PLEASE BE ADVISED.... This is just a RANT.
I've seen and heard a bus load of people talk about the proper way we are to raise our kids.. Some dude named Dr. Spock was the loud mouth expert a few years ago and that opinionated bitch, Jane Valez- Mtchell, who is on TV has more than a few issues... I don't know who Mr. Mitchell is but he needs to straighten out his woman. But I will save her for another topic. All these people telling us about how to raise our children and they don't have a clue. They say that we have to be gentle and not crush thier little spirits.
I have raised one child. I am raising another child and I have been robbed of the opportunity to raise two others. My children call me super Dad.. I wear no cape but in my childrens eyes, I do all that they need.
These people who try to tell us how to raise our children have no idea of what is really important and because people listen to these nuts those of us who are trying to do right are held in contempt for it.
I have heard a child say to an adult... " why?". Do I have to?" How come? I don't want to. You hurt my feelings. I have actually been told. "You shouldn't speak so sternly to your child". to that I replied." I ought to punch you in the throat. I want my child to hear me when I speak". I have a habit of explaining my communication skills in this way.. " I say what I mean and I mean what I say". I have been in situations where I needed to give instuction of a dire nature. I understand how to "Communicate From A Foxhole" and when I'm talkin, I like to think that what I say has some importance. The people who know me and that have been around me during times of high stress know that I am a take charge kind of guy and if I say something, they can believe that to be true. I tell you all this to get my point across.. There might be a time when I sit at the shoreline and talk with my 5 yr old Maggie about the clouds or butterflies or any of those other important things. There will also be the times when we are walking threw a parking lot or crossing a street. When I speak, people listen because I speak in a voice that conveys authority. When I say STOP. I mean it.
There are four words in the english language that when heard,, elicit an immediate response. STOP. MOVE. DUCK. HELP. Trust me when I tell you that you better listen to me when I speak. I am not concerned about how Maggie "Feels" when I command her to STOP. I am just thankful that I have trained her to "Listen" to me. I know we don't live in fear of land mines but there are land mines everywhere. and if I can save my child or yours from some pain then I will gladly shout at them. I think it has alot to do with training up a child to do right. My 22 yr. old often tells me that her friends are having hard times with things she finds easy because of the way she was raised.. I remember the first employment that Ruthe, our oldest, had. She worked at a grocery store. The owner was rough on the kids in that he told them what to do and how to do it. So many of the kids who started work there had a hard time with that because they had never been told what to do and certainly no critiqued on thier performance. Ruthe came home one day telling me of a friend of hers who had quit her job. My child thanked me for teaching her about work.. That is the reward that I had worked for the whole time I was raising her. My time was not ill spent.
Maybe I come from an old school but I do know the lessons I learned and these are the leasons I wish to share.
PEACE&GREASE
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Bike week bound.
As is normally the case, I was not able to leave when I wanted... Friday morning found me still packing. Dealing with work that just popped up and a meeting at City hall. I finally hit the road 5 hrs late and the first thing I noticed was I HAVE NO BACK BRAKE. This came to my attention as the front wheel locked up as I came sliding to a stop sign... After a moment of investigation I deduced that the engine crash guard had been bent in the last crash and was not letting me push down on the brake pedal. A stop at a repair shop and I was able to heat the guard enough to bend it back to where it should be.. Thanks Ray.
On the road again.. This is the first time I have ridden more than 5 miles sense my Arizona wreck back in October. I'll tell you straight up, I was nervous. Wind, traffic and road conditions were on my mind but I decided to push through. Because of my weak and sore shoulder I was not able to ride the distance that I am use too. I was getting discouraged until I was passed by a trailer full of bikes. I was reminded, My trip had already began.. Some people are just going through the motions until they get to there destination. So what if I have to stop every 50 miles because my shoulder is killing me. I'm doing my thing. I'm riding my bike and I'm towing my camper. My experience has already begun.
