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THE MYSTERY OF THE UNEXPLAINED was originally written 2005 and
rewritten in November 2012 and revived again in January 2014. .
Have you ever spent time
sitting alongside the road because your motorcycle suffered some mysterious
mechanical problem which later turned out to be something that should have
never happened at all. The malady which stopped your day's riding was a one in
million something that normally never happens. It could be a small interruption
in a day's ride, or the beginning of an adventure in roadside repair.
You always hear rider remark, "I should have checked that", "I know it was
tight, I tightened it!" or "I can't figure out how that could have happened!" I
would be willing to bet, you blamed vibration, phases of the moon, poor
manufacturing, or some other reason that made more sense.
Have you
ever wondered why motorcycles suffer all those little annoying breakdowns, nuts
and bolts that come loose, little chrome things falling off, adjustments
becoming unadjusted and perfectly good parts like tires, brake pads, batteries,
wearing out after you checked them before leaving home?
 Who is it that sneaks into the garage and readjusts the settings
on everything? I know someone or some terrorists group had snuck into my garage
and changed all my preset rock radio stations, to classical and country on my
Electra Glide; and that somehow a perfectly good tire became worn out in thirty
miles; I know this because I checked it before leaving the house that morning.
Yes and I'd be willing to bet you've known other folks, who've had
unexplained things happen to their motorcycles, cars and other stuff, too!
For a long time I thought it was a conspiracy by the manufactures of
thread locking chemicals and devices. I figured they had the most to gain with
a worldwide plan forcing motorcyclists to buy their products. A special CIA
trained black ops team would go out at night and loosen nuts and bolts on any
machinery they could find. The covert black ops teams would explain all the
loose bolts and parts falling off. But the manufactures of thread locking
chemicals and devices don't make tires or brake pads and shoes, or batteries
nor do they care about what radio stations you've selected, or gain anything by
changing the settings on anything.
A couple of Navy fighter pilots I
know told me about Gremlins. Gremlins only stand about a foot high which makes
it very easy for them to sneak past sentries and get aboard aircraft so they
can damage equipment. Their small size lets them get into places no one can see
allowing them to create havoc with anything they can get a hold of. A perfectly
good airplane could sit over night, and the next morning it would be down for
all kinds of repairs.
Gremlins have been around a very long time, at
least since man began to build things. However their exploits were not
documented until WWII. For no apparent reason a lot of aircraft during the war,
would fail to start, or run so bad it would force the crews to ground the
plane. Gremlins attacked both the allies and the axis sides; so it's just the
love of creating havoc that they live for. I believe this is the reason behind
the Bermuda Triangle anomalies; gremlins would stowaway and then get into the
ships navigation equipment causing ships and aircraft to go astray.
This has been documented by the government in a secret study call the Strange
Occurrences to Aircraft Report (SOAR). In the report gremlins were described as
little green guys about foot tall, with pointed ears. Walt Disney was recruited
to compile the descriptions into a single image of what a gremlin looked like.
He worked from descriptions given to him by actual observers who were later
sworn to secrecy. Most of the descriptions he received were from military and
civilian ground crews and pilots.
Typical
Gremlin, according to Hollywood..... |
Of course Disney later on made
them known to the public but having to keep the truth hidden he made them out
to be lovable fun little guys, which was far from the truth.
I told my
pilot friends about the unexplained things that have happened to my motorcycles
while they sat locked in my barn. They all agreed it sounded like the work of
Gremlins.
Disney's WWII Gremlins at work. |
This gremlin thing really got
me bugged. I was explaining the gremlin thing to my boss and he said it sounds
like the work of the little blue guys. He said blue guys have plagued the
shipyard where we work, for years.
They sneak into the shipyard at
night, move tools, and even undo work. He explained how he had heard workers
and supervisors discussing how work, which was done, had somehow not been done
or it was undone by some mysterious method. My boss went on telling me he
learned of them when he was an apprentice. He said that strange things would
happen to his home work and test papers; wrong answers would appear on his
papers when he knew he had written the correct answers, and homework would just
up and disappear. All of this was the work of the little blue guys.
