Brief Flashback to Youth

Found a damn screw in a tire on my wife's car this a.m. I had my lunch companions drop me off in the middle of downtown's main street so I could pay for getting it patched at Big Ten. I dodged the PT Cruiser that had me in its crosshairs as I ran into the tire store's parking lot. As I approached the door, a very attractive young lady got out of her car and stepped in front of me. I opened the door for her and we entered. Blonde, with a nice tan chest, she was cute as heck. She asked about getting her brakes checked. The manager explained that he'd do the check for free, but that she'd have to leave her car. She then asked if he could have someone drive her back to work. He didn't have anyone to spare, he told her. I, being the gentleman that I am, offered to give her a ride. She said she worked a few blocks away. To allay her fears (if she had any), I showed her my ID and told her I was old and harmless. She laughed and thanked me.

She then said, "I need to go to my house first." HALLELUJAH!!! I've still got it! Whoohoo! The manager and I exchanged knowing looks. I read his mind...JACKPOT!

Alas, as we went outside, a girlfriend called her and said she'd take her. "I'm not afraid of you ," she told me. I thought, "You should be!" I smiled and walked away.

The simple things that entertain me these days...siiiiiiiiiiiigh

I Gotta Be Me!

Okay. I read back over these things...and I don't hear me at all. I'm writing like a tenth grade English student. Or a celeb "novelist". I can't stand it. I'm holding back so as not to offend anyone. I've got too many things to get to...and I can't write like this anymore.

The ride to West Point, Mississippi for a Howlin' Wolf Museum benefit concert shouldn't be told in such polite terms. Hell, I met Harry Shearer there! Yeah, that Harry Shearer.

If I write honestly about softball daze (sic), I'll offend everyone. So be it. Sorry. I may lose friends, have relatives cuss me out, my wife may bail, but it has to be done right.

The trip to Wyoming with my childhood buddy can be done for a family audience. We were good boys. Dammit.

Fred's Feed & Seed - no problem there. Tampa trips...probably okay for the kiddies to see that stuff. Most of it.

I just gotta write it like I think it. No more , "Ooh...I left a preposition outta place." Not sure what to do about one thing that was mentioned to me. I use asterisks rather than spell out the worst of the cuss words. I had a complaint, and I think it's a valid one: Either spell it out or don't use it. I see the point...yet I still like the effect of implying , yet not offending. So I'm a wuss. We shall see how that goes henceforth.

The sensitive may have to exit at some point. I don't think I cuss a lot. My wife says I do. Of course, she doesn't cuss at all, so that skews the numbers in that argument.

I gotta write about music, baseball, and college football. If I can't cuss in those posts, I may as well delete the blog.

Lynx

I need to pass along a few links that all...er, most...well, some...maybe a few...hell, probably none of you ...will enjoy.



http://www.firesigntheatre.com/

Yes, they're still around. Many, many nights were spent wandering Montgomery...and Mobile on one occasion...listening to these guys. Richard, I know you're out there...what was your dog's name that we accidentally left at the rest stop on the way to Mobile? Don't worry...we went back and got him.

George Tirebiter, Morescience High, wow. Good days...and nights.


http://www.ralphsteadman.com/
Great artist. I was first made aware of his work in ooooold Rolling Stone magazines. He did the illustrations for the great Hunter S. Thompson's articles. And y'all wonder why I'm the way I am?


http://weatherwars.info/


http://www.berkeleybreathed.com/ Bloom County, Opus, and Outland were my favorite comic strips of all time. Breathed is as good as they come. The man was/is brilliant.

http://zapatopi.net/
I don't know where to begin. This site is amazing. I've probably perused 1% of it to this point.


http://www.honan.net/Hello.html
The son of one of the best persons on this planet, Mat's done some mighty cool stuff.



















Any sites to do with Thomas Hart Benton's paintings. The man's work has a fantastic look.

http://www.trollart.com/INDEX.HTM
I've ordered several of this guy's tee shirts for the kids. Very nice stuff.

http://www.webbwilder.com/
One of the funniest, coolest, hardest-rockin' guys/bands on the planet. Miss them at your own peril.

http://bloodshotrecords.com/
Great artist roster! Check out Scott Biram, The Meat Purveyors, Bobby Bare, Jr...a helluva lineup.

http://www.nmallstars.com/
Saw 'em at the Shakespeare Theater. They were unreal. They've done nothing but get better!

http://www.luceromusic.com/site/index.php
A Memphis band that can rock hard as anyone, yet rip you apart with pain as well.

http://www.wildmansteve.com/
Steve Bronson, longtme owner of Wildman Steve's Records in Auburn, AL has a fantastic internet radio station these days. Great music, great guy. Check it out!

http://www.militaryfactory.com/aircraft/german-aircraft-of-world-war-2.asp
Always been fascinated with everything to do with WWII, especially the German equipment.

http://www.venganza.org/
The Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. How anyone could dispute the legitimacy of this religion is beyond me. Great site. Invite the kids.

