Why Harley Guys Don't Wave

Another victim of The Dragon at Deal's Gap.

What a Man Can Do

What I saw a man do made me question the professed causes and benefits of the industrial revolution, the wholesale replacement of skilled craftsmen with autonomic machines. Many of you are familiar with todays industrial robots, metalworking machinery, the synthesis of the two, and their inherent precision capabilities. Consider how really specialized those devices are and how limited in what each can produce relative to programming and setup time. Now, consider this:

Y'all know I am a practicianer of the manly arts of Horseshoeing and Blacksmithing and if you are like I was, you're pretty sure the old ways of fashioning metal are fairly crude and imprecise. One of the tasks I was given to perform at horseshoeing school was to fashion a punch that would impress the exact precise shape of a certain type (there are many) of horseshoe nail head into an piece of red hot steel. I chose to make an "E" head punch for a #5 nail. An "E" head nail has roughly the shape listed as 'countersunk'.

I took measurements of angles, dimensions, used a caliper to measure the cross section of the shank, drew it up and roughed it out with hammer, fire, and anvil, then went to the grinder with my drawings and calipers and protractor to finish it up. Two hours later I was not satisfied. Disgusted I went to the head instructor and proprietor of the school and expressed my frustration.
- Let me see that.
I presented my work. He glanced at my handful of tools and drawings, smirked, arose from his desk and without a word went to the workshop to my anvil, started the forge and placed my work into it.

- What's this supposed to be.
JACIII - "E" five.
- OK. Watch.
He opened the forge door and removed the glowing steel. Placing it on the anvil at an angle, he spat into his palm, hefted my hammer and obliterated what I had so painstakingly wrought in three "Thor"-like blows. I stood in shock! Two hours of work gone, and this ham handed SOB squashed it in three blows and 5 seconds. Then...
He rotated the piece, so... WHAM! (full on hammer-stroke brought from above his head).. WHAM!WHAM!. Rotated it again, WHAM!.. WHAM!WHAM! .... eyballed it WHAM! fliped it over, spat. tap-tap-tap..tap, eyballed it rotated itWHAM!.... WHAM!

- See?

And departed the workshop. Total working time elapsed - less than 15 seconds.
I thought 'Bullshit!' and got out my measuring instruments. No bullshit. I tried the punch on a piece of steel and dropped a #5 E-head into it resulting cavity. perfect.

P E R F E C T

Not close, not good enough. perfect. As if you had used the nail itself to make a mold into playdoh and dropped the nail back into it.
"How can he do that?", you ask.
Answer - Because he is a master and student of an old-world craft and, most importantly, because nobody ever told him he couldn't. He has no formal education in modern methods of machining and is largely ignorant of and precision machinery beyond a common drill press.

The Monolithic Dome

I've always had a problem with these and Bill points to a valid concern about expansion causing cracks, but the stress that concerns me is from the temperature gradient from the outside surface to the inside surface of the concrete structure.

This is the primary mode of natural failure of most crystaline ware and it should also apply here. As the outside surface is warmed it wants to expand but the inside surface, being cooler resists that expansion. This places the outer surface in compression and the inner surface into tension. This is not a bad thing as it toughens the outer shell, but when the sun goes down the outside will be under tension which means it's lookin' for a flaw, stress riser, or any other excuse to crack. Given the thickness of the typical wall these forces could become quite large.

First Hand Report from France

Alex from the GPz e-mail list provided an unsolicited european account of the 'troubles' in france.

Here's the link for Alex' blog.

In case anybody of you is wondering about the ongoings in France: It's a
mess.

Two youths died after - presumably - fleeing the Police in Paris, for an
identity control. Now you can argue whether random identity controls are
abusive and wrong, but at least they are not worth to die for not being
subject to them.

This took place in the "village before the village", which is called
"banlieu" in French, for which "banned place" is the literal
translation. The inhabitants of those villages are to a part citizens
who came from the former French colonies or "areas of power". They are
legally French citizens, they speak the language, but for the last
decades (since ever they came over) they have been subject to discreet
and sometimes not-so-discreet negative discrimination. It's hard to find
a job if you live in the wrong area, have the wrong name and the wrong
look. The bit of that which I can feel is that you'd better prepare for
a control if you have a dark complexion and cross the borders. I see
this happening in front of me often enough.

Out of frustration some kids (we speak of youths, 11..15) started to put
cars to fire in Clichy in the night after the death of the two youths
and this was obviously a big show - since then, mostly kids all over the
country think that it's really big fun to set cars on fire and play hide
and seek with the Police. There is no coordination, no leader, no real
motivation except the "fun" of making riots happen - and apparently it's
very funny to even burn the very schools and kindergardens which
actually are in those areas, thus limiting chances for education and
integration even further.

Not to speak of the people whose cars were burning - these are not the
places where they sell a lot of all-risks-included insurances.

But politics are not sleeping and the French interior minister had
nothing better to do than to insult the people, thus pushing the riots
even further. And to announce that the police will act with "full
force". They do not, and it's a wise decision - any further dead people
on any side would start an avalanche.

In the meantime, local leaders and religious leaders, the parents of the
kids who died in the beginning, asked everyone to let things calm down.

This night, the first curfews are in place.

I'm living pretty much on the countryside, around 30 min away from the
next cities - there have been some events, but at least a few days ago
the Gendarmes (MP) were not upset. I'll see one of them tomorrow and
will know more (or not ;)).

cheers
Alex

Thanks for the heads up Alex. You stay safe in the countryside and shoot all trespassers like we do here.


It's a different world over there and Alex's view is going to be a bit different than ours. No flames toward Alex, please, as he has done us the favor of providing a firsthand account.

You gotta love the frogs:

"Fire and blood in France -- at least that's what some foreign media claim is going on," Le Parisien wrote. "Paris is burning, civil war, war zone, race riots -- the headlines, especially on TV, often have no nuance."

Nuance he says! You can't make shit like that up.They are running wild burning the place down and he's upset about the lack of nuance in headlines. Ha!

Tornado Defense

Photo credit to http://www.karinya.com

Bill asks:

What would it take to build a tornado proof house? I'm guessing the roof would be the tough part, but folks make houses that can take a cat 5 hurricane, why not tornado proof? As I type, I'm thinking that with a wind load of a few hundred pounds per square yard, and having to put up with airborne cows and such,

I have heard of aerated-concrete dome houses that are supposed to be able to take massive wind loads, but there is no telling where a load spike might locate on a structure or how massive the spike might be since we really don't seem to know that much about how the darned things function.

"Were you prepared for this?"

This was the question the CNN reporter asked the deputy fire chief in Newburg, Indiana. Like they had three days to prepare? Ditzy bitch. The Emergency Broadcast System failed as did the 911 system prior to the tornado. The government will take care of you. Don't you fret.

I reckon y'all have heard about this tornado in Southern Indiana and North-Western KY Saturday night. We put in a quick call to the inlaws this morning as MrsJAC has an aunt with a farm next to Ellis Park (the horse track that got hit. Bless 'em, their all OK. This country lets a twister run wild, as you can see.

Don on the GPz list just checked in and he's worried that he hasn't heard from his baby sister who lives in one of the areas hit. Prayers are appreciated on his behalf, and all those injured or suffering a loss.

Some of you boys out west may think the country in the linked pics looks familiar; It just goes on forever so flat a teaspoon of water will cover an acre. I miss it still and these rolling hills in central Kentucky make me feel plumb claustrophobic.


The work of one ugly critter.

I Miss My X-Car

For those of you not in the clique, an X-Car is common parlance among owners of the Ford Excursion. Just as fuel prices started to rise I ditched the Excursion in favor of the most fuel efficient 4x4 with 5000lb+ towing capacity I could find. We got a Jeep Liberty smoker (that's a diesel ladies - SB already knew that) and it is big fun, reliable, and cheap to keep. It's no Excursion, though.

I firmly believe there is no luxury greater than space. That being said, our old Excursion is probably the most luxurious vehicle I have ever been in, and it was quite reasonably priced for what it was. 8000 lbs of steel, 425 Hp and 400 ftlbs of torque, four wheel drive like an old power wagon, a foot of ground clearence, four cows worth of leather interior, drove like a big Mercedes, an undercarriage that brings to mind a cement truck.

I have had a sneaking suspicion that the fact that it and other SUV's offered unparalleled luxury and capapbility to the masses is the primary reason for the 'anti-SUV' vehemence in society. Who do you hear gripin' about 'em?! Beady-eyed-cocksuckers with enough money to buy 1000 of 'em. It's just no fun being a bigshot if when stopped in traffic the view from your limo is the polished hub of a 4x4 wheel on Suzy Homemaker's Suburban which happens to have features and amenities your limo doesn't. That won't do. Can't have folks who work for a livin' havin' it too good, can we?

The other SUV haters are commiesratbastards and can't abide having the benefits of the free market displayed before their unbelieving eyes.

Alas, what the beady-eye-cocksuckers and the commie-rat-bastards couldn't do fuel prices have. The X-Car was nice, but I couldn't see spendin' $300.00 a week to have the wife livin' large.

JACmail

Props to Res!