I stopped in north Georgia after about 5 hrs on the road. I was cold. I was tired and I was sore. A stop at Ruby Tuesday and after a salad and A beer, I was ready to get a room and a hot shower.. I pulled up to a hotel next to the interstate and as I got off the bike I noticed a cemetery next to the hotel. I checked in and paid my money but as I was unloading my overnight bag I kept noticing that cemetery. For some reason, I was drawn. I walked over to the cemetery and walked up the hill so I could get an overview of the place. As I stood on that hill I could see the whole of the property. I could very easily distinguish between the old part and the new part. The new had huge monuments, visitors and fresh flowers that had been left by someone who had cared enough to spend a dollar and pay their respect with a visit to the grave site. I spent little time with the new because for some reason I was drawn to the old. No flower were in the area. There were no visitors in that area and the head markers were at the most, unassuming. I walked over to this area and I felt the rush of the dead. As if they were aware that they had a visitor. I was reading the headstones and noticing the dates. I was amazed that some of these headstones dated back to the early 1800's. As I walked amongst the dead, I found myself aware that alot of the mens headstones noted the military unit of service and then "CSA". Confederate States of America. I was standing amongst the confederate soldiers how had fought and died for the South.
As I read the headstones and the dates on them I was reminded of a Garth Brooks song that sings about the dash thats in between the dates.. I started thinking of what that "Dash" meant in these peoples lives. What had transpired in their lives between birth and death. I was moved by the thoughts that were running through my mind. I kept thinking of the sacrifices that these men had lived through. Then, I realized the headstones beside beside were the markers of these mens wives.. and what cought my attention was the amount of time that had passed between the death of the husband and the death of the wife. sometimes the amount of time that passed was 20 and 30 yrs. I thought about these women and there grief. I thought about how life was for a widow woman in north Georgia in the mid 1800's. I was reminded once again that not all that sacrifice for the cause of war wear a uniform. There are many who carry the burden on war that never saw combat. There are mothers and brothers and sisters and wives who must carry on and sometimes, for a very long time. I have always thanked the mothers and wives of our service members because I was in the Army and I understand what these women are going through. Or so I thought. I feel know that I have a deeper understanding of what they go through.
As I walked from the cemetery I walked up to a flag pole that had no flag... At the base of the flag pole was a marker that read. "In this area rest the remains of 134 confederate soldiers who were unclaimed".
Unclaimed is a very strong word.
Until next time
PEACE&GREASE
On the road again.. This is the first time I have ridden more than 5 miles sense my Arizona wreck back in October. I'll tell you straight up, I was nervous. Wind, traffic and road conditions were on my mind but I decided to push through. Because of my weak and sore shoulder I was not able to ride the distance that I am use too. I was getting discouraged until I was passed by a trailer full of bikes. I was reminded, My trip had already began.. Some people are just going through the motions until they get to there destination. So what if I have to stop every 50 miles because my shoulder is killing me. I'm doing my thing. I'm riding my bike and I'm towing my camper. My experience has already begun.
I stopped in north Georgia after about 5 hrs on the road. I was cold. I was tired and I was sore. A stop at Ruby Tuesday and after a salad and A beer, I was ready to get a room and a hot shower.. I pulled up to a hotel next to the interstate and as I got off the bike I noticed a cemetery next to the hotel. I checked in and paid my money but as I was unloading my overnight bag I kept noticing that cemetery. For some reason, I was drawn. I walked over to the cemetery and walked up the hill so I could get an overview of the place. As I stood on that hill I could see the whole of the property. I could very easily distinguish between the old part and the new part. The new had huge monuments, visitors and fresh flowers that had been left by someone who had cared enough to spend a dollar and pay their respect with a visit to the grave site. I spent little time with the new because for some reason I was drawn to the old. No flower were in the area. There were no visitors in that area and the head markers were at the most, unassuming. I walked over to this area and I felt the rush of the dead. As if they were aware that they had a visitor. I was reading the headstones and noticing the dates. I was amazed that some of these headstones dated back to the early 1800's. As I walked amongst the dead, I found myself aware that alot of the mens headstones noted the military unit of service and then "CSA". Confederate States of America. I was standing amongst the confederate soldiers how had fought and died for the South.
