This is the place where where I periodically (meaning whenever I feel like it, or get around to it) ramble on about whatever I feel
like rambling on about. If anybody is bored enough to want to read my old ramblings, just click on the appropriate year, below, to
read them. (Y'know, you really SHOULD get a life!)
House wiring finished, scooter service finished, and I love BOTH the results! The house is safe and some of my pet electrical
peeves are gone but, better yet, the scoot feels almost new. Not bad for almost 62k on the odo. Partially from laziness,
but also because I was requested, I'm posting the following that I wrote for Facebook the other day:
There’s long been a
continuing, and, sometimes, contentious discussion as to the difference between a biker and a “motorcycle enthusiast”. I first rode
in 1962 when a sergeant transferred to Ft Carson, CO brought his Stehr-Daimler Puch back from an unaccompanied European tour. When
his wife was able to join him, she presented him the ultimatum of “her or the “murdercycle’”, and I became its proud owner. Over a
period of time, I rode that gutsy little beast over mountain trails, through snow drifts, on the Interstate between Colorado Springs
and Denver (I actually don’t remember if it was Interstate or just four-lane divided highway; one of my main recollection of that
part was the turbulence generated by tractor-trailer rigs at high speed). The other, lasting, memory is to never, NEVER pull snot-sicles
from your nose.
At that point in my life, I was only an enthusiast. I rode the scoot everywhere because it was my only transportation
and my entertainment but, after I wrecked it, I didn’t get another for some years. I’d thought about it but by then I was married
and was informed I had “responsibilities”. As time and circumstances rolled on, I remained a cager until, after 2 divorces and a bankruptcy,
I no longer had said responsibilities. Going to work, I found myself regularly passing a pawn shop with a fenced yard beside it with
a 1980 CB750K in it. The bug began to grow! I finally stopped and inquired and discovered it was a forfeited pawn and could be mine
for a mere $750. I got the proprietor down to $500 and borrowed my son’s trailer to get it home.
After a month or so of elbow
grease, with the help of about $200 (too long ago to really remember) and the advice of Dink at D&D Cycles and Darryl at Pensacola
Motorsports it was up and running. With only minor mishaps such as a chain breaking and locking up the rear (on Fairfield, in traffic)
and discovering that a .22 cal. Brass cleaning brush could clean fuse contacts, I discovered I HAD to ride. To not ride was to not
live. I’d suffer withdrawal waiting for parts to arrive. If I went down, my first thought wasn’t the blood dripping on the scoot;
it was whether the scoot was hurt or not. Now, after over 200,000 miles on two wheels, I’ve found MY answer to the discussion I mentioned
above. A motorcycle enthusiast likes to ride; a biker HAS to ride. When (s)he can’t ride, (s)he is not complete. I AM A BIKER!
Y'all
ride safe, and I'll seeya on the road!
4/27/12
It's been a bit of an up-and-down week. The scoot is running like brand-new and I've definately been taking advantage
of the glorious weather, riding as much as I can. On Tuesday, I donated my 120th unit of blood, putting me at the 15 gallon
mark...one of my goals, but Wednesday's cardio class brought me back down to the realization I AM getting older. I got light-headed
and finally figured out I now need more than 24 hours before I can start pushing it. Bah!
I also took the evidence of my
rewiring to my insurance agent, only to be told I couldn't get a reduction of my premium. Rather than get into a pissng match,
I just went to the other agent I had contacted earlier and I'm going to get $1,000 a year reduction....and the old agency is going
to lose my business. The funny part is that both agencies represent the same family of companies; customer service and care
DO count!
Last evening, I hit the daily double, too. I stopped by Renegade Classics for their bike night, partook of their
free beer, live (although loud) music, and good company and THEN headed back to Helen Back in Pensacola for free pizza.
I tipped in both places but I bought nothing. Life is good. Now, we have a great riding weekend coming up. I'm just
hoping Mom continues to feel good and maybe, just maybe, I can get more than just a couple hours in the saddle. Keep your fingers
crossed.
Enough for now; I'm going to take a nap now so I might be able to stay awake past 9 tonight. Ride safe, take
care of one another and maybe I'll seeya on the road.
5/2/12
I got some nice riding in last weekend; Saturday was mostly local but I turned 62,000 miles in the Lizard's Tail...Pensacola's
mini-Dragon. Hurst Hammock Road's 20+ curves in about 2 1/2 miles isn't very hilly but one does the best one can do with what
one's got. On Sunday, after the leaving the library with my week's supply of reading, I decided to forego the beach traffic
congestion of Santa Rosa and popped on 110 out of the city and the scoot decided to go West when I go to I-10.
