Call it:
Tuesday, July 04, 2006
The Hunter or The Hunted
In all things living there are Predators and there are prey. The distinction between the two is self evident to even the most educated and obtuse among us. Instinctively we categorize the living world in this way. You can tell which should be classified Predator and which should be classified prey. And don't bother me with any reverse psychology psychobabble bullshit. It is what it is. Occams razor.
Call it:
Call it:
Monday, July 03, 2006
Tale of The Dragon – Sunday at Deals Gap
318 curves in 11 miles. Good ridin'. Good company. Good roads. Good weather.
Friday. A spur of the moment trip, Rainman and I put out feelers to all riders (I use the term loosely). Frank can't go this time as he is prepping his bike for sale to trade down for a harley and shopping for golf clubs. Lots of probables, a few definites, and one, “Hell, yes” with a broken bike. I figured Rainman and me. There was a chance for the BrokeBike, but social events were precluding work on it, so I held it in the “doubtful” column. I swapped out SwampThing's countershaft sprocket for a bigger one to better cope with the Super Slab riding, changed the oil, lubed the chain, lubed the cables, kicked the tires, and gathered my gear for ATGATT (All The Gear, All The Time).
Saturday. Call from BrokeBike. The thing won't make 70mph, but he's ridin' it over and we put it in the barn. How much trouble can a spittin' and coughin' 800cc v-twin Suzuki Marauder be? Lots.
I figure on cleanin' the carb real quick and good to go. Sheeit. Two carbs and a fuel pump on this thing. All we left on it was the motor and tires getting' to the damn things and it has more emissions shit than a 1973 Vega. Well, we got it done and fired it up for a test ride. Pretty peppy for a 800cc cruiser. Handles like a barge.
Me and Boots (can't call him BrokeBike anymore) are chewin' the fat about the ride when I notice he has no front tire. It's worn past the wear bars and strangely enough, more worn on the right side. Oh shit. I didn't make much of an issue of it 'cause I didn't want him worried (confidence count's for a lot on motorcycles) and I knew hell nor high water was keepin' him from ridin' Sunday. At least there were no cords showing through.
Sunday. We met at 8:00 for breakfast off I75 at Boonesboro, Ky. Rainman only ate two breakfasts – must be on a diet. The usual wakeup calls were made to slackers and momma's boys. Boots showed. Ed showed.
The Crew:
Rainman – Draws water like a sponge. If he's ridin' it's rainin'.
Boots – I call him this 'cause he wears tennis shoes and high-water pants for gear. I nag to no avail.
Ed – One of the few I have seen get into ridin' with any sense to the way he went about it. Bought a sport-tourer (FJR 1300) and took the MSF course. Rides safe, smooth, and with a clear head. Excellent riding companion as I insist on being the twisted one in any group.
Me – Y'all know me.
We headed down I75 toward Knoxville runnin a steady 70 to 75 mph (I'm worried about Boots' front tire) with only occasional bursts of speed to negotiate traffic. Ed only flexed the FJR once. Remarkable self control.
We followed along Lake Fonrtaine before climbing onto The Dragon and I pulled us off for a quick stop to give Ed some last minute advice and drained my bladder (always a good thing if there's a chance of impact injury). It was Ed's first time on the worlds twistiest road and words simply cannot convey the truth of it. Everyone has to see for themselves. I waited about five minutes to let some harleys that went by get way ahead so they wouldn't hold me up and headed out.
I had been wanting to try a KLR on the Dragon as ease of maneuverability counts for more than power on a road this tight. What a hoot! I quicly settled into about the same corner entrance speed as I had managed on Big Red, but with a larger safety factor due to the light handling of the bike. I cheated and stuck a foot down to catch SwampThing when that last little knobby gave way. Good thing, too.
I stopped at the overlook (about 20 curves in) and waited on the crew. Ed's cherry was broke and we needed to give him (and us) time to settle into this type of ridin' after 150 miles of interstate. Ed overcooked the first really tight corner but had left a large safety factor, per my advice, and owing to skill and a clear head made out fine. How many fellas ya' know actually TAKE advice?
Rolling Road Blocks
The harleys were out in force. Lots of old, fat, blowguts holdin' up the rest of the world runnin' 10 mph with a deathgrip on the bars. I can't think of a good way to describe the feeling of being behind these assholes on The Dragon. They need to go spalsh in the kiddie pool; they got no business in the big water.
I used to think, “live and let live” toward 'em, but I'm thinkin' that The Dragon is as close to hallowed ground as a street rider is gonna roll a tire on and buzzin' and beepin' 'em all the way down the road might discourage a few of the fat fucks from returning. It's for their own good – it keeps me from killin' 'em.
The typical harley rider will roar away from The Overlook or maybe even do a burnout, but once he gets to the first curve he becomes a loud, stinky, annoying, rolling road block. Like a tractor on the highway, folks pile up behind 'em 10 or 15 deep waiting for them to pull over and let 'em around. They don't pull over, and I have a theory about this. They “know” harleys are powerful and fast so they figure if they are ridin' on the edge of their and their bikes abillity everyone behind 'em is struggling just to keep up. Until they get passed by a dirtbike. On knobbies.
After passing one his pride damned near got the best of him and caused him to wreck. I would have been forever proud if it had. That's not as bad as it sounds; Tennessee has a helmet law and he's not gonna get hurt (bad) in a 5mph get-off unless his elephant falls on him. According to Boots and Rainman, after I passed him he gunned it in an attempt to keep pace, but overcooked the very next corner and damned near ran off the road. I guess it hurt his pride to have a dirtbike blow by him. Good. Just hang out at Hooters and leave the chrome pig in the parking lot where it belongs.
The Dragon
The roadway was clean and dry and there were plenty of interesting bikes from all over the country and Canada. A kickstart Bonneville was riding with a new Magic Button Bonneville and there were several Triumph sportbikes and ST's. A sprinkling of Ducati's, a smattering of Aprillia's, and the usual horde of Japanese sportbikes. There were quite a few sidecars evident. “Hacks” to the cognoscenti. There were a lot of BMW's about, but mostly the new 1200's and I didn't see any interesting older models. Bummer. The weather was glorious and the company was grand. There are some harley/cruiser riders who have enough miles under their belts and are such characters that their company almost makes up for their posing brethren. (There's your disclaimer, BrandX.)
Heading Home
We rode The Dragon northward. I ran the fellas through a campground called Pumpkin Center that is oriented to motorcyclists with cabins (bunkhouses) for rent and covered pavilions for the bikes, a huge grill, a smoker, and a Honda GL1000 fountain. Possibilities.
SwampThing and I only took a couple of offroad shortcuts to torment my riding partners, but it had the desired effect.
In all I had 12 hours in the saddle off and on and 500 miles on the clock when I returned home with daylight left to burn. What more can you ask for?
Friday. A spur of the moment trip, Rainman and I put out feelers to all riders (I use the term loosely). Frank can't go this time as he is prepping his bike for sale to trade down for a harley and shopping for golf clubs. Lots of probables, a few definites, and one, “Hell, yes” with a broken bike. I figured Rainman and me. There was a chance for the BrokeBike, but social events were precluding work on it, so I held it in the “doubtful” column. I swapped out SwampThing's countershaft sprocket for a bigger one to better cope with the Super Slab riding, changed the oil, lubed the chain, lubed the cables, kicked the tires, and gathered my gear for ATGATT (All The Gear, All The Time).
Saturday. Call from BrokeBike. The thing won't make 70mph, but he's ridin' it over and we put it in the barn. How much trouble can a spittin' and coughin' 800cc v-twin Suzuki Marauder be? Lots.
I figure on cleanin' the carb real quick and good to go. Sheeit. Two carbs and a fuel pump on this thing. All we left on it was the motor and tires getting' to the damn things and it has more emissions shit than a 1973 Vega. Well, we got it done and fired it up for a test ride. Pretty peppy for a 800cc cruiser. Handles like a barge.
Me and Boots (can't call him BrokeBike anymore) are chewin' the fat about the ride when I notice he has no front tire. It's worn past the wear bars and strangely enough, more worn on the right side. Oh shit. I didn't make much of an issue of it 'cause I didn't want him worried (confidence count's for a lot on motorcycles) and I knew hell nor high water was keepin' him from ridin' Sunday. At least there were no cords showing through.
Sunday. We met at 8:00 for breakfast off I75 at Boonesboro, Ky. Rainman only ate two breakfasts – must be on a diet. The usual wakeup calls were made to slackers and momma's boys. Boots showed. Ed showed.
The Crew:
Rainman – Draws water like a sponge. If he's ridin' it's rainin'.
Boots – I call him this 'cause he wears tennis shoes and high-water pants for gear. I nag to no avail.
Ed – One of the few I have seen get into ridin' with any sense to the way he went about it. Bought a sport-tourer (FJR 1300) and took the MSF course. Rides safe, smooth, and with a clear head. Excellent riding companion as I insist on being the twisted one in any group.
Me – Y'all know me.
We headed down I75 toward Knoxville runnin a steady 70 to 75 mph (I'm worried about Boots' front tire) with only occasional bursts of speed to negotiate traffic. Ed only flexed the FJR once. Remarkable self control.
