These shorts have achieved legendary status for all of the wrong reasons.  These shorts were originally purchased sometime in the 1980s and it is not quite clear if they were actually in style even then.  I was first introduced to these shorts in 1998.  I had not known Ed for that long so I did not express my lackluster feeling about the shorts, but I was certain that there was no way in hell I would be caught wearing these relics at any cost.

As time went by, I began to give Ed a little fashion advice regarding these little beauties.  At first he just seemed reluctant to take the consultation seriously, and later began to state, “I am not a slave to fashion. I like the way these fit and they have been with me for a long time.”  Ok, I got it, Ed was attached to this fashion disaster.  So now I needed a scheme to detach Ed’s emotions from these little gems, and at this point began to point out that they were quite out of style, of course assuming that they we never really in style.

As the years went by I began to socialize with other racers and the recurring theme from a staggering number of these people was the question, “What’s up with Ed’s shorts?”  I would give them the standard answer, “I don’t know but I would like to set them on fire!!”  I figured that one day they would eventually just rot right off of his body.  More accurately, I hoped that they would rot off.

Slowly but surely they did begin to degrade, losing their elasticity.  Even though my plan to slowly shame Ed into retiring the shorts was not really working, I felt that he might come to the conclusion that the prized shorts were indeed past their usable life span, and he would replace them with something from this century.  I stepped up my effort by pointing out that these babies are worn out and his fellow racers were questioning the qualities of his beloved shorts.  Well this method really backfired as it seemed that Ed was more determined than ever to spite everyone by continuing to keep the legendary shorts alive.

I tried the health angle telling him that he had sweat in those things for so long that he has to be risking some sort on fungal infestation on his genitals.  This should have worked as the average male will protect this region with a vigor that is found only in the animal kingdom.  Again, a total backfire, with Ed claiming that the “ball sweat” in these shorts was a key factor to his on-track performance.  Ok, Ok this was a little funny and I began to tell the other racers that those shorts were one of the things that stored the magical speed that he displayed on the track.

I tried some reverse psychology and began to joke around with Ed, telling him that if those shorts were ever lost that he would start getting his ass kicked on the track.  Knowing Ed’s determination I thought he might just want to prove that he could still win races with any old shorts.  Once again, no progress towards retiring those shorts.

I began to see holes forming on the ever-present shorts and thought that surely Ed would come to his senses and break down and buy a new pair.  His wife joined the growing congregation of people at the race track who really did not want to see these shorts any longer.  Let’s face it, they are an eye sore with no redeeming qualities.  I began to threaten Ed with setting fire to those damn shorts with him in them.  Still he would not replace these shorts.  I can remember thinking that these shorts had taken on a life of their own, thumbing their little oddly patterned nose at the rest of the racing community.

Finally his wife bought a new pair of modern bicycle shorts.  I rejoiced thinking that Barb, who had purchased the original offensive pair of shorts, was now giving Ed a message that it was ok to relinquish the originals, as she has given him a suitable replacement.  Well, now he was bringing both pairs of shorts to the track, but was reluctant to wear the new pair.  I increased the pressure, challenging him to prove that he could still race without these shorts.  Still, no real progress on my quest to killing these bastard shorts. 

Ed eventually began to wear the new pair of shorts, complaining bitterly about the fit of these new shorts.  Thinking that none of my ploys had actually worked, I was feeling quite triumphant seeing the new shorts. The result was good for me and the rest of the racing community.

We were getting close to the Red Flag auction time of year.  Ed began asking how much money I was planning to spend at the auction.  I responded with some noncommittal answer.  He said that I had better bring a lot of cash, as he was putting up an item that I would have to bid on, something I wanted for a long time, something that should not fall into enemy hands.  I was quite puzzled by his statement wondering what he could possibly want to sell that I would have any interest in.  Frankly I could not think of any object, aside from Orgasmotron, that he owned that I wanted.  But why the hell would he auction off his precious bike?! It did not make any sense. I armed myself with some cash and warned my wife that I might be spending an absurd amount of money on this mystery item that Ed was auctioning.   

