I’ve been about as domesticated as I think I’m ever going to be this last month. Home? It’s great. Love my wife and kids, I love my house. But hell, you can only spend so much time in the garage, do yardwork, and stare at the walls in my bedroom slash Covid-19 office. The highlight of my month was killing that fucking gopher in the backyard, and buying a propane weed burner so I could start small fires in the backyard in the name of weed control.
I am proud of taking the jump to play around with making something out of wood. It’s pretty satisfying taking something raw as wood and making something out of it, especially since I didn’t know jack about it before. I finished up some end tables this last weekend. They’re ok, but I’m already restless to take it to the next step and I’m looking at table saws, routers, and the like. Eventually, I won’t suck at it, and I’m enjoying the hell out of the pursuit.
But I gotta get out. I’m ready to ride.
So this next weekend I have a week off. I scheduled it months ago, before all this covid shit happened. With work and the adjustment of working at home, I hadn’t thought about it all, but I’m thinking maybe hitting up some old haunts in Northern AZ and route 66 to see how thing have changed. Either way, I gotta show those places to the new bike, and if I haven’t I haven’t *really* broken her in. I’ve made enough furniture and spent enough time around the house that the wife has given me a hall pass for the trip. Hell, I’m sure she wants some for herself too.
I was born to ride. It’s in my blood somehow, and I enjoy the living hell out of it.
I hope all you biker pricks out there are ignoring the nonsense, riding it like you stole it, and enjoying your free god-given rights. If you’re not… I don’t know why you are reading my blog.