The reality of all things realized at any point can only be terrifying. The net effect of the smallest modification can hurt or help actual people. Tradgedy and attrocity is avoided by the same action that presents when it is necessary. War for example. I would never condone any war, but I would not lie down for anyone either. Die with grace, like a monk who lights his gasoline soaked cloak and dies while meditating on the message he is sending to the world in a true baptizm of fire. What a profound statement weighted on such a weak society as ours couldn't possibly carry the same message as the one I believe we are hearing. ...we've traced the call...the call is coming from inside the house!- line from a horror movie meant to inspire terror still rings as true as the taco bell in head of my belly. If we want to fight terrorism, wouldn't it be as simple as not being terrified. What are we so afraid of. A school ground bully terrorizes other children to get something, what are we giving up. What freedoms have been comprimised to terrorism that we didn't give up to the government before the war started.

I search craigslist.org, backpage.com and ebay constantly like some sort of drug induced need. The only thing more dangerous than the crap I can not afford is the crap I can. I wander the junkyards of Phoenix looking for the next dilapidated tresure only to stumble upon it and on to its successor. It is a painful game of chance that I imagine happens at any pound or even orphanage, the risk of getting people need to see saved or finding the reason people don't. Bet with the house on this one, that current sociological trends will show that even with reason twisting the wrist of the common consumer not many are jumping ship to own an alternative vehicle. I say buy that Karmen Ghia you drove in college back and spend a weekend in the back yard with a six pack and some freinds pumping new life into what was an old freind. Who knows maybe your killer tiller on wheels will motivate some young kid to stay true to what drives you. Anyone can order a ready made vehicle that is safe and dependable and it is just a car. When you work on that car, I mean put your own time and effort into it, a part of you stays with that car. Go buy a Ford Mustang and that's what you'll have. Buy a 67 fastback and rebuild it and it will be your car, what you did and how you did it. I seem at times to be a rational human being with logic and reason, but I still pet the dash board and talk to the istrument panel while I turn the ignition in frustration pleading the vehicle to start. I incourage anyone of megar means to find a new solution to the commuting conundrum. Buy a project car and learn as much about it as you can, maintain it like a relationship and it will never fail you. If you live close enough to work, for the love of everything holy walk, bike or ride a bus. No vehicle is cheaper than free transportation and after any car a 1200 dollar bike looks cheap after you factor gas and insurance. -Evan
Take a good long look at the guy you paid to fix your car, forget the bullshit words and any explaination, human nature seems to bleed out of any profession. Why is it that someone can accel in school and lose the useful tool of common since.

I feel like I can redefine burn out. I don't feel like staying home from my job, since I don't work for a living I get paid enough simply to exist., if I was complaining about my job I would be insulting the hard working people that do complicated tasks for a living including but not limited to standing or moving objects of any fasion. I am speaking of the metaphorical, "spinning my wheels". I swear the last few months have wet the road I'm on and I just sink. I don't think the means meets the ends in this paradox. The solution is ironically simple. Rather than work overtime again so I could get that new LCD, I have decided to simply be that elated the next time I see my left foot while walking. I survive this bliss, while others suffer the consequences of lustfully wanting the things they do not need. To those that know me this is a hypocritical script. -Evan

I have found a way around the ticket and will be contesting the fine, stay tuned for more. In the intrest of reducing the chance of a repeat I have parked the bike and I am driving my licenced legal and finally past emmisions truck. I put a new copper/brass radiator in it and it still overheats at speed. I will replace the fan clutch today as the thermostat and water pump are brand new, less than a week old. I also installed a $80 deck, it's all I need and plenty loud when the good songs are on. I finally pushed the anemic brick up to eighty a previously unseen speed. The sickness hasn't hit with this horse yet, it's just a good running truck and I plan to keep it that way. I have to say that my choice of transportation would mostly be constantly wrong, I seem to be attracted to the things that I sting. Rusted metal and blown motors be damned, the hot rod benieth will breath again while my wallet bleeds profussly. I think I'll change my alias to Hemoevelknievelphiliac or HEKP to my freinds. I have too much free time on my hands for a guy that works this many hours. It's kinda nice to drive a cage again. I got to drink a fountain drink with out drama and listen to the radio while I was in full recline (think coach, it's a truck).
I think I'll be moving soon and suddenly the hot rod really is a problem. Later