I
figured he might be on to something; after all, my tools have disappeared and
then suddenly reappeared while I'm working. And I've see work that was done one
day mysteriously require that we do it again. Perhaps blue guys and gremlins
are the same thing.
Well, I decided that this Blue Guy/Gremlin
phenomenon required further investigation. I also figured that I needed get
some expert help. I called the FBI, and asked to speak with Agent Fox Moulder
of the X Files. I knew this gremlin problem would qualify as an X File and that
he, and the very good-looking Agent Dana Scully would come here and investigate
this phenomenon.
The existence of the X Files section is a special
government super top secret. The agent I spoke with on the phone denied knowing
anything about the X Files section, or agents Moulder and Scully. When I
demanded to speak with anyone in the X Files section, there was a long pause,
which ended with the person on the phone laughing. I hung up. What's the matter
with the FBI? Aren't they at all concerned about finding out the truth, or are
they only worrying about looking good on TV?
FBI Agents Dana
Scully and Fox Moulder from the X- Files Section |
If the federal government
wasn't going to help I would have to do this myself. Lack of professional help
wasn't going to stop me. I thought, with a video camera I could document this
phenomenon. I could give or sell it to the Daily Press, or the Virginia Pilot,
and then the whole world would know the truth. Maybe I'd get rich or at least
famous; I could see a Noble Prize in my future or at least a guest spot on the
Jay Leno Show or maybe Jerry Springer.
There was only one flaw in my
plan; at the time I didn't own a video camera. I went to the local photo shop
to rent one. When I told the clerk what I had in mind he began to act funny; he
smiled more than before and snickered allot. At first I thought he was
suffering from some form of flu or cold thing, because he kept retching and
grabbing his face covering his mouth and nose. He seemed a bit hesitant about
renting me the video camera.
After wiping the tears from his eyes he
suggested that I use one of the new disposable, one-time use cameras. You've
seen them; they're made out of a cardboard box, with a lens and loaded with
film inside. Once you've taken all the pictures you just take the whole thing
back to where ever you bought it and they rip open the flimsy box, remove the
film and develop it. I thought this over and because the box is sealed at the
factory, no one could claim that I doctored the film and the pictures are a
hoax. I left with a neat bright yellow little box with a plastic lens and some
flashcubes.
I felt pretty good about my plan and I was sure that I was
on the right track to make history.
The "Barn" where my motorcycles
are kept is not that large; it's a 10' by 12' metal building. The "Barn" has no
heat, no insulation and importantly no place for me to hide. In Africa, hunters
build blinds and wait for hours for big game. In America, Plains Indians would
pull a buffalo hide over themselves and sneak into the herd of buffalo where
they could get close and make their arrows count. I figured I needed some
deception like the African big game hunters and the Plains Indians; I would
pull a motorcycle cover over me. I would pretend to be a motorcycle and lure a
blue guy or green gremlin in close so I could photograph one in the act of
sabotaging one of my motorcycles.
The weekend was coming and I would
execute my plan then. After all it shouldn't take more than an hour or so.
After two nights standing bent over, with the motorcycle cover pulled
over me, and peering out through the tiny little air vent holes, I was rewarded
with nothing; no sightings, no noises, except for the cracking sound from my
back when I tried to stand upright.
It was time to revise the plan.
My wife, who after many years of marriage, was convinced I needed some
help, (although she was never specific what kind of help she thought I needed).
I agreed with her, and decided to call some friends in to help. She said that
wasn't the kind of help she was thinking of.
What else could she be
thinking; I don't think she grasped the importance of this research; this was
going to make history.
It's amazing how many friends are willing to do
a small thing like staying up all night without heat in 20-degree temperatures.
Their responses to my plea for help and a promise of becoming famous where
mostly all the same, "Are you for real?"