We followed along Lake Fonrtaine before climbing onto The Dragon and I pulled us off for a quick stop to give Ed some last minute advice and drained my bladder (always a good thing if there's a chance of impact injury). It was Ed's first time on the worlds twistiest road and words simply cannot convey the truth of it. Everyone has to see for themselves. I waited about five minutes to let some harleys that went by get way ahead so they wouldn't hold me up and headed out.
I had been wanting to try a KLR on the Dragon as ease of maneuverability counts for more than power on a road this tight. What a hoot! I quicly settled into about the same corner entrance speed as I had managed on Big Red, but with a larger safety factor due to the light handling of the bike. I cheated and stuck a foot down to catch SwampThing when that last little knobby gave way. Good thing, too.
I stopped at the overlook (about 20 curves in) and waited on the crew. Ed's cherry was broke and we needed to give him (and us) time to settle into this type of ridin' after 150 miles of interstate. Ed overcooked the first really tight corner but had left a large safety factor, per my advice, and owing to skill and a clear head made out fine. How many fellas ya' know actually TAKE advice?
Rolling Road Blocks
The harleys were out in force. Lots of old, fat, blowguts holdin' up the rest of the world runnin' 10 mph with a deathgrip on the bars. I can't think of a good way to describe the feeling of being behind these assholes on The Dragon. They need to go spalsh in the kiddie pool; they got no business in the big water.
I used to think, “live and let live” toward 'em, but I'm thinkin' that The Dragon is as close to hallowed ground as a street rider is gonna roll a tire on and buzzin' and beepin' 'em all the way down the road might discourage a few of the fat fucks from returning. It's for their own good – it keeps me from killin' 'em.
The typical harley rider will roar away from The Overlook or maybe even do a burnout, but once he gets to the first curve he becomes a loud, stinky, annoying, rolling road block. Like a tractor on the highway, folks pile up behind 'em 10 or 15 deep waiting for them to pull over and let 'em around. They don't pull over, and I have a theory about this. They “know” harleys are powerful and fast so they figure if they are ridin' on the edge of their and their bikes abillity everyone behind 'em is struggling just to keep up. Until they get passed by a dirtbike. On knobbies.
After passing one his pride damned near got the best of him and caused him to wreck. I would have been forever proud if it had. That's not as bad as it sounds; Tennessee has a helmet law and he's not gonna get hurt (bad) in a 5mph get-off unless his elephant falls on him. According to Boots and Rainman, after I passed him he gunned it in an attempt to keep pace, but overcooked the very next corner and damned near ran off the road. I guess it hurt his pride to have a dirtbike blow by him. Good. Just hang out at Hooters and leave the chrome pig in the parking lot where it belongs.
The Dragon
The roadway was clean and dry and there were plenty of interesting bikes from all over the country and Canada. A kickstart Bonneville was riding with a new Magic Button Bonneville and there were several Triumph sportbikes and ST's. A sprinkling of Ducati's, a smattering of Aprillia's, and the usual horde of Japanese sportbikes. There were quite a few sidecars evident. “Hacks” to the cognoscenti. There were a lot of BMW's about, but mostly the new 1200's and I didn't see any interesting older models. Bummer. The weather was glorious and the company was grand. There are some harley/cruiser riders who have enough miles under their belts and are such characters that their company almost makes up for their posing brethren. (There's your disclaimer, BrandX.)
Heading Home
We rode The Dragon northward. I ran the fellas through a campground called Pumpkin Center that is oriented to motorcyclists with cabins (bunkhouses) for rent and covered pavilions for the bikes, a huge grill, a smoker, and a Honda GL1000 fountain. Possibilities.
SwampThing and I only took a couple of offroad shortcuts to torment my riding partners, but it had the desired effect.
In all I had 12 hours in the saddle off and on and 500 miles on the clock when I returned home with daylight left to burn. What more can you ask for?
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Women Spoil Everything, Don't They Girls?
I got a question for the riders.
Would you drive a new beetle? I don't mean for a kick, but for your own personal transport. I thought not. It's for chicks, right? No red-blooded man would ever opt for this. No OEM flower pots for me. You? I thought not.
Well, this day is coming. Sooner than you think:
You and the boys are out and about, stretchin' your legs on your big, chromed out rides, Harleys, Metric Cruisers, maybe even a Phat Tire Custom or two, and pull in to the roadhouse to grab some chow. Have a beer. Make the waitress blush.
Folks inside heard you pull up. Loud Pips Save Lives, right? You catch some of the gals eyeballin' your bike. They love it.
Dinner is served up hot and rare, the beer is ice cold and goes down good. The girls in the next table are eavesdropping on the conversation and exchanging looks. Can't be a bad thing. While waiting for the check you and the boys talk a little shop. Compare and contrast the bikes you've ridden, review the lastest “chopper” show episode. And as often as not there is a new bike on the market that has everyone abuzz. Some of the boys dig it, some not so much. One fella starts really panning it – he doesn't like it at all.
“Man, it's 2006! I can't believe Supertough Choppers would build a bike without fuel injection. I quit fuckin' with chokes when I got my RoadKing in 2003 and never looked back.”
“Gawd, but it's a hoss though, man. I mean a 1900cc motor and a 300 tire..... Sweet.”
About that time the mid 40's woman with the pageboy haircut, sittin' with the ladies in the table next to you interrupts, “Excuse me. I couldn't help overhearing; is a choke that thingy on the side you pull on when you start your motorcycle?”
“Why yes, Darlin', it is! Does your man ride?”
“No, but I was just going to say my 2005 Supertough Chopper doesn't have one of those pull out things.”
You ride a cruiser, you're just one of the girls.
Would you drive a new beetle? I don't mean for a kick, but for your own personal transport. I thought not. It's for chicks, right? No red-blooded man would ever opt for this. No OEM flower pots for me. You? I thought not.
Well, this day is coming. Sooner than you think:
You and the boys are out and about, stretchin' your legs on your big, chromed out rides, Harleys, Metric Cruisers, maybe even a Phat Tire Custom or two, and pull in to the roadhouse to grab some chow. Have a beer. Make the waitress blush.
Folks inside heard you pull up. Loud Pips Save Lives, right? You catch some of the gals eyeballin' your bike. They love it.
Dinner is served up hot and rare, the beer is ice cold and goes down good. The girls in the next table are eavesdropping on the conversation and exchanging looks. Can't be a bad thing. While waiting for the check you and the boys talk a little shop. Compare and contrast the bikes you've ridden, review the lastest “chopper” show episode. And as often as not there is a new bike on the market that has everyone abuzz. Some of the boys dig it, some not so much. One fella starts really panning it – he doesn't like it at all.
“Man, it's 2006! I can't believe Supertough Choppers would build a bike without fuel injection. I quit fuckin' with chokes when I got my RoadKing in 2003 and never looked back.”
“Gawd, but it's a hoss though, man. I mean a 1900cc motor and a 300 tire..... Sweet.”
About that time the mid 40's woman with the pageboy haircut, sittin' with the ladies in the table next to you interrupts, “Excuse me. I couldn't help overhearing; is a choke that thingy on the side you pull on when you start your motorcycle?”
“Why yes, Darlin', it is! Does your man ride?”
“No, but I was just going to say my 2005 Supertough Chopper doesn't have one of those pull out things.”
You ride a cruiser, you're just one of the girls.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Traveling Light - The Waffle Stomp!
Get on over to Nate's Peep Paradise and read about our preferred method of dealin' with stinky, grimey, clothes on the road. Pay attention, MM, it comes in real handy.
The post may not be up yet so keep checkin'.
Spacebunny, I can hear you sayin', 'Ick!, Boys are weird.' already.
The post may not be up yet so keep checkin'.
Spacebunny, I can hear you sayin', 'Ick!, Boys are weird.' already.
Monday, June 26, 2006
Saturday, June 24, 2006
While Queeners Drink From the World's Cup .....
The Kentucky Kid tows two others onto the Assen podium and pulls away in the MotoGP Championship!
What men are left in europe will be watching The Kid (delayed telecast) run off the track in the final turn battling the Texas Tornado Colin Edwards to win in Holland.
Wanna see the worlds greatest riders at play? Nicky is wearin' the repsol gear and the #3 bike is Max Biaggi. Pay particular attention to Nicky gearing down with the back tire in the air preparing for a corner. SuperMoto Madness!
What men are left in europe will be watching The Kid (delayed telecast) run off the track in the final turn battling the Texas Tornado Colin Edwards to win in Holland.
Wanna see the worlds greatest riders at play? Nicky is wearin' the repsol gear and the #3 bike is Max Biaggi. Pay particular attention to Nicky gearing down with the back tire in the air preparing for a corner. SuperMoto Madness!
Cheap Entertainment
From Smellybiker.com
Motodogging
Ever been chased by a dog ? Want to get even ?
Dogs love chasing motorcycles and sinking their teeth into bikers boots, despite our smelly socks and steel toecaps. Its fun for them but a pain for us, and its time we evened the score.
Motodogging is the art of making them chase you until they're completely exhausted, helping the brainless creatures learn to leave us alone.
The Rules
1. One point per dog per 100 metres.
2. The dog cannot be attached to the motorcycle.
3. The dog must belong to someone else.
4. Tying meat, bones or cats to the motorcycle is NOT cheating.
5. The dog is supposed to chase you, not the other way around.
6. Bonus points for a good story, falling off or kicking dogs that bite.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
JACmail: MM Goes Traveling
Y'all pitch in here:
MM,
The bike probably won't require any oil for that trip (it's your bike though - you know it better than I) and it's cheap enough on the road that you can buy it if you need it along the way anyhow for chain lube at every other fill-up or so. Most bikes want a chain lube every 300 miles.