I just got a ticket driving to work. 55 in a construction zone in Scottsdale, technically criminal speeding considering a mandated 25 mph speed limit. I'm fighting it, I was robbed.(ignorance really is blissful) I wonder if constantly questioning authority is the breeding ground of rougely wrong thoughts. Regardless of age, we are all children and phychologically speaking respond the same way. When approched about foul behavior the first emotion is strong defiance, a seperation between self and wrong doing and even self imposed justification. This form of reason seems to serve me well, even though it has not neted much but trouble. My philosophy of suffering rather than hand my soul to the mouth of evil is visible to myself alone. Call me crazy, I'm sure many people have had similar opinions of men we now see as great. I might not be remembered post humously as someone great, but my visions are. Moses said he saw god, now he is a prophet. MLK saw the freedom of oppression, now not just a road but a holiday. I see a democratic country of choice and a government organized to guide it's citizens and not be guided by corprations and lobbiests in washington. Sure the tipping point isn't a 177 dollar ticket or even more, but I wish I could put into words my true feelings for the nation in pride and pity without offending both parties.(pro and con, not Rep. and Dem.) You can love cookies, but at some point you have to throw them out and make new ones. I want a fresh govenment with out the bloody civil war, I hope the next rigged electorial college election is a successful departure from the past. CNN's story on the possibility of Pres. Bush being an idiot was a good start, although it did end on the obligatory possitive side after presenting much to the contrary. Fight the party and the power, not the people. I think the problem could be the unity. One nation under god, is like a precurser to faliure. That would be great if everyone could agree on one way of life, whose ignorant ass thought that one up has sure got my view skewed. later preprogramed people. -Evan

Sunday night was a blissful one. I had been looking forward to going to Lost Dutchman State Park to watch a night time movie showing of Raising Arizona. Hollywood called and we decided to roll out on the bikes together. Wise in his infinite wisdom, because we sat on the bikes rather than the ground. He forgot his wallet and was out of fuel so he offered to let me drive his '06 GSX-R 750 (Suzuki) if I put gas in it. I filled both bikes for under $10 bucks. I once heard an aggresive salesman refer to the sound of a $220,00 Ferrari F550 maranello as "pure sex", it should be noted here that vehicles speed is 180 mph. If there is a $12,000 derivetive of the F550 it would be the stock lowmount exhuast new for the '06 model GSX-R, reminesent of Moto GP bikes and a throw back to Eric Buell, who has been doing it on his bikes since the early '90s. I have never imagined a machine could sound so beautiful at full song. A true instrument in every fashion, I carved up the backroads past sunset faster than ever on an inspiring mount with an engineered suspension. Parking the bikes seemed like some self imposed timeout for the road antics just commited, but the show was nice. The superstition mountains in the moonlight while every star in the sky was twinkling down through a few whispy clouds, like sugar tossed on a black canvas with the last strands of cotton candy as an after thought was a wasted romantic moment to the two dudes on their cruisers and inspired forms of debauchery for another night. On the way home hollywood concluded my assumptions, he would meet me back at the house, so I could put some air in the animal I was riding. He was riding the more sedate '06 Kawasaki 650r with it's tractor like exhaust note. I pulled the front wheel up at the on ramp of Idaho road and it touched down in second gear as the speedo clicked past sixty, short shifting for traffic. I steered to clean air with no cars on a nearly abandoned stretch of US 60 I twisted the grip in sixth and the digital speedo counted out ONE-EIGHT-THREE...it felt like 140 to me. The stupid stick struck again under the 101 loop where two DPS cars sat door to door as I rolled past a exactly 170. I thought at these speeds I would have tunnel vision and the earth would seprate, but I could see both very clearly. I sayed on the gas and prayed for an exit. Hollywood said they didn't even turn on the lights as he went by at 130, also seeking a quick exit. If a bullet were to land right next to your head and you could feel the splintered wood and percussion of the small explosion, the heat and deafning roar of the weapon you might know how I felt for the next thirty minutes. School is no cure for stupidity and wisdom comes from more than years, but I'm glad to have experianced this and encourage no one to follow me, including myself.(repetition is the definition of stupidity all else is a lesson)-Evan

I don't wish that we all lived under the banner of communism or hierarchy, but it would be nice to know who to kick in the balls. After my sixteen hour shift I went home to find a letter saying my license was suspended for FTA, faliure to appear. I knew I missed court because it was re-scheduled on the same day as final exams, I got the BS ticket in Febuary. I paid the ticket with the court fee and I still had to drive all the way to Lake Pleasant Justice Court and pick up the piece of paper saying I had paid and take it to the DMV. While I was at it I put the truck in my name and got a three day tag. I havn't slept in 27 hours and I have 14 more to go. Now I know what mona goes through. The truck overheated and rides like a marshmellow, so $200 bucks later it still wants more and I'm all dried up. I'm trying to quit smoking the hooka, the only flavors I have left burn like cough drops so this should be easy. I feel better.-Evan