Y'all remember the story of Mario the Matador? Well Res sent this to me the other day. It seems a husband and wife were out riding when they spotted a cougar. The cougar decided it wanted to try some canine cuisine which made the mule wonder what pussy tasted like. Enjoy!

I Found It !

"The paranoid spokesman sees the fate of conspiracy in apocalyptic terms -- he traffics in the birth and death of whole worlds, whole political orders, whole systems of human values. He is always manning the barricades of civilization."
- Hofstadter


When I read Vox or other libertarian blogs, I always think, "Chicken Little - The sky is falling! The sky is Falling!", not because Vox an Co. are paranoid or nuts or way out in left field on issues concerning liberty and the results of the lack thereof, but because they are often jumping the gun on them. It's seems true to me that most of what the government does is leading us to destruction and misery, but these fellas seem to think it's "just around the corner" or "any minute", often making predictions of immediacy. Whether it's economic disaster, martial law, or the instant extinction of mankind they see it pending post-haste.

I have always attributed this to a sort of short circuit of intuition. As I understand it intuition is the brain subconsciously assimilating seemingly random and unrelated data into a sudden conclusion or solution, and I think being around others of libertarian mindset increases the relative frequency of occurrence of ideas related to eventual catastrophic failure of social/economic systems. This frequency adds urgency to the equation and the result is eminent dire predictions.

And you thought they were just paranoid.....

Drat and Double Drat

Track day canceled. Here I sit in TN with bike fully prepped and the track day was cancelled due to ????. Nobody knows, but the brothers "C" are pissed, except for Nate who wasn't allowed to go anyway.

I saw y'all got into an "oil prices" discussion. Thread stealers. Just kiddin', the whole thing blows my mind, but I have to disagree with the assertion that folks charging more for fuel that they already had in their tanks than they originally paid for it is gouging. Small operators have to anticipate big hikes in their costs so they don't get pinched in a shortage. We have to pay them to buy fuel, store it, dispense it, and to provide the service of maintaining that convenient (to us) supply.

It will be interesting to see what oil company executives have to say in the upcoming congressional hearings. They did a piss poor job of dealing with the fallout from reporting record profits in times of shortage. Regardless of the economic reality most folks have a low level of understanding of economic principles and the way our markets function which leads them to pressure their representatives for action against oil companies. The executives of oil companies are well paid and should be sacked summarily after the things that got into the press concerning reactions to the latest quarterly reports.

This and the fact that there is no way to over-estimate the impact energy prices have on the economy have folks in an uproar. I couldn't help but notice that shortly after Bill Frist announced hearings into the matter fuel prices slid dramatically. CYA anyone?

Bill, I use the ballpein method of staking master links. Sometimes well developed hammer control comes in handy.

Zen and the Art

Damn! Is anything simple with these things? And just who the hell decided motorcycle chains had to be riveted at the masterlink? Oh, sure, it's reassuring to know there isn't a clip to fly off at 140 MPH, but that doesn't help SQUAT when the shop manual says, "Remove Chain".

I got the transmission cover off anyway and replaced the countershaft seal and the shifter shaft seal. I'm reassembling it tomorrow and putting it on the trailer. I am very excited about Sunday, though I do feel a bit twilight-zone realizing I am 40, riding around on a red motorcycle, and going to a race track for the first time.

I would concede a midlife crisis were it not that I have pretty much been a child for the entire previous 39 years and I assume one must have an adult year or two in there somewhere to qualify for regression.

On a lighter note: Nothing like a few pending indictments to send GW and Co. scurrying back to suck up to us neandrathal conservatives for support is there?!

The Day Approaches

The brothers "C" are preparing for their first day on a real honest to goodness racetrack. Poor old Big Red (GPz1100 @ 35000 miles)has oil leaks at the shifter shaft and countershaft seals which must be dealt with, Welldigger's YZF1000R is in the shop now getting prep done, and I don't know what Nate's gonna do for that poor garage queen CBR1000F. I'm gonna run on my Avon street tires since the edges are needing evening up to that flat spot down the center, anyway. Carbs could use a synch job, but I'm too lazy. There's plenty of smooth pull from 1500RPM anyway, and she howls like a demon above 5000.

Brakes - check
tires - check
body secure - check
chain - check
controls - check
boots and leathers - check
oil - check
fuel - check
masking tape to cover lights and gauges - check
shop manual - check
tools - check and doublecheck
The balls to give Big Red her head and see where the limit really is - Oh, Baby!


So, oil leaks will be remedied tomorrow, swap out the ethylene-glycol for water, a thorough onceover before tiein' her to the trailer, spike the fuel with some octane booster and then head out. That's the plan, though I'm sure Digger will be bitchin' Big Red isn't clean enough and she'll get another detailed goin' over.

Hope the weather holds nice for the weekend or mother nature could shoot all our hard made coordination and travel plans.

PS - Joy, BrandX posted some good advice under "The Desired Effect" post concerning your new Ninja.

Gettin' There Alive

Everyone has a particular part of riding that scares the bejesus out of them. Me? I hate intersections. I hate everything about 'em. Those left turning nincumpoops have got bullseyes painted on me, I can feel it. So, whenever possible I use another vehicle for "cover" as I pass through an intersection. If I spot a left turn signal I'll try to pass through the intersection on the right of a car or, preferably, truck crossing the intersection too. If the light has just changed as I approach I'll try to let a truck or car go through ahead of me to sorta "wake up" any motorists who might have been thinking of running that red light.

Got any good tips? Dish 'em.

The Desired Effect

Went ridin' today with some buddies. The usual crew plus two new guys. One of the new guys rides an FJR1300. WHOOWEEE! That thang is sweet I'm tellin' ya'. Sounds like an electric motor at idle. The other new guy had a ZX6R that is the old model but still does serious business past about 8000 RPM to the tune of about 98HP. There was the usual assortment of cruisers to wait on, also. Frank, Rainman, Timmy (hereinafter refered to as "Runaway"), and Pappy all made like flatulant elephants goin' down the road.

After a hearty breakfast at Cracker Barrel (does that hash brown casserole rock or what!?) we set out for parts unknown on HWY 25N. The ride was pretty much uneventful except for dinner in Erlanger, Ky. I make it a practice to periodically zoom the cruisers; always in the other lane and never crowding them. If I start a car length behind 'em, drop a gear and hammer it I usually will past the one directly in front of me with about a 25 MPH speed differential. Thosde farther up the line will get passed with as high as a 70 or 80 MPH differential. I do it cause I can't stand to poke along behind 'em any longer, but they think I do it to irritate 'em. Suits me. Typically I'll ride ahead about 3 minutes and then end up waiting 5 minutes or so on 'em, they give me the middle finger salute as they "blat" by. Great fun for all.

Runaway is a competitive type of guy and it just kills him for somebody to get in front of him, do better than him, finish ahead of him. You know the type. Well at dinner he was complainin' about me "thump"ing past him and must have forgotten himself, because he said,

"I kept watchin' for him to pass, and just as soon as I get to thinkin' he's not gonna, BAM!, there he goes! It scares the shit outta ya'! There nothing you can do! I always shake a few times, I can't help it."

That, my friends, is The Desired Effect.

My Favorite Motorcycle Story

I have read this in several places. Don't know, but it rings true from my perspective, anyway. The fella is riding an ST1100 a sport-touring bike with an emphasis on touring. It's big, heavy, and fast.
Enjoy

Date: Wed, 30 May 2001


The Story:

See why I HATE these fucking deer so much?

So there I was, riding to Gerlach and the infamous MASS GOLD endurance event. I had departed well after midnight, cruising down HWY 395, one of THE FINEST motorcycle roads to be found anywhere. I was just coming down a hill to an incredibly flat valley that stretched perhaps 1-2 miles before the next series of hills. This valley was flat, Flat, FLAT, with nothing but sagebrush that was only 12-18" high. I looked long and hard for any range cattle or other furry critters that could cause problems. Nope, not a thing on this prairie but sagebrush. I relaxed and descended into the valley floor.

I was approximately halfway across the valley when I went into another instrument scan. I checked the tachometer, looked up at the Sigma, then down to the temp gauge, then looked up to see the 75-lb doe looking right at me, standing directly in front of the bike, about 50 feet from impact.

The Sigma revealed I was traveling at 61 mph, which means I had about a half a second to do something. However, there was nothing to be done. I knew I was going to strike the deer, and even the deer looked like she knew she was about to die. As my brain realized that an accident was imminent, the classic perception of "time slowing down" kicked in, allowing all the following to happen prior to impact:

The first thing I did was silently scream at the deer, "Now, just where in the FUCK did you come from?!" This was just too unbelievable.... it's not like this deer emerged from a forest, and it's not like it had any place to hide!! [Note: surveying the crash scene afterward, I saw a somewhat more sizeable sage brush that the doe was (obviously) sleeping/hiding behind; it was about 24" high, immediately next to the point of impact]

I began an attempt to swerve behind the doe, started to push the right grip downward when (again, given that perception of "slow time") I realized it wasn't going to do any good, and I had better not be leaning when we struck, so I stood the bike up so I would have a "clean" impact. By now I was about 10 feet from the doe, and looked right into her eyes. Two thoughts flashed "Man, is my bride ever going to be pissed at me if I die like this...." and a second thought: "well, it's lookin' like there will be one less rider at MASS GOLD...".

