Not a Proud First

Yes, this is a first that I am not proud of. This morning, while making the typical U-Turn back to the office, I low-sided. It was a noob mistake that shouldn't have occurred. I remember in the BRC, both instructors iterating several times to NOT go into a curve too hot. I was too hot.

Luckily there was no traffic coming the other way.

As I leaned into the turn, I remember thinking, 'Oh, I am going to grind the peg a little. No big deal.' Well, it wasn't a big deal until that peg hit a spot of pavement that had a little 1/2 to 3/4 bump. That was enough to jar the rear tire into loosing traction. Down I went.

For me, my knee hurts a little and my left rib cage is killing me. My bike has a bent chain tension lock bolt, and a busted clutch handle assembly. Only about $35 for parts on my bike. Probably a day or two on the couch for me.

Stupidity CAN be painful!

Take care & watch your speed in those curves!

Countersteering

In the world of motorcycle riding, one of the most important but not well understood maneuver and skill is the countersteer. Basically it is steering the motorcycle in the direction opposite of where the rider wants to go. Want to turn left? Steer the bike to the right.

This manuver only works when the motorcycle is traveling at a speed where the gyroscopic effect of the wheels start playing a role in stability. Usually that is around 15 miles per hour.

What countersteering does, is lean the bike effectively in the direction the rider wants to travel. The gyroscopic effect of the wheels help the bike pivot on an axis parallel to the direction of travel.

Perhaps some videos of effective counersteering could help...
Countersteering on a Honda Rebel...


A more scientific description of countersteering...

I hope that helps some of the new motorcycle riders out there that wonder what the heck countersteering is.

Ride Safe!!!

Thoughts on Gas Mileage

My little new Honda Rebel rolled the 1200 mile marker. No champagne or party favors or loud noises. Just her, the road and I.

This mileage milestone sparked a thought; just how much money am I saving by commuting with my motorcycle rather than my truck. So, I whip out the calculator and do some calculating...

For simplicity's sake, I made a few assumptions.

1. My motorcycle gets an average of 60 MPG. In all reality, it is closer to 70 or even 80 or better on a good day. This is not a calculated or advertised MPG, but measured.
2. My Chevy S10 pickup gets an average of 15 MPG. That's on a good day!
3. I drive or ride a monthly total of 1200 miles.
4. Gas costs $3.10 Yes, that is perhaps an average or approximation, but close enough.

So, if I ride 1200 miles on my Honda, I will be using 20 gallons of gas per month. That's $62 in gas per month. Extend out a year, and thats 14,400 miles using 240 gallons of gas, costing $774.

Now, what if I apply the same number of miles to my truck. 1200 miles in my Chevy would use 80 gallons of gas. That's $248 per month! On gas for my pickup! Extend it out a year and it will consume 960 gallons, costing $2,976!

That's a savings of... Drum roll please... $2,202! Just the gas savings alone could pay off my motorcycle in a little over two years.

Here's to a great year of fun riding and gas savings to all!

Relationships

All those knobs. Are they necessary? I have had conversations with people about relationships and whether they need to be complex... with all those knobs.

The resounding answer is a definite NO.

My experience shows otherwise. Granted, I have had limited experience in this respect but I wonder sometimes. One misadjusted knob and that little device could easily overheat. Yes? No? I don't honestly know.

The relationship with my motorcycle is simple. I keep her maintained and she takes care of me. It is simple and reciprocal. There are few surprises.

I ride down the road and forget the clutch and throttle and brakes and gears. We meld together and function as one. I understand that a good relationship should be like this. Sure, there will be slippery spots on the road and she or I may make a mistake from time to time. That is the nature of life.

I wonder if a relationship, a close intimate relationship can be like this. I wonder...

Wind and Enjoyment

What can start as a warm, fair weathered trip can always end up windy and cold. Like today. 2PM and I was out the door to run a few errands and then head out towards Hoover Dam. The warm spring-like air seemed to beckon bike riders to the road. Not five minutes when by that I didn't see another bike.

After finishing my errands, I am off. Riding into the new headwind was a challenge on my Honda Rebel. It's 239 cc motor does very well commuting to and from work at a nice rate of 35 to 55 MPH. Riding uphill into a headwind of 20 MPH is not it's forte.

None the less, I enjoyed the ride. It was more challenge than I was expecting but all the same, a difficult, challenging ride is better than a day in the office.

Pic of my 2007 Honda Rebel 250 with Lake Mead in the background.