The mustard seed, the water that drips into a crack to cause a fissure to split rock into when the cold comes. I can't quite put it into words, but I feel as if I am at the edge of a vast chasm and I havn't the words to describe the levity of an unknown epiphany. I feel excited without reason, lying in bed staring up at the ceiling as the sun blares through the curtins, I clasp my hand over my heart and feel it beating a path outward. If christmas was tommarrow I wouldn't notice and I can't describe why. It's like I find the truthful solution and lose it in the same instant, and before grief sets in the process is repeated. Digital euphoria. Maybe I fell into that chasm already and I'm excited to leave. Which would be better, knowing where you are or leaving for the unknown? I think it is strictly related to the fact that I havn't slept alot lately.

Life has been going really fast. I think the more you do the more time passes by. Seems like just the other day I was thinking about taking another job and now the time and the money is slipping away. I have left myself open for criticism more than once and I still feel like there is progress. I have been very lucky in the process, I have met good people and made new friends. I enjoy what I am doing. I'm getting paid to write this blog now, I am sponcered. I really like riding a newer motorcycle, the quality that this machine exudes makes me wonder what I did to the older bike to cause such a horrific mechanical decomposition. The S-10 sucked up another 200 bucks and its not over yet. I think that I might have been better off with a bicycle and a coke habit. I have been trying to keep up with everyone, please call if you miss me too. I'm going to keep all the wicked stories to myself this time, stupidity is not the best bragging point.

Somethings are always cool. Fat fendered hot rods don't have to look good to be super cool and I found one real cheap. The problem is I work 80 hours a week and the rust bucket wouldn't last long at 350 bucks. I hoped on the fizzer, my '97 FZR 600 motorcycle to get to work that Sunday morning and ended my trip sliding on my ass, 10 feet from the door. The damage was minimal thanks to the first and only time this summer I wore my leathers and boots. The impact broke off some bits, tore the stitches on my kevlar gloves and my right fore arm looks like popye's. I repaired the bike with tape and a tug on the bars to straighten them. I tweaked and tuned the bike after work and replaced the 7o dollar iridium screen on my helmet where I kissed the cement earlier, then motored down the line on my map quest sheet taking the lines that were not bold to see more scenery. Fat straight lines on a map mean transportation of the vehicle and I was looking for something a little more interesting staying on the small two lane roads at about 2 miles a minute my view became obscured with small bugs and things. I remember one particular bug of above average side meeting me nose high at ninty. Like a slow motion bullet from a Tarintino B flick I saw it arrive at its final destination pinging the helmet with quite a ring. The small prison town of Florence is beautiful and the stark contrast of federal money and what the 10 dollar an hour jobs it provides buys makes for city size buildings with a town like flair. Watching the western sky turn pink while riding the stripe next to the mountain was the highlight. From the moment I hit Tucson my experience was sureal, I drove down all the wrong streets lost and looking for some old highway. I trucked down hooker row and finally found a cop, 9 actually, parked on a park hassling some transients. For such a smallish city, Tucson seems high in crime content. I found my way to the cracked highway that dipped and swayed so bad I had to stand in the saddle to save the kids I want to have. Two turns from no where was the address I seeked, three trailers formed a U facing the steet. I arrived to find the the owner of the '51 Plymouth kissing a hornytoad for a camera and his grandkids. Taz seems like a very nice fellow and proved it in the ride in his air conditioned Cadillac by sharing a candid story about the time he picked up a hot tranny on accident. The digital speedo seemed stuck at 47 mph as we cut a straight line down the desert to find the secret location. Several harsh roads later we pulled into a small yard at the end of a trail to find a double wide with the front door open and a man peering out at his company. Darkness surrounded everything and the interior light from the car and living room created two exact locations in a lightless expanse. Taz said not to mind the giant on the porch he was harmless, but his size escaped me until I shook his hand. My hand disappeared in his as I quickly remembered my swollen forearm, keeping my smile with an uncontrolled wrinkle in it. There next to a large cactus and a flamed peterbuilt semi was the car I came for. As I inspected the find to see what work I was in for, Taz caught up with his giant by exchanging stories of equal impossibility. The car doesn't have a floor, has rusted through in many spots, one fender is badly damaged and probably not salvageable. I count the money into his hand as we set up the details of the delivery. In the distance a small mormonish family is singing church hymns in the desert, the pitch waving is seems they are walking at the same time. After business is complete and proper documentation signed the ride back to my motorcycle is swift. I shake hands with Taz and spin the motorcycle around on the stand to make a hasty exit into the distant lights dotting a line down the highway. I ride like a pony express rider high on the pegs down the country road at speed to hit the highway directly. I shoot through traffic setting the rubber band on the grip to dial in enough throttle for ninty. The orange glow of Tucson sits well behind me its scattered fractal light reflected of my shattered rearview mirrow like an inverted disco ball, the thought of fuel suddenly weighs on my mind. At these speeds I can't get more than 140 miles a tank and I'm sitting at 260, because I forgot to hit the trip last fill up. I miss the turn for gas so I pull in with the diesel trucks, flick the kill switch and do a rolling dismount to walk the bike across the sidewalk to the store and gas pumps. As I thumb the start the single occupant in the parked patrol car and I meet eyes across the slick parking lot. I pull to the pump without any extra trouble when my phone hums it's greeting. I have a confirmed hot date that is miffed about the 3 and a half hour wait, so I'm 68 miles out and 23 minutes later we ride together to the house to turn on the red light. I am still recovering from my wounds that day and that night. I haven't learned my lesson, I have another appointment to see a car for it's chassis, this could be the foundation of my next hot rod classic. I have a lot to learn, but I have all night, because it's not the only appointment I plan to keep tonight. -Evan