I tore into her body at 61 mph.

The doe had decided to take another step before I hit her, so the front wheel split her body roughly mid-section, such that the forward 2/3's of the deer fell along the left side of the bike, the rear 1/3 of the carcass went down the right side. It was like you could feel and hear the sounds of cartilage, bone and sinew being snapped and torn asunder. My right lower leg was smashed with the rear hindquarters of the severed doe.

But what got to me was the shit. Literally. Shit! Deer shit.... lot's and LOT'S of deer shit!

The ENTIRE RIGHT HALF of the forward fuselage area was no longer Honda red.... it was brown and green!!! DEER SHIT!!!! I could not believe my eyes! Not only was there a massive amount of deer shit on the road, but my bike front and right side were AWASH in deer shit!! How can a creature hold this much shit in their bodies AND STILL BE ALIVE?!!! What, do these deer have to "shit on demand" for a living, or something?! There was an UNBELIEVEABLE amount of intestinal matter in every single crevice of the bike. Lovely aroma......

Since I had begun a right swerve, I was pointing slightly right when we struck, and after severing the animal, the bike was now pointed to the far right, and into the ditch beyond. I stabbed both brakes and start leaving fresh Dunlop and Metzeler on the road. My speed starts to bleed off, but I see with crystal clarity that I am fast approaching the edge of the road..... and snow-melt sand is *inside* the edge of the white line! "Guess I'm done bleeding off speed", I think to myself. Just before I reach the sand, I release the brakes as I look at the Sigma. It says 53 mph as the ST1100 leaves the road, and flies airborne into the ditch.

As we leave the road, I get up on the footpegs and assume my best Jeremy McGrath riding stance. The front tire slams down into the ditch and the rear end bounces up to try to pop me off the bike, but I'm ready for it, and hang on somehow. I bounce and hop all over the ditch, which is roughly 7 feet wide and three feet deep. I keep looking for the drainage ditch that will end my off-road adventure (and probably my young life) in an instant, the very same way Jack Baird got his serious injuries. First order of business, however, is to avoid the telephone pole that is fast approaching on the left. I manage to sneak past the pole, even though it knocked off my left mirror housing (amazingly enough, the post-accident inspection revealed not a single mark on the mirror housing... go figure!)

By now I am down to 30 mph, and I'm beginning to believe I might live if no Jack Baird drainage-ditch surprises me. About that time, I realize, hey, I'd better do something about getting the bike out of the ditch while I am still moving, or I'll be in this ditch a long time.

So I gently apply a little countersteering, and amazingly, the ST "walks up" the side of the ditch, trading speed for elevation. I am almost to the top of the ditch, and am only going 5 mph!! I finally come out of the ditch, and roll onto the paved shoulder just as I came to a gentle stop!!!! I slowly put the kickstand down. I stepped off the bike and immediately ran around to looked at the front end damage.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


The front fairings are all smashed. The fender is barely hanging on. The lower gray fairing has major holes torn all through it.... and there is a hoof in one of the holes!! The left middle fairing is cracked from top to bottom. The inner middle fair is..... gone!! COMPLETELY GONE!!! The right middle fairing is severely damaged with razor-sharp jagged edges that did most of the deer-slicing, along with the right tip-over guard. The force of the impact buckled and cracked the right (lockable) fairing pocket. Both side maintenance panels took impact damage. The right FIAMM electric clamshell horn is flattened and looks like a frisbee. The other FIAMM horn looks worse. The radiator has a sizeable dent in the right side, but appears intact. I expected to have radiator fluid everywhere, but the cooling system remained intact.

My Night Train was hit hard.... but still serviceable.

As I surveyed the damage, the adrenaline from the near-accident started to wear off, and was being replaced by a seething, raging anger. That fucking deer..... just LOOK at the mess it has made! Then, the final straw..... I discovered that the deer had cause me to lose the PIAA 910s! When I discovered this...... all my attention turn to the deer, still 250 feet back. Shaking with rage, I reached for the Browning, pulled back the slide, chambered a round, and started walking back to the carcass.

As I slowly walked back to the point of impact, I looked over to the left to see the deep, long furrow the ST1100 had made as it ran through the ditch and back up onto the highway. I walked past by the telephone pole that knocked off my mirror housing. As I approach the deer, I have to step around various organs and deer splatter to make my way around to the front 2/3 of the carcass. I lean over the head of the deer and look into her soft, brown eyes. I gently whisper "Fuck you", then empty the clip into her.

There's nothing like the sound of brass casings tingling on asphalt. Oh, yeah.

With the post-accident mental therapy complete, I reloaded the Browning and put it away. I walked back to the bike. Jesus, what a mess! I could not - could NOT - get rid of the stench of deer shit.... and no wonder, IT WAS EVERYWHERE!!! I dig into the Ventura bag for my Polaroid, and almost retch as I noticed that the entire right side of the bag is also encrusted with deer shit. I turned back and face the carcass, "HOW MUCH SHIT CAN YOU DEER *POSSIBLY* CARRY?!!!!!!! I was just stunned at the amount of deer feces distributed about the bike. When I get to the Polaroid, I see that it has no film. Damn, I REALLY wanted to get a few pictures of the carcass, but it was not to be.

I got back on the bike, and slowly made the 30-ish miles to Burns. It was completely un-nerving to look down through the opening of the triple-tree area (normally covered by the inner middle fairing) and see asphalt whirling by! And, DAMN, the smell emerging off the exhaust lines was INCREDIBLE!!! Upon reaching Burns, I rolled into a Texaco and dashed inside to buy one of those disposable cameras. I shot about a dozen pictures of the bike at various angles, then rolled over to the car wash area and borrowed their hose. I scrubbed and scrubbed for 45 minutes, and STILL couldn't get rid of the deer shit stench that came from the engine bay. I walked 200 feet away from the bike, and could STILL smell that deer shit! DAMN, that's some lingering aroma... or so I thought.

Later on that morning, I stopped in Lakeview, Oregon for some gas. Went to the restroom, and as I washed my hands, I took a brief look in the mirror. There, in my moustache, under the right nostril, was a nice dollop of green deer shit, all crusty and hard.

Fucking deer......

- Warchild '00 CBR1100XX '97 ST1100

Practical Shop Chemistry Essentials

I think I'll keep Bill around.....

WaterBoy - "What's an 'acetylene tank'?" (being a smartass.)

Gregg - "It's some kinda red round looking thing." (Also, being a smartass. Surprise!)

Ha! That's pretty funny Gregg! (as an aside for those of you that don't know tank color codes, red means something is not flammable, such as carbon dioxide. Acetylene tanks are yellow and about as flammable as it gets)

Waterboy,
Methane and acetylene are very different things.

Acetylene is a man-made gas used in welding (oxy-acetylene welding or "gas" welding) or metal cutting. Acetylene is produced either by combining methane with oxygen, or (99% of the time these days) it's produced by mixing calcium carbide with water. In addition to being used for welding acetylene is also used for hardening steel and for various kinds of chemical synthesis (for some reason acetylene is a particularly reactive hydrocarbon). Acetylene's chemical composition is two carbon atoms and two hydrogen atoms - C2H2.

Methane is a naturally occurring gas, which can also be made by heating sodium acetate with sodium hydroxide or by the reaction of aluminum carbide with water. Methane is usually used as a heating fuel and is not nearly as reactive as acetylene. Methane's chemical composition is one carbon atom and four hydrogen atoms - CH4
Bill | Email | Homepage | 10.14.05 - 5:12 pm

"reaction of aluminum carbide with water"
Remember those "headlamps" the coal miners used to use? They used calcium carbide under the same principal.

Why I Love Big Red

Notice the balled up rubber at the edge of the tread. This is due to cornering forces and thrust against pavement combining to such a degree that Big Red is actually 'sliding' past the apex of a corner under heavy application of throttle. What fun!

Caption Contest

Did Y'all hear about this?

The AP and UPI reported that the French government announced that it had raised its terror alert level from "Run" to "Hide." The only two higher levels in France are, "Surrender" and "Collaborate." The raise was precipitated by a recent fire which destroyed France's white flag factory, effectively disabling their military.

Beware Synthetic Oil !

After hearing wives tales from old codgers about this for years, I have found the final, definitive word.


The Dangers of Synthetic Motor oil

Beware of synthetic oil! It can do terrible things to you and your beloved GPz1100. It will not only leak out of your engine faster than you can put it in, but it will also cause your oil filter to clog and implode, dumping debris and dirt into your lubrication system. It also will make every part of your bike permanently slippery because of its linear molecular chain dispersion action. Then it will leak onto your kickstand causing it to retract automatically, dropping your bike on the ground! But that's not all... Synthetic oil will round off your gears and spin your bearings. It will also splatter onto your seat causing your girlfriend to fall off in the apex of a turn and she'll never ride with you again. Synthetic oil coats your sight window with a whitish pro-mulsification additive that is both non-removable and highly corrosive.