I am a minimalist when it comes to packing for road trips:
firearm
tire gauge
credit/debit card
cash
phone #'s of folks you know along the way
socks and drawers (Don't wear underwear with seams under your ass or legs when you sit on the bike.)
Motrin (take one before you get on the bike and continue the dose schedule . It works best already in your system to stave off discomfort.) If it makes you drowsy - take Tylenol or aspirin.
Take enough time and get off the bike anytime you want. It's not an endurance race and there's is no sense in makin' an enjoyable form of transportation into a chore.
I'll put this up so others can offer suggestions.
Good luck!
JACIII
Hey JAC,
This is Michael Maier from your, Nate's, DJ's and Vox's blogs. I am just wondering if you have any advice for long trips. What to bring and such. I'm thinking all proper riding gear of course, hydration, cell phone and oil for topping off at fill-ups. I have just never gone on a long trip and I'm heading to Boston from Indianapolis over two days. Any advice is greatly appreciated. Maybe you could make a blog entry at your place maybe we can get more input?
Thanks from the Rookie Rider,
Mike
MM,
The bike probably won't require any oil for that trip (it's your bike though - you know it better than I) and it's cheap enough on the road that you can buy it if you need it along the way anyhow for chain lube at every other fill-up or so. Most bikes want a chain lube every 300 miles.
I am a minimalist when it comes to packing for road trips:
firearm
tire gauge
credit/debit card
cash
phone #'s of folks you know along the way
socks and drawers (Don't wear underwear with seams under your ass or legs when you sit on the bike.)
Motrin (take one before you get on the bike and continue the dose schedule . It works best already in your system to stave off discomfort.) If it makes you drowsy - take Tylenol or aspirin.
Take enough time and get off the bike anytime you want. It's not an endurance race and there's is no sense in makin' an enjoyable form of transportation into a chore.
I'll put this up so others can offer suggestions.
Good luck!
JACIII
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
BOOM! (continued)
Yes, That's the SwampThing on the porch. No apologies will be made for this.
EP, if you zoom in on the bumper of the Suburban you can see the anvil mounted on the swingarm.
BOOM!
Big Storm the other night. Lasted about 15 minutes. The first good lightning strike took out power. We all went outside as soon as the weather cleared to a bright blue sky on the evening horizon and a double rainbow that I did get pictures of. I'll get 'em up sometime tonight.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Dollar Head, Dollar Helmet
That is the advice I got when I began riding.
Much poop has been raised because a pro footbal player decided 'looking cool' trumped riding with reasonable safety precautions. Welcome to pop culture; where the dumbest 15% of the populace determine what is and what is not desirable behavior. The man reportedly has no teeth left and will be lucky to not dribble spittle and shit himself the rest of his life. He deserves it.
No, there shouldn't be a law. There are thousands of people waiting on a slightly used body organ far more deserving of it's use than these idiots. We have been provided with a willing source of spare parts. I see no reason to fritter it away.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Soccer: The Fatherless Sport
My brother and I indulged our eternal fascination with airplanes this morning at a soccer complex in (of all places) Murfeesboro, Tennessee. Welldigger had purchased a remote control airplane the day before and it was prepped and ready to go Sunday morning. While everyone else was at church we heathens set out for open ground to take the thing on it's maiden voyage. Little Brother decided the soccer complex would be a good open site for this and we all climbed in the Jeep for the journey.
When we arrived I was astonished to discover a facility to rival any big city sports/recreational park dedicated to basebal, footballl and such manly pursuits. I didn't count, but there were at least twelve manicured and well cultivated fields, and a large fancy central structure that would have been at home with a banking institution sign in front of it.
The expenditure brought to bear got me to wondering just why so much effort and treasure would be lavished upon such an obviously french sport. They let girls play for Christ's sake!
Upon reflection through the day I decided it has a lot to do with the lack of participant fathers in the modern "family".
Soccer is the only sport where a kid can show up completely unfamiliar with and unprepared for competition (I use the term loosely). All others require some mentoring, or putting it plainly "fathering". They all require Dad to pass along some basic understanding of the game and to teach and practice the basic skills with his son. No preparation, no play. There might even be (GASP!) "try outs".
Football? - Dad required.
Baseball? - Dad required.
Hunting? - Dad required.
Hockey? - Dad required.
Wrestling?- Dad required.
Soccer? - Just show up. The government has provided everything you need little girl. Except manhood.
I love you man...
Um, While you're down there.....
Friday, June 09, 2006
Horsemen and Their Horses
Over time I have noticed certain breeds and dsciplines of horse are ridden by a specific type of horseman:
Saddlebred : Well heeled, perfectionist, generational participation, refined horseman.
Tennessee Walker : Cheap bastards. $50,000 truck - $30,000 trailer - $25.00 shoe job.
Hunter Jumper : Soroity chicks.
Dressage : Grown up soroity chicks.
more later...
Quarter Horse : There are some really competent horseman involved with QH's, but most are clueless and highly suseptable to horsecare fads. These are the ones who will buy anything with the word "Natural" stamped on it.
Saddlebred : Well heeled, perfectionist, generational participation, refined horseman.
Tennessee Walker : Cheap bastards. $50,000 truck - $30,000 trailer - $25.00 shoe job.
Hunter Jumper : Soroity chicks.
Dressage : Grown up soroity chicks.
more later...
Quarter Horse : There are some really competent horseman involved with QH's, but most are clueless and highly suseptable to horsecare fads. These are the ones who will buy anything with the word "Natural" stamped on it.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Pardon Me
I was out today shoeing a womans horse. The farm manager was holding the horse and not doing a bad job of it, administering discipline as needed. The owner was nowhere to be found until the task was nearly completed. When she showed up she was beside herself that she had forgotten the appointment and apologized profusely. I graciously accepted her apology and "aw shucks"'ed it as there really was no inconvenience since the manager was willing and able. 
She would have none of it and said, "There just aren't enough men who are willing to do what you do. Blacksmiths and bullriders are a special breed.... I don't know if you're crazy or just really brave, but I sure appreciate it."
Being the humble soul I am I replied, "It might just be we're stupid." That got a laugh and a cold beer.
Blacksmiths and Bullriders.
Pardon me. While I crow....
I'm gonna be hard to live with for awhile.
She would have none of it and said, "There just aren't enough men who are willing to do what you do. Blacksmiths and bullriders are a special breed.... I don't know if you're crazy or just really brave, but I sure appreciate it."
Being the humble soul I am I replied, "It might just be we're stupid." That got a laugh and a cold beer.
Blacksmiths and Bullriders.
Pardon me. While I crow....
I'm gonna be hard to live with for awhile.
Monday, June 05, 2006
Friday, June 02, 2006
Massacre is a Breakthrough in Americans/Isalmic Relations
While the US media wrings it's hands insincerely in another "ugly American" story binge, the ragheads sumbitches are figuring maybe the US is getting serious finally. The population of Iraq finds brutality nrmalized in the course of daily governance and is not so much upset as comforted in a twisted sort of way by the deaths of an entire household.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Hanging Tomato Plant Update
EP put in a request for pics of my innovative hanging tomato plant progress.
As you can see we are at a 50% yield rate for survival. I think the rainy weather has hosed 'em down pretty good resulting in the right plant croaking. I didn't want to fool with having to take care of them so I left the lids off just to see. I covered them last week when they were both starting to look pitiful. One came back like gangbusters, but the other is history. I am quite impressed with the one on the left as it is outgrowing the plants we have in the ground.
As you can see we are at a 50% yield rate for survival. I think the rainy weather has hosed 'em down pretty good resulting in the right plant croaking. I didn't want to fool with having to take care of them so I left the lids off just to see. I covered them last week when they were both starting to look pitiful. One came back like gangbusters, but the other is history. I am quite impressed with the one on the left as it is outgrowing the plants we have in the ground.
Sunday, May 28, 2006
The Glory
Welldigger and I got our shit together about noon yesterday and headed out for lunch and a ride to parts unknown. We're not takin' about far flung exploration here, just some little traveled roads and out of the way places ya' pass by driving from point A to point B.
We pulled into a gyro resturant and stuffed ourselves. Good call by 'Digger there though I'm not one for cullinary exploration.
Update: Pics at Nate's Peep Paradise!
We ran some backroads on the way to meet up with Nate in Chapel Hill and it became quickly clear that Digger's sportbike was not confidence inspiring on the gravel strewn and rippled blacktop curves. Not a problem for the SwampThing as it loves to slide. I passed him and upon reaching the next stopsign got the quote of the day:
I'll harrass Nate into postin' some pics.
We pulled into a gyro resturant and stuffed ourselves. Good call by 'Digger there though I'm not one for cullinary exploration.
Update: Pics at Nate's Peep Paradise!
We ran some backroads on the way to meet up with Nate in Chapel Hill and it became quickly clear that Digger's sportbike was not confidence inspiring on the gravel strewn and rippled blacktop curves. Not a problem for the SwampThing as it loves to slide. I passed him and upon reaching the next stopsign got the quote of the day:
I don't think draggin' your foot is hardlyfair.
I'll harrass Nate into postin' some pics.