The barn,
a 10 X 12 steel shed, my Sportster and Electra Glide both come in at
night.
Using language that would make
the most harden outlaw biker or sailor blush my friends questioned my
intelligence, and not to mention the condition of my sanity.
Well it
has to be done.
With "Plan A"s failure to produce results it was now
time for "Plan B".
Plan B called for me to clear the workbench
creating a place I could lie down and then pull the motorcycle cover over me. I
always cover parts when I leave them on the bench over night. So now I would be
camouflaged to look like covered parts. At least my back wouldn't hurt from
standing bent over all night.
Friday night it was time to put my plan
B into action. I crawled up on the workbench pulled the cover over me and
waited. I had very carefully locked the Barn's doors and I was sure I was alone
as I got comfortable on the bench and laid my head down on the vise with the
cardboard camera nearby and ready…
Sometime around 2 am I was
awakened by a loud noise and a searing pain. The noise woke me with a jolt; and
without thinking I quickly sat up pulling my ear which had become frozen to the
metal vice I was using for a pillow. The pain of my ear being pulled free from
the vise caused me to fall off the workbench; I was still clutching my camera
when I felt the sudden stop when I hit the floor. My impact with the floor
triggered the cardboard camera's shutter. The camera was backwards in my hand
and the flash fired directly into my eyes, blinding me.
I stood up and
began staggering around the barn blinded by the camera flash; I fell over my
motorcycle jack hitting my head on the compressor tank. The pain from the
impact with the compressor tank triggered my cat like reflexes causing me to
jump straight up. My rapid ascent to the heavens was cut short when I the back
of my head slammed into the underside of the workbench which covered over the
compressor.
As my eyes readjusted from the flash and the throbbing
pains all blended together, I looked around through my tear filled eyes. I
inspected the Barn for some sign of blue guys or gremlins but found nothing.
After some time the pain subsided and became more tolerable; after my eyes
adjusted to the light and were free from the floods of moisture I checked the
Barn's doors making sure nothing had made its way in or out. The door was still
locked I was sure nothing had come in or got out.
Actually, the Barn's
sliding doors were frozen shut. I discovered the frozen doors when I needed to
answer the call of nature and couldn't get out. My attempts to remove the
C-clamp with my head throbbing in pain and all the while doing the two step
pee-pee dance where to no avail. Worst of all I couldn't find an old coke can
or coffee can to use as a make shift urinal. I also discovered that I was out
of matches, and had no way to light the kerosene heater.
Hours later
my wife in company with my friend Lyle showed up. They managed to push some
matches through the crack in the door. With the matches I was able to light my
propane torch and free the frozen clamp from the door. And melt the ice keeping
the door shut. After thirty minutes or so I managed to get the Barn doors open.
After seeing the red impression on the side of my face, the bruises on
my forehead and shin, and the lump on the back of my head and the frozen wet
stain on my trouser leg, though tears of laughter they were both sure I needed
more than a camera.
 My wife remarked that it was hard to believe anything
green or blue a foot tall could pull me off the workbench, when she couldn't
get me to roll over at night to stop snoring!
I looked like twenty
miles of bad road, or I just survived a bad night at Wrestlemaina getting my
ass kicked by everyone. I now had an impression from the bench vice on the side
of my face where I rested on it the all night. My ear, which had frozen to the
vice during the night and was then pulled free when the gremlin pulled me off
the work bench, was hurting like hell. Forced me to reconsider my scientific
research; I decided to wait until summer or at least warmer weather to continue
my investigations.
I just couldn't quit now; I had come too far and I
knew I was on to something and sooner or later I would have the proof I needed.
I still think if I was a tad faster that night I would have gotten the
photograph of one of those gremlins.
Despite my presence and constant
vigilance some strange things did happen, my bike's rear axle nut had come
loose and the battery was dead. The bikes taillight lens was lying on the floor
next to my crushed disposable camera with the burnt flash cube.
Sneaky
those Blue Guys... or was it Gremlins?
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