Synthetic oil will completely leak onto the ground overnight and your dog will drink it and die. Synthetic oil will wear out your tires and make your battery leak. It will give you the desperate need to urinate after you put your full leathers on and then jam your zippers shut. It will contaminate your gasoline causing your bike to stall on railroad tracks and accelerate uncontrollably near police cars. It will make it rain during rallies and on weekends. It will lubricate your timing chain causing it to jump teeth and break your valves to bits. Synthetic oil chemically weakens valves and causes the clearances to change every six miles. Then it melts the black soles of your riding boots night before you walk across your new carpeting.
While riding past groups of attractive women it will cause both of your handlebar grips to slip off at the same time so you smash your windscreen with the bridge of your nose.

It also causes your swing arm to crack, your studs to break, and your rotors to warp, and then it voids your warranty by changing your odometer reading to 66,666. It also dries out your wet clutch and wets your dry clutch. It makes your clutch slave cylinder seal fail in the heaviest traffic on the hottest day of the year while putting an angry wasp in your helmet for good measure. Synthetic oil hides your 12mm socket and puts superglue on your earplugs. Synthetic oil will scratch your face shield and make your gloves shrink two sizes night before track day. Synthetic oil stole your neutral and sold it to the Chinese for $1.25. Synthetic oil will make you grow a tail. Synthetic oil will write long crazy e-mails to your Internet friends and then sign your name at the bottom! It will also cause you to post long and stupid oil threads to the GPz List!

God loves the GPz1100 e-mail list as he has populated it with some of the most entertaining characters in motorcycledom and sometimes they are too good to not share. The about was sent out by a fella named Art L. and is one of the crazy coots who ride a bike that'll hit 60mph in 2.8 seconds.

Birthday Boy

Well,
Little Brother is 32 years old. Dr. Who got him a remote controlled model airplane.

When I talked to him yesterday he was playin' with his new R/C airplane. I don't know how he could be any geekier.

What's next? Orthodontic headgear? An acne relapse? Parachute pants? Leg warmers? Moon Boots? A "Perm"?

Help me out here.....

Now, That's What I'm Talkin' About !

Farmer Tom is serious about his tractors and, no doubt, knowledgable. I knew these things, but what I didn't know was how well he could write. Of course, it helps to write of something you are passionate about.....

JACIII, I understand that it is your birthday and that you are now among the aged. This probably explains your inability to comprehend the fact the red tractors are for limp ----, spineless, commie, pinko, sons of perdition, who think that it's a crime to hunt and eat red meat. They suck off of the government tit so they can buy their underpowered, overweight, butt ugly, outdated, inefficent, smoke belching, gear grinding pieces of crap that the company tries to pass off as tractors.

People who drive red tractors require Viagria to get anything done.

Since I believe in absolute truth, I believe the Bible is God's written word to mankind, and it contains absolute truth, I give as my authoritative source, the very Word of God. And I quote, "TRACTORS ARE GREEN"
I Hesitations 40:20
farmer Tom | 09.30.05 - 2:12 pm

SB - "Hesitations 40:20" is a reference to JD's most popular model and its crappy, jerky hydaulics. At one time EVERYBODY had a 4020. That is, everbody who wasn't smart enough to have purchased an International 20 years before. '

Cause they were still using them!

I will be printing this out to show around to the fellas I know who are tractor afficianados. I'm not even gonna mention Ford/NewHolland. oops!

Post Bad Things About Nate Here:

Nate, Welldigger, and I grew up around men who show their affection and respect for one another through artful, thoughtful, expressions of disdain. It's a subtle way of saying, "You're a sorry pillow bitin' brain-damaged pole smoker.", but I love ya' anyway.


And just to get things started:

Nate used to have red hair. Yep. Carrot top. I came to my attention years ago that some women don't like the looks of redheaded men and make no bones about it. Nothing about a carrot top guy can ameliorate their disdain, despite all women's claims about how personality, sense of humour, etc are the most important things. One lady, Jodi, really dislikes 'em and I use this on Little Bro' all the time.

"Red on the head like a dick on a dog."

One of my favorites, by the way.

BrainBox or What's the Matter With Your Grey Matter

From Nate's Peep Paradise:

Of course the reason they are talking about it so much is the same reason they talk openly about all of the planned (and some carried out) ways to remove your rights. The more the masses hear about it and how good it is the more complacent they are. After all, they're only doing it so they can help us right? It's a good thing and you are a very bad man for thinking they might possibly abuse all this power we've given them.
Spacebunny | 09.26.05 - 2:52 pm

And I agree with you SB, nothing like continually hearing something night after night on the news to get it drilled into people's heads that it is for their own good.
MR | 09.27.05 - 3:37 am

Whew! I was beginning to think I was the only one thinking the 'nightly news' and the daily paper were counterproductive to personal liberty and security. That damn box will phuck up anybodies though processes given enough time. Folks doin' a lot of time in front of one have a seriously pessimistic outlook toward their futures and see government as the only bulwark between them an literal starvation. They'll argue about it with you. Try 'em!
Next time you run across a fella discussing what happened on an episode of "x" sitcom like it was reality and 'news' or something involving friends/acquaintances find an occassion to bring up something like Katrina, oil prices, imports, free enterprise, hell, go for the ring! "Global Warming"! See what they have to say. You'll find yourself wanting to duct-tape a tinfoil hat to 'em.

Can City Folk EVER be Prepared?

No.

And Houston proves it. They had two days to evacuate, five north bound lanes, and for the most part personal transportation. Phucked is what these people were. I submit they were as prepared and organized as any metropolis can be and didn't stand a chance of dealing with a pending natural disaster.

Take the current scenario, unplug the hurricane and plug in a slowly spreading biological attack with no warning. There would be as many casualties from the panic as from the attack.

Look at your nearest city or, God forbid, your city; what method of egress would you use? Is it the same one everyone would use? I'm thinkin' private aircaft of some sort would be one's only sure hope. Maybe an two-seat ultralight in the garage?

Where it's happenin'

So you wanna live in a big city, eh?! I see five lanes of northbound traffic at a standstill running? from a Cat4 hurricane. Unimpressive.
You live in a city, you give up a lot of freedom just from being there and you are forced to rely on politicians to organise services and in emergencies.

No thanks.

Update:*****

Skinner, accompanied by her 6-year-old grandson, Dageneral Bellard, would settle for a bus.
"They got them for the outlying areas, for the Gulf and Galveston, but they ain't made no preparations for us in the city, for the poor people here. There ain't no (evacuation) buses here. I got nowhere to go."

What you are seeing in and around Houston and formerly in New Orleans are lessons that intelligent people learn. Those that don't, well, I guess there may be something to natural selection after all.

From Dog Turds to Pissing on Electric Fences in Five Comments or Less

Bill gets down to brass tacks; exactly how hard will a predator rated electric fence shock you if you piss on it?

How do they measure fences? Volts, amps, joules? What sort of typical voltages do they run? It felt like anywhere from about 100 VAC for the garden variety fences up to maybe 150-200 VAC for the really hot fences. But if you're talking a 2" spark, that's gotta be up in the kilo-volt range, so I guess the current is in the micro-amps.
Bill | Email | Homepage | 09.20.05 - 8:59 am | #


They are capacitor discharge about once per second. They go 'thunk' every time the fence is charged in a short pulse.
The output is measured in joules.
JACIII | Email | Homepage | 09.20.05 - 5:56 pm | #

9000 volts at 1.4 joules, Bill.
JACIII | Email | Homepage | 09.20.05 - 6:33 pm | #

1.4 joules is 1.4 watt-seconds, or enough energy to lift an apple about 4 feet. But since at 9Kv it's easily enough to overcome your bodies resistance, it's gonna feel like it could lift YOU up about four feet. Fortunately, the amperage is almost too small to measure, so it's not gonna kill you unless you happen to have a heart attack from the jolt.

9000 volts, that WILL get your attention!
Bill | Email | Homepage | 09.20.05 - 7:52 pm | #

Of Beer and Dog Turds

From Vox's:

I like some dark and amber beers, but not in the yard, and not when the juice from the dog turd I'm picking up resembles the beer.
-Bane

This got me to thinkin'; some folks do actually go around picking up dog turds. Really. No shit! That's a singularly disturbing concept. Some humans, top of the food chain, serve as poopy police for canines.

Pretty silly when you look at it objectively. The entire world functions to provide food for the beasts and plants that are on it and reuse the wastes they produce to nourish those things which, again, provide food. And here some folks are runnin' around poop in hand interruptin' this cycle of life we all depend upon. Cityfolk.

Fer cryin' out loud....

I Want One!

It's Big! It's Bad! It's The King, Baby!


Kawasaki ZX14R : 200HP and 200MPH. It comes in red, of course.






Nate wants one optioned out in black, and it's Baa-aa-aahd!
MS Paint photo props to Utah Jeff (The Utard) from the GPz list






Note to riders of slower bikes; if you happen to catch someone on a faster bike than you napping the best thing to do is roar past him and then get off the throttle immediately so when/if he roars by it'll take some of the fun out of it for him. The above advice does not apply to Hardley riders, instead you should pull over immediately after passing and pretend to work on something, or actually work on something as necessary. If you see the ZX14R in your mirrors just get off the road or prepare to feel the Thump!

What did y'all do with Spacebunny?`

Anybody seen hide or 'hare' of her lately?

World's Best Baked Potato

I was smokin' a shoulder roast today and got to thinkin' a fella could throw a few bakin' potatos in there, too. I'm happy to report it works like a charm!!