Friday, May 26, 2006
GONE RIDIN'
Since little bro got sprung from babysitting, Saturday, we three C's will be out and about lookin' for sights unseen in Tennessee. I'll take pics of Nate droppin' his bike this time.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Wide Band Response: Farmer Tom
1)I don't know about the XL125.
2) I mowed 6 days ago and will be spraying Monday.
Sorry took so long to respond.
2) I mowed 6 days ago and will be spraying Monday.
Sorry took so long to respond.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Mainstream Fiction Authors Shouldn't Preach
I red alot. Sometimes. I go on binges of 3 to 5 novels and then won't read anything but blogs and Drudge for weeks. One of the effects of having read so much is that I am continually looking for new authors for fresh material.
There is no fresh material in my favorite genre: military fiction. I began reading military fiction when I realized SF had gone to the tree huggers (Micheal Crichton excepted) and so escaped to the alternative of battlescape prose.
Alas, these have become formulaic with the authors not-so-subtley preaching one social issue de jure after another and the protaganist being a white male of redneck perspective.
I guess it figures considering the crap our military academies fill young leadership with these days. The officer corps is where most of the military fiction (thriller) authors started and some never shook off the brainwashing. The services must be gettin' relly good at it.
The last book I read was called TYPHOON by Robin White. Preachy as hell. Women in the service. Women in SUBMARINES. What an idiot. Red October rip off.
There is no fresh material in my favorite genre: military fiction. I began reading military fiction when I realized SF had gone to the tree huggers (Micheal Crichton excepted) and so escaped to the alternative of battlescape prose.
Alas, these have become formulaic with the authors not-so-subtley preaching one social issue de jure after another and the protaganist being a white male of redneck perspective.
I guess it figures considering the crap our military academies fill young leadership with these days. The officer corps is where most of the military fiction (thriller) authors started and some never shook off the brainwashing. The services must be gettin' relly good at it.
The last book I read was called TYPHOON by Robin White. Preachy as hell. Women in the service. Women in SUBMARINES. What an idiot. Red October rip off.
Sunday, May 21, 2006
Rumors and Legends
There is a rumor going round these parts that a certain champion stud aptly named....W'ell just call him GZ, made an honest attempt with good progress to kill a certain highly acclaimed "natural" horseman called in to work on his aggressive tendencies. The 'natural' horsemanship movement has done a lot to increase the general horse owning population's grasp of equine psychology and how we can relate to our equine partners, but it only goes so far. A racehorse is a different animal from a quarterhorse. Thoroughbreds can be extremely aggressive. We are taught that horses are basically cowards and tussle to determine a herd order. They don't care who is in charge; they just need to know who it is. Well, some DO care; they mean to be in charge no matter what's before them.
Horse people are wont to exaggerate about horses almost as much as fishermen are about fish, so take that with a grain of salt, but I've been hearing tales of this critter for some time now. Things like using tranquilizer dart guns to get close enough to him to work safely......
Personally, I heard a man that has handled thousands of horses tell another (both men at the top of their profession) visiting the stall where the beast resided not to go in there.
"He'll kill ya'."
The second fella thought he was exaggerating so the other restrained him until he understood the situation was serious. Deadly serious
Horse people are wont to exaggerate about horses almost as much as fishermen are about fish, so take that with a grain of salt, but I've been hearing tales of this critter for some time now. Things like using tranquilizer dart guns to get close enough to him to work safely......
Personally, I heard a man that has handled thousands of horses tell another (both men at the top of their profession) visiting the stall where the beast resided not to go in there.
"He'll kill ya'."
The second fella thought he was exaggerating so the other restrained him until he understood the situation was serious. Deadly serious
Barbaro Down. Sucks.
It seems the Triple Crown has become an insurmountable obstacle lately. Whether or not luck, some dumbass not seeing to the proper operation of the gates, or a pure wild eyed wanna-kick-somebody's-ass stud bangin' hell out of everything in sight brought on the injury to the bones making up Barbaro's pastern joint (near as I can tell from the bullshit the vet had to say) I don't know, but I am getting tired of seeing these babies (they aren't much more than that) hurt at every turn. If they don't kill this horse I'll be shocked.
How about we race five year olds. Horses would be stronger. More sound. They could actually have a career. Racing would be well served with some continuity from year to year, training could take place over a longer span of time, the physically unfit could be weeded out, and times would come down. Why can no one run with Secretariat? After 35 years of advancement in equine nutrition, training, genetics, and care and while human performance records are broken daily, it seems.
I'm not sayin' horses should not be trained in their early developement - there is research to suggest that early training done properly actually initiates strengthening of equine bone structure and connective tissue. Perhaps, though some thought should be given to letting the developement of stonger bones continue before we let them stampede over a race course with their buddies.
Update:
Richardson outlined Barbaro's medical problems: a broken cannon bone above the ankle, a broken sesamoid bone behind the ankle and a broken long pastern bone below the ankle. The fetlock joint — the ankle — was dislocated.
Folks, that is bad. The sesamoid bones are two bones wrapped in connective tissue at the back of the fetlock joint and together they provide a fulcrum for the propulsive forces transmitted to the foot by the Deep Flexor Tendon. Think of it as a bridge on a stringed instrument. It takes a lot of tension to break that thing, and it will complicate the chances for recovery. No one has said if the bones were simply fractured or actually displaced.
Remember horse racing is a business and they may decide his insurance is a better bet than his breeding prospects. Let's hope the owners take off the accountants hat and put on their horseman's cap.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Girls in Charge
Girlcop Arrests Couple For Asking For Directions
This is what happens when the feminine mind aquires authority. Add menopause to the mix and it's anybody's ballgame. The girl convict is reported to have both her parents on another police force. Catfight anyone? One good ass whoopin' would fix this little problem and have girlcop running back to the kitchen. Might even save her life.
In saner times it was common to describe a man's thinking as having a "feminine mind"
if he was one to let emotion rule his decision making above logic.
"The New Pollock" or "Buckeye's and Gravity Don't Mix"
BREITBART.COM - Tape Shows Man Fell Overboard From Cruise
Buckeyes - wankers from ohio who talk through their noses and are assued, all evidence to the contrary, of their own superior intellect.
It seems whereever they go in this wide world they find some dumbass way of getting killed.
We have a problem here in the Bluegrass with invading vacationing buckeyes. They are drawn to the Dan'l Boone National Forest in droves to drive the scenic routes, jet-ski upon the recreational lakes, hunt the woods, and climb the rocks.
The former examples are annoying owing to their rude nature and conduct, but that last one is what gets 'em into trouble. Buckeye's know that the yankees conquered gravity long ago and if one watches the Discovery Channel and smokes enough dope one can do just about anything. Like, say, free climbing, or amusing one's friends by shitting off a cliff (oops! the toilet paper got away.... I'll just catch it........ Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! ... splat), or repelling Aussie style down a 300 ft rock house.
Y'all may think I'm kiddin', but one of the wife's former patients who was the owner of an ambulance service in the Red River Gorge (part of the Dan'l Boone National Forest) remarked to her he could not make an appointmet on a selected date. It seems that was in the busy season for his business as yearly, around that time, buckeye activity in the gorge increased and with it a resulting spike in climbing (falling) infuries. He further remarked that he wouldn't be able to stay in business were it not "for all the buckeyes fallin' off rocks."
Next time y'all hear of somebody gettin' eaten by a bear in the Smokies or runnin' his jetski under the bow of a barge take note of his/her native state. 10 to 1 it's a buckeye.
Tomorrow we will be discussing minnesota soccer fans.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Nobody in the Village People was Wearing a BMW Suit
I have an uncle who rides a Road King (yes, he really does ride it) who was telling me about one of his riding buddies showing up on a BMW GS1100 for a group ride. He said he informs bystanders when they arrive at a stop that the BMW rider is not gay.
My comment: "Do you tell them that while you're wearin' leather britches with the ass cut out of them?"
Reply: "Sometimes."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I pulled up next to a group of cruisers (Hardleys and whatnot - they all look alike to me) while on a ride with the wife last Friday on the KLR. As is more and more common these days, there were some females in the group on their own rather large cruisers instead of on the back like they belong. At a stoplight the wife and I said, "Hey" to the nearest rider (a girl) as is common when riders meet.
A second rider (on the other side from us next to the girl - no helmet, dark glasses - must protect from UV rays!) revved his bike and looked aorund at the SwampThing and said, "That's cute."
I stood up and yelled over the farting elephants:
"Did you ever play soccer?"
loser shakes head
"So how come you're ridin' a chick bike?"
Motorcycles: One's too many, and a dozen is not enough.
Vincente Fox Needs to Look Elsewhere For Trouble
MEXICO CITY (AP) -- Police enraged by the kidnapping of six officers club unarmed detainees. A bloody battle between steelworkers and police leaves two miners dead. Drug lords post the heads of decapitated police on a fence to show who's in charge.
So, Who thinks VF is using our border to deflect a little light from reaching the cockroaches? Excuse me, that should be "cock-a-roach".
No wonder folks are leaving Mexico in droves. I can't help thinking that the old adage applies: "Sell when everyone else is buying, and buy when everyone else is selling" might apply to Mexican real estate....
Monday, May 15, 2006
The "Inter"national Guard" or A College Education at Work
Another link from Drudge to a Washington Post Story on using the National Guard for border security.
