Change is gonna happen, its as constant as the sun coming up.
I love being 40, uh, whatever the hell age I am. I’ve honestly forgot. 43 or 44, fuck if I care to pay attention lol.
But I am enjoying this time in life. Starting to feel a creak in my knees, and this cold weather makes me stand up a bit slower, but its nice to have some balance. Where you can see bullshit; where you can decide to ignore some of it, store a little, and use a little as fuel. 40 something is kick ass.
I’ve also started to appreciate some things. My kids. Starting to realize how fast they grow up, and that a few things here will mean big things there, and to their kids when I’m a grandpa.
I’m enjoying the seasons. Enjoying driving down the canyon and the world looks a little different than it did yesterday (and it does here). Enjoying the fact that it was cold today, but the sky was a color that you can really only feel, and you can’t separate what your eyes are showing you, from what your senses are telling you.
Fuck me, I’m becoming my old man.
Even this economy. Its slowed everyone down, and the thoughful are thinking. I watch the youth that have the time because they’re too short sighted and spoiled to get a job sleeping in parks and holding up signs. I can’t go all republican or democrat on that, because maybe thats a tool we can use later on. Forgive the metaphor: but if the world is playing chess, you gotta have a pawns on the board. Sometimes the board will get the king (most times it takes a couple), but it happens. I feel like I’m old enough to sit back on watch, and watch a little CNN in the meatime, from the comfort of the couch I paid cash for, from my motherfucking job :). Lets see what happens there. All I know, is that its the people that go to work that are going to bail them out again, no matter what happens.
Other than to remember one hell of a fucking sweet bike.
I’ve had a few bikes. Some I’ve really loved. I started out riding a dirt bike when I was 11. An XR75. I remember making the shifting “sound” in first gear and even at 11, it didn’t sound right. My dad wasn’t ready to teach his curious little son what shifting the bike was. Once he showed me (he made me ask him) I could finally make that sound a 72cc bike should make as you kick ass on it and lay down some gears and a wide open throttle. To this day, I think about that and see the wisdom in what he had going there.
I graduated to a trail 90. Only because I had a friend who’s dad had a welder and I wanted to lay my shocks forward on the frame, like those sweet ass husqvarna’s back in the 70s that had those ohlin shocks and that chrome section on the gas tank. Trouble is, my 12 year old buddy couldn’t weld like his old man, and he burned through the frame. All good right? I ditched a few cops riding the streets of Orem utah on my xr75 by mostly being scared my bike was gonna get repo’d by the old man, and a little of knowing the terrain better than what an orem cop knew. No such luck on that trail 90. Even so, me and my buds took it off some sweet jumps.
Around 15-16 years old My dad let me ride his 2 stroke, 1976 Honda 250 elsinore. I got my motorcycle license at 16, and I got a few tickets on that thing. Young, dumb and full of cum. I remember seizing it because I ran it out of oil, letting her cool down and riding her home again before she seized again. Got a ticket on 1600 north in Orem (I was 20 minutes late for a date) doing 60 in a 25, no license, no helmet, no registration, excessive noise (I drilled the baffle out, had to sound cool right?), and because it was so loud the cop followed me for 3 miles before I looked in my rear view mirror. Lost my license in one ticket, 6 months after I got the damn thing. The cop was mad, but screw him: he didn’t see the beauty of what I had going on that evening. I got that bike back in my posession 25 years later, and sold it later for 100 bucks. It was 50 bucks for more than it was worth. 50 bucks worth of memories, and a garage that would now fit a mini van because it was gone. It never said another word about running her out of oil.
When I moved to long beach california I bought my first street bike. I had a little money, and I knew what I wanted to spend that on. I bought a 1983 Honda Magna. Did some local riding. felt the wind, and after finding I was sick of Long beach at 22 years of age, I bought me a new seat, some new blinker lights, a sissy bar and a pack that would fit her, and figured I’d ride her home to southern Utah.
I remember that feeling of feeling exposed. I wasn’t in a car, there’s no second chances on a guy that hadn’t ridden for a while. A bump or a bad turn signal and I’m man down, on the side of 1-15, let alone if I make Cajon Pass. I manned up, got on the road and around barstow the mojo hit, about the time I heard this song:
I remember that moment distinctly. That was the moment I knew I wanted this feeling the rest of my life.
I rode that bike all over. You know those splitters where you can make a walkman earphone work for 2 people? I distinctly remember the moment riding down river road in St george on my bike. Mylatest girl on the back;, and she knew every word of china grove and listen to the music by the doobie brothers, and knew I’d found the right one. She rode with me, and she had the depth to see past milli vanilli’s of the day, even though she liked to dance a little to it. I married that girl, and she afforded so much of my bullshit, let alone 3 beautiful daughters that I’m so proud of. My magna deserves that memory. For the guy that held the handlebars, it steered me right that day. Bikes give the right inspiration. That night, it certainly changed my life for the best.
this is all bla bla bla, hang with me. I gotta pay tribute to the bike I just called Harley Davidson Financial Services and told I can’t pay for it anymore. I need to get this out.