I think that an absence of thought is the closest thing to a vacation anyone can truely afford. Flying away from personal problems just introduces new problems in a new arena. I by most accounts don't like to take personal vacations from reality as I'm addicted to controling as much of myself as possible. That being said I'm am writing this from outside my mind and I must say that without prior knowledge things are much clearer than they should be. Dwelling on anything too long could just possibly introduce enough thought to remove common sense. I've decided on seclusion. Not giving this decision much thought, just a choice. I think I need to get to know the animal inside for a while before I meet with the beasts beyond. Please don't respond. -Evan

School is wrapping up and it couldn't have happened sooner. (with out dropping out) I bought another motorcycle yeasterday and of course it had to be just like the bike I already have and completely disassembled. The price was right and I really needed a new engine and trans. My parts collection has hit the high watermark and I have the parts to make 3 running bikes. I have identified two unknown microbes in a simulated urine sample, I did it in microbiology I don't have time for a new hobby. I think it is funny that the faculty at MCC can trust the students with live coultures of extremely pathogenic microbes, but not actual sterile urine. If you have ever smelled a broth coulture of stapholochcos aerogenus, it is way worse than any vitimin pee. consider yourself warned against both smells.

I did not have my license for a long time and was forced to ride long distances because of the poor public transit system in my city. They are building light rail into down town and they don't even have a decent bus system. I remember riding over 60 miles in one day shortly after getting out of jail for 31 days(complete lack of physical activity). I bought a new bicycle seat that day, because no amount of gel and padding was sufficient. When I wore that seat out a smaller and harder saddle was sufficient because I was officially a hard ass (in the exact sense of the word). I had to go to manditory AA and CA meetings to get free housing where the plight of drug addiction made every aspect of my life more tolerable and it was in this setting that Bob my counsler announced to everyone that my 9 month vigil and 1000's of dollars had netted me my license back. The round of applause was very similar to the admission of one year sober to a 12 year heroine addiction. That moment of time frozen in my memory makes every ache go away. Mrs. Frost the founder of EVMC that gave me more motivation and memories than I can remember of dad, died at 63 on April 8th of liver faliure. How many great people like this do we meet every day and who is to say the compacity dosn't lie in our own selfs. It is up to every individual to obtain the knowledge that greatness is not mesured in owning anything, but giving everything of yourself to others. This is the lesson she has tought me. edit. this is response to my sisters letter and is missing her point of view and inside wisdom. just remember when it is over 100 degree's outside this summer that to make anything harder you have to heat it up first. -Evan