As I read the headstones and the dates on them I was reminded of a Garth Brooks song that sings about the dash thats in between the dates.. I started thinking of what that "Dash" meant in these peoples lives. What had transpired in their lives between birth and death. I was moved by the thoughts that were running through my mind. I kept thinking of the sacrifices that these men had lived through. Then, I realized the headstones beside beside were the markers of these mens wives.. and what cought my attention was the amount of time that had passed between the death of the husband and the death of the wife. sometimes the amount of time that passed was 20 and 30 yrs. I thought about these women and there grief. I thought about how life was for a widow woman in north Georgia in the mid 1800's. I was reminded once again that not all that sacrifice for the cause of war wear a uniform. There are many who carry the burden on war that never saw combat. There are mothers and brothers and sisters and wives who must carry on and sometimes, for a very long time. I have always thanked the mothers and wives of our service members because I was in the Army and I understand what these women are going through. Or so I thought. I feel know that I have a deeper understanding of what they go through.
As I walked from the cemetery I walked up to a flag pole that had no flag... At the base of the flag pole was a marker that read. "In this area rest the remains of 134 confederate soldiers who were unclaimed".
Unclaimed is a very strong word.
Until next time
PEACE&GREASE
Thursday, January 27, 2011
The longest road part 4
Soon after Big Mountain Run was over I made a run down to Texas. I wanted to see south Texas before it turned unbearably hot. I found myself at a place called Jamaica Beach, Tx. Just down the road from Galveston. Some of the greatest times I have had were by happen stance. With no destination in mind and letting the road and the weather take you where they will. Without expectation there can be no disappointment. I picked up a magazine off the bar in Jamaica Beach. The Horse Magazine was advertising its upcoming celebration called The Smoke out. I got on the bike and headed home so I could get ready for that epic journey. I left out early one morning heading to Santa Rosa, NM. I was going to meet up with Wes Hackett and his wife and ride in together to Smoke Out West. a Weekend celebration of motorSickles and dirtbags. Santa Rosa must be the armpit of all the places I can remember. I was standing in the front parking lot of a little shitty bar and diner when out of nowhere shows up Wes and Alicia. Santa Rosa just became a little closer to bearable. The back gravel parking lot of this shit hole was also what they called an RV park. Ya, really. We paid our fair and claimed our home ground for the next couple of days. The logic was that at least we would be close to shitty food, warm beer and a bathroom that we could use when needed. Smoke Out West was the starting point for The Long Road. A scheduled road trip of 5 days that would end in Rockingham, NC at the beginning of Smoke Out East. There were around 85 misfits that had decided to make this journey and some of these heathens have become friends that I will cherish for life. Our first stop on this road was at Brass Balls Choppers in Okla, City. OK. We had a little street party but they forgot to tell the local cops. The boys in blue were just waiting for us to step out of line and an Oklahoma jail was not on my to do list so I cut that party short and headed back to the hotel, parked the bike and walked to the nearest bar. Within 30 minutes the bar filled with alot of the folks that were on the road. I guess great minds think alike. In the morning, we headed out to a campground in Arkansas around 300 miles away. Along the way I happened apon a group of 15 bikers on the side of the interstate. As I was pulling over who did I see, Wes Hackett was flashing me. I pulled over and turned to see 15 bikers jogging up to me. Wes had informed them that I probably had beer in my cooler. Picture this. 16 bikers standing in the shadow of an interstate exit sign, drinking beer and waiting on a tow truck for a bike with a shredded rear tire.. When the beer was all consumed I thought they would fall over when I pulled out a quart of cherry moonshine. We got the bike loaded on a trailer and then we set out to find some place to go swimming. It was god awfull hot but within 10 minutes we were skinny dipping in a river under a rail road bridge. I am glad to report that there were some females with the group. I think it might have been a bit gay if it had just been a bunch of dudes. At the campground, folks were starting to bond a bit and with the help of a half gallon of Sailor Jerry Rum and the cooling effect of a slow moving river, I met some of the greatest people on planet earth. Who the fuck is Roadside Marty??? Thats what his stickers say. I had the pleasure of treading water and passing a jug with him for about 4 hrs. We laughed until the tears came. There were probably 10 of us in that river. telling stories of the road and sharing of our life experiences I will never forget trying to explain to a guy from Canada that just because he could stand up in the water did not mean that he could stand up and walk out of the water... He proved me to be correct and after a little projectile vomitting, he slid into a peaceful sleep. with his feet still in the water. I was amazed that the Canadian was one of the first people to be moving in the morning... Next stop... Memphis Tn. The magazine had scheduled a pub crawl down on Beale St. Way too much fun. I met a lady who, within 2 minutes of conversation, started bragging that she plays the Tuba... ya, I know, odd right... I played along for a moment and then I called, BULLSHIT. This woman left but within 5 minutes she had returned with a full size, marching band Tuba. Where in the hell do you hide a tuba??? why would you have a tuba with you on Beale St. on a Tuesday night. ?? There were many questions that went unanswered that night. I saw a homeless woman approach one of our group, asking to bum a smoke. Show your tits, was his response... She complied.. Amazing. Wed. morning as the sun was shining threw the hotel window it dawned on me that I was just about completely out of moonshine. I made the plan to seperate from the group and go to my house and restock my cooler. It was so nice to have a home cooked meal and a night in my own bed while the group spent the night in a field in Crossville Tn. watching old biker movies on a blow up screen. eating pizza and drinking beer. I met back up with the group at the Wheels through time museum in Maggie Valley, NC. What a wonderful place. I have fallen in love with the motorcycles and the people. If you like motorcyles, this is a must do. The party was all that you could imagine from a group that had been together for almost a week with very little adult supervision. Thoughts were not about yesterday or tomorrow. We were in the moment and thats all that really mattered. The morning sun rose onto a group of misfits that had dragged motorsickles down a very long road. Today would end in Rockingham, NC.
