Friday, September 30, 2011
Friday, September 23, 2011
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Saturday, September 17, 2011
This morning I received a gift rare in today's world. After gathering the necessary items, including an interesting book by J. D. Salinger to help wile away the necessary down time, I strapped it all onto the back of my bike and headed to the DMV. My tasks were simple; return the license plates from my truck and Suzuki project bike, and change my address.
A few words about my project are in order. In my garage are quite a few things that are honestly not needed - things like a mattress that is nearly as comfortable as sleeping on a mostly uninflated air mattress on sharp rocks, a washer/dryer pair that would likely require the assistance of a small crane to lift them up to my apartment and four motorcycles, none of which run well, if at all. Three of those are my project bikes. One frame is already spoken for and will soon be making its way to Washington State. The other two nearly intact but not running motorcycles will likely be sold soon.
There is a reason for this. While I do indeed enjoy working on them and generally tinkering in the garage, I want to ride. Now, I have the time and the opportunity and certainly the desire. There is no need to have them sitting there in my garage, taking up space and hanging out in my mental swap file. So, one was registered last year when it was actually running and the plate needed to go back so I could drop its insurance. Should have done that months ago.
At any rate, a trip to the Nevada DMV was in order.
I pull up to the building and immediately wonder, 'Is this a holiday? There are at most two dozen cars and a few bikes here.'
After parking next to a very nice looking Goldwing trike, de-helmiting my head and gathering my things, I walked into the building. My jaw dropped.
The only line in the entire building was for the practical driving tests!
Walking up to the initial desk where number slips are issued, and telling the lady what I needed to do, she handed me a number and said, "Wait for it...."
"G 231 to desk 5 please!"
Um... I didn't need to wait? At all???
Not 10 minutes later, not only were the plates returned and my address changed, but my license was renewed!
So, what to do!?!?!
Little extra cash and all morning just for me. First and foremost... a trip to Leather Headquarters to buy a pair of nice lounge shirts. Taking a woman out for a nice meal may indeed require something a little more formal than a black biker t-shirt.
Then the mind started spinning... not a good thing.
'OOoo!!! A new camera!'
'A travel bag!'
Luckily some new minimalistic rule in my brain fired off, 'What, are you nuts? You already have a camera, you once rode to North Carolina with nothing more than two backpacks and a duffel bag and don't start about your gloves, they are fine!'
I did end up spending a bit of money that was unexpected but pragmatically, it was the right thing to do. Maybe that will be the subject of my next post.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Monday, September 12, 2011
Sunday, September 04, 2011
Thursday, September 01, 2011
- Rear bike tire went flat at 80 MPH. Honestly, it wasn't terribly frightening; the front wheel started bouncing and as I slowed, she felt like I was riding on thick pudding.
- The battery cover of my Sporty fell off while riding down I-215 at 65. Hearing 'chink...clink...clank' while riding is typically not the harbinger of happy tidings.
- Had the opportunity to spend two weeks with my daughter while getting all her education details situated back in Iowa.
- During this same two weeks, the joys and inequities of the federal student aide program became quite obvious.
- Blew the primary oil seal on my Rebel... Again.
- Learned from my Dr. that a few ailments associated with my occupation are starting to become apparent.
- After putting on some additional, undesired weight, took up hiking again.
- Got another tattoo.
A moment perhaps, a second. His head gently dropped. A second needle was inserted and second chemical injected. The drugs were efficient and painless. The doctor checked for heartbeat and respiration; none. He was gone. No more pain or exhaustion or seizures or cancer.
A scream of love and concern and sorrow echoed from my bedroom. Sprinting up the stairs I found my daughter sitting, crying, petting Jake as he lie helpless on the floor in the throes of another seizure. I hug her around the shoulders. “I am going to get your mom.”
Lying there within the physical comfort of his favorite blanket, Jake now passed, 'B' sobs, “Please get three pebbles.” I understand. After retrieving three stones, tucking them next to the mortal coil of a friend and tucking the blanket around him, I kiss him on the head and whisper, “If we meet again, it would be an honor my dear friend. I love you.”
This was not the time to break down and cry. To everything there is a season, and this was not it. Peaceful for eternity, Jake's remains lay safe in my saddle bag. Crying in a full face helmet is not conducive to safe riding.