I didn't set any records or scrape the pegs (kinda hard to do on knobbies), but I think SwampThing looks right content.
See Here!
Thursday, July 06, 2006
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.
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