* 8 baking potatoes (Yukon gold's are good for this)
* 1 cup bacon grease, softened, not melted
* HERB MIX:
* 2 tablespoons ground sage
* 2 tablespoons granulated garlic
* 2 tablespoons dried parsley
* 2 tablespoons salt
* 2 tablespoons coarsely ground black pepper
* 2 tablespoons sugar
* 2 tablespoons paprika

PREPARATION:
Wash and dry potatoes. Rub warm, soft bacon grease into the skin of each potato, covering completely. Mix the herbs together; roll each potato in herb mixture, making sure to cover completely. Puncture each potato several times. Place on hot grill in a smoker, and smoke for 1 hour at 250 deg, turning once. Remove potato and wrap each in double layer of heavy duty aluminum foil. Seal the foil and place back in smoker for another 1 to 1 1/2 hours or until soft when poked.

Now, I didn't do all that. I took seven medium sized 'taters, washed and dried, rubbed 'em with vegetable oil, and rolled 'em in some off-the-shelf bar-b-que spice I had layin' around, then followed the smokin' directions. That part about wrappin' 'em in foil is real important. The first hour gets the smoke flavor in, and the rest cooks the tater. I was surprised the whole thing tasted smoky into the center. And talk about tender - melts in your mouth.

JACmail : ToolTime!

Bill's palm nailer review:

Palm nailer. palmNailer. PalmNailer. Palmnailer.
You'll go blind doing that.

Totally off topic, I had a chance to use my new palm nailer over the weekend. Good news, they work as advertised. Bad news, I got a Stanley instead of a Senco. Damn thing had to be tuned up before I used it even once! As soon as I hooked up the air hose it started hissing. Turns out a gasket was pinched on the piston, so I replaced the gasket (they were nice enough to include a pack of gaskets with the nailer). After that I had maybe a half dozen times when the piston would just hang and I'd have to bang it around to get it to start working again, this was in the course of a 5 pound box of nails. Should'a got the Senco. But the Stanley came with a case and several different sized heads for less money than the just the Senco nailer (which was just the nailer itself in a cardboard box), and I really wanted a case. Looks like I might end up with a Senco nailer in a Stanley case.

It worked great for joist hangers and for pounding in 20d nails. I was pushing in 10d twist nails like I was pushing them into warm butter. The best way to use it seems to be to set the nail with a regular hammer, then push it in with the palm nailer. The nails vibrate rather painfully when you try to hold them and push them in with the nailer, and the magnetic holder is not strong enough to hold even a little 10d nail straight. The only serious problem I have with it is that it's just a skosh too big to fit next to the joist, if it were about a half inch narrower, even on one side, it would be much better.
Bill | Email | Homepage | 09.12.05 - 2:04 pm | #

Thanks, Bill. I was at BiG Lots the other day and they had roofing nailers for $89.00. Hmmmmmmmmm....

It's Never Enough.

It ain't like those people in New Orleans haven't been livin' off of productive america already for years. Now we're all supposed to raise MORE money for 'em? Telethon's, firemen on street corners, bake sales. Bah!
They've had enough of my money by government theft already. They'll get none willingly.

Gone Ridin'! Back ???

Gregg,
Helmets are to be replaced every 3 years, ya' jew.

R - Rated Y'all

Don't Play with those! You could put an eye out!
Courtesy of the New Guy.

Anybody have any experience/knowledge with these bikes?

FJR1300
ST1300
Buell XB12X

'Hear there's supposed to be a new Concours coming out, too.

Dish if ya' got it.

Where's My Check?

I can't leave yet! Damned hurricanetornado thing come to close afore my check. Done spent my goubment check on stuff lass week. Gotsta have new nike's, man, mine's dirty. Sumbody neeeds to pay for these new shoes this muddy water done messed up!

How Far We've Fallen

MrsJACIII and I rode the Mothership part way down the Natchez Trace from Nashville, Tn. yesterday and it put the deadbeats in New Orleans into sharp contrast with the MEN who formerly occupied this land in great numbers.
The Trace is 440 miles of road that generally follows the route farmers WALKED from Natchez Mississippi to get back home after floating downstream hundreds of miles to deliver the fruits of their labors to a market consolidation point.
These men would undertake a month long journey on foot, braving wild injuns, bears, snakes, storms, and highwaymen to get home. The slugs in New Orleans wouldn't walk out past the bypass to get food, water, or a place to shit.

And I thought I was hard on the Hardley guys...

Concisely put for those who don't get it:

My Ninja was powered by a 599cc (36 cubic inch) in-line four cylinder engine that was liquid cooled and had a high capacity oil cooler. It was the most compact, most powerful, most advanced 600cc engine currently in production on the planet at that time and received many accolades for its design from the major motorcycle publications. The compact engine produced ninety seven horsepower, a twin intake ram air setup with pressurized air box bumped that to probably another five percent additional power when under speed. Ninety-seven horsepower was a far cry from the outdated, air cooled irrigation pumps that powered the bikes that Milwaukee was producing. Eighty-eight cubic inches thumping out a laughable fifty something horsepower was about the most power you could get if you went with the best that America could build.

Now, to put into perspective, on a power output to engine size ratio, the Kawasaki's motor made ninety-seven horses out of a miniscule thirty-six cubic inches. That would be the equivalent of having a 350 cubic inch small block Chevy under your hood that made 944 horsepower from the factory, stock.

Black Echo


BrandX be forewarned, it gets pretty ugly.

disclaimer:
I HAVE met fellas who own Hardley's and actually ride. No, I don't mean up and down mainstreet, around and around the Walmart parking lot, or back and forth in front of the local high school, but a few hundred miles at a time actually going somewhere. There ain't many, but they are out there. You can spot 'em sometimes, they're usually old (like me), their bikes are dirty ('cause they ride 'em), and all the little and big things that must be done to get a Hardly down the road reliably have been done (they idle real slow - not just loud - without dieing at stoplights.)

Cowboy Up!

Me and a buddy, Jamie, shod 27 horses and one miniature donkey today, only 3 had to be tranquilized, 3 required swift kicks to the ribs, 4 needed stud chains, 2 got their ears damn near twisted off, and one required IV tranquilization, its ear twisted damn near off (lifted me off the ground w/ said ear), rib kicked, and the wooden handle of a 17 inch steel rasp bent upon its head. Craziest damn horse I've ever seen.

At one stop we worked on a man's horses for 2 1/2 hours, wrote him a bill for $500.00 and he called to thank us for the work we did.

I trimmed two horses on a horse farm big as most counties, with stables the size of mini malls and had a chick from Uraguay holdin' horse for me while a mexican handed me tools like I was in the OR (You end up really workin' your ass off when people hand you tools! I didn't know that.)

After all that I came home and rode BoJack the formerly unridable mustang who has to date thrown his previous owner and six men who break horses for a living. Whoo Hoo!

Jamie went on to fix one more dead lame horse w/o me before he called it a night. That's not dead and lame, but dead lame like deadlame or really very lame. You get it.

As you can probaly tell I'm thinkin' I'm a badass right about now.

'Nite Y'all!

Laughed My Ass Off

Vox on Hillary:

They will, once she finishes slithering through the water flooding the streets, devouring the dead as they float past her.

ALL HAIL THE LIZARD QUEEN!
VD | 08.31.05 - 12:41 pm

Global Eminent Domain

Expect to see similar soon:

The world's environment has long been put at risk by the excessive energy consumption of the United States and the recent tsunami and hurricane Katrina are but two examples of the coming onslaught the United State's irresponsible behavior has brought to the future of our children. Further, global shortages in energy due to the increasing incidence of catastrophic natural phenomena have put the world economy at risk and endangered the safety and well-being of billions its citizens the world over.

The United States has proven incapable of governing itself to the extent it is unable to reduce toxic waste, pollution, greenhouse emissions, and overdevelopment thereby placing the very existence of this planet in jeopardy. As such, we, The United Nations, must take steps to reign in the unsustainable rates of consumption and emissions of the United States. If the United States will not voluntarily, in concert with responsible nations the world over, control its disproportionate consumption and irresponsible energy practices it must be forced to control them. For the children. For our future.

Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
Glory! Glory!....

oops! Wrong mega maniacal nation-state war of conquest.

You Heard it Here First

What are they doing to stem the flood in N'awlins? Same thing Bobby Lee did to preserve the St. Louis waterfront as an Army Corps Engineer before the War Agianst Northern Aggression.

Gregg,
Bobby Lee, in his early army career at the COE, diverted the Mississippi away from a part of the ST. Louis wterfront by strategicly sinking rock laden barges. I'm thinkin' barges preloaded and sunk along the wall would be a good way to slow the thing down.
JACIII 08.30.05 - 6:14 pm

Hope it works!

Finally Found Someone to Take Up for the Hardley Riders, er... Owners.

Q :What does a jap bike and a disposable diaper have in common?
A: they"re made of plastic, loaded wih shit, and hazardous waste once they are disposed of.
Brand X

This is a good example because it has no basis in truth whatsoever.

1) Jap bikes (and German and Brit and Italian and probably even Korean and Chinese) are miles ahead of Hardley in quality except for what matters to Hardley owners - chrome plated shiny bits. There are no Hardleys out there with 100,000 miles without having at least having the heads pulled.