PEACE&GREASE
PEACE&GREASE
Sunday, December 26, 2010
The longest road. part 3
Big Mountain Run 2010 was an event put on by Cycle Source Magazine. This event started with a pre party at Wicked Willies Choppers in Taylorsville NC. I met the owner, Wayne, and he welcomed me. I am not an introvert by any means but I do see the logic of evaluating a situation. I knew absolutely no one at this party. Time would change that. I met a man that night that I have come to know as a friend. His name is Wes Hackett. In the morning we gathered up and set out to the Harley store in Statesville to meet up with some folks that were gonna ride with us. I don't know the total count but there was around 60 bikes total. We set off like a band of Gypsy's heading to Wheels through Time motorcycle museum in Maggie Valley. We were welcomed by the staff as if we were family. This was my first trip to the museum and I was overwhelmed by the volume of artifacts in this place. I was so amazed, I would find myself back there 4 more times this year. But lets get back to that one night. Imagine 60 plus bikes rolling in to a parking lot. Imagine within one hour a tent city is set up. Some went into the museum. Some went for food. Some went for drinks. Some started the bonfire. I laid a blanket out on the ground and talked some chic into rubbing my back. The backrub was nice but the ridicule was priceless. We all gathered round the bonfire and some heavy drinks. A joyous time was had by all. In the morning everyone started loading out. A few who had imbibed a bit much decided to take a dip in the creek to cure their hangovers. The days ride would lead threw the Tail of the Dragon and the Cherohala Skyway. I was towing my pop up camper behind the bike. I had been on both the upcoming roads so I decided to take a different route to the Hiawassee campground. A wonderful day of riding in the mountains with a hangover that would have killed Popcorn Sutton, I made my way to a liquor store and a grocery store. At the campground I was cooking steaks, taters and pasta salad when everyone came riding in.. And the ridicule began. One of the advantages of a camper is you have room to tote a stove and a cooler. I was envied by more than a few. There were probably around 150 people in attendance. I have to say that I met some of the greatest people on planet earth. I could tell you what all we did. I could tell you of all the shenanigans. I could tell you of the white water rafting with a group of cats out of WV. or about the mini bike races and an official wedding that we had. but my words would not do justice to the event. I can say this, If you desire to understand this way of life, get yourself a subscription to Cycle Source and make it to the next event.
Earlier I mentioned a cat by the name of Wes Hackett. I have known some highly deranged individuals befor but this cat takes the cake. For some reason me and him forged a bond that kept us up till daylight every day of BMR. We met up later in the year in Santa Rosa, NM. and then rode across country on The Long Road. I've been to his house in Kansas City about 6 times. I met him in WV at a benefit for one of the guys we met at BMR. and he came to my house in Tennessee and for a week, he tried to drink all my moonshine. I've slept on his couch and he has slept with my dog. I tell ya. If ya have scooters in your heart. get on a scooter and ride, you will find the people that you will call friend for the rest of your life.