I pushed that bike off the back of my father in laws truck at the landfill 15 years later. I’d replaced the engine, rode it some more and after the tranny gave up, it blew oil 2 lanes wide, she’d given her all. Honestly, I sat there and I cried as son as I watched her flop over the back of the tailgate. It was over for me and the Magna. Felt I’d fucked over a good friend. It was Hitting home that I was married and had to do what I had to do, had kids I needed to take care of and that that bike was going to be buried in fill dirt. That Was good to me.
Then 11 years. Good years. I started an excavating business, had a couple of kids, took a risk or two and did well for myself. Had another kid, and was so busy that I forgot what a little wind and a spot on a map did for a soul.
Sold a business, Sold another business…. then found a partner I thought I could make some money with and rest a little. Little Did I know, there’s no rest 🙂
On the way to a business meeting in hurricane utah, we stopped by the harley shop right off the freeway because the prick spaced us off. My credit was good, My memory was pretty faded, but it spun when when my friend turned and told me to notice the bike right behind me; I spun, and saw the bike I would own 45 minutes later and drive off the lot.
2006 street glide. she was a rental, but my neighbor who ran the harley dealership took a shine to her, and it never hit the rental fleet. he took her to Denver with some friends, and decided she needed more power.
She she got stroked out, just after she got broke in on her 88 ci motor.
88 cubic inches got bored to 102. Stroker crank. Stroker Pistons. Roller Rockers. Race Tuner. Screamin Eagle breather. Vance & Hines 2 into one, only because it was the louder than the rhineharts. C&C Ported heads, bored smooth. The shop called her the “fire breather”, and I became friends with that mechanic. Not long after, and I showed up in the shop. Spun around and bought her and a fat boy, because my dickhead partner didn’t have credit.
I will say this: She’s a bagger. I’m not winning any slalom competitions. But open road, you wouldnt touch her. I beat 6 cylinder Valkyries. I don’t care who you are. I always in that race. She was something special.
I loved that bike. Soon after, I re-found my touring bug, and then it was on. There was not a road within 400 miles that I hadn’t known intimately, with the history or the alignment since the 40s. Then route 66, and 400 miles was a friday night. Reconnected with my brother, who loves riding as much as I do. Did an iron butt on a bald tire; 1130 miles in one day, all documented and in a plaque. Rode more route 66.
I blew her engine at 40, 000 miles over a christmas holiday, and scraped together the 6k to get her back on the road again, where she took me more places. More stories.
Time changes, and familes need to be first. Man, its who I am, and who I was raised to be. I wont violate that.
I’ve had a lot of great memories with this bike, and honestly… I don’t know where I will go from here to get another. My business partner was a shister, my family needed stability and bills needed to get paid so my kids have the chances I’ve had. And the wife who’s stuck by me through a lot of thicks and too many thins can do what she needs to do as well.
So I turned her in tonight. The repo man will be calling me I’m sure in the next few days, and I’ll work my way over there to give her to the man. They wouldn’t work with me.
I pried the road rage stickers off the fender, because that was unique to me, and had some personal stories.
This is depressing me writing this, and I’m not gonna wallow in my own crap. Let it just be said I loved this bike. It showed me a lot of things, and I showed it more. Signing off, and tomorrow we’ll plow forward and work toward again something more.
But make no mistake, I’ll have me another bike.
Much Love and Respect to those that read my blog. Theres no keeping a good man down.
I need to ask. Do you bond with your bike, or is it just another bike? why do you love that bike?
Sons of Anarchy was killer tonight. Kurt Sutter is a hero of mine. What a gift, and i’m not in awe very often.
I don’t even know what to think about work today. Leadership is a balance between what is best for the goal, the ones you love and what is right, and truth is…. the reverse order is how it should be played. That is, if want anyone to show up at your funeral. Your loved ones will probably not be there if you havent been consistent in doing what is right. thats the bitch of it all.
I’ve Shown the video of alice coopers “only women bleed” more than a few times on this blog. I love my wife. lol, she has no sense of direction. She’s convinced that for the last 20 years she’s kept me clean and alive. I told her today after conceding that point and helping her navigate the lunch route that she’d be lost without me. We both laughed and neither of us denied. She does keep me together.
I got so much to say. My old man used to say “I may be wrong sometimes, but I’m never in doubt”. Thats how I feel. he wasn’t that honest about being wrong sometimes. I’m not sure I do either.
I deleted my facebook account today. Partly because of the previous point, and partly because its a waste of time. I’m not sure what facebook is good for, and there’s something about a herd mentality that rubs me wrong. It’s also because I have this feeling of wanting to stir up the pot. Thats good for me, but going back to the funeral comment, it’s not going to win you any friends. Only pot-stirrers appreciate it, maybe because they recognize that in themselves. Wished there was a facebook for just us. Nevermind, that probably wouldn’t work.