Omelettes, Snakes, and Wads of Never-Dull

Unrest over election fraud in Iran. US troops leaving Iraq. War continues in Afghanistan. Pakistan in danger of Taliban takeover. North Korea's Kim Dong Il doesn't wanna die without a major confrontation with us. Nuclear materials probably in hands of terrorists. Mexican drug wars spilling into US. Honduras in turmoil after coup. Swine flu pandemic declared. No rain in central Alabama for weeks (not at my house anyway). Record heat wave in Texas and southeast US. Thermite found in the WTC debris. Jefferson County in danger of bankruptcy. City Stages declared dead.

The world is in turmoil...as it always has been and always will be. This chaos is delivered to our living rooms all day every day on a multitude of television channels. And what has the lead story been for days now? A pedophile's death. The demise of a child molester. Michael Jackson's long overdue final bow. Weeping faces all over the world plastered on my TV screen. Weeping for what? A screwed up freak who molested young boys. Yes, the "man" could dance, but...um...excuse me...he molested children. Should the House of Representatives have had a moment of reflection in honor of this perv's death? I think not. Geraldo Rivera's slobberfest over Jackson was disgusting...at least what little I saw of it was.

Folks, there are far more important matters to be concerned with these days. Will nuclear weapons fall into the hands of Taliban fighters soon? Will North Korea poke us until we have to respond with military action? Will Daisy pick Sinister to form a slutatoo?


Screw all that. This morning, I boogied up to the Front Porch Grill to chow down on one of their monster omelettes. Some home fries to get the cholesterol level back up and I was on my way into the countryside. I had to get "Bille-f*ckin' Jean" outta my head. Crusing toward the prisons of Elmore County, I came upon a fair size snake in the road. I thought it had been hit and skirted by it slow to get a good look at it. WHOA! This mamba was alive and feisty! As I turned around to get a second look, a pickup ran over it. That had to hurt. The pickup came back and a kid jumped out. He was ticked about hitting what turned out to be a rat snake. Said he cleared varmints like this from housing areas when he wasn't in school. He proceeded to grab the snake by the tail and gradually, as the snake calmed, he worked his way up to snag it right behind the head with his other hand. I failed to take any photos of the actual capture, as we were both sitting in the middle of the road and I wanted to be ready to get the heck outta the way if any traffic came along. The snake appeared to be unharmed. The kid wrapped the snake around his arm and said he was going to take it home. I finally decided I had to get a photo and as I checked the snake out, I saw some damage from the snake's meeting the kid's tires. Anyway, here's the young man and his new critter.



After riding around a while, I headed home 'cause it was time for the bike to get some real attention. The heat has kept me from doing a really good polishing job, but today the temp is down a bit and a breeze is blowing, so I pulled the bike into the backyard and by the shed, set the Zune to shuffle, and grabbed all my cleaning crap. My wife says I have more bike/car cleaning and polishing products than AutoZone. Well, the cars and bike still look mighty good, so no gripin'! Never-Dull on the chrome, various polishes for the rest of the bike, and voila! Perfection! I'm 68 miles from having 45,000 on that bike and she looks so good right now...it's ridiculous! Running strong as hell, too. Gonna get back on it in about two seconds...


Oh! Saw this sign near Maxwell AFB in Montgomery on Sunday morning. Wow! Now we need some volunteers to read the sign to its intended audience.

By the way, the two albums rotating on the Amazon player thingamajig are CDs that I chose to display. Music I like will be promoted on that feature. Unless they (whoever they are) pull something weird, anything you see over there will be stuff I own and love. Play something, see if you like it.

RIPs

I wasn't sure anything could pull me out of my funk over Farrah Fawcett's passing (actually I could GARA, but at least she was somewhat cute), when lo and behold, what was I just made aware of?

MICHAEL JACKSON IS DEAD!!!! Hallelujah! One less child molester (moon)walking the planet. It's a damn shame he was allowed to exist this long.

Now we have to worry that this is all a publicity stunt and the little perv will "miraculously" come back to life. Please, noooooooo.................

Riding in 300 Degree Weather

Riding a motorcycle in Alabama requires the rider to either be impervious to heat or to revel in presenting oneself at restaurants, work, etc. as a sweat-soaked, bedraggled, helmet-haired goober. Now that my scalp has relieved itself of most of my follicles, the helmet-hair is no longer a major problem. However, arriving at the office sopping wet is, if not disgusting, at best, very uncool.

Alas, riding the bike is essential for me. I've owned and ridden bikes since I was whatever the minimum age was to get a motorcycle license back in the late '60s. I think I was 14 or 15 when I handed over my hard-earned Hardees paychecks to procure a (keep this quiet) Honda Cub 50. Hey! You gotta start somewhere.