By the end of the day, the previously warm air had chilled by ten degrees and wind was gusting to more than 30 miles an hour. To make things even better, the wind had switched directions so going back home, there was also that pesky head-wind to battle with.

Only about 80 of my planned 100 miles. A day well spent.

Detour

“A truly happy person is one who can enjoy the scenery while on a detour” -anon

I had plans today. A quick mid morning ride to work, then onward to the most northern reaches of Las Vegas Boulevard. According to google maps, round trip should be more than 125 miles of mostly empty two lane asphalt.

Even good roads have detours.

Weekends at work are usually non-events. When there are problems though, they are typically serious. Saturday was the beginning of one of those weekends. What I had expected was a quick thirty minute test of our e-mail system. Murphy was busy. A detoured day. Four hours later I needed a break.

Myself and a few other programmers had little to do while the system admins plied their skills. Detour was the theme of the day, why shouldn't a ride reflect that theme?

According to Google Earth, Lake Mead Boulevard exits the city to the east, becomes a two lane highway, winds through the the foothills around Frenchman's Mountain and makes its way toward Lake Mead. As enjoyable as maps and charts and even programs like Google Earth may be, nothing rivals the feel of the road and wind.

And this was a very nice ride. Rather chilly but the sun warming my black leathers ensured comfort. Above is a rather poor map of my route. As a point of reference, the dark green circle in the upper left highlights the Nellis Air Force Base runways. Regardless of how well Google Earth represents Nellis, there is nothing like looking down on the runways, F-16s on one end, holding short for permission to take off.

The light green line follows my path up and out of town. After making it out of the foothills, I decide to take a small paved road known as Pabco Road. Following it north would take the traveler past the Pabco plant, across the original Spanish Trail, then end at I15 and Las Vegas Boulevard. I turn back right after passing signs that read “Trespassing” and “Blast Danger”.

This nice piece of narrow two lane asphalt has it all for a noobie rider. Minimal traffic, smaller hills and valleys, sweeping curves and even a few twisties. I put the little yellow circle on the map to indicate a little challenging section. Coming back, and I should have remembered this, there is a slightly rising hill. At it's apex, the road immediately starts to drop and curves to the left.

Took me by surprise but didn't loose it. I would be lying if I said there was no adrenalin. WHEW!

The dark blue line follows my return path on Pabco Road, then continuing on toward lake Mead. This short run was indeed enjoyable. I lost count of the motorcycles on that road. There must have been at least fifty, nearly all waving or nodding acknowledgment.

At the entrance to the Lake Mead Recreational Area, a set of toll booths, I turn around and return. (Purple-ish? Line) It was rather uneventful but enjoyable. A quiet road with almost no traffic, I buzz myself back to work.

Yes, even detours can be quite enjoyable.

(I am tired, and as such this is probably not one of my better blogs...)

Opportunities and Leather

Several evenings ago I was riding to the local grocery store to buy a little something for dinner. I remember back years ago when my daughter would eat just about anything. Now at the old age of seventeen years, she can be rather picky. If not served too often, roast chicken is good and her complaints only start after three days or so. So, I am on a chicken run.

I pull my bike up and park next to the bicycle rack. Instead of human powered cycles using the slots, a small herd of scooters rest there in the 30-something degree temps. Several look sad, abused and not well maintained. The small scoot on the opposite end of the rack from my bike was a well ridden but clean older white scooter of unknown make.

An attractive woman comes out of the store and turns toward the herd. She looks at me while I take off my helmet and gloves and places her purchases on her scoot.

“Do you have a smoke?” she asks.

I am unsure whether smokers have a 'look,' or maybe there is some assumption that if a person rides a cruiser, they have a higher likelihood of smoking. It is something worthy of some research somewhere or contemplation by someone else. Or... Maybe she was just making conversation... Breaking the ice, so to speak.

“Sure, regular lights OK?” I remove a pack of my 'cheapest generic smokes anywhere' and hand her one.

“Oh, thanks! I left my Marlboros at home and just wanted one before going back there.”

“Do you need a light?”

“No thank you. I have plenty of matches.” Quite polite.

I noticed her eyes first. Deep dark blue with wide pupils. Perhaps my age or even younger, mid or late 30s. Her hair short, maybe shoulder length and somewhat curly, a dark blond.

“You want another for the ride home?”

