Queasy Rider

Yeah, yeah, it's true. I got arrested. As it turns out, it's against the law to drive on the freeway naked. Who knew?

Recently, by an odd and vile coincidence, I received three marginally-enticing invitations in the mail. No, not those regularly-delivered over-sized envelopes screaming "Open Immediately!" -- each containing one more "Your Last Chance!" offer to use the "secret key!" on my "personal awards ticket!" to "buy a new car!" for "below dealer invoice!" Apparently, many car dealers make a habit of selling cars for less than they paid for the car, and how they manage to turn a profit is "none of my business!" The dealership always assumes, of course, that my "bank" will lend me some "money" which, these days, is "not bloody likely."

And no, I'm not talking about the daily carpet-bombing barrage of offers to switch calling plans, or insurance plans, or credit cards, or home security systems, or brokers, or life partners, or deities. Nor do I mean the endless advisories from follicle-challenged Watergate-era felons insisting that I invest in gold before sundown or else, or all the concerned contacts from various lawyers, advising me to check myself carefully for injuries or asbestos stains. And I'll brush past the pile of "Grand Opening" fliers from the eight dozen or so Chinese restaurants that spring open each week, that for some inscrutable reason are all named after a "Garden" or a "Panda" (or both).

No, no. Nothing so pedestrian as that.

The first teaser was my weekly lure from the Armed & Ancient Republican Party (the AARP). Not that it's unusual for me to receive AARP mailings. My, that's a persistent bunch! But given their massive marketing costs and my insouciant refusal to assimilate into their little Borg Cube collective, they are now perched at the point of desperation. This latest mailing mixed short-lived restaurant discounts and free golf with morbid mortality statistics and the veiled threat of Borg-induced bowel issues.

The second invite was from a politician, pleading with me to send him some money, so he could continue his heroic stand against the nefarious bad guys and the evil unions (Brotherhood Spawn, Local 666), so he could go get re-elected, so that ... I'm not good enough to make this stuff up ... he could continue to fight for term limits.

And then the third item. The one that caused all the trouble. A "coming events" flier from a group of nudist bikers.

Now, in my own defense: on a normal day, I would have tossed such a thing directly into the recycle bin. I mean, a person old enough to be continuously courted by the AARP does not spend his days rooting about for opportunities to roam the roadways in the company of naked people named Axle Sabbath, Little Endorphin Annie and Senator Boxer. But I wasn't thinking clearly that day, possibly due to a bad decision the night before, involving an Occidental overdose of discounted food at the "Grand Opening" for The Great Wall of Panda Garden Wok Palace and People's Long March Buffet.

And so, that's how I got involved with The Cheeky Riders.

According to their website, The Cheeky Riders originated in 2003, and were then founded in 2004 (not sure how that works, but then, I'm not naked). A couple of years later, the group was purchased and now has an "owner" (for your own peace of mind, don't even dwell on that). Since then, they've grown exponentially, hired a guy (possibly named Anvil Posture) to head up their "expantion," and brought on a "special lady doing membership."

I just bet she is.

The Cheeky Riders sponsor a full, rich calendar of events, including the ever-popular "Get Nekkid" weekend, the nearly lethal Alaskan Nude Cruise, and the nearly legal Leather & Lace Dance. They also have a regularly-scheduled "costume contest," which is confusing, considering their nekkidosity.

On many levels, The Cheeky Riders website is a textbook model for lack of restraint. The web designer was obviously a student of the "use everything, check nothing" school, so the site is rich with blinking text, scrolling marquees, spinning icons, garish colors, sneak-attack sound clips, broken links, missing images, grammar beyond recognition and typos beyond belief.

From a content perspective, I'll just quickly mention their "Our Favorite Tattoos" page, which is not for the squeamish. Remember, these people eschew all attire. They're like Victoria's Secret with no secrets left. There's also a handy link to a "Nudists on the Internet" directory which displays, among other squeam-inducing things, a cartoon drawing of ... I'm not good enough to make this stuff up ... a nude couple playing croquette.

While you're visiting the site, you'll probably want to go ahead a request a "Cheeky Riders" membership application, though you should know that "all applicates are subject to approve." There are membership options for "single" (in case you're single) and "coupe" (in case you're a car or are participating in a misspelled South American junta).

Said membership, be it for singles, subcompacts, or jungle mercenaries, is available on a yearly or lifetime basis (mercenaries are recommended to consider the shorter-term arrangement). Benefits include 20% off the chic Cheeky Riders clothing line, which is an interesting perk, coming from a gang of eventually sunburned nudists. You'll also snag an exclusive Cheeky Riders membership patch, and I've asked a lot of people, and none of them want to ponder where you're supposed to put that.

Speaking of stuff to buy, the Cheeky Riders online shopping catalog offers dozens of broken links to, we're guessing, stuff to buy. One link proclaims "By now!" and enquiring minds are waiting to learn how that sentence will end. But fortunately, despite the dearth of unclothed proofreaders, a few choice items are available. Right this very minute, at Cheeky Riders, you can order your very own "Ladies sleeveless ripped front shirt, with clear crystals on edge of rips." Makes the perfect Early Parole gift!

Other equally discerning fashion finds are available at Cheeky Riders, though I noticed that none are available for the petite visitor. The catalog caters to sizes Medium, Large, X-Large, 2XX-Large, Is All Dat You, Fantasy Mother-In-Law, No Really Is All Dat You, and NASA Booster Rocket. Apparently, if you're a "Small," you have only two career options at Cheeky Riders: hors d'oeuvre or hood ornament.

So there I was, wide-eyed and wondering. I'd been granted a view into an alternate universe. My interest in full-body chaffing was piqued (and it was a gorgeous day). But I wasn't quite ready to embrace the entire Cheeky Riders worldview. I'm just that way. I mean, a guy who's made it past age 50 and is still single has to admit to at least a few commitment issues.

As a compromise, I decided to ease into it. To test the waters, as it were. So I shuttered the windows, dimmed the lights, jettisoned the jeans, suppressed a shiver, slathered on some SPF 80, hopped in my new, subcompact South American insurrection (bought below dealer invoice), and headed for the mall to buy a new croquette mallet.

How invigorating! No more some mere mortal, but a rebel, bold, outbound and unbound! A little chilly, yes, but I scoff at such! Scoff, I tell you! And then, somewhere near the freeway exit, I leaned over to crank up the radio.

Bad idea.

One day, when we both have some time, let's discuss the shortcomings of seat belts. For now, let's just say that seat belt designers, fine ergonomic engineers though they may be, did not take into account the possibility that seat belt wearers might not be wearing anything else. The resulting, uh, discomfort caused me to emit kind of a high-pitched "yip" noise, and then I back-ended the motorbike of a retired AARP lawyer delivering Chinese food.

And that's how I got arrested.

Who knew?