until next time.... PEACE & GREASE
Earlier I mentioned a cat by the name of Wes Hackett. I have known some highly deranged individuals befor but this cat takes the cake. For some reason me and him forged a bond that kept us up till daylight every day of BMR. We met up later in the year in Santa Rosa, NM. and then rode across country on The Long Road. I've been to his house in Kansas City about 6 times. I met him in WV at a benefit for one of the guys we met at BMR. and he came to my house in Tennessee and for a week, he tried to drink all my moonshine. I've slept on his couch and he has slept with my dog. I tell ya. If ya have scooters in your heart. get on a scooter and ride, you will find the people that you will call friend for the rest of your life.
until next time.... PEACE & GREASE
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Thursday, December 16, 2010
The Longest Road. Part 2
My oldest daughter had turned me on to facebook and I thought that it would be a good way for us to keep in touch. So with a little prodding, I sat up an account. Through the internet I was introduced to a guy who lives close to me. He told me about the V-twin expo in Cincinnati and I loaded up the tahoe with wife and child and headed into the snow towards Ohio. As luck would have it,,, I was told at the expo that you had to have a pass to get in. I called the guy that had told me of the expo and I said, "Hey Bean're, They don't want to let me in." We met up at the coffee shop in the Hotel and I have to tell ya, I met a golden guy. After coffee, we set out to get me a pass. It took all of about 1 minute for him to get me a pass from one of his friends. I have ran into Kevin on quite a few occasions and I have always found him to be a character. One of the many great people I would find on my road.
Winter has seldom been a good time for riding in Tennessee but with the aid of my heated suit, I was able to ride out of town and head south. I have family all over Georgia and I had lived in Florida for a number of years. I travelled all over the gulf road from Jamacia Beach, Tx. to Tampa. Then it was time to head to Bikeweek. It had been almost 10 yrs sense I had been but I thought it would be a good run. Cold would be an understatement. I spent the day riding around seeing all the old places I use to haunt and then I pulled into South Daytona and found the Limpnicke lot. What a great time. Cool bikes, cooler people. I had made no provisions for where I would sleep so I set out for Ormond Beach in hopes of finding a room for the night because the temps were still dropping. No Vacancy signs are now a thing of the past. Use to be you could drive around looking for a room. Now you have to park and go in to be told they have no rooms available. I found a semi truck parked in the back parking lot of a hotel. I pitched my tent next to his trailer tires and slept the night away. You may wonder why, The trailer blocked the view of the security camera and I was able to sleep all night without being run off. Early morning and I'm packed up. Destination IHOP beach side. I pull in and park then realize there are 100 motorcycle enthusiasts waiting to get in. I'm not feeling the love so I'm ready to go somewhere else but my bike isn't. Push on the start button and nothing. Out come the tools and over come the 100 riders to tell me what my problem is. I stand in amazement that they are able to diagnose my problem from 50 ft away. haha. After I cleared the crowd I figured out that my starter button had shit the bed but with a short jumper wire I was able to get the bike started. Down the road. I spent the day bouncing around New Smyrna and Edgewater. I spent the afternoon at the annual oyster roast at Magoo's. As night was setting I decided I would head south and find me a room. No such luck. Before I got to Titusville my headlight quit working. I-95 pitch black is not a good place to be without a headlight. I followed a trailer that had a shiny back door until the next exit. Only thing there was a closed gas station and a closed McDonalds. I pitched my tent at McDonalds and slept the night away. That is until the morning manager started ranting and raving outside my tent. I finally had to tell her to go fix my breakfast to get her to shut up. Next stop was south of Orlando at a friends house. Worked on the bike a bit and had a good day of catching up. In the morning I headed back to Tennessee.
As spring was coming on my road trips were beginning to get longer and my wife was beginning to get sore. Spring break I loaded her up on her bike and we set out for the Louisiana bayou. 8 days of puttering about to the ends of all the roads we could find. I had bought a pop up camper to pull behind the bike and me and the Mrs. had a great time. We had timed it just right. 3 weeks later BP oil had what they called an accident. From this trip she gained a bit of understanding as to the joy of traveling the road with no destination in mind. She has enjoyed a few long trips with me this year including the Bourbon trail in Kentucky and a trip up to West Virginia. We have put quite a few miles on together. She is quite a trooper.
My next event stop was being called a Gypsy run. This sounded right up my alley. I met up with some hooligans in Taylorsville NC. This was the beginning of The Big Mountain Run.