Throw it out there. I read what you gotta say. Even if you think I’m full of shit 🙂
What has ease of living brought us? Spoiled boys that become spoiled men, looking for a handout and an easier way. The people I admire saw that life is hard, and worked to make it good for their own.
yah, so grab a plow handle, and get on it. Quit your bitching. Quit making everyone tired. Your joy might only come after 7 pm, but why do you expect different? Find the joy between 7 AM and 6pm, and you’re a made man.
This is a guy who’s seen a thing or two. A writer during world war 2. A guy who called it like he saw it. Got paid to do so, and that only comes from those who do what their god given talents, and a willingness to pay the price fof those talents afford them them the opportunity to do.
I’ll admit i’m not a follower of 60 minutes, but paying attention over the years has given me respect for this man. Finding out he passed away this morning, and finding this video on a google search will probably stick with me for longer than I may realize in the coming years. RIP Andy Rooney. This video says it all: You touched a nerve with us, and at the end of the day you just wanted to watch a football game. It doesn’t get any more real than that.
It’s going to snow tomorrow. They say, fairly hard. I haven’t seen this situation for a while. I’m happier than hell I’m alive to see it.
We got seasons here. When you pop the garage in heber and get your first look of the day, it won’t look like the day before. I’m growing to appreciate that. The desert, for all its vast and open beauty, it had 2 weeks of the green season, and the rest was brown. I got no choice than to appreciate where I’m at. I won’t look anywhere else right now. There are things to do.
I watch people. it’s a habit, started by intrigue and putting myself in situations where I can watch it happen. Maybe its a sickness, but I don’t think it is. I tend it think its 50/50 irony and curiosity.
Why do people ignore so much of what is happening around them? Not so much the daily news, or what you think is is a good candidate for the presidency, but people themselves?
I went to church this weekend. I reveled in the irony. I was a church going man for most of my life, so respect for the church going man isn’t lost on me. Respect for the true believer? Not lost either. You guy and gals might just be the glue that holds this whole shit ball together, in a world that could go either way. I dig that. I dug sitting down in my pew. Lemme explain:
Gained a few pounds since the last time I wore a tie. Yah, I ironed that shirt, but when I put it on the shirt bowed between the buttons. the mirror told me that right away. I dug to the back of my closet, and found a short sleeved ralph lauren white shirt…. the shirt I’d ignored for so long, back in the day I still dry cleaned em — and I put it on, and it fit so good. I felt good. Problem is, short sleeves show tats.
So I thought for a minute.
I asked my wife, should I wear this? To church?
My wife responded, in the way that makes me realize again, why you’re the perfect girl for me (and baby, I love you)
“lol, it’s me…. why should I care?”
So I wore it. she probably doesn’t even know what that means to me. I know who I am, but checking to make sure I don’t embarrass her is what I was looking for. She didn’t care. She was behind me all the more: What else could a man ask for?
I got the eye rolls (behind my back of course, reported in the car from missus Dunn). I made sure I played the part, finding the interesting people in the crowds of the hand-shakers, trying to screw with their protocol. A smile and a handshake, pressing for a reaction to see whats inside. I gotta think thats the role I am tattoo’s to play now: that all is not appears as it seems. Tattoos don’t mean meth, don’t mean wife beaters. My talk don’t mean stupid, and my approach don’t mean obama. My kids are adjusted, maybe with the same problems as the theist kids with a protocol. I see the scramble. I know in my case, kids sense honesty. My only hope, with my own, that they take that into themselves. You did it with your dad, and I sure as hell did it with mine.
The speaker quoted me at the pulpet at in the meeting to close the talk. A discussion we’d had before. it was his time, his place and I gave him all that respect because man,…. he’s 19 and the whole world is before him. it should be that way. Youth needs to experience, and experience comes from doing and I’m 100% about all that. A man needs to expose himself, and dive in. how else do you become a man?
Long story short, I went to church. It wasn’t about anyone else but me. I went to support, but I loved the irony. The irony from the eyes around me. The irony from where I’ve been, and from where I’ll go. If you’re a church goer, maybe theres some value to you…. from my eyes. Look past the tats, the shaved head and the beard and maybe you’ll see a thing. I’m not any damn different now than when I was a regular. Other than I facebooked on my phone during prayers, and I look different. But protocol doesn’t determine much more than that.
I gotta say: The thing I like most about tattoos is they are an fast indicator of who I don’t want to deal with, let alone talk to…. at least right off the bat. They draw out the judgmental and the closed minded pretty fast. I love the fact that that’s not who I am, and they may never know it. it pares down a lot of bullshit, really quick. I don’t have the time or much inclination for a lot of bullshit. its a great thing.
I’m not anti religious. I see how much of a place it has, its just not for me. The zealouts I have a problem with, but a good man who can keep his balance, take care of his neighbor why would I not want to support that? If thats his inspiration, then theres a whole helluva lot of worse things in the world. It’s crazy to me, but I’ve come to realize that i’m just me and you’re you. You gotta do what you gotta do. Theres space in this world for both of us. its a great big world.
You know what I’m saying? Sound off: Love to hear what you gotta say here.