Did you read that? He said, "That's not the role of our military." If I recall correctly from 10th grade civics and kindergarten reading comprehension, that is the ONLY role for our military. Granted, they are not to be used to screen immigrant applications but protecting our real estate through the use of and the threat of the use of deadly force against those who seek to abuse the goodwill of the american citizenry (and in some cases aquire through sedition ownership or influence over some of that real estate for a foriegn power) is the be all and end all of our military's constitutinal authority.
I reckon we should rename the National Guard to the International Guard to better describe what the high flyin' intellects in the senate percieve as the Guard's duty.
I thought surely the senator would have to be a juris doctor to make such an assinine statement, but it turns out he is merely a graduate of St. Bonaventure High School, Columbus, Nebraska, the Brown Institute for Radio and Television, Minneapolis, Minnesota, and the University of Nebraska at Omaha.
Disclaimer:
Y'all know conquest is my stated preference for our military's use. It is also well known that I have no problem with giving california to mexico outright; in 10 years they would be begging us to take it back. But facts is facts.
"We have to be very careful here," Sen. Chuck Hagel (R-Neb.) said yesterday on ABC's "This Week." "That's not the role of our military. That's not the role of our National Guard. . . . That's a short-term fix, and I'm not sure that's a very wise fix."
Did you read that? He said, "That's not the role of our military." If I recall correctly from 10th grade civics and kindergarten reading comprehension, that is the ONLY role for our military. Granted, they are not to be used to screen immigrant applications but protecting our real estate through the use of and the threat of the use of deadly force against those who seek to abuse the goodwill of the american citizenry (and in some cases aquire through sedition ownership or influence over some of that real estate for a foriegn power) is the be all and end all of our military's constitutinal authority.
I reckon we should rename the National Guard to the International Guard to better describe what the high flyin' intellects in the senate percieve as the Guard's duty.
I thought surely the senator would have to be a juris doctor to make such an assinine statement, but it turns out he is merely a graduate of St. Bonaventure High School, Columbus, Nebraska, the Brown Institute for Radio and Television, Minneapolis, Minnesota, and the University of Nebraska at Omaha.
Disclaimer:
Y'all know conquest is my stated preference for our military's use. It is also well known that I have no problem with giving california to mexico outright; in 10 years they would be begging us to take it back. But facts is facts.
Saturday, May 13, 2006
Un-Reconstructed
The horror. The horror.
Drudge linked up this story of a teacher in South Carolina who has committed the ultimate sin and stated the obvious. History is settled on the issue of north american slavery and its cost/benefit to blacks, yet a man makes some pretty innocuous comments and the PC crowd is in a complete tizzy. What fun!
The place I find disagreement with this fellow is with the idea that one has to be very intelligent or white to be able to implement, understand, and responsibly function within a constitutionally limited republican government. Short of lacking the mental acuity of being able to wipe the spittle from one's own chin it's not too complex to fathom. Sure, a succession of genius level intellects occupying learned, inquisitive, and observant minds was required to formulate western political philosophy, but the hard part is done. Understanding what they laboured to conceptualize hardly requires even a shadow of their intellect. We are intellectually standing on their shoulders and not required to be able to bear their burden.
Where we have fallen short is in succumbing to the temptation of what is (at it's root) marxist philosophy, which appeals to the less motivated among us of any colour, coupled with institutional enforcement of indoctrination.
It is worthy of note that the fearless reporter went straight to the school district and "informed" it of Dr. McCuen's comments. Note the use of "informed" rather than the most journalistic "when asked about". A look into the motivation of the reporter, wouldn't you say?
Do watch the video. It is informative of the goals of modern journalism in that the reporter does not ask questions pertinent to the subject being discussed, such as asking for comment on the espoused views of those making a living off inflammatory remarks "on behalf" of black folks, but continuously asks leading questions to generate a maximum level of controversy.
Drudge linked up this story of a teacher in South Carolina who has committed the ultimate sin and stated the obvious. History is settled on the issue of north american slavery and its cost/benefit to blacks, yet a man makes some pretty innocuous comments and the PC crowd is in a complete tizzy. What fun!
The place I find disagreement with this fellow is with the idea that one has to be very intelligent or white to be able to implement, understand, and responsibly function within a constitutionally limited republican government. Short of lacking the mental acuity of being able to wipe the spittle from one's own chin it's not too complex to fathom. Sure, a succession of genius level intellects occupying learned, inquisitive, and observant minds was required to formulate western political philosophy, but the hard part is done. Understanding what they laboured to conceptualize hardly requires even a shadow of their intellect. We are intellectually standing on their shoulders and not required to be able to bear their burden.
Where we have fallen short is in succumbing to the temptation of what is (at it's root) marxist philosophy, which appeals to the less motivated among us of any colour, coupled with institutional enforcement of indoctrination.
It is worthy of note that the fearless reporter went straight to the school district and "informed" it of Dr. McCuen's comments. Note the use of "informed" rather than the most journalistic "when asked about". A look into the motivation of the reporter, wouldn't you say?
Do watch the video. It is informative of the goals of modern journalism in that the reporter does not ask questions pertinent to the subject being discussed, such as asking for comment on the espoused views of those making a living off inflammatory remarks "on behalf" of black folks, but continuously asks leading questions to generate a maximum level of controversy.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
The Bag Trick
Seems some things are universal.....
A KLR in action - bear in mind an XR650L was pulled out from this same hole moments before. I don't think that's much deeper than some of the mudholes we rode through Satrday.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
The Twelve Miler – Minibike heaven, KLR hell.
This is where a KLR has no business being anytime after wet weather, though sections of it were the most enjoyable. Lots of water holes and creek crossing, some pretty fast and high splashin' fun. There were however a lot of tight sections that the KLR is just too big and long (for my skill level anyway) to negotiate. We started out on wide gravel for a few miles then transitioned onto singletrack. It didn't take long to find lots of wet, slick rock outcroppings and eroded roots in the trail. SwampThing prefers plain old mud to this stuff and communicated this to me by some serious pounding through the handlebars that it was displeased. At the (ahem) stately pace I was maintaining it was easy to either lose traction altogether and thus control or kill the engine negotiating a particularly steep sided obstacle. I began to feather the clutch in tight maneuvering or application of throttle when negotiating steep obstacles. This seemed to help a lot, but got me into trouble on the only real even half-assed hill climb I attempted as I feathered when I should have been used the stick on SwampThing. No matter, it only took six guys, with the engine helping to get the beast moving up hill again.
We were denied much further exploration due to high water and a low bike The Kid brought, but found a long wide beach near a creek that served as a bullshitting stop and gave everyone a chance to ride each other's minibikes. I tried out Dr. Jekyll's KDX200 and found it amazingly user friendly with supple suspension, of course you have to shift every half second when on the gas.... No thanks.
Throughout all the riding Saturday, The minibikes periodically would “shed” parts and pieces. Inevitably, they would look to me for a solution. The KLR has a lot of parts that are extraneous for trail riding and became the designated fastener donor for at least three of the minibikes. I will note the only other Kawasaki had no such issues, even after the saw-briar patch with Brer Larry.
Babysister and stopped on the way home for a chocolate shake at a nearby burger stand and while we were there with his RM250 minibike and the SwampThing in the trailer a fella stopped on the highway to how much that Kawasaki cost, because he really had always wanted one. Babysister remarked there must be something wrong with people in those parts 'cause the Suzuki's were the good bikes to which another bystander explained, “KLR's are awesome!”
Like I always say when it comes to the KLR: “No matter what you ride, I can ride with you but you can't ride with me.”
We were denied much further exploration due to high water and a low bike The Kid brought, but found a long wide beach near a creek that served as a bullshitting stop and gave everyone a chance to ride each other's minibikes. I tried out Dr. Jekyll's KDX200 and found it amazingly user friendly with supple suspension, of course you have to shift every half second when on the gas.... No thanks.
Throughout all the riding Saturday, The minibikes periodically would “shed” parts and pieces. Inevitably, they would look to me for a solution. The KLR has a lot of parts that are extraneous for trail riding and became the designated fastener donor for at least three of the minibikes. I will note the only other Kawasaki had no such issues, even after the saw-briar patch with Brer Larry.
Babysister and stopped on the way home for a chocolate shake at a nearby burger stand and while we were there with his RM250 minibike and the SwampThing in the trailer a fella stopped on the highway to how much that Kawasaki cost, because he really had always wanted one. Babysister remarked there must be something wrong with people in those parts 'cause the Suzuki's were the good bikes to which another bystander explained, “KLR's are awesome!”
Like I always say when it comes to the KLR: “No matter what you ride, I can ride with you but you can't ride with me.”
Monday, May 08, 2006
The Nine Miler or "Larry Goes Gonzo"
The Nine Miler
This trail is a little misnamed because it is out and back across the same route. Of all the riding Saturday this trail is the best suited to the KLR. Except for one spot going one direction.
There are a lot on nice uphills well suited to the big fourstroke, and muddy turns, with little double-hump water crossings to get the front up on with minimal bottoming on the down side. Of course, the boys on the twosmokers were bouncin' down the trail like twitterpated rabbits.
All was going remarkably well until we came to a long steep uphill composed completely of rocky outcroppings. Lookin' at it from the bottom I was wondering what all the fuss was about and figured I'd just tractor up and over the shit and be on my way. Until Larry stopped. Because The Kid stopped.