2) Sportbikes do carry much plastic body work (as Buells) to keep your ass on the bike at triple digit speeds, but Jap bikes built for a comparable purpose to a Hardley carry none. I recently went riding with Frank who rides a RoadStar 1700. We stopped at a gas station and a fella came over to look at his bike. He owned a Hardley (was he riding it?, of course not) and asked Frank if his fenders were plastic. ???? The Roadstar is a superior machine to any of Hardley's "big" bikes anyway you slice it. Hardley owners simply don't know any better.

3) Loaded with shit. Yeah, if 'shit' means 'THE Shit' as in horsepower and torque, titanium valves and brakes to stop a battleship. Hardley components are 1970's era technology. Remember Ford Pinto's, AMC Gremlin's, Chevrolet Vega's?? You get the picture. Single solid rotor front disc brakes: Hardley admits they don't put good brakes on their bikes 'cause it would scare first time riders. There are Jap 600cc bikes out there with DOUBLE the horsepower of 1200cc and bigger Hardleys that are bulletproof reliable.

4) I see alot of Hardleys for sale with ridiculous asking prices. They don't get 'em. Pick up any Cycle Trader type sale magazine. There are 50 pages of Hardleys in there no one will buy. Go price a good used GoldWing, FJR1300, Hayabusa,CBR1100XX, ST1100, ST1300, VFR800.. You get the picture.

In conclusion these guys simply don't know any better. Most are old fat men who still think it is 1965 when Hardley made 'big power' compared to Triumph and Norton; maybe 30HP in race trim. A new 50cc Vespa would outrun 'em. They're better now; some even have 60HP! %0 years of R&D and the got a whopping 30 HP to show for it. Of course, a Kawasaki ZX6R (600cc) pushes 110HP. Hmmmmmmmmmmm. Earth calling the braindead!

Next!

***************** FLASH ******************

"Mother nature has gotten out of control!"

-Susan Estrich
Commenting to Sean Hannity on New Orleans

I guess we had nature under control...... when, exactly?

Queeners are Ass Deep into the Methodist Church

Minister Fired for Denying Practicing Queener Church Membership


You see how this happens don't you? No?

First you have to have a bunch pantywaist men being led around by the 'women' in the church. After the chicks get tired of naggin' the menfolk into doing things, they decide they should get to be 'officially' in charge and nag the menfolk into that. Sure, there are men out there who don't even have to be nagged, who hold no conviction about their beliefs or faith and see no harm in lettin' women preach and run things even though the Bible warns against this. A man with no spine in a more sane time was commonly said to have a 'feminine mind' not refering to his sexuality. After the Oprah set gets a foothold you'd better believe it will damned sure go straight to shit.

The Bishop "Charlene" is referenced in the article. Nothing less than a grassroots purge will save this "church" from extinction. Put a fork in 'em. They're done.

That "I" thing.

Y'all see I've got a graphic below of Hank. To me Hank is what country music was, is, and should forever be. There's nothin' like that twanging voice breaking just right. And the subject matter; women, whiskey, whinin', and "don't give a damn" songs. Perfecttion.

Example: "There's a tear in my beer, 'cause I'm cryin' for you dear."

Now, that's density of subject matter! But, I digress.

Hank's boy is a fine Southern icon, and his grandson finally got his shit together sounding eerily like THE Hank. But, them boys are tryin' to do what the Grandaddy done by nature, and the tale is told in the "I"'s. Every so often in his progenies' songs they break out with that damned yankee "Iyee". Sounds like fingernails on a chalkboard and there are otherwise fine songs that I cannot listen to due to this abomination.

There are some places in the South where the two pronunciations coexist though not interchangeably. Example: "It's right there, dammit!" right is pronounced with the correct Southern i while "That's right, Bubba, we should shoot that yankee bastard." may be pronounced with the yankee i.

It ain't hard to tell when a feller grew up in L.A. and is tryin' to fake our local dialect or he's putin' on airs tryin' to sound high-falutin' (Anyone think sounding like a buckeye makes you sophisticated?) though I'm sure they think we can't tell the difference.
Know what I say?
phwwwit!
That's what I say.

Three Lies Told by Harley Riders

1. I won this here belt buckle in a rodeo!
2. That there's my HOG and it's paid for!
3. Honest, officer, I was just "helping" that sheep
over the fence.

Everyone else is a wannabe

'nuf said.

That's Not a Mother

What's that psycho bitches name.. Sheehan? Don't expect the usual, "She has a right to say....because of her son's death." bullshit to appear here. Let me tell you what this nut is about.

She's one of those ubercontrolling wive's/mothers. She's one of those that wants everything her way and uses every emotional trick in the book to get it. If things don't go the slightest bit her way she broods, fumes, plots, and metes out punishment.

She's a nutcase liberal and her poor son had to grow up listening to that crap his whole life. She probably tried to make him into a panty-waist liberal cocksucker and he had to join the army to get out of her clutches. She's a control freak.

She doesn't miss him. She doesn't grieve for him. She uses him. She's contorting the meaning of his death in direct contradiction to the meaning of the gift he gave in the sacrifice of his young life. She dishonours his memory intentionally, because she's furious he defied her. This is her retribution. She's a bitch.

Dial-a-Nag

This is not directed at Gregg, though Gregg and Welldigger are, indeed, the genesis of the idea.

Occasionally the single men among us get carried away with a train of thought or pursue a question or point way past relevancy or pertinence; i.e. they go off the deep end. When this happens I always get to thinkin', "If these fella's had a wife/steady girlfriend they wouldn't have the time to cause a ruckus or go around appearing disconnected from reality. What they need is some woman tellin' 'em what they should be doing all the time." Just like me. Just like Nate. Just like Vox, and Bane, and Res, and.......you know know who you are.

I can't remember if Res Ispa or I came up with the idea so let's just say Res did so he'll get the blame. I'll tell Mrs. JACIII it was all his doing, but the gist of it is that we set Gregg or Welldigger up with a 1-900 number and when our wives feel like naggin' someone we have them call Gregg or Digger. It's for their own good, really. Gregg and Digger get what they deserve...er, uh...need and we get some relief for the paltry sum of , say, .25 per minute.


Res has fleshed this out a bit more:

JAC,
I think we need to develop the dial a nag idea more. We could be missing out on a million dollar business idea. Dial a nag and dialanag.com could fill the niche for men who think they want to be married but want to try it first. If we do it right, we can charge men to use it, and we could charge women to do the nagging. I’m thinking we could have a nag a therapy business too. We’d get women that are mad about whatever to set by the phone and when an unsuspecting guy calls in they can lay into him about what ever their husband hasn’t done yet. It’s truly a win win.
Res Ipsa

We may be onto something here...

Just a heads up for y’all:

Expect some changes ‘around here. I’m gettin’ weary of the pirate motif, I still dig my Gravatar but I’m getting’ that wanderlust again. All this motorcycle talk I reckon.

I’ll still be sailin’ and campin’ on available weekends - weather permitting. But the heart in yer throat, gleam in yer eye call of high horsepower to weight ratios is becoming unbearable.

I’ve been good – I sported my bride around Tennessee on the Mothership, I took my girls on maritime adventures – but, well, ya' see....

I spotted this GL1800 a half mile ahead of me on the parkway yesterday. Ol' Big Red just grabbed my right wrist and twisted it WFO. The geezerglide was in the process of passing someone as I closed on it. The hairs on the back of that old man's neck must have stood right up, cause he gunned it. Been watchin’ too much Orange County Hospital,er... choppers I reckon. Why, I had to shift into 3rd gear to make the ‘whump’ sound as I went by!

Ouch.

Bet that left a mark.

Guest Blogger - The New Guy : Riding the Dragon and other goings on

After waiting about an hour or so for Jim and his lovely wife, following Rainman we moved on towards Knoxville (which we were supposed to have passed hours ago) in order to get to Gatlinburg. After leaving Richmond at 9:15 AM we arrived in Gatlinburg at 5:30 to check into a chalet for a night so the 9 of us could have an enjoyable evening together before attempting to tame the Dragon on Saturday. Upon checking in we discovered that the original cost that was quoted to us had hidden charges that amounted to an extra hundred dollars, we decided to go ahead and get the place we had called about and take our chances on it being worth the money we were about to spend.

Rainman and his lovely wife, Big Yamaha,

(ed - we generally don't refer to each other's wives as "Big" anything. Not sure what he's getting at here...)

and his lovely wife, and The New Guy trekked up the mountain Ober Gatlinburg to find our new found love nest and to our surprise we found a place that was worthy of every penny we had spent for it. The place had a bedroom for everyone, hot tug, Jacuzzi bath, fire place, pool table and more, if you are looking for a place to stay in Gatlinburg call the ERA rental office and get the Stagecoach Stop, and you will truly enjoy it.

After moving around a bit to check out our new environment we found that Robinsonville and his young bride had caught up with us (they left the Paris area about 2:00 PM and were there by 6:00 PM.). Tim and Jill settled in and then the 4 biker MEN decided to go down the mountain a bit to pick up some refreshments for the night, off we rode.

The guys bought all that we though might be consumed that night and moved back to our love nest (I us that term for Rainmain) so we could decide on dinner arrangements.