“Oh really? Sure! Thank you SO much!” She takes it, touching her warm, soft but well labored hand to mine, and places it in the storage compartment under the seat. I notice the typical items there... Matches, tissues, screwdriver, crescent wrench, tire gage and a book. A thick paperback book. What was it? Damn. She closes it too quickly. Grisham? Shoot! Looked like some sort of spy thriller or maybe a science fiction by the looks of the cover artwork.

“Well, ride safely,” I say, waving and walking off, into the store.

Why did I leave like that? Why didn't I ask her out for coffee or continue the conversation? She obviously wanted to talk. What's the harm in talking with someone new? I am restless in the store, somewhat glad to have some separation from a situation of potential verbal intercourse. But, I wondered. Why not ask her over for a quick cup of coffee?

I hurriedly buy my roast chicken and walked out to where the herd rest, hoping for the opportunity to just say “Hi, would you like a cup of coffee?”

She and her white scoot were both gone, to where I may never know. And, that's OK. I really want no one involved with me right now... A recently divorced middle aged man with a seventeen year old daughter, still cohabitating with his ex-wife for financial reasons.

Maybe it's better I wear this leather jacket. Minor, and even some not-so minor abrasions never touch my skin, and I am protected from certain elements of this harsh world. And it helps protect others from me.

Roast chicken strapped to the rear of my bike, I roar singularly off into the night.

1K

Nine hundred forty seven. That is how many miles I have ridden my Honda Rebel since October when we first became acquainted. She had her 600 mile checkup and oil change earlier this week. I must admit a few things. The shifting was starting to be a bit grabby and oil was starting to be discolored. However, I had the engine running pretty well after tuning the carburetor a bit. I just wanted them, aside from performing the regular service, to check the engine tuning.

Well, I know they changed the oil and checked the valve clearance. They cleaned the bike, albeit not as well as I have done in the past. The chain and cables were well lubricated and adjusted, transmission and clutch are nice and smooth now. The idle setting was also lowered to spec. I had adjusted it to be a bit too fast.

However, it still sputters and hesitates at times and now cuts out completely when accelerating from stop and the engine is not completely warmed up. I am working from a disadvantaged point of view. My riding skills and experience is relatively thin, so differentiating hardware problems from rider problems is not as easy as one would think. An experienced Rebel rider could probably determine where the problem lies, or perhaps that there is no problem.

As a whole, I am quite happy with my bike and my progressing skills.

In celebration of our 1k mark, I hope to take a little ride this weekend if weather permits. Perhaps even if the weather doesn't permit we will go. I need the time out. The two of us seem to understand each other; that we need to get out and go. I sense it when we reach 55. She purrs and I relax.

What barely passes as scenery on my daily commute to and from work slips by in slow motion. Not just viewing the scenery, but being part of it, is now vaguely understood. There is a conflict. Las Vegas is the bane of my existence and I yearn to remove myself from this scenery, yet riding integrates my soul further into an environment that I wish to separate myself from.

As with most things in life, there are good and bad aspects to everything; left and right; up and down; positive and negative. Or better, Yin and Yang. Understanding that there is no “good” or “bad” may be one of my larger challenges. There just is.

Embrace Nothingness

Embrace the nothingness of the universe and all knowledge shall flow forth.

The Zen of motorcycle riding is much more than trite allegory. A rider cannot simply rely on reflex and palpable stimuli. Doing so would be too coarse or too slow. One must reach into the nothing of the universe and see all, sense all. Raw processing of all input while flying at 70 miles per hour only inches above asphalt is staggering. Piloting a two wheeled vehicle is not a practice of processing but of trust.

Trust in the physical world. Physics keeps the bike vertical at 50 miles per hour. Physics makes the tires stick to the road when cornering. The environment will always affect the rider and bike in predictable ways. Brakes will work only to a certain predetermined point before the tires loose traction and become ineffective. A motor can only accelerate a bike at a certain rate.

Trust in the ethereal world. The Tao. Nothing and everything. There is a higher being or knowledge or what have you; conventional or not. Trust it is there.

Trust in your inner self. Trust in your abilities. Trust in your skills. Trust in your knowledge. Trust that you have limits.

Lasty, trust that you can meld the physical, ethereal and inner self. That is key in any journey, whether it be on a bike or within the context of a life.

A Crack

A door has been opened a crack. Through it a light that illuminates but does not shine fell forth. All and nothing from within. Only a crack. Gaining a glimpse of eternity, truth in the shadow of a life partially lived.