One does not stop a KLR650 on a steep, bouldered hillside and expect it to just up and take off again without any fuss. As they say, “An ounce of momentum is worth a pound of traction.” and I was all out of momentum with no traction in sight. Luckily Dr. Jekyll (“Ed”, for short) stayed back to make sure everyone negotiated the obstacle. It was not pretty. Lookin' back, I think I would have made it up the hill OK had Larry not stopped for The Kid stopping, but the sharp obstacled left and the immediate sharp obstacled right would have at least called for stopping to maneuver.
Past “The Rocky Hill” it was mostly all downhill and the big fourstroke enginebrakes well so it was a blast. Coming back the other direction was the usual miles of smiles! The Rocky Hill was pretty uneventful going the other way. Zero pucker factor; Chug! Chug! Chug!, and away we went.
So far I had not dropped the bike and was rapidly building confidence in it. It was obvious to me that the front end was, at once, too stiff at the bottom and too soft at the top of it's stroke compounded by being just plain too short in stroke overall. The other fellas were flyin' down the trail and waiting on me periodically, but my babysitter (Claude) was always nearby.
I can't imagine what a pain in the ass that was, but I carried extra water to make the burden even. I didn't flaunt the refreshments in front of the others at stops on the hot d r y trail, but Claude did.
At one stop, Larry was beaming under the praise of everyone present for the apparent ease with which he was riding given his limited experience. Some more advanced watercrossing techniques were discussed and I guess Larry thought he'd give it a try, so....
Fifty feet into the restart Claude and I hear a twostroke rev to the sky screaming like someone had it by the balls, and see Larry hit a water hole with the front wheel up. What a Splash! It must have impressed him because Larry didn't let off before setting up for the next waterhole immediately following the first. That's when it got ugly. Or funny, depending on your perspective. The bike left the first water hole a bit out of control, hit the second completely out of control and entered the trailside briar patch airbourne. All this to the accompaniment of the sounds of breaking saplings and ripping cloth! Larry didn't stop until he was 15 feet deep into a saw-briar patch well over his head. All we heard after that was a loud pitiful wail of, “Heeeeelllllp!”. He had entered the saw-briar patch with all four appendages spread eagle and only his asshole still connected to the bike. The clenching is what kept him on the seat.
After much laughing at Larry's expense (Claude was forced to piss on a nearby tree lest he soil himself and I nearly dropped the SwampThing into the dirt I was so weak from hysteria), we began extricating him from the patch. Try untangling a spider web while laughing yourself silly. Sadly, we failed to express any sympathy for poor Larry. Luckily, he was laughing, too. Through the pain. That was the best wreck of the day.
I know this is off topic but....... Damn!
This trail is a little misnamed because it is out and back across the same route. Of all the riding Saturday this trail is the best suited to the KLR. Except for one spot going one direction.
There are a lot on nice uphills well suited to the big fourstroke, and muddy turns, with little double-hump water crossings to get the front up on with minimal bottoming on the down side. Of course, the boys on the twosmokers were bouncin' down the trail like twitterpated rabbits.
All was going remarkably well until we came to a long steep uphill composed completely of rocky outcroppings. Lookin' at it from the bottom I was wondering what all the fuss was about and figured I'd just tractor up and over the shit and be on my way. Until Larry stopped. Because The Kid stopped.
One does not stop a KLR650 on a steep, bouldered hillside and expect it to just up and take off again without any fuss. As they say, “An ounce of momentum is worth a pound of traction.” and I was all out of momentum with no traction in sight. Luckily Dr. Jekyll (“Ed”, for short) stayed back to make sure everyone negotiated the obstacle. It was not pretty. Lookin' back, I think I would have made it up the hill OK had Larry not stopped for The Kid stopping, but the sharp obstacled left and the immediate sharp obstacled right would have at least called for stopping to maneuver.
Past “The Rocky Hill” it was mostly all downhill and the big fourstroke enginebrakes well so it was a blast. Coming back the other direction was the usual miles of smiles! The Rocky Hill was pretty uneventful going the other way. Zero pucker factor; Chug! Chug! Chug!, and away we went.
So far I had not dropped the bike and was rapidly building confidence in it. It was obvious to me that the front end was, at once, too stiff at the bottom and too soft at the top of it's stroke compounded by being just plain too short in stroke overall. The other fellas were flyin' down the trail and waiting on me periodically, but my babysitter (Claude) was always nearby.
I can't imagine what a pain in the ass that was, but I carried extra water to make the burden even. I didn't flaunt the refreshments in front of the others at stops on the hot d r y trail, but Claude did.
At one stop, Larry was beaming under the praise of everyone present for the apparent ease with which he was riding given his limited experience. Some more advanced watercrossing techniques were discussed and I guess Larry thought he'd give it a try, so....
Fifty feet into the restart Claude and I hear a twostroke rev to the sky screaming like someone had it by the balls, and see Larry hit a water hole with the front wheel up. What a Splash! It must have impressed him because Larry didn't let off before setting up for the next waterhole immediately following the first. That's when it got ugly. Or funny, depending on your perspective. The bike left the first water hole a bit out of control, hit the second completely out of control and entered the trailside briar patch airbourne. All this to the accompaniment of the sounds of breaking saplings and ripping cloth! Larry didn't stop until he was 15 feet deep into a saw-briar patch well over his head. All we heard after that was a loud pitiful wail of, “Heeeeelllllp!”. He had entered the saw-briar patch with all four appendages spread eagle and only his asshole still connected to the bike. The clenching is what kept him on the seat.
After much laughing at Larry's expense (Claude was forced to piss on a nearby tree lest he soil himself and I nearly dropped the SwampThing into the dirt I was so weak from hysteria), we began extricating him from the patch. Try untangling a spider web while laughing yourself silly. Sadly, we failed to express any sympathy for poor Larry. Luckily, he was laughing, too. Through the pain. That was the best wreck of the day.
I know this is off topic but....... Damn!
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Honest Dirt
Mission: Explore the off road capability of the my KLR650 (SwampThing) with an eye toward suspension evaluation and determination of required upgrades if any. Further, evaluate my own off road skills as relates to a heavyweight dualsport.
Modus Operandi: Meet with some fellas from work who are twostroke devotees riding from 100cc to 250cc Japanese twostrokes with a KTM 250 for good measure.
Personnel:
Claude and JACIII (me): Claude was my excellent host for this outing and rides a Suzuki RM250. Good steady rider who occasionally has flights of impulsive behavior like trying to follow Kyle up hills only the soft of head desire to go.
Eddie and his boy Kyle: Eddie hales from Monticello, Ky. and is a Jekyll and Hyde type of rider. Mild mannered and soft spoken off the bike but he changes when strapped to a KDX200. Nuts. The only time you'll see him is at the trail head and back at the truck. Some demon possesses him when he gets on a bike. His boy Kyle, at least, lets ya' know he is crazy from the get go. In the time it took to Claude and me to unload our bikes Kyle had managed to ride and drop all four of the other bikes there. On purpose. Kyle rides a KTM 250 and it's a beast.
Larry and The Kid: Larry is also a coworker and quite a large boy. He has limited motorcycle experience and rode one of Eddie's bikes as his guest. Recipient of the most creative waterhole crossing award. The Kid (don't know his name) showed up on an old Suzuki 100cc four stroke with no knobs in the center of the back tire. A game rooster if ever there was one.
The Tale:
We all met at an OHV area in the Daniel Boone National Forest called “S-Tree”. There are three trails we on the agenda: The Five Miler, The Nine Miler, and The 20 Miler. I don't think that's their appropriate designation, but these boys are from Monticello and Winchester. By God.
All was well and the bikes were unloaded without incident which led to some impromptu ride swapping. The others were dubious about the KLR's ability to negotiate the trails. I figured if ATV's could handle it the SwampThing could too. I chose what I thought was a light loadout of only a tankbag on the mighty SwampThing.
Five Miler:
This is a piece of work. The forest service has actually laid pavers down at water crossings and up some hills to prevent silting and erosion. It's pretty damned tight throughout and I kept worrying about the slime that likes to grow on rocks underwater making the front wash out and flopping me to the ground. I later learned there is enough traffic through there to keep such stuff at bay, but it was in the back of my mind nonetheless. I took the last position in the group so as not to hold anyone up with my behemoth. My biggest extra-trail excursion occurred in a deep left hander that looked to be a safe berm shot when my front tire initially refused to climb the berm wall to let me start my line high. The front then grabbed all at once and shot me straight up the three foot berm into a foot wide tree. Crunch. It took ten minutes to get the bike free and back on the trail. I eventually made it to where the rest of the fellas had stopped for a break when I noticed my temperature gauge pegging. I shut down and commence work to get the fan going again. Eddie and I worked at bending the radiator back into place and getting the fan some turning clearance, but became frustrated so Claude had to do it. It was then that I realized I was still running road pressure in my tires. While Claude was finishing up with the fan I aired the tires down to safe dirt pressures. What a difference! The rest of that trail was uneventful but really fun. Think rollercoaster with your own gas pedal and small jumps every fifty feet!
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Brokeback Fender
I just got in from ridin' trails all day. Me and the Swampthing were in amongst the 125 and 250 two-smokers with a KLX250s and a KX450 four stroke for good measure.
Tales are to follow and maybe a pic. Rest assured, I have been out doing things you shouldn't do on a KLR.
No, that's not me. I had some difficulty with a tree just off the trail bending the radiator back into the fan, so Claude volunteered to straighten the fan bracket enough so I could continue. Sadly this is the only pic I got on the trails due to a digital camera that was not up to the task of vibration resistance required in the tankbag of the SwampThing.