Until next time
PEACE AND GREASE.
Winter has seldom been a good time for riding in Tennessee but with the aid of my heated suit, I was able to ride out of town and head south. I have family all over Georgia and I had lived in Florida for a number of years. I travelled all over the gulf road from Jamacia Beach, Tx. to Tampa. Then it was time to head to Bikeweek. It had been almost 10 yrs sense I had been but I thought it would be a good run. Cold would be an understatement. I spent the day riding around seeing all the old places I use to haunt and then I pulled into South Daytona and found the Limpnicke lot. What a great time. Cool bikes, cooler people. I had made no provisions for where I would sleep so I set out for Ormond Beach in hopes of finding a room for the night because the temps were still dropping. No Vacancy signs are now a thing of the past. Use to be you could drive around looking for a room. Now you have to park and go in to be told they have no rooms available. I found a semi truck parked in the back parking lot of a hotel. I pitched my tent next to his trailer tires and slept the night away. You may wonder why, The trailer blocked the view of the security camera and I was able to sleep all night without being run off. Early morning and I'm packed up. Destination IHOP beach side. I pull in and park then realize there are 100 motorcycle enthusiasts waiting to get in. I'm not feeling the love so I'm ready to go somewhere else but my bike isn't. Push on the start button and nothing. Out come the tools and over come the 100 riders to tell me what my problem is. I stand in amazement that they are able to diagnose my problem from 50 ft away. haha. After I cleared the crowd I figured out that my starter button had shit the bed but with a short jumper wire I was able to get the bike started. Down the road. I spent the day bouncing around New Smyrna and Edgewater. I spent the afternoon at the annual oyster roast at Magoo's. As night was setting I decided I would head south and find me a room. No such luck. Before I got to Titusville my headlight quit working. I-95 pitch black is not a good place to be without a headlight. I followed a trailer that had a shiny back door until the next exit. Only thing there was a closed gas station and a closed McDonalds. I pitched my tent at McDonalds and slept the night away. That is until the morning manager started ranting and raving outside my tent. I finally had to tell her to go fix my breakfast to get her to shut up. Next stop was south of Orlando at a friends house. Worked on the bike a bit and had a good day of catching up. In the morning I headed back to Tennessee.
As spring was coming on my road trips were beginning to get longer and my wife was beginning to get sore. Spring break I loaded her up on her bike and we set out for the Louisiana bayou. 8 days of puttering about to the ends of all the roads we could find. I had bought a pop up camper to pull behind the bike and me and the Mrs. had a great time. We had timed it just right. 3 weeks later BP oil had what they called an accident. From this trip she gained a bit of understanding as to the joy of traveling the road with no destination in mind. She has enjoyed a few long trips with me this year including the Bourbon trail in Kentucky and a trip up to West Virginia. We have put quite a few miles on together. She is quite a trooper.
My next event stop was being called a Gypsy run. This sounded right up my alley. I met up with some hooligans in Taylorsville NC. This was the beginning of The Big Mountain Run.
Until next time
PEACE AND GREASE.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
The true Long Road.
It has been almost a year sense I sat out on the longest journey of my life. That journey started in my driveway a few days befor new years eve. 2009 as I set out on my motorcycle to head to Memphis to be with friends and celebrate the new year with them. I had no Idea what the year had in store for me. After 36 states and 6 trips across the Continental divide, I think I have a story to tell.
The morning of Jan. 01, 2010 was cold. I had invested in a heated suit and my 2002 Honda VTX 1800 was ready to ride. We set out for a day of just tooling around but our trip was put on hold because my buddies wife couldn't deal with the cold. By the time we returned to their house, my friend was so pissed that he asked if I wanted to ride over to Oklahoma to see a service buddy of his. This would be the norm for my year of riding. No real plan, just a throttle and a map. Most of my trips would last between a week and two weeks. Always finding my way home to the center of my universe. My loving wife Shelly and our wonderful 5 yr old Maggie. I have always had a sense of wanderlust in me and Shelly understands this need in me. A greater blessing has no man known than the understanding of a woman.