Unexpected revelations occur at unexpected times under unexpected circumstances. That is the nature of the unexpected. A short ride, a novice on a willing conveyance of the soul. Utter clear concentration and focus allows things to happen within the searching soul. A door. Hinges unused for an eternity creak.

Piloting a car, one may enjoy the concept of free physical travel. On a motorcycle this is a soulful epiphany. Only a small view is sufficient to know the path is right and just; that there are more things in the universe unseen than seen. The soul moves and is freed by the joining of the real and ethereal existences.

Traveling from point A to point B is nothing. So much worldly energy is expended on the points and transitioning from one to the other along a line. In mathematics, points are nothing more than dimensionless coordinates in space. The line nothing more than than a one dimensional entity connecting two points. And this is many peoples' lives complete; the points and lines.

There is more to life. There is everything between.

The door now opened cannot be closed. The light does not blind but is warming and gentle and illuminating. Light reflects from what was, what is and what could be. As the door opens, so does the mind.

130 Miles

One-hundred thirty miles. Two-hundred nine kilometers.

That is how many miles I have ridden since January 1st, 2008, 8 AM. That's an average of about 43 miles per day. Extrapolate that puppy out, and I have 15,695 miles for the year. Not bad, but I want more.

Today was the first day I rode to work, for work. It was exhilarating, empowering, fantastic!!!

On the first day of this year I did go on a little ride. It was all of 25 degrees when I started out. I had no idea how cold 25 degrees was, when on a motorcycle at 50 MPH! WOW! I didn't really let it get to me until the feeling in my fingers started to leave. Then there was no choice. A few quick stops along the road, shove the gloves in the little spot behind the cylinders, hands in pockets, toasty gloves on the hands, and off we go.

The hum of the motor. The smells and sounds. The feel of the road underneath. Attention focused sharply ahead, flying by, to be left in its appropriate place; behind. If life could only be more like that.

Death and danger surround me at all angles. And I am not afraid.

Happy Last Day of 2007!

And I must say, I am not displeased to see this year end. It was a turbulent year in my life, full of ups and downs; highs and lows. But it certainly ended on a high-note.

This weekend, the last of the year, I attended a session of the Basic Rider Course, put on by the Motorcycle Safety Foundation and the College of Southern Nevada. The two instructors, Larry Loyd and Rod Hahn were great. They taught the basics in a way that was gentle to the riding noob, while emphasizing the importance of doing things right. Bad judgment and lack of skill for a particular situation can be deadly, especially in turns and traffic.

Riding in the early morning Las Vegas air was chilly. Saturday and Sunday both started in the mid 30's. After moving around a bit on the bike, the coldness just seemed to fade away.

Saturday riding was fun. I discovered that I REALY liked the weaving exercises. REALLY! I was weaving in & out like nobody's business! Third gear seemed like it would be fun, but that might have been too much...

Sunday morning was more range and practice time. Fast swerving around an obstacle. Oh my. I can swerve without thinking on my Rebel, but here on this little Nighthawk, my brain just seemed to cramp up. Then there were other things that started to tick me off. The bike would skip into neutral on it's own some times. I would forget the kill switch when starting. I only turned the fuel valve partially on once. I was overly heavy on the rear brake and not heavy enough on the front brake.

I was frustrated. All of the exercises I completed were ok after a few runs, but things simply were not clicking like Saturday.

Practice over. Break time. Larry and Rod briefed us on the practice; we were doing well and about two hours ahead of schedule. While we went to the restrooms, smoked, whatever, they would set up the range for the skills test. I was first in line.

Test one – The figure-eight-in-a-box. Previously I had dropped my foot twice out of about six practice runs. I was a little nervous. What the hell. I go for it. NOT a problem. No dropped feet or bike; no wheels over the line. YEA!

Next was the avoidance swerve. After practicing the thing about two dozen times that morning, I aced it.

Third test was the fast stop. Lost three points for not stopping soon enough. Analysis: On my Rebel, the front brakes are quite strong. It doesn't take much front to stop it. So on the Nighthawk I had for the test, the front was a little weak and the rear grabby. So, I skidded the rear. Oh well. That's just three points.

Next was the 130 degree turn. It was timed. Aced that puppy, but then again, I like the curves! Even ground the foot pegs on the Nighthawk a couple of times in practice!

So, in my pocket is a little piece of paper that instructs the DMV to give me a license with a motorcycle endorsement! That is one helluva way to finish off 2007!!!