Holy BatShit !
Meet HolyCaveman:
This fella posts on the KLR650.net forum and is pretty much the designated suspension experimenter and practicioner of the arcane art of suspension tuning. Somebody forgot to tell him certain things are Not Done on a KLR650.
This fella posts on the KLR650.net forum and is pretty much the designated suspension experimenter and practicioner of the arcane art of suspension tuning. Somebody forgot to tell him certain things are Not Done on a KLR650.
Friday, May 05, 2006
Absurdity Is No Obstacle
NAPLES, Fla. -- A sheriff's pilot was temporarily blinded when someone aimed a green laser into his helicopter's cockpit, authorities said.
Two Collier County sheriff's pilots were searching for a loud party in Naples last Friday when the laser beam was directed into their cockpit, sheriff's Lt. Mark Cherney said.
One of the pilots was wearing night vision goggles, which amplified the beam and temporarily blinded him.
The pilot suffered severe headaches and it remains unclear if the laser caused lasting damage to his eyes, Cherney said. The other pilot was not injured by the beam.
It is a felony to point a laser at an aircraft. No one has been charged in the attack.
"We have some leads," Cherney said. "We're looking for more."
This is cute. Robo-cop wannabes using nightvision while piloting a helecopter on a secret mission looking for loud parties.
I wonder what the budget is for the "Loud Party Airial Reconnisance Patrol" , hmmm?
Let's see a nice used Bell Helicopter is for sale on ebay for $895,000.
Nightvision goggles for around $2500 for the good stuff.
Pilot - let's say $70.000.
co-pilot - $65,000
Ground support and maintenance I guess around $100,000 year contracted out.
If the city of naples, Florida is prepared to spend that kinda money to locate Loud Parties nothing is beyond the pale for the fedgov. Any calls of "The fderal government doesn't have the time or resources to_______." should fall on deaf ears. Anything a governing body can/may do, it will do. Absurdity is no obstacle.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Diesel Conversion - Not the KLR
Anybody have any idea how much HP in a diesel would be required to move my Suburban down the road at legal speeds? It's probably around 7,000 lbs loaded. EP? Bill? Astro? Y'all know who I'm talkin' to.
I find myself lamenting the prospect of unloading the behemoth for a more economical form of personal transport and have recently found the time to consider picking up an old 4 cylinder Perkins or somesuch out of an outdoor forklift, straight truck (6 wheeler) or marine power unit and doin' a swap. I have the rescources to engineer and execute this and I figure it will put the 'burb near the 20mpg mark which I can live with. Gearing is not a problem as the 'burb has a tall overdrive.
I'm not a bit interested in being able to haul ass down the road and am thinking the european approach to powering a 'lorrie' is the way to go.
I find myself lamenting the prospect of unloading the behemoth for a more economical form of personal transport and have recently found the time to consider picking up an old 4 cylinder Perkins or somesuch out of an outdoor forklift, straight truck (6 wheeler) or marine power unit and doin' a swap. I have the rescources to engineer and execute this and I figure it will put the 'burb near the 20mpg mark which I can live with. Gearing is not a problem as the 'burb has a tall overdrive.
I'm not a bit interested in being able to haul ass down the road and am thinking the european approach to powering a 'lorrie' is the way to go.
Gum-bo Rally !
There's a KLR rider I know of put his adventure bike away for a Dos Equis speed run from Omaha to Apalachicola (Haul ass from Omaha to Old Virginia and hang a right, y'all) for a bowl of fresh gumbo. Sound crazy? Been there, done that. Twice.
See there is this great little cafe' on the Mississippi called the Magnolia Grill (What else?!) at Natchez Under-the-Hill on the banks of the Mississippi where the old paddlewheelers used to dock at what was one time considered the Barbary Coast of US water travel. There is an old saloon still in operation and a bunch of yuppie shops, but the treat is the Magnolia Grill. An ice cold Corona at the end of a hot, hard ride overlooking the Mighty Mississippi and all is right with the world.
I hope this doesn't give anyboby the itch.....
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Meet the Motorcycling Underworld - Slick Creek on the TransAm Trail
Y'all remember the tale of Nate droppin' his bike for the first time in Slick Creek on the TAT. Just as a public service I am posting some pics lifted off of AdvRider.com to better illustrate the process whereby Nate bit it. This is purley for academic reasons. Not to make fun of anybody or anything like that, but I know I don't have to tell y'all that, now..... do I.
Here's a fella makin' a bold attempt using pretty much the same teeter-totter method as Nate:
Here is another fella suffering the same results as Nate. Thump.
Not to be braggin' or anything, but this is pretty much how I did it:
Nice bike, eh, Waterboy? Look!, you can ride dualsport and still keep your blog handle!
Here's a fella makin' a bold attempt using pretty much the same teeter-totter method as Nate:
Here is another fella suffering the same results as Nate. Thump.
Not to be braggin' or anything, but this is pretty much how I did it:
Nice bike, eh, Waterboy? Look!, you can ride dualsport and still keep your blog handle!
Monday, May 01, 2006
New Rider - Ninja 250
Just got my first new bike last Friday!
It's only a Ninja 250, but I'm going to go for a sport-tourer after I get some serious miles under my belt.
Michael Maier Edit comment Delete comment | Email | Homepage | 05.01.06 - 7:39 pm | #
Congrats, MM! I can't think of a better starter bike. Many experienced riders enjoy them and I think there are even some club races limited to participation with only the EX250. Excellent choice.
Waterboy?????
chirp - chirp
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Fun With Search Engines - Google "cruiserboy"
Ever look at the Sitemeter page tracking referal pages to your blog? I do. It is interesting to note what you have in common with the great searching horde of humanity the world over.
ZX14R; KLR650; KLX250s review; GPZ
Always the motorcycle stuff, though "ethnocentricity" had quite a following for awhile....However, my favorite recurring search string has to be "cruiserboys".
I referred to some fellas I was riding with in this way completely innocent of the homosexual connotation Sitemeter and have Google since revealed. Black leather everything and "chaps" - that's what otherwise grown men call their leather pants with no ass in 'em. I swear I laugh out loud everytime it pops up. A cruiserboy, it seems, is typified by the village people motorcycle gayguy, ya'll!
Granted, when I called 'em cruiserboys I did mean it in a off the cuff derogetory way, but I had no idea of the extent of my own diabolical subconcious machinations.
So, Greg (not you EP), Frank, Timmy, Pappy, and Dave, many a pillowbiter has spanked his monkey reading my tale of the ride with y'all when Pappy, ahem, 'went down'. I ain't laughin'.... Really....I'm not.
ZX14R; KLR650; KLX250s review; GPZ
Always the motorcycle stuff, though "ethnocentricity" had quite a following for awhile....However, my favorite recurring search string has to be "cruiserboys".
I referred to some fellas I was riding with in this way completely innocent of the homosexual connotation Sitemeter and have Google since revealed. Black leather everything and "chaps" - that's what otherwise grown men call their leather pants with no ass in 'em. I swear I laugh out loud everytime it pops up. A cruiserboy, it seems, is typified by the village people motorcycle gayguy, ya'll!
Granted, when I called 'em cruiserboys I did mean it in a off the cuff derogetory way, but I had no idea of the extent of my own diabolical subconcious machinations.So, Greg (not you EP), Frank, Timmy, Pappy, and Dave, many a pillowbiter has spanked his monkey reading my tale of the ride with y'all when Pappy, ahem, 'went down'. I ain't laughin'.... Really....I'm not.
Friday, April 28, 2006
Let's Grow Tomatos !
I know, I know, the almanac is callin' for one more frost in May but I'll bag 'em if need be.
So, what's on the menu? Big Beef, Pink German, and Early Boy.
If ya' ask me, I'll tell ya' anything other than a Big Beef is a waste of good dirt, so I let the wife plant the niche tomatos in the (Troybilt) garden and I went whole hog on two Big Beef plants.
As you can see this is a little different method for growing tomatos. I picked this up from Uncle Fred from whom much timeless wisdom and brilliant bullshit flows. Much as I like tillin' a garden I hate weeding it at least as much, and I just want to kill every bunny born, but not SpaceBunnies. I'll share my tomatos with SpaceBunnies.
Anyway, ya' cut about a 1" hole in the bottom of a five gallon bucket. (Yes, Bill, you can use a holesaw) and stuff your plant through it taking care to not damage any of its tender stems and leaves. Moisten the root/soil block and hang the bucket before filling the bucket with topsoil. I use my super double secret recipe of aged and tilled horse shit, rabbit shit, and garden soil. I usually put a couple of shovels full in and then water again before filing the rest of the way.
The vine will grow down happily without all the weeds and bunny trouble. Water and fertilizer are applied from the top of the bucket.
There are several advantages to this:
1) It's entertaining to "pluck" tomatos instead of pickin' 'em up off the ground like common folk.
2) The top-down watering/feeding method gets all the goodies to the plant.
3) the bunnies and beetles can't reach it. Though I have considered using a fishook through a leaf to catch one... Could be fun.
I'm sure this looks appetizing to deer, but I'll take my chances. Y'all give it a try. Even cityfolk can do this, and your neighbors will think you're a damned genius.
Hey, Gregg:
Link dies: Here's the new one.
So, what's on the menu? Big Beef, Pink German, and Early Boy.