The group decided that we would like a steak so down the mountain we descended to Peddlers to get a great steak, salad and to watch 2 women make out on the porch in front of us. We all ate dinner then rode back up the mountain to the Love Nest

Upon returning the Love Nest the guys went down stairs to play pool and watch TV while the women built a fire because they were cold and enjoyed a movie on the 1st floor.

Rainman and The New Guy took on Robinsonville and Big Yamaha and was no match for the Luck that Robinsonville spilled onto the table so they beat the pants off of Rainman (which worked out great for him) and The New Guy.

And Now, The Rest of the Story....

Having safely negotiated the exit we headed off down some very nice back roads. The apparent temperature dropped immediately and we welcomed the cooler air. We commenced winding our way South at a steady minimum pucker factor pace (we brought the women, OK?!). As a group these guys are pretty fast cruiser riders and most cruiser riders with less than many thousand miles of asphalt under their tires find it unnerving to try and keep up. I generally ride my GPz and run off and leave ‘em without trying, but this day I had my hands full on the ½-ton Mothership negotiating switchbacks with these grizzled graying proto-squids.

We came to a stop sign and Rainman made it clear he was going to need fuel soon. All concurred and we pulled into the nearest store with pumps, a grocery/hardware store/fuel stop.

Two things should have set off alarm bells.
1) The clerk was having major trouble operating the computer/cash register/ scanner machine. He was getting it done, but man he was slow. Not halting but SLOW like he was overloaded.
2) There was a tanker truck in the lot. NEVER, EVER, EVER buy fuel when there is a fuel delivery being made. At best the fuel in the bottom of the tank is old and dirty, at worst the new stuff has kicked up all the sediment from the bottom and you just pumped it into your tank.
3) I was thinking, “Man the ol’ Mothership sure is runnin’ great!”

We all partook of refreshments inside, Sundrop!, and saddled up. The road got really twisty from here on and 180 degree switchbacks with 10 foot elevation changes were the order of the day. While merrily negotiating some of these the Mothership backfires, clears and goes on. Hmmmmm. A few miles later and the same thing occurs but this time it slowly sputtered to a halt. Shit!

I noticed I had extremely dim indicator lights on the dash. No power. Frank came back and borrowed Jumper cables from a nearby house and hooked ‘em to his RoadStar which was starting to backfire from bad gas. We got the Mothership running and I took off for a gas station the fellas had spotted up ahead. While I was running for the station before it died again my jacket fell off the back. No biggie the rest are right behind me, they’ll get it.

I made it to the station and when they pulled in behind there was no sign of the jacket. I commented it was odd someone would be that quick driving by snatching something like that. Apparently not. As my wife and I were waiting for the tow truck we saw a boat being hauled by when a cushion fell out. Immediately the car next car slowed and the driver snatched it off the pavement without even stopping. Must be the local income generating activity. Next to ‘earning’ disability that is.

We had taken a wrong turn, well…. Rainman had, and ended up northeast of Knoxville in Maynardville, TN. Folks I am not exaggerating when I tell ya’ the menfolk looked like OakRidge had dumped nuclear waste in the area. They all had a blank, tilted look, at least one limb twisted or held oddly, gimped in some way, and plenty of tattoos. They were scaring my wife, so I reminded her I had eight .45s in each magazine and one in the pipe with which to play zombie killer if the opportunity presented itself. No such luck.

The other riders in our group deserted us like the heartless bastards I know them to be. (Actually, I had a hell of a time gettin’ ‘em to leave. I think Frank just wanted to see the .45 again.). People in Maynardville talk like they live 50 miles out of Knoxville, them what talks that is. We found we were about 10miles out if that. We completed our three hour wait for the incompetent tow truck driver and grabbed a motel in Knoxville. Next day we got a rental car and came home to get the trailer to bring the Mothership home.

I have to say I have yet to see a more dim, unfriendly, put off, bunch of ‘tards as what occupies east Tennessee in all my born days. Welldigger spoke thusly of these folk in the past and I discounted it as disgust with a particular person or small group colouring his perception, I was wrong. I know a lot of country folk, hell I AM country folk! I know a lot of hill folk, too, and most would give the shirt off their backs to help someone in need and most are a fair hand mechanically. But these sons of bitches just look at ya’ with those “no one’s home” glass eyes. I don’t sense they got much more than plant level awareness going on. If I ever happen there again I‘ll shoot the first hobblin' cocksucker looks at me that way and figure a ride by shootin’ and a drive by thievin’ makes us even.

The rest of the group had a good, though wet ride. I don’t suppose I can get any of ‘em to write their travelin’ up as they don’t go in for such highbrow doin’s.

Everything above is gospel and you'll go to hell for disputin' it.

Ride Report : The Dragon that Wasn't

The Mothership is up for sale and old men are beatin' my door down for it so I thought I would take it out w/ the wife one last time. That's what it's for after all.
We planned a ride with the womenfolk leaving Friday morning for Deal's Gap so we met up on I75 and turned South on HWY25. Two lanes are generally more fun even on the Mothership.
We stopped in Corbin at TriCounty Cycles to look at the Iron Horse bikes there and that buttugly Honda Rune. Actually, The rest of 'em went inside while I stayed with the bikes repairing the intercom cable my wife chewed in two. OK, she didn't actually CHEW it. Near as I can tell she closed her helmet hinge on it. Got it working, though, with the donation of some electrical tape from a salesman. Trip Saved!

Back on the road we hit stoplight hell and bailed to the interstate. Ahhh! The open road. I put her on 90 and the rest of the group sorta kept up with the newest rider, Dave, doing nicely on my six. As we neared Knoxville I slowed to close ranks and let Rainman, who professed to know a better way to Gatlinburg, lead. Rainman immediately wedged himself into trafic. Now, I've ridden a lot with him and know his habits so I stayed just behind the cluster of cars/trucks he had wedged himself into preparing to exit.

This is an art so pay attention:

The object of the game is to not be so close to the leader that you miss the exit, too, but close enough that some of the other's miss it as they struggle to close ranks through traffic.

Wait for it.... wait..wait.... There he goes! Rainman dove across two lanes of traffic for the exit with me on his taillight. Dave and Frank were out in the cold, but managed via a death defying maneuver in front of an 18 wheeler to make the exit. The ulimate payoff didn't materialise with cellphone calls and ridicule to the lost wandering exit missers as they try to find the rest of the group. However, Dave and Frank definately had the BUGEYES (see image) as we came to a stop at the end of the exit ramp!
More to follow. I have to clue folks in on the freaks Digger warned me about in east Tennessee.

No doubt kin to Mario!

Adult Content

You were warned.

Thoughts to Fall Back On

Things aren't going good. You've come so far, but Problems are Multiplying. No ready solution presents itself. Frustration Mounts. Brain cascades into the blue screen of death and you slide into the Psychotic State of trying the Same Thing over and over and over with the same Bad Result. Been there done that?

Sometimes you just gotta hit the RESET button. All people have is belly buttons so instead of staring at yours in despair take a step back, get yer head up, bum a Marlboro or a chaw, look around and RESTART from some basic truths to unlock yer conundrum.

Everyone seems normal until you get to know them.

You only need three tools: WD-40, Duct Tape, and a Hammer. If it shouldn't move and does, use the duct tape. If it doesn't move and should, use the WD-40. If the WD-40 doesn't work apply Hammer liberally.

If it sticks out and it shouldn't, bend it. If it still sticks out apply Hammer liberally. If it doesn't stick out enough straighten it.

If it misbehaves, whack it. If it still misbehaves apply Hammer liberally.

If you woke up breathing, congratulations! You get another chance.

Be really nice to your family and friends; you never
know when you might need them to empty your bedpan.

Never pass up an opportunity to go to the bathroom.

Additions and revisions:

Always Lookin' Out for Little Brother

Mario the Matador

I get a lot of farrier calls to rehabilitate miniature horses, miniature donkeys, adopted BLM jacks, and ponies. It seems these are in the catagory of "pets" and a lot of folks buy them without researching proper care.

I would like to introduce one such criter. His name is Mario and he is a miniature donkey. Never heard of such? Well, picture a donkey whose back is only as high as the desk at which you are now sitting but with full sized donkey ears. They are adorable, with very open, eager, expressive personalities. They do, however, have a "dark side".

When I was called upon to treat Mario his present owner had found him running the highway with feet horribly overgrown, twisted, and misshapen. The little fella was in a lot of pain and uncomfortable at all times. I was impressed my Mario's willingness to tolerate this discomfort stoicly as I worked on him; at one point he just sat back on his haunches and presented his front hooves for me to work on. Needless to say the little trooper stole my heart and I have endeavored to bring him back to 100% soundness since that day. I am happy to report Mario is about 90% sound as of today and I expect by fall he will be 100% if there is no permanent soft tissue damage.

I commented to the owner , Bobbi, the first day I saw Mario that he had a great personality. She looked at me strangely and said, "There's more to Mario than what he's showing you."

JACIII - "Really? This little fella?"

B - "Oh, yeah, he's quite a little demon when he wants to be."

JACII - "Mario, have you been misbehaving?" No respone from Mario.... "What's he been gettin' into?"