I went to school in the mid west and because of that I know alot of people up that way. Through the use of social networks I have been able to reconnect with alot of people from my past. I found my best friend from school days up in Omaha. 850 miles on a screaming frozen motorcycle and I was trying to explain to his wife why Chris is the way he is. Dinner, drinks and a few hours on a couch catching up on the last 20 plus years. Never one to overstay a welcome, a quick look at the weather and I learn I can't go back the same way because St. Louis is in a blizzard. I head south to Eureka Springs, Ark. A wonderful little craft village built into the hills of the Ozarks.
These long trips give me time to think and sometimes that is more than my twisted mind can handle. I would liken the bad times to solitary confinement. There are times that the beast within can take over a mind and you find out what your meddle is. I can tell you this, sometimes time to think is not a good thing. During these times of internal struggle my main defense is an mp-3 player full of all kinds of music.
Back at home base. I get a call. Come to Memphis, lets go for a ride. I'm gone. We meet up in Memphis and I'm informed that we are going to St. Louis to meet up with his family for a party and then we will ride with his brother. Good party with good people, young and old. We look at the weather map in the morning and find there is no place we can go and not meet bad weather. Our choice is this, titty bars in east St. Louis or bad weather riding.. we ride. Sometimes 10 miles sometimes 80. We spent 3 days riding all over Missouri and Arkansas in some of the worst weather I would experience all year. At one point I went to put my feet on the floorboards when I noticed that I had over an inch of ice on the soles of my boots. Then the bike problems started. Water cooled engines have a radiator. mine has no protection from road spray. My radiator froze over and I blew a head gasket. Outside of St. Louis I put my bike into a U-haul for the first time in my life. Straight home and into the motor. complete rebuild and bored it out to 1980cc's.
It took almost a year to live this story so I doubt that you want to read it all in one setting. I will add more very soon.
PEACE & GREASE
The morning of Jan. 01, 2010 was cold. I had invested in a heated suit and my 2002 Honda VTX 1800 was ready to ride. We set out for a day of just tooling around but our trip was put on hold because my buddies wife couldn't deal with the cold. By the time we returned to their house, my friend was so pissed that he asked if I wanted to ride over to Oklahoma to see a service buddy of his. This would be the norm for my year of riding. No real plan, just a throttle and a map. Most of my trips would last between a week and two weeks. Always finding my way home to the center of my universe. My loving wife Shelly and our wonderful 5 yr old Maggie. I have always had a sense of wanderlust in me and Shelly understands this need in me. A greater blessing has no man known than the understanding of a woman.
I went to school in the mid west and because of that I know alot of people up that way. Through the use of social networks I have been able to reconnect with alot of people from my past. I found my best friend from school days up in Omaha. 850 miles on a screaming frozen motorcycle and I was trying to explain to his wife why Chris is the way he is. Dinner, drinks and a few hours on a couch catching up on the last 20 plus years. Never one to overstay a welcome, a quick look at the weather and I learn I can't go back the same way because St. Louis is in a blizzard. I head south to Eureka Springs, Ark. A wonderful little craft village built into the hills of the Ozarks.
These long trips give me time to think and sometimes that is more than my twisted mind can handle. I would liken the bad times to solitary confinement. There are times that the beast within can take over a mind and you find out what your meddle is. I can tell you this, sometimes time to think is not a good thing. During these times of internal struggle my main defense is an mp-3 player full of all kinds of music.
Back at home base. I get a call. Come to Memphis, lets go for a ride. I'm gone. We meet up in Memphis and I'm informed that we are going to St. Louis to meet up with his family for a party and then we will ride with his brother. Good party with good people, young and old. We look at the weather map in the morning and find there is no place we can go and not meet bad weather. Our choice is this, titty bars in east St. Louis or bad weather riding.. we ride. Sometimes 10 miles sometimes 80. We spent 3 days riding all over Missouri and Arkansas in some of the worst weather I would experience all year. At one point I went to put my feet on the floorboards when I noticed that I had over an inch of ice on the soles of my boots. Then the bike problems started. Water cooled engines have a radiator. mine has no protection from road spray. My radiator froze over and I blew a head gasket. Outside of St. Louis I put my bike into a U-haul for the first time in my life. Straight home and into the motor. complete rebuild and bored it out to 1980cc's.
It took almost a year to live this story so I doubt that you want to read it all in one setting. I will add more very soon.
PEACE & GREASE
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