Even the Brits are Going Wobbly

It's Summertime. It's hot. Woe is me...

This year has so far been the fourth warmest summer on record,

beaten only by 1976, 1995 and 2003.

I know reporters thrive on crisis reporting, but damn! It was hotter just three years ago. What a bunch of greasy haired, crooked toothed, unwashed, body pierced pansies. Let 'em spend July in Memphis. Pussies.

The Harvest Begins: Tomato Faves

Turns out EP and I have kinda the same idea when enjoying our fresh picked yummy garden tomatos. Here's my take:

Halve, pit, and skin one ripe avocado. For those who don't know - an avocado is ripe when it is soft. I like to be able to readily depress the skin about an 1/8". Those green ones at the store probably aren't ready. To skin it use a tablespoon (after halving and pitting) worked up between the skin and the meat. Place both halves in the bottom of a salad bowl with the little depression the pit left facing up.

Cut a tomato or two into small wedges. Red ripe here boys, not orange or grainy. Place them into the bowl. Salt 'em.

Chop up some of your favorite onions. I use red and green. Go easy here; you can overdo the onions. Put 'em in the bowl.

EP adds cucumbers here and skips the avocado. Nothing complements a tomato like an avocado; once he tries it he'll love it. I ain't putin' cucumbers in mine - wrong texture or somethin'. blech!

Get some good italian dressing and slather it all over the place. EP uses his mom's homemade stuff and I bet it's damned fine.

Now, for the adventurous among ya'; crumble some feta cheese over the whole mess. and dig in.

I try to get a pice of avacado with every tomato wedge, there is just something about those two things together.

MMMM-mmm-MMMM!

From MM's place:

I just love the Cherry and Grape tomatoes. For breakfast, I take a handful and slice them up and saute them with a little basil, fresh-ground black pepper and some olive oil. Then I take them out, and use them as filling for an omelette. Good stuff. I just need to figure out a nice, exotic spicy sausage to put in there too.

Tomato Trouble

Why the hell are my tomatos bursting on the vine? This is the second year I have had this problem; the darn things crack open before they are even ripe. They seal themselves up with a kind of scab and go right on to ripeness. I still get a good (if somewhat assymetrical) tomato, but it's pissin' me off.

Well?

*Update*

Res-solution:

2 possible causes:

1. not enough calcium in the soil. We’ve learned to fix this by saving our egg shells, drying them and crunching them up and planting a couple of tablespoons full in the hole at planting time.

2. I’m not sure the exact cause but dissolving 2 tbl spoons of Epson salts in a qt of water and pouring it at the base of the plant seems to help. We do this once every 4 weeks from the time they are planted.

I’d try the Epson salt remedy right away and keep the egg shell idea in mind for next year.
Res Ipsa Edit comment Delete comment | Email | Homepage | 07.17.06 - 2:27 pm | #

P.S. Warm water seems to work best.

Bucket Tomatos!

JACmail

From Billiam:

Jac, was looking at maybe getting a sport touring bike. What do you think about the Yamaha FJR 1300? I'm going to test ride one next week. Also, I have a Z1R helmet, but the venting stinks. What helmet has decent venting. One of my pals says HJC, another Scorpion. Thoughts? Thanks,
Billiam

The new FJR (2006) is a great bike. The old one is just as good but with some niggling heat on rider issues. Keep in mind that it is still a big heavy bike and even though it will haul ass, it takes a lot to get it to turn in the tighter twisties. Your pectorals will be sore from yankin' it around, but it'll do what you forcefully tell it to. A friend I ride with has one and really enjoys it. The storage is great, the ride is great, the seating position is a little upright but not overly so, the pegs are in the right place, it's gorgeous, the windshield is adjustable so you can get some air if you want. The motor seems electric - there's power everywhere and it sounds like a turbine. It will shit and git.

Skip the factory top-case for 700 bucks. Givi makes one everyone uses for 300.

I use a flip-up helmet by KBC that is designed to be used with the chinbar closed or open. It is a very high quality helmet. I've had it over a year now and will replace it with another just like it someday. Bargains are on ebay. No other is designed to be used while riding with the chinbar up. I don't use it like that much, but it is nice when you want some air. The wife has a less expensive Vega flip-up she really likes.

Nobody makes better helmets than Arai and Shoei. If ya' got the clams look at them. The HJC's receive high ratings consistently. Stay away from the HJC Symax; it falls apart. I have never owned a nonflip-up helmet I can recommend. Welldigger has a Suomy he really likes. To me the only way to get enough air into a helmet is to open the visor. Make sure you get one with a removable liner system so you can take it out and wash it.

Good Luck, and let me know how it goes.

Ride Safe,

JACIII

It's the Rider. Not the Bike.

Finally a demographic that is even less cool than dualsporters.

High bandwidth warning. Belly laugh warning.

Note: It's the same color as EP's bike so it's almost exactly like it.

How europeans fight:

Here

Translation

Frog: "I love you. I hug you!"
Wog: "Stop that! My boyfriend will see."
Frog: "Your boyfroend likes girls."
Wog: "You smart off to me?"
Frog: "Yes"
Wog:"I push you! I push you really, really, hard!"
Frog: "Oh yes? Well, I fall down and cry!"

SwampThing Doing its Thang

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!

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:

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?

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.

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 PanGalactic Blogger Blaster is on Display

At Darlin' Joy's blog. Hurry! Go see!

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!

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.

JACmail: MM Goes Traveling

Y'all pitch in here:

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

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.

Ben Rothlisberger Replica Helmet on ebay

It was up to $13,600 when last I looked.

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.

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.....