Babes Are Waiting to Meet Me!

I stared in amazement at the subject line in my in-box: “Sexy Biker Babes Are Waiting to Meet You!” My goodness: sexy biker babes want to meet me? ME??? How can this be? Why would a sexy biker babe want to meet me? There has to be a logical explanation for this, and within seconds, I was sure I had figured it out. It must be a Team in Training thing, with the bikers referring to the century bike riders I rarely see. But why? Sure, I’ve seen plenty of cute women with Team in Training over the years, but the email still didn’t make sense. If they wanted me to join the cycle team, why not just ask?

So I called my friend Joe and told him about the email, and my theory. “No, I don’t think so,” said Joe. “I think they are taking about motorcycle babes. Better go carefully – I’ve known some bikers in a past life and they can be a pretty rough crowd. Tattoos, wild drunken parties, free-for-all no-holds-barred fist fights – and the men are even worse! Better send me the email, and I’ll take a look.” So I forwarded Joe the note.

Joe called me back a few minutes later, and said “Let’s talk about this. How about 6:30 at Legend Brewing Company?” Well, if there is a Legend brown ale involved, I’m there, and so I was.

“Look,” Joe started out as we took our first gulp of the cold, delicious beer, “this is a scam. Remember that email you got a few years back, claiming they could add three inches to a certain body part with this miracle medication?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I remember thinking that they meant they could make my legs three inches longer, and I almost sent them $500. I mean, I thought maybe I could run faster with longer legs.”

Joe shook his head, an expression of disbelief on his face. “Yeah, I remember having to explain that to you. Brother! And then last year, that email from that Nigerian guy? He asked for a bank account number where he could put $10,000,000 in for you to smuggle it out of the country, and in return, you’d get to keep 25%?”

I grimaced. “Don’t remind me. My wife is still pretty annoyed about that $2,000 the guy took from our account. But this latest email, the sexy biker babes, that sounds kind of genuine, don’t you think? I don’t want to meet them because I’m a married guy, but do you think I should reply and say ‘no thanks,’ just to be nice? Sexy biker babes wouldn't scam anyone, would they? I don’t want to hurt their feelings.”

“You know, Art, you’ve been saying you kind of want a new job. If we can find a village without an idiot, I think you can have that job,” Joe said.

“Wow, do you really think so, Joe?”

“Oh, definitely,” Joe said. “Now, about this email. It is not an invitation to join a cycle team, or even a real email at all. It is a scam. They want money. Think of it as coming from a fake drug company or from a fictitious Nigerian baron. Trust me, delete it!”

We finished our ales and went our separate ways, and when I got home, I took Joe’s advice and deleted the email. But somewhere tonight, I am sure that there must be a sexy biker babe sobbing herself to sleep!

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