If ya' ask me, I'll tell ya' anything other than a Big Beef is a waste of good dirt, so I let the wife plant the niche tomatos in the (Troybilt) garden and I went whole hog on two Big Beef plants.
As you can see this is a little different method for growing tomatos. I picked this up from Uncle Fred from whom much timeless wisdom and brilliant bullshit flows. Much as I like tillin' a garden I hate weeding it at least as much, and I just want to kill every bunny born, but not SpaceBunnies. I'll share my tomatos with SpaceBunnies.
Anyway, ya' cut about a 1" hole in the bottom of a five gallon bucket. (Yes, Bill, you can use a holesaw) and stuff your plant through it taking care to not damage any of its tender stems and leaves. Moisten the root/soil block and hang the bucket before filling the bucket with topsoil. I use my super double secret recipe of aged and tilled horse shit, rabbit shit, and garden soil. I usually put a couple of shovels full in and then water again before filing the rest of the way.
The vine will grow down happily without all the weeds and bunny trouble. Water and fertilizer are applied from the top of the bucket.
There are several advantages to this:
1) It's entertaining to "pluck" tomatos instead of pickin' 'em up off the ground like common folk.
2) The top-down watering/feeding method gets all the goodies to the plant.
3) the bunnies and beetles can't reach it. Though I have considered using a fishook through a leaf to catch one... Could be fun.
I'm sure this looks appetizing to deer, but I'll take my chances. Y'all give it a try. Even cityfolk can do this, and your neighbors will think you're a damned genius.
Hey, Gregg:
Link dies: Here's the new one.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
The Lovely Long-Suffering Lady Inquires:
Pardon the ignorance, but what's the point of camo on someone riding a really loud bike?
Spacebunny | Email | Homepage | 04.27.06 - 12:10 pm | #
This is, of course, re: the military motorcycle posted below.
1) Camouflage is useless against terrain while in motion.
The human eye is drawn to motion and outline (visible boundaries). Camouflage serves to breakup an outline against a natural background rendering an appropriately camouflaged entity invisible, or nearly so, to the naked eye. The second it moves it becomes visible against the background, in fact it commands attention from the human eye. Therefore, the camo is for when not riding.
2) The KLR is not loud.
The audio was probably boosted during editing for entertainment value. A stock KLR muffler sounds remarkably like an old Volkswagen Beetle and has a "tweety" sound. I can understand the confusion here as my KLR is very vocal and does not conceal it's considerable power delivery.
Chicks.....
I guess ya' gotta give a girl credit for participating in a motorcycle discussion, though.
Monday, April 24, 2006
The Return of Boyhood heroes: GhostRider
We all had heroes growing up. They run the gamut from Superman to Hopalong Cassidy for most. Loud mouth do-gooders if you ask me. I had no use for them. Mine were cut from a different mold.
My favorite was an under the radar kind of fella' most times, but hell's own ass whoopin' when aroused, and though troubled somewhat by his base nature it was not troublesome to the extent that it would cause him to refrain from indulging it. Let the big dog eat!
The Ghostrider movie is in production and he has a bitchin' bike.
My favorite was an under the radar kind of fella' most times, but hell's own ass whoopin' when aroused, and though troubled somewhat by his base nature it was not troublesome to the extent that it would cause him to refrain from indulging it. Let the big dog eat!
The Ghostrider movie is in production and he has a bitchin' bike.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Why a KLR650 ? Well, Grasshopper....
There's a reason the Marine Expeditionary force uses this bike.
A few minor modifications and it's a Battle Bike... A KiLR 650!
high bandwidth warning!
A few minor modifications and it's a Battle Bike... A KiLR 650!
high bandwidth warning!
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Queers on the whitehouse lawn
If this doesn't point up the reason fags want kids I don't know what does. Exploitation. They didn't bring the children for the children's sake. They brought the children for their sake. They want children to use them to further their goal of normalizing their particular perversion.
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Iranian Bunker Buster Nukes are a Mistake
A trial balloon was floated (leak?) about the proposed use of tactical nuclear explosives in bunker buster guise as a solution to eliminate the deep, hardened facilities constructed by Iran to protect and conceal its nuclear (weapons) program. It's a good idea on it's face, but falls short of dealing effectively with the problem of nutcase moslems seeking to acquire the ultimate power of mass destruction for the following reasons:
1) you take a chance on missing one you didn't know about.
2) you let the enemy know just how deep you can really reach to get them so they can dig a little deeper next time.
3) You piss the others off really good without displaying obvious destruction to create fear of further reprisal.
Rather than using tactical nuclear weapons I propose the limited use of strategic nuclear weapons to deal with the Iranian problem. As muslim history shows by the slaughter of 20,000 unprotected Jewish troops outside the Golden Gate, they are not swayed by shows of mercy, offers of peaceful co-existence, or the application of reason, but do deal readily in the application of mass slaughter. In 619 this was equivalent to WWII's Hiroshima and so got everyone's attention.
Here's the plan: Zap 'em.
I can't decide if Jimmy Carter's neutron bomb, which fries everybody but leaves facilities, or just enough metropolitan nukes dropped every few days (so Al Jazeera can make sure the East understands it has truly met the West) to effectively depopulate the country.
This effectively removes all political will to further irritate the West and eliminates the resource of (supposedly) poor uneducated masses from which homicidal maniacs are recruited to wear bomb vests. And there is no power vacuum created for even crazier moslem nutjobs to fill! Mark my words: The world of Islam would become quite reasonable and many would convert then and there on the rug in front of the television.
Simple. Clean. Elegant. Effective.
If you do the math for 20 years of low intensity widespread combat, it's probably a net savings of human life. OK, msybe not, but it is within 30% of the WWII death toll.
Hat's off to you, Harry Truman.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
I Hate City Folk
A God-fearin' Baptist college tells a lousy pillowbiter to get his perverted ass outa here and the Lexington Herald-Bleeder is trying to start a crusade. Fuck 'em.
Heaven forbid anyone should act upon their disdain for the latest anointed perversion, lest ultraliberal journalist/hall monitors tattle to the city bound hive mind in hopes that it will pressure spit fingered elected officials into bending to that homogenous mob of drones living atop one another and bringing some sort of sanction against the heretics.
Fuck 'em. Double fuck 'em.
Note: Waterboy's grammatical suggestions are in bold print.
Heaven forbid anyone should act upon their disdain for the latest anointed perversion, lest ultraliberal journalist/hall monitors tattle to the city bound hive mind in hopes that it will pressure spit fingered elected officials into bending to that homogenous mob of drones living atop one another and bringing some sort of sanction against the heretics.
Fuck 'em. Double fuck 'em.
Note: Waterboy's grammatical suggestions are in bold print.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
The Traveler
The wanderlust is sated; I am no longer obsessed. I can pass by my motorcycle without planning maintenance, modification, or upgrade. I overlook the Dennis Kirk Off Road catalogue on the kitchen counter. My focus has widened.
I reveled in adventure last week. Many things were seen and experienced that are denied to a casual passerby on a highway. My brother and I forded streams, overcame obstacles, broadened our riding skill, enjoyed the company of family, exchanged pleasantries with folks in parts hitherto unknown to us, witnessed the fruits of an agrarian life removed from the burdens of modernity, and benefited greatly from the kindness of strangers.
Folks seemed to recognize we were on a Quest. Outfitted as we were, we could easily have been taken for hoodlums out to trespass and depredate, yet we were waved by, yielded to (often at great inconvenience), and fare-thee-welled as worthy travelers.
An entire bridge crew in Mississippi ceased work and relocated earthmoving equipment over our protests to allow us passage. An old man left the security of his home to check on two strangers fording a hazardous stream nearby and offered future accommodation. Innumerable folks passing by on a dusty road stopped to offer local knowledge and geographic aid. I offer the above examples as evidence God protects fools and children for I reckon we are often both.
I am home now and my girls have need of me so, for a time, The Traveler will step aside. I gratefully resume my duties as father and husband.
Friday, April 07, 2006
Let's Put the Starbuck's Controversy to Rest
I guess this explains Little Brother's constant comment at stops, "Bet there ain't a Starbucks in this town!".
I caught Nate just as he was climbing back onto the bike after making eyes at the birkenstock clad earth-woman at the outdoor table. He is hiding a marble mocha macchiato in a carry-out cup in his left hand. He nearly scalded himself when I surprised him with the camera. I realize this casts a taint upon our whole family but it's best to air this sort of dirty laundry and be done with it. We'll just have to learn to accept him like he is..... Nah.
I caught Nate just as he was climbing back onto the bike after making eyes at the birkenstock clad earth-woman at the outdoor table. He is hiding a marble mocha macchiato in a carry-out cup in his left hand. He nearly scalded himself when I surprised him with the camera. I realize this casts a taint upon our whole family but it's best to air this sort of dirty laundry and be done with it. We'll just have to learn to accept him like he is..... Nah.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
TransAm Trail Hooliganism and The 2006 KLX250 Drop Test
Gerald on Double Branch Rd. at the site of the Drop Test of the new 2006 KLX250.
Fine Dining in Mississippi.
30 mph wind and a "controlled" burn on the Natchez Trace.
Ever been 75mph on a dirtbike?
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Fine Dining in Mississippi.
30 mph wind and a "controlled" burn on the Natchez Trace.
Ever been 75mph on a dirtbike?
powered by Audioblog.com
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