Burn-Out

Last Saturday I was spending a little 'alone' time, simply e-baying and writing and so forth. I open Chapter 3 of Blood and Snow and start in with my little brain dump. As luck or fate or karma or whatever would have it, my brain dump stalled. I just stopped. Like someone threw a switch somewhere; broke the circuit. I wonder... Is the end of a life like that? Like someone throwing a switch?

burnout – from dictionary.com

1. a fire that is totally destructive of something.

2. Also, burn-out. fatigue, frustration, or apathy resulting from prolonged stress, overwork, or intense activity.

Life burn-out. I am just tired of so many things. Burn-out is probably the best definition. At work, I know I am capable but things really don't hold my interest. I used to be a 'go-getter'. Now, if I am done and there is nothing apparent to do, I will just surf the web or do something non-productive. That is SO not like me. I like productivity; doing something that has a goal.

I look at a problem and know I can solve it. A little voice somewhere whispers 'WHY?' That little voice is intruding on several parts of my life, it would seem. Perhaps, just perhaps... that little voice will not like the solitude of the open road.

However, I have a sneaking suspicion it will take more than an afternoon ride to rid my brain of that voice. It has been with me for quite some time. At times, his little apathetic 'WHY' is warm and comforting. Maybe that is a peek into my own apathy; my own depression.

For my sake, I need a solution. Not a band-aid or temporary fix; a solution.

My Daughter Has Great Musical Tastes...

Some days I wonder where the youth of today are headed. I doubt many.

Then I see something, hear something like this and I am assured in my soul that the future is in good hands.

Thank you, Bri.

---The Frey - How to Save a Life---
Step one you say we need to talk
He walks you say sit down it's just a talk
He smiles politely back at you
You stare politely right on through
Some sort of window to your right
As he goes left and you stay right
Between the lines of fear and blame
You begin to wonder why you came

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life

Let him know that you know best
Cause after all you do know best
Try to slip past his defense
Without granting innocence
Lay down a list of what is wrong
The things you've told him all along
And pray to God he hears you
And pray to God he hears you

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life

As he begins to raise his voice
You lower yours and grant him one last choice
Drive until you lose the road
Or break with the ones you've followed
He will do one of two things
He will admit to everything
Or he'll say he's just not the same
And you'll begin to wonder why you came

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life
How to save a life
How to save a life

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life

Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up with you all night
Had I known how to save a life
How to save a life

Saturday Night Thoughts...

Special note: I have had a few drinks... nuff said.

It sucks when you loose a friend for what ever the reason.

I am SO broke. I promised my daughter she would be signed up for the classes she needs to graduate, before Christmas break. I couldn't pay for it... not enough money because I was stupid enough to loan my ex enough to fix her car. Now, not only can't I pay for her school, but I can't buy her Christmas gift - A new keyboard..

Can't pay credit cards, can't pay the regular bills. My truck broke down early December and had to spend $700 or so. Well, didn';t have to. did

Was moving out a week ago. No go. Not enough money. Still here

Here indefinite

Jitter... Sad... Must move on.

Blood and Snow - Chapter 2

And here is chapter two from my brain-dump. As this is flowing from brain to keyboard, it seems I have seven chapters in total. I'm not asking, and my gray matter isn't telling. :-) So... Here is two-of-seven...

Bulldog slumbers and smiles, his friends laughing and playing in this mortal universe; mortal but immortal. Need.

Friend honor betrayal. I make happy. Battle within not without, I fail; loose for my strip of recursive iteration. Paper. Judge. It is done.

Friend and mate walk away to the shade of an oak. Marlow and I subsist. Cookies of grain. I work and learn and fail; more school to be a notch up. Up. A thrown wine bottle, night, green park and smoke.

Twist. Hot sweaty nights in my cave. Universe dark from my own blanket of depression and honest understanding. Poke and prod for light and I see through a tunnel but resist, comfortably warm in my blanket.

And there she is. Embodied lust to illuminate. My world is bright while dark matter and orbiting rocks remain at bay; stable but unstable; waiting for the fateful; the inevitable.

Quickly jump my dear frog. Electrode to muscles I push the buttons, hand held by another. I enjoy and am consumed by this new universe. Twisting beautifully into a spiral galaxy. Beauty in the chaos.

Twist and conjoin and lustfully consume. Wait! Slow! Too soon! No! Hold On! Plans and hopes scream! They fall asleep; inattention. Red banners pushed to the periphery.