I did not have my license for a long time and was forced to ride long distances because of the poor public transit system in my city. They are building light rail into down town and they don't even have a decent bus system. I remember riding over 60 miles in one day shortly after getting out of jail for 31 days(complete lack of physical activity). I bought a new bicycle seat that day, because no amount of gel and padding was sufficient. When I wore that seat out a smaller and harder saddle was sufficient because I was officially a hard ass (in the exact sense of the word). I had to go to manditory AA and CA meetings to get free housing where the plight of drug addiction made every aspect of my life more tolerable and it was in this setting that Bob my counsler announced to everyone that my 9 month vigil and 1000's of dollars had netted me my license back. The round of applause was very similar to the admission of one year sober to a 12 year heroine addiction. That moment of time frozen in my memory makes every ache go away. Mrs. Frost the founder of EVMC that gave me more motivation and memories than I can remember of dad, died at 63 on April 8th of liver faliure. How many great people like this do we meet every day and who is to say the compacity dosn't lie in our own selfs. It is up to every individual to obtain the knowledge that greatness is not mesured in owning anything, but giving everything of yourself to others. This is the lesson she has tought me.

I spent spring break in LA and I don't think I could have done it better. I didn't know I could even get days off from work so I felt like I was sluffing the whole time. I went to Knotts berry farm and rode some bitching costers, then cut out with my sister to take a tour of LA traffic culminating in Long Beach. We hit West Coast Choppers for a pilgrimage trip to the mecca of motorcycling. Jesse has built an alter that any aspiring motorcyclist can appriciate. I rode down Mollhalland and speed down Sunset blvd. We stayed off of Hollywood and Highland at the Liberty Motel. It was an utterly euphoric in its everyday existance. It doesn't matter where you go, its where you are that matters. I was vacationing in the same zip code that everyone else lived in. My own block became my next trip. The palms behind the neon trailer park down the road and the tacky christmas lights in the window of the local liquer store took on a whole new light once I detatched from the everyday reality. I think I'll skip the hot tub in my back yard and hop the fence into the 55+ pool next door, just to take a closer vacation. School, Work and Sleep... this is the life. I have to admit that nursing school is awsome, but sometimes I question my ability to service something so delicate as a human life, if confidince can be inspired it comes from the most unlikely source..smart kids. test scores can't reflect the fear I have for some of the people I see doing well for the worst of reasons. Health care should be about caring. I am an asshole, but I can recognize the importance of helping others, and not collecting a paycheck of any denomination. My inspriration for good grades and studing hard comes from the fear of not knowing. Imagine your first day at any job...and being unprepared. Imagine that job is to be responsible for someones life, when there ability to do so has been comprimised. If that dosn't scare you, your different than me.

After pushing the limits of physics, I was served with a harsh reality lesson of the most humbling variety. I wrecked my motorcycle. The bike is fine and my leg dosn't fit in my jeans. I have always wanted to not fit in my jeans in places other than the waistline, so this is fun. I will detail the specific events if they are ever relevant for now, school is first and I'm driving the ooohhmega. later -Ev

I am purchasing a car. Motorcycles are just the coolest, until it rains or something. Rather than wait out for the inevidible, I have recieved a 1976 Oldsmobile Omega F85- $200 and a bicycle, not bad. Signed, sealed and delivered, I picked up the keys today. I love it. It's banana yellow with a tan interior-where there is an "interior", every piece of weather stripping has rotted out, the radio sounds pathetic. It is anemicly under powered and has a busted head light and cracked grill. It kinda smells like pee. In a word, PERFECT. Of course my mind is already in the planning stage and the trim didn't make the trip home. I am actually mixed about the funky '70s hub caps that look like cones used to make some strange cake. In the mean time, its nice just to have a B option that will fire on the first hit of the ignition and sputter to life at my will and not at the prompting of the witch doctor that has been cleansing the bike of bad spirits. I only feel a pange of guilt for removing a form of instant access from a junkie trying to kick to the crack house that spawned him. oh, well. Stay tuned to PIMP my complete piece of shit, my anti-TV reality. -Evan

I'm an e-bay whore.

In a very odd moment I was patroling the third floor of the corprate building I do security work in and literally stopped to smell the roses on someones desk. Just as I pulled my nose from the boquet I could a quizical glance from a woman at her desk two cubes away that. I didn't know anyone was on the floor and felt like I had to explain myself. She just smiled and nodded, I felt a mutual feeling and quitely exited the third floor. It's those little things, those small moments that link our lifes together. I took the long way home the other day from work. I was stuck on the 202 in construction traffic for like 20 ft. before I realized I was on a freedom machine. I exited to mcdowell and rode in light street traffic for 6 miles before hitting Country Club. This is truely where my departure began. I could have taken a right and hit the 202 again, with out the construction traffic and been