Creepy Old Pervs on KLRs

What is it about the KLR650 that makes it the bike of choice for creepy old perverts? Today we had a weirdo in the Lazy K who kept looking at the new Kawasaki Concours, asking the usual mindnumbingly stupid questions people who look at Concourses ask. He didn't want it, he just wanted to know all about it so he could tell all the other boring old coots on the internet.

Mondo asked him what he rides now. The Old Creep rides a KLR 650 with 57,000 miles. He remembers putting each of them on the bike. He decided to bore Mondo to tears while trying to convince himself aloud that it is not a cheap pile of potmetal assembled in Thailand by child slave labor. Mondo's eyes glazed over and he wandered off to find a real buyer, hoping Old Creepy would find someone else to share his epic life story with.

The Old Creep walked up to Paco while Paco was trying to pitch a bike, asked the price of various bikes and what Paco thought about them, and wrote the names of the bikes and prices in little tiny letters and numbers on the back of a business card he'd helped himself to off someone's desk. He had also taken a Gold Wing and Hayabusa brochure, because he found them on someone's desk or in the trash so they were free and it's a tough choice between those two bikes and the other half million he knows all about. Then he pulled out the free map the state gives away at rest stops and asked Paco to show him the whereabouts of our two closest competitors. Paco told the old creep that he lives somewhere else, and to ask Mondo.

Mondo gave him directions to the nearest ghetto.

Then the Creepy Old Weirdo became a Creepy Old Perv and told Mondo about his trips to the former Warsaw Pact countries to pay for sex with young girls and find a cute young wife who would find a Creepy Old Perv with bad breath irresistable. He wasn't having much luck to date.

The CSB stumbled by with her gut hanging out of her shirt, saying "someone's getting fired today," and the creepy old perv started dry humping the air. He leaned against a wall and told Mondo he was losing his breath. Mondo figured he was having a stroke or otherwise dying, and tried to persuade him to leave the store before he did so we wouldn't have to move the body or close down while the paramedics work on him and wheel him out.

Then the old perv found Paco again and moved in close enough that Paco could count the hairs on his ears and smell the fetid sourness of old man who celebrates August by drinking curdled milk. The Old Pervert repeated himself, that he was losing his breath, said it again, then again, and told Paco it must be hard working in a place with hot women walking around all the time. Paco looked up and all he could see was the CSB and the Sea Cow behind the counter.

Then the old perv started following the CSB through the store. She turned and smiled at him, and asked if he was being waited on okay. The Creepy Old Perv said he was and decided to make small talk by asking about the yapping dogs that shit all over the floor. Before he could tell her how wonderful his KLR is, the CSB started rambling on about dog agility and how some fucking asshole called the Health Department on her god damn dogs.

The creepy old perv's eyes glazed over and he rode off to share this slice of his life with everyone on the internet.