Cruising at the
80 MPH where all the vibrations seem to cancel one another out, I spotted a bright yellow dot getting larger in my mirror, which indicated
to me that it was going considerly faster than I was. When it drew alongside, I saw it was a new Camaro convertible with a lady
in the passenger seat and a guy getting a sunburned head driving. We did the little mutual admiration nod thingie and he started to
pull away. Well, what the hell, we were the only two vehicles in sight at the moment so the devil decided to gently twist the
right hand to stay beside him (No, she really wasn't all THAT good looking). After a few minutes of this, I looked down and
noticed we were doing 110 and I think we both came to the simultaneous realization that this could get really expensive and we backed
down; me to my 80 and he to, probably, 90 and the game was over.
As he disappeared, I got off at the Wilcox exit and back-roaded
it South. Remembering there was supposed to be a car show at The Wharf, I wound my way on county roads to Canal Road where I
FINALLY found a paved parking spot near the show. Unfortunately, when I got to the gate, I found there was a $5 entrance fee
so I got back on the scoot and rode. I've probably seen all them anyway at various show and shines around the area. Heading
East, again, I finally remembered it was Mullet Toss weekend by the time I got to the beach road so I back-tracked through Gulf State
Park and back up to 98 and home. It was a nice 150 mile meander but I was ready to unsaddle by the time I got home.
Mom,
however was a bit peevish that I'd been gone so long so I guess I'll stick closer to home for a while. In the meantime, y'all
get the miles in and maybe I'll catch you at a resting spot sometime. Take care, ride safe and be good to one another, y'hear!
5/8/12
I am truely blessed! "...and why does he say that", you ask? Besides the obvious, friends, family and worldly circumstances,
God speaks to me every day. No, not in an audible voice but, rather, the smell of the gardenias in the morning when I get the
paper, the discordant symphony of bird-song all around my yard and the twice-daily interplay of light upon the clouds each sunrise
and sunset. Each elicits a silent prayer of thanks. Occasionally, I look a little deeper for my blessings For instance,
after some really nice riding on my rejuvenated iron steed (a new rear tire and progressive fork springs can do that), I
came out Saturday night to put on some more miles and found I had a flat rear tire...the one I just got and had less than a thousand
miles on! After airing it twice and watching it leak down I accepted that it would be at least Tuesday (today) before I
could do anything about it.
Rather than my intended ride, I got into my truck and went out for a delicious adult bubbling beverage,
despite knowing most of my friends would probably be at Thunder Beach. In fact, I was given the opportunity to have a good
conversation with an old friend without most of the distractions that make meaningful conversations at a tavern nearly impossible.
Sunday and Monday, I was able to undertake a lot of those little jobs that get put off when the riding is good...and living on the
Redneck Riviera, that is more the rule than the exception. While I was getting ready to ride (yes, a SLOW leak) up to the shop,
I also realized that, had the tire gone flat while I was on the road, rather than in the bike barn, it could very well have had
far more serious consequences, both to my mental AND physical health. Was God looking out for me? I KNOW He always is,
and I'm particularly grateful that that this weekend, he DID sweat the small shit so I didn't have to.
Y'all ride safe, take
care and stop to smell the gardenias. Your blessings are all around you if you just become aware of them. BTW, it was
a roofing nail.
5/17/12
...and I can't think of a thing to say. Well, that's not an entirely true statement but I can't think of anything extraordinary
to pass on. Maybe THAT is the thought that pushed me to start this entry, then? When you really stop to think about it,
most of life really IS ordinary, with one day pretty much like another and they tend to run together in our minds, blurrng differentiation.
Either that, or in my 70th year, I'm becoming jaded.
Three hours later, piddling at chores around the house, and I STILL don't
really have anything to say. At least, Mom is up now and I don't have to try to be quiet. Maybe I'll hop on the scoot
and run some errands?
Okay, 16 hours since I started this and I'm still at something of a loss. Sometimes it's like that
and, compared to dealing with crises, it is another blessing. I'm doing well..down almost 20 pounds since I started the Silver
Sneakers cardio program and more flexible than since before the Graves Disease junk. Mom is doing marvelously for 93....but
still slowing a bit more each day. I'll continue to take my blessing where I find them; I hope you can, too.
Ride safe,
be good to one another.....and don't sweat the small stuff! Seeya on the road someplace.