B - "Well, we didn't have a seperate pasture for him when we found him so we put him out with the cows. I just couldn't imagine him having trouble with them. You should have seen him! I wish I had video! He attacked the cows!"

JACII - "No. He didn't. Did he get hurt?"

B - "Huh! He ran everone of them into the pond and wouldn't let them out. I just left him in there. I thought surely by morning he would get tired of harassing the cows, but when I got up he still had 'em in there and would charge any that tried to get out!"

JACII - "What did you have to do?"

B - "I thought, 'I'll fix you, Mario', turned the bull out, went to work and didn't think anything else of it."

JACIII - "Oh, well he looks like he came out OK."

B - "Well.. You're not gonna believe this, but Jimmy (her husband) saw it, too. When I came home I went to check on Mario. He was hanging on the bulls neck. He bit that bull on the neck on was just dangling there!"

JACII - "No. Mario? Mario bit The Bull. Like a bulldog."

B - "Yes!, I was afraid he was going to KILL it. I had to go out there and pull him off that bull! I literally had to DRAG him out of that field, he fought me the whole way! I had to tie him behind the house where he couldn't see them before he would calm down."

I looked at Mario, a bit more wary than when we first met. I haven't seen any sign of Mario's megalomaniacal episode resufacing, but I damn sure don't let his mouth anywhere near my neck.

Self Explanatory

What Fun!

cedarfordsucks

Highbrow Poetry.....

I'm not one to wilfully raise the level of discourse above potty jokes, but I came across these on the Kawasaki GPZ (one of the motorcycles in my stable) email list. To put it gentley, the population of posters on this list is a bit long in the tooth, though technically astute, accomplished riders who have logged a lot of miles.

I hope no one is unduly traumatized by the realization there are people like this on our public roads.

The following is by '1KPerDay' whose handle refers to the IronButt ride Nate and I have bragged incessantly about.

"Oh, blast," I once sighed, steaming mad,
"My tire's flat! I can't ride! This is bad!"
But I gathered my strength,
Filled my lungs their full length,
And then pumped up the tire with my nads.
:D
Utah Jeff
'96 SheePz1100

This is a celebration of non-rosy cheeks. You can imagine the ribbing this guy takes for 'riding' sheepskin. It's even funnier when you realize there is damn near an entire hide laid across his tank and seat!

A sheep, though not warm as a yeti,
Offers more than just lamb with spaghetti,
For the skin, not the meat,
When applied to my seat,
Keeps my buttocks from getting all sweaty. :D

-- Utah Jeff '96 SheePz1100

Gregg, I thought of you when I read the first one.

There's no money in this

but it's fun anyway.





This is a Courting Candle. It is used as a timer for when one's daughter has a gentleman caller. After one's daughter and the gentleman caller are seated in the parlor, a candle is placed within the spiral and the wooden dowel is used to elevate or lower the candle above the top winding. When the candle burns down to the top winding it is time for the gentleman to depart. A father must periodically check on the candle thereby keeping an eye on the two and preventing any sparking.
No, it is not a spring, nor was it ever a spring. I decorated it as a vine complete with a leaf on the end to serve as a base. This piece is made from a length of straight 3/8" steel rod, forge fire, hammer, and anvil.




This is a modified design of a Celtic Cross. This piece is made from a length of 3/8" square bar stock. There is no welding, drilling, or drifting used in making this cross even though it has an open center. It is one piece of steel. Women love them.

Nothing like a good strokin'

I'm talkin' about ego here. Put your filthy minds in neutral.

Miss Sarah is one of my most faithful clients. She has had anywhere from 2 to 5 horses at any given time, alway bakes me cookies, pays in cash, is from North Carolina, attractive for a middleaged woman, and just as sweet as can be.

She has always had one horse named "Bucky" who is good for the most part, but has been known to cut a shine on occasion. Well, last time I was out there Bucky was cuttin' one. I bore down and held on and he settled down, but I knew he wasn't through. He started up again and I still managed to keep his foot. Then, just to let him know I didn't appreciate his attitude I shoved him bodily against the fence (I was under a front leg).

Miss Sarah: "See there, Bucky? Better straigten up, you're messin' with 'real' cowboy!"

I ain't exactly ridin' bulls, but I'll take it. I promise not to lord the fact that I have been declared a 'real' cowboy over my brothers.

I'll just have to make sure I don't let an ARRGH! slip while I'm at Miss Sarah's.

I wonder what I have to do to be declared a 'real' pirate? I've got the wench ravishing down pretty good.....

So here I am, minding my own business....

sort of, and SpaceBunny comes along and whacks me upside the head:

Does anyone else find the idea of a farrier Pirate amusing or is it just me?
Spacebunny | 07.27.05 - 7:49 am

I'm just getting in touch with my inner scoundrel. Is that so wrong?

On this subject: a bit of synchronicity. I have been watching all my favorite 'sea' movies since I started sailing and 'Pirates of the Caribbean' was up Sunday night. The last line of the last scene is applicable here. I'm not postin' it. It's a fun movie - watch it again, bearing in mind that "blacksmith" is a common reference to a farrier.


Stand up there, ye scurvy pony, or I'll feed ya' to the sharks!
ARRGH!

Must be a Record

This must be the busiest "old" post I have ever seen. There are periods of three posts per minute!

Man Down!

I went ridin' today. Got Big Red out on the road with with a group of 4 cruisers and a V-Max. Yes, I tried it. Yes, I can take it.
The Vmax rider and I rundoft and left the cruiserboys so we had to stop periodically and wait on 'em. We stopped at one point and waited, and waited, and waited... Hmmmmmmmmmm. Better go back.

Sure enough. Man down. An older Gent who rides with us from time to time and is a very good rider went down on a curve and had intimate relations with the guard rail. We got him up, got the bike up and headed down the road, and went on our way. He's shook up a bit, and it could have been much worse had he not been wearing PROTECTIVE GEAR. Granted he only had on a helmet, gloves, and boots, but those cover the places where he had no injury. Not even a scratch. Take away the helmet and he talks funny and shits himself
the rest of his life.

Two of the other cruiser guys had not worn helmets. They expressed that they felt naked after watching someone go down.


There are two kinds of riders: Those who have been down, and those who are gonna go down.

Dress for the fall, not the ride. They are trying to kill ya'.

ARRGH!

Felony Z01

Anbody can tell me what a Z01 or Z52 is gets a popsicle.

12 years ago.....

Bad day at work. I'm pissed, I'm frustrated, I'm ready to rip somebodies head off. Phuk it! I'm goin' out for dinner. I step out into the cool evening and spot my Corvette waiting all alone in bumphuq as if the mercuries, fords, and plymouths are taking no chances. It's graceful, it's gorgeous, and it's brutal. The targa is stowed away letting it's curvaceous form look crouched, set, coiled. That's just my game in this frame of mind.

I open the long door and slide down into the white leather seat, grip the thick white leather wheel, depress the clutch, and guide the stick into neutral. Of course it's a stick; what am I a secretary? I take a deep breath as it rumbles to life. I ease down the parking lot since it is bad form to leave black stripes on company property, and so as to not cause someone to mention such a thing for I would surely execute them on the spot.

I almost escaped when this young fella comes running out of the building waving his arms. I drove by, but I saw his early twenties crestfallen giulless face in the mirror and felt bad about it so I stopped. He ran up, "Where you goin'?" I mumbled a resturant name and he got in.

I listened tolerantly as he told me it was his first ride in a Corvette. We exited the parking lot. I came to a stop sign at the intersection just outside the automatic gate, when he asked, "Is this thing supposed to be fast? I think my bother's trans am is faster...." That brought a smile to my face. Not the happy kind, no, the "Boy, you just fucked up!" kind.

I immediately executed a clean gate turn onto the side street in a cloud of tire smoke, focused on the street ahead and let 'er wail. I grabbed second gear while the tires were still spinning, the vette was still sideways, and pinned the accelerator to the floor figuring we were set for 85 mph and held on. I scanned for children as we rocketed down the lane and chose a spot on the curve near the end of the street to shift. The kid stopped breathing. He grabbed the dash. I made the mark and hit that magic button (Z52 hint)that jumps three gears and continued accelerating. As soon as I saw the kid go white at the sight of the intersection approaching at over 100mph I hit that magic button again and stomped the brakes until all four tires were trying the antilock system. Hauled 'er down about three feet past the stop sign. Not bad; if I do say so myself.

I'll never forget what the kid said as I selected first and eased through the intersection.

"Hey, man! Are you OK? Is something the matter?"
"No, Why?" I asked offhandedly.
"'Cause I'd like to have kids before I die!"

I see that fella around sometimes. He thinks I'm crazy. I can't imagine why.

ARRGH!

Our New Maritime Address

We have been trying out area lakes for their suitability for sailing this summer. I have sailed Cave Run , Cumberland, and this weekend Green River Lake. Happily the closest, most pictureque, and least utilized of the three has the best wind, so barring a trip to Kentucky Lake or Lake Barkley we will be spending boat time at Green River Lake.


Here are my girls hamming it up after we anchored the boat off a nice pea-gravel shore conveniently located at the campground where our trusty motorhome awaited.

It's a pirate's life for me. Arrgh!

Pirate Flag Spotted by Bill

Is it just me or does that look like a reticle alignment aid to anyone else?

ARRGH!