Shop Class - Motorcycles

[Farren]

Class Sing In Sheet
OOC: Posting order is established on a first come, first served basis. If you haven't posted in the next 48 hours, Farren will assume you've missed the class. You can still join in, but your on your own and can be skipped over when needed. If you have your own motorcycle, feel free to bring it to class. any other questions, contact me via PM.

IC: Monday - 10am. A faint roll of thunder on the horizon. The roll grows louder, steadier, and closer. A storm brewing in the West. The sound chokes, shifts, and suddenly increases in intensity. Then the rumble becomes more distinct, more refined: an engine. Not just any engine, a vintage 1948 Indian Chief motorcycle engine. 1200cc. A pure slice of American power and muscle.

The bike cruises in over the sight line, fast and solid and all business. Riding low slung in the worked leather saddle is a man. Bearded, tanned skin, with dark sunglasses and no helmet, his muscular frame visible as the wind pushes his shirt against his body. He rolls over the hill and down into the valley, heading straight for PHS #259. He passes through the outer gates without a care in the world, pulling the large bike around the back of the main building and parking it in the shade of the nearby machine shop.

He knocks out the kickstand, leans the bike over, and swings his leg out and over to stand. Removing his sunglasses, he glances at the picture perfect fall weather day and unties the overstuffed duffel bag from the rear fender. He unzips it and empties the contents, a vast array of spare parts and well used tools, placing them with care around the side of the Chief. Finally, he pulls out a small clipboard with attached paper and pen. A roster sheet.

1. Kazuya Hikari
2.Vetis
3. Kenin
4. J Lethal
5. Misha Badoer
6. Daniel Heart
7. Kiyoshi Akechi

Farren smiled at the ragtag assortment of students. They're be there any second. Some he knew, some he didn't. No matter, all were welcome. It was the first class he had ever officially taught, he was excited to begin. Looking at his watch, he saw he had a few minutes to spare and decided to spend them leaning against his ride, reading his favorite book, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.

[Mischa Badoer]

Mischa woke up and stared at the alarm clock. The most horrifying thin waking up to was flashing... quite literally. Her alarm clock had restarded so it was flashing....

"OOOOH NOOOOOO! Ho intenzione di essere in ritardo!" she would moan in annoyance. As she stumbled out of bed and tripped over a few stranded shirts and jeans she managed to get her balance and find what she was going to wear for the day....after she tripped and smacked her head into the wall.

THERE WAS NO TIME FOR A SHOWER! So she would reapply her makeup atop the already applied makeup..then spray on some perfume to make it seem like she had smelled nice.

BUT SHE LOOKED DECENT.... besides she liked her green shirt =D

Anywho-ay

She hopped in her car and drove her lazy ass to school and ran towards the shop.... in which she would find no one.

oooooooooooooooooooooooh noooooooooo I'm so late they are already goooooooooooooooooooooooooooooone.

Her eyes then caught site of a man reading a book... She would sneak up and take a peak at the clipboard to see the names.... Alright... so maybe they weren't here yet.... and by the looks of it.... if none of these were girls with guys names.... she was gonna be in one giant sausage fest.

0.o

oh well.

She would look at her watch then realize she wasn't late... she was just hella early.


"OOOH I'm laaaaaaaaame." she would murmur under her breath before she would make her presence known to the man..........


Then she would realize what was on his face.

A

BEARD

Man... SOMETHING ABOUT A BEARD ON A MAN COULD MOST DEFINITELY CRANK HER LIBIDO LIKE NOTHING ELSE.

"Hi." she would say with a nervous smile and red cheeks. She was going to enjoy this class.

[J Lethal]

Vroom vroom mother fucker.

It was fundamental for most men in America to love cars. How they worked, how they sounded, how fast they moved, paint jobs, and of course the size of ones engine. Not to mention they went very well with women. Very, Very well. J had never actually owned a car, but once upon a time as a Blood, he owned a motorcycle. It was old, and barley worked, but he loved the thing. Being a Blood it was natural tricked out by a ton of his gang members to look like something outta West Coast Choppers. After quitting the Bloods he left it with them.

It was easy enough to get a bike, stolen or not. The problem was it was all his friends who had made that bike what it was. He had no idea how any of it worked or how to trick it out, paint it, anything. All he could do was ride, pop a wheelie, and put gas in it. Then one day in the office he noticed a Class Sign Up sheet. Shop Class - Motorcycles. Hells to the yeah.