Finally auction time arrived.  I was filled with anticipation waiting to see the magical item that Ed felt I needed in my life.  Ed, of course, was stirring the pot as frequently as he could, asking did you bring a ton of cash?  I told him I was ready for anything, thinking to myself that if he was actually crazy enough to auction off Orgasmotron I would surely be outbid as this bike was the only thing more legendary at the race track than those smelly-ass shorts.

The auction began and I eagerly waited for the mystery auction item.  Finally I saw a picture frame with Ed’s smelly ass shorts inside covered by glass.  I was relieved to see that the bike was not on the auction block and immediately thought that I was going to win these bastard shorts, take them out of the glass and auction the burning of these smelly-ass bastard shorts right then and there.  We would all have a big laugh as the flames devoured those repugnant shorts. 

The bidding began and I now saw Ed’s grand plan.  The jackass intended to outbid anyone so those bastard shorts would live on.  My determination to get these shorts grew as the price increased.  Ed being the cheap ass that he is, dropped out somewhere south of $200.00 and I was now faced with 2 other interested parties.  The bidding went north of $350.00, and I was now seeing my dream of burning these damn things going up in smoke.  I began to panic….375…..385…390…395… I opened my mouth and out comes $475.00!  A hot rush now started at the top of my head and moved quickly down to my feet.  Did I actually say $475.00? Shit, Kim is going to kill me! I look over to her fully expecting that penetrating stare that your mother would give you when you really screwed up.  She did look a little concerned, but I did not get the impression that I was all the way in the doghouse—maybe just standing at the entrance of the canine edifice.  I foolishly thought that someone would outbid me….Fat chance….silence fell over the other bidders.  Sold for $475.00 to the fool holding auction number 76!

Well, I figured that I couldn’t really burn these damn shorts because my wife would surely chain me up in that doghouse for a period of time sufficient to regain my sense of monetary value.  Now Ed was having a good hard laugh at my folly.  Racers are inherently tough and will take advantage of any opportunity to take a bite out of you once the water is full of chum.  So, I was now the butt of all sorts of ridicule, questioning my sanity and such.  

Well the only way I could defend my ludicrous act was to tell Ed that I now owned his speed and he might as well retire as he surely cannot win anymore.  It made me feel a little better but did not seem to scare Ed very much. 

So here they are, those smelly ass bastard shorts, mine, all mine, for a moderate sum of $475.00.  I then thought, if I hang on to them Ed will surely want them back and I will have the last laugh.  Well it appears that the only thing Ed likes more than those bastard shorts is cash.  Despite my best attempts, Ed is completely unwilling to entertain any thought of buying these damn shorts back.

All was not lost.  I have a good story about how I came to posses these little beauties plus I could bullshit Ed anytime he lost a race.  Needless to say, there were not many opportunities to take advantage of this.  However, there was more than just a little enjoyment ascertained for the 4 3/4 Benjamins that I traded for the shorts. 

Ed and I went down to a go cart track called Sugar River to do some motard racing on our TTR 125s.  As you might expect, Ed regularly handed my ass to me down there but then, I was used to it.  The only time I could ever get near Ed on a racetrack was if it was raining.  I had just purchased a new set of tires for my bike and had high hopes that this would help me to pick up some speed.  We went out for the first session and I got out in front of Ed.  I started doing my thing, fully anticipating that Ed would pass me.

 Several laps went by and I heard Ed’s bike but he still had not passed me.  I thought, what is going on? He must be having some sort of problem.  The session ended, we went back to the pits where Ed looked at me and said, “Wow! Those tires really transformed your riding.”  Thinking fast, I responded, “Or, it’s the shorts! Just think of what would happen if I actually put them on!”  We had a good laugh, but I like to think I got inside of his head, as he was stuck behind me for the next session and seemed to be trying harder to get around me.  I saw a wheel on the inside, then the outside, over and over I closed the door and just said, “Not today!”

Now that you know the story of Ed’s infamous shorts and the super power that they posses, let’s start the bidding at $500.00–cash only no credit extended.