Warm in my new blanket I revel in the possibilities. I am desired. Plans and another carriage. We join under the darkness of privacy and another mortal paper is signed in watercolor black. I ride along in the back of the truck. Smiling, I sleep.

Into the Fire Again

Just some ramblings & a little update.


Saturday started as rather benign. That was a blessing since Friday was a rather confusing day. I am not exactly sure what to think. I am no stranger to confusion but this certainly came from an unexpected direction.

I am out driving the ex-wife to a store Saturday to get something; a simple hour trip. The water pump on my truck locks up. $650 to get it fixed. But I had planned on moving in a week; moving out of chaos. $150 for taxis and other associated expenses. Hat to wait for four hours or so for a taxi.

So I had to use my apartment money to repair my truck. I didn't have to, but if I didn't then I couldn't move. Sure, I could have rented a moving truck, but that would be more unexpected expenses.

No choice; back into the fire until February. And my daughter will suffer. I see echoes of my ex-wives behaviors in her. I have failed her in some way. I know it.

Until later...

Blood and Snow - Chapter 1

Here it is. It is more than a little cryptic and odd and strange; somewhat like parts of my life! I am not going to explain this; only say that this is a flow, right from brain to computer. All I am doing is correcting the spelling.

---

Dawn. My adolescence blooms into a rancorous period of puberty. Smells and tastes and touches and sites are different. Adrenalin and hormones mix in an intoxicating cocktail of manhood. The way of wandering the woods wondering of animals and monsters and glaciers and storms pass, allowing a new sentient being to emerge.

Strength and intelligence and desire spread out to the world. Senses heightened to my body and its inherent biological purpose. Disinterested girls skirt my universe with little more than passing glances. Inner galaxies tumble into serene pools of my mind as day after long day pass.

There, amid the din of daily parochial life she emerged from a newly birthed world. Dawns were deeper blue and sunsets a deeper crimson. Hands and lips and bodies touched; Devils and angels merging to form a being not unlike the one before. Full was I with life and death.

Pappa. My blood. My progenitor. My teacher. Floating on a tempest sea, raft of cornstalks and broomcorn. Impermanent, fibrous existence stripped from inside and out. His heart tired and broken rages no more. Eyes still, cold and sunken. The bulldog rips and discards the straw and sticks floating on the surface. Rest well my father, may you farm in peace forever. May the tears of my soul provide gentle spring rains and may you never worry of many things solely within the domain of this, my mortal world. I pray this to repay my foolish choice as our small world; my childhood home sold to the highest bidder with nary a tear or shudder. A singular word, “YES,” never uttered.

My carriage passes by a singular tulip on the bank. I know her from another time and another existence. Her beauty absorbs the color from nearby space with the promise to repay the debt double over. Light and her very essence swirls and plays around my soul as I pass. I freely drink the brilliant red laughing tendrils of memory swirling within my consciousness. An acrid intruder bursts forth. I twist left and right, knowing my universe has changed but not immediately how. I see him. The bulldog of brimstone and smoke tramples the singular tulip and exits this dimension, leaving only a cloud burning flesh in exchange for now nonexistent happy futures.

My mate and I weep over a singular perfect tulip petal mired in mud and blood and asphalt. The bulldog did not accomplish his insidious goal. Another younger tulip grows unseen. Tiny narrow green shoots of youth peek through the otherwise lifeless ground, promising to honor its mother's debts.

Dark gas of death comes forth when summoned. Filling the cage with odorless stench. The bulldog laughs. Blooms wilt and die, their invitations for the gas' visit etched in their eternal souls with a rusty nail. Sobbing and confusion and sadness saturate the universe and the world's oceans are filled with the tears of fond friends. A fleet of boats pitch to the storm. The bulldog sleeps and the dark odorless gas leaves a permanent tendril of its existence throughout all universes.

White beauty of youth, long black hair, flowing wedding dress. Simplicity. Bounding through the fields and forests of exuberance and youth and lust do we go together. Touching and experiencing. More responsibility that others but in the same, less. Trees of knowledge grow for us and we eagerly consume their offered fruits. Ageless streams, fed by virgin springs quench our lustful thirst and baptize us unto nature.

I please. Anger and conflict do I avoid. Tales and fables told to settle and calm. I scar my own soul. Only ten lengths down the road I see. Not a single sin did I commit but tales continue. Discontented smoke swirls, words to cover. Why? 'Tis not a sin? Yet down that path I continue.

Bikers Against Child Abuse - Another PSA

BACA International

Bikers Against Child Abuse