"J. What is motorcycle?"

There was a new one. He had listened to those voices quite a few times, but for once one of them was directly asking him a question. He was nervous, how the hell did he talk to a voice in his head?

"Well. It's got 2 wheels, an engine, and it can take ya places..."

Luckily the halls of 259 were quiet enough for J to whisper to the man in his head without anyone noticing. He was already 1 of about 10 black men in the school, it would make him more of an outcast if he started to have conversations to himself.

"What do they look like?"

"Well Mr. Maninmyhead, I don't know if you can see what I see, but you'll get to look in a bit."

J was a little m ore comfortable talking now. He wasn't sure why he was comfortable talking to a man in his head, but whatever. No one was around to hear it for the moment. J approached the shop classroom and opened the door inside. Seems like he was early since there was just a girl, good looking girl at that, and the Guidance Counselor. Wait...the Guidance Counselor? J thought this class was taught by some Mr. Treborn dude.

"Yo, is this Motorcycles 101?"

[Vetis]

Well what do we have hear Vetis thought to himself. Theres.... so many toys to play with. Someones going to get fucked up. If he could squeel he would. Looking around he noted the teacher of the class..... oh thats just fucking awesome. For the time being he would sit in his seat content to pick up any and all knowledge imparted on him but, well the fun factor was here and he really didnt have a reason to resist.

Still at his home was the moto he had jacked from Daniel Heart. Even though he took it to a chop shop they didnt repalce and fix everything for him so he had to learn a little bit himself. Still there was some old adage about fishing and eating and that applied to this... I think.

[Kazuya Hikari]

The roar of an engine could be heard, shattering the peaceful silence, as a dark figure could be seen barreling down the road, coming closer and closer to the school, as a motorcycle came into view, pulling into the parking lot. Turning his motorcycle off, Kazuya climbed off his motorcycle, his jacket swishing slightly from the quick motion, and began to roll it towards the shop building, parking it near an impressive and clearly well cared for vintage motorcycle.

He then pulled his helmet off and cradled it underneath his arm, seeing he was the fourth person to arrive, which meant he was on time, but on the flip side, he didn't know anyone in the class, not even the teacher himself, who was currently reading a book and clearly immersed in it. "..." Sitting back down sideways on his motorcycle, he placed his helmet down beside him, and casually folded his arms across his chest, waiting for class to begin.

[Patrick O'Connor]

Motorcycles 101, goodie. Just a random class he was put in because he needed the credits to graduate and he was a late transfer. At the time he had figured, why the hell not? Seemed interesting enough. It would be a fun distraction to learn all that crap. He had even gotten a bike when he had arrived in the city because it seemed like an amusing distraction, fun times. Daniel had one when he signed up for the class, but as of recent developments seemed to have lost it. And by lost it meant he had had it stolen. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. On the one hand some dude had beaten him half to death and left him for dead and taken his bike, while on the other hand he had been pretty retarded to begin with. It might be masochistic but at some level Daniel felt that he should probably thank the guy for getting his head out of his ass.

And as Daniel rounded the corner into the class, he realized he might very well get the chance. The man was the first person that he saw. Mild surprise registered on his face, not whatever hell had been when he had first seen the guy, goofy grin or whatever. Daniel couldn't exactly say he was happy to see the guy but killing him wasn't the top of his emotional desires either. To him it seemed like the bike and the beating were the price for his stupidity. He gave the guy a look over but he didn't stare at him. Just an acknowledgement of his presence. Daniel moved on and took a seat next to the black kid and waited for class to start...

[Farren]

I flipped the page and glanced at my watch. 10:20. That's fine, still time to read, class only starts at 10:15...

I pulled my book away suddenly and looked up, seeing that there were five students waiting patiently before me. Damn, spaced out again. It took a second for me to register that two had spoken. Flipping the book over my shoulder I straightened up and cleared my throat, saying "Morning everyone, glad to see you here, though it looks like we're a bit short on the people who signed up. Oh well, their loss. This is Motorcycles 101 and I will be your instructor, Mr. Treborn. But I hate titles like that so just call me Farren."

I scanned over the faces of the students, seeing Lethal who I knew and...the fucking blonde from the bar. He was a student? Great, whatever, this wasn't the time or place for dealing with it. The others I didn't know but I'd figure it out as we went on.

