Don't Judge A Book By Its Cover
Giving Back Love and Respect
by
Book Cover & Preview Text
In 1966 Batman was on Wednesday nights. That’s right, Batman and Robin; the Caped Crusader and the Boy Wonder. The original television series in its first run. They were two-part shows that started on Wednesday night and concluded on Thursday night. “BOFF!”, “BAMMO!”, “BIFF!”, “POW!”, “SOCKO!” Some of you may remember those words as the graphics that popped up on the screen when the Dynamic Duo fought an evil villain such as the Penguin, the Joker, or the Riddler, but to me, those were the sounds that my Dad’s open hand would make on my butt if I said anything stupid in reply to his Fatherly request to “take the trash out.” If I retorted with something really intelligent like “I’ll do it first commercial, Batman is coming on now” it was a major mistake. Not even the Bat signal, the Caped Crusader or the Boy Wonder could save me then. That is when I would get the order to “take the trash out, now!”. Then, I would immediately slip my coat and shoes on and trudge out into the cold night air and do as I was told. Now, I didn’t care at all if I missed the guy with the black eye selling Tareyton cigarettes who would “rather fight than switch” or that stupid Pepsodent Toothpaste commercial with its memorable jingle, “You’ll wonder where the yellow went when you brush your teeth with Pepsodent.” Remember those goofy people doing the Teaberry Shuffle, a dance that didn’t become very popular? The gum was okay, but Bazooka was much, much better and came complete with the Bazooka Joe comic inside the wrapper, and still does. You couldn’t blow a bubble with Teaberry gum...no way. I could honestly miss any of those commercials, or any commercial for that matter, to drag the trash to the curb, but missing any part of Batman was disastrous. I could never understand why it was so important that the trash be taken out at that very moment. If you missed the opening to Batman on Wednesday night you would miss the part about what the dastardly villain of the week was up to. What dirty deed had the Penguin planned to foil Batman with now? What was the riddle that the Riddler sent that the Dynamic Duo had to solve this week? What cruel joke is the Joker playing on the Caped Crusaders? Man, it would ruin the whole episode if you missed the beginning. As a kid, I never really thought about it much, but after watching the reruns of Batman as an adult, I realized that the villains who fought Batman and Robin each week must have been pretty stupid. They never once thought of simply pulling out a gun and blowing away the guys in tights with a simple pull of the trigger. Everyone knew that it was Superman who was the one that bullets couldn’t hurt. I also have an observation about Superman that I would like to share with you. When the bad guys got cornered, they would pull out their revolvers and fire all their bullets at him which, of course, bounced off of his chest. Then, after realizing he was not injured in the least, they would throw the gun at him...and he would duck. Why did he duck? Simple, his face wasn’t indestructible! Why didn’t the bad guys just shoot him in the face? Just a revelation I thought I would share with you. Like all boys, I sometimes lived in my own fantasy world. My fantasy involved being a secret agent. I used food to assist with this fantasy: soda crackers and American cheese. I would pretend an evil secret agent had captured me, gave me the crackers to eat and, unbeknownst to me…they were poison. The cheese I carried in my hidden, secret agent belt was a poison cracker antidote. I would fold the cheese into fourths, and then chew a cracker. I would then pretend to lose strength, and just before losing consciousness or just before I would pretend to die, which was, of course, part of the game, I would put a quarter of a piece of cheese in my mouth and be miraculously saved by it. I would do this over, and over, and over until I had gone through a whole pack of soda crackers and a half-pound of cheese. Sometimes I would substitute the crackers with bread. Formats Book Details Don’t Judge A Book By Its Cover is not a book written about a biker. This is Steve Pyatte in the first person. This is a book written by the man, about the man. This is a book about the man known to many as “Papaw”. A man many people have grown to love and respect. One look at Steve “Papaw” Pyatte and you want to rocket through various typecasts. Yet, there is no stereotype for this intriguing and astute man. That you cannot buttonhole him is not confounding, not when you sit and listen, taking in the full measure of his wisdom. He is proof positive that, indeed, you cannot judge a book by its cover. He is very good at breaking down the stereotypical barriers and changing attitudes people have about "bikers" and people who happen to look different. Thousands of motorcyclists, and many people outside of the motorcycling community, know who Papaw is. In a way, he has been, and continues to be a pied piper. And, oh, the stories he could tell.
About the Book
You may think you know “Papaw”, but now it is time you met Steve Pyatte, up close and personal.
Don’t Judge A Book By Its Cover is filled with a nostalgic look at the past through the eyes of the author, as well as motivational and inspirational stories to make you smile, laugh and cry. Some of what you read may even surprise you.
About the Author