I managed to make an enemy on the local police force within a few weeks of getting on that little booger. A couple other 50 owners and I were cutting through a high school parking lot while, unbeknownst to us, several police bikes were in hot pursuit of us. Undoubtedly we were suspected of dealing in firearms or drugs since we were on two wheels. Anyway, we had cleared the parking lot when an officer pulled alongside (hell, we were on 50s...he could have walked up alongside) and offered to escort us back to the school lot. Upon arrival at said parking lot, we were confronted by an officer covered in mud alongside his bent and twisted Harley police bike.

"You little turds! Look what you caused me to do!" We had to suppress our laughs at the sight of this large uniformed dude, muddied and red-faced and ready to kill us all. Three 15-year-olds on Cub 50s had "caused" this burly policeman to crash his Harley-Davidson!

Hell if I remember the outcome of that mess, but I do know that not long after that incident, the same officer was working security at the hamburger restaurant where I was employed. He asked me if I'd ever been maced. Being somewhat law-abiding at that point in my life, I answered, "Why no, I haven't been maced, sir." Looking back, that turns out to have been a really bad answer. Mr. Policeman pulled out his spray and commenced unloading it into my face. Now in case you've never been maced, let me 'splain how it felt. It ain't good. You try to stretch your eyes as wide open as possible to get air to them. But that doesn't help alleviate the intense burning. So you close them and rub them. Bad move. The scalding of your eyeballs gets more intense with every attempt to ease the pain. I would suggest that mace is a darned effective means of subduing an adversary. However, it appears that mankind, other than myself, has evolved to a point where mace is ineffective. You never hear about it being used today. Tasers, pepper spray, and/or bean bags propelled from a rifle are deemed better methods of stopping a thug in his tracks. If I'd been a little smarter, I woulda sued the PD and I'd no doubt be living a life of leisure today in Pago Pago or in Lee County, Alabama with AU coeds attending to my every need.

Ah, but I digress. Bikes are freedom. Or at least as much freedom as we can experience when family, job, bills, illness, dog shit and ever-lengthening nasal hair are a part of our daily lives. Even a 15 minute ride to work is an adventure. Rather than being entombed in a car or truck, when you're riding...you're out there. You're not traveling through the scenery so much as you're a part of the scenery. Yes, a zen moment. Let's pause...when on my bike, I am one with the universe. It's true. Temperature variations are crisply perceptible. As you hit a bottom on a country road, the temp can drop noticeably. You smell things that you miss when traveling via four wheeled contraptions. Honeysuckle slams you in the face as you barrel down a country road. Ligustrum (or hedge to us southerners) wafts over and through you. Of course, a dead possum swirls its odor all around inside your helmet as well. Okay, there's one negative. But as long as you're able to dodge the incompetent drivers, the makeup appliers, the texters, the "By god, I like the left lane, so I'll stay in it as long as I like" crowd, and the pulpwood trucks which dominate the highways of Autauga County, Alabama and the area around Perry, Florida...then you're good to go!

No doubt, millions of motorcyclists have tried to describe what riding is to them. Bike magazines have devoted articles to readers' descriptions of riding a motorcycle. I don't think it can be done. At least not to where a rider can convey to a non-rider what it's like. The best description I've found is that it's similar to how a dog loves to hang his head out of a car window. So I guess it's just a natural thing. I like to go too fast, to haul ass through a series of sweeping curves, to climb Mt. Cheaha or run through the Tail of the Dragon in the Smokies, to head down Highway 19 to Tampa, or just bounce around central Alabama looking for people I haven't met or places I haven't eaten or things I haven't photographed. These things need to be done...and by god, I'm the guy who's gonna do them!

I may post pics from previous rides on occasion, as dictated by my incoherent rambling. Riding will not be the sole focus of my blog, as I have many subjects that I love to babble about. Ask anyone who knows me. If I don't have an opinion about something, I'll make one up on the spot just to get a reaction. This blog will be dangerous. It will be frightening. And it will be totally useless, just like 99% of television, film, and blogging.

My bad. I forgot what I started writing about. Get used to it. If you intend to visit this blog, you should know now that that will be a regular feature.

I've been through quite a few bikes since that Cub 50. A Yamaha 250 with a sissy bar about 6 feet tall, a Kawasaki 500 Triple (bad brakes, bad suspension, great mill), a Yamaha 750 Special, a Suzuki 850...several year gap here to raise 2 boys...a Suzuki Volusia, and, since 2003 my baby, my beautiful Honda VTX1300S, which has safely delivered me thru many, many miles of fun.

Gotta figure out this blogging thing. Do I relate what I did today? Or what I did 30 years ago? Both? Simultaneously? Whatever...

Be prepared for unannounced shifts in topics, rudeness, opinionated discourse, tales of beer consumption, and hopefully some levity. I'll do what I can. My sweet wife may be shocked/stunned/inclined to begin divorce proceedings/move to South America based on what she sees in here. I have to risk it as I am always brutally honest and my power to change the past has been extinguished.