"We're starting a bit late so I'll skip roll call until the end. Let's get straight into, eh? Wikipedia defines a motorcycle as a single-track, engine-powered, two-wheeled motor vehicle. Basically it's a bicycle with an engine. The engine turns the chain or belt, connected to the rear wheel, turning the wheel and propelling the vehicle forward. The nice thing about motorcycles is they are simple, relatively cheap, and can be easily modified to fit whatever task you need to do."

I brushed my hand over the Chief behind me and said, "This is a 1948 Indian Chief, considered one of the great classics of American motorcycles. It has a 1200cc or 74 cubic inch flat-head engine, producing a very deep, throaty roar. It has the throttle on the right hand side, a foot clutch, and the gear shifter on the left, also known as a suicide shifter because you have to take your hand off the bars in order to use it."

I swung my foot over the back end and sat down with a soft thump on the leather seat. Raising my heel to the side, I kicked down and started the engine up, reeving it a few times to let everyone hear how it sounded. After a minute of that I cut the engine and turned it off. "I see someone brought their bike as well, a very unique one by the looks of it. Great example of how drastically different designs can be. Are there any questions so far?"

I was getting the silly stuff out of the way. I had fun plans in store for these kiddies.

[Mischa Badoer]

IGNORED

For Shame Mischa!

She sank back and at last the students would come in one at a time until he would start the class. He was forgiven only because he was so damn sexy... but now she felt like a total and utter fool.

Hehe utter is a cow's tit.



Fuck I'm immature.

He would carry onto the lesson and she would already daze off into his perfectly sculptured face.... mmmmm beard.

That and why should she listen to a teacher who was getting their days' lesson from Wikipedia...?

[Vetis]

Meh things could certainly be more boring. With not much else to do he just looked and listened. Even if he was what some might call a "bad guy" he was still a guy. The roar of an engine to any guy is just plain awesome. Still it was rather ironic that the bouncer he more or less let go was now going to teach him how to fix bikes. Also there were power tools in the room. Also people.

Still maybe he should just learn how to fix a bike Vetis thought to himself. It was at least right to let the teacher get through the first five minutes of class before he started thinking bad things wasnt it? Twiddling his thumbs he resisted the urge to be himself. For now it was working.

[Kazuya Hikari]

More interested in wondering what he should have for lunch, the sound of footsteps made Kazuya look out from the corner of his eye briefly as he saw a guy come walking towards them. The teacher then looked up from his book, finally noticing the cluster of students grouped in front of him. He then began, as Kazuya continued to keep his arms lightly folded across his chest. After introducing himself, he plowed right into the lesson, starting with a roaring definition of motorcycles, courtesy of Wikipedia. He could tell this lesson was going to be interesting already.

Although it appeared Kazuya was not paying attention, he was in actuality, listening, as Farren continued on with a rather in-depth description of his motorcycle, powering it up and reeving the engine a few times. Kazuya then peered from the corner of his eye as he heard Farren mention someone else had brought a motorcycle in. Three guesses who that was. It was true though, his motorcycle was very unique in appearance, having had it imported back from his home in Tokyo, Japan. He loved it though, and he figured he should learn how to maintain it, despite the trouble of having to bring it all the way here.

[Kenin Katashi]

Late. Late late late. And this time he didn't even have his wheelchair to use as an excuse. He was pretty much just having a late start that day as he made his way toward class, book bag slung on his right shoulder as he walked the halls, hands in his pockets. He had headphones in blaring some band he didn't even really like, but he found that loud music allowed him to walk around without much incident of people bothering him.

He pulled his cheap MP3 player out of his pocket and paused it as he entered the room, placing his headphones in his pocket as he could hear the engine shutting off, a familiar voice saying something about drastic differences in designs. And as he looked up to see the guy, it was Southern Home Cooking himself, the hot guy he had ran into before. He smiled and took a seat, not sure if he had missed anything. From the sounds of it he hadn't really missed much. There were a few faces he recognized in this class, but he was a little more focused on actually listening in, he wanted to ride a motorcycle, he wanted to get a motorcycle, hell he would even settle for a dirt bike at this point.

He'd give the teacher an apologetic look, not wanting to actually speak and take away attention from the class since he was already into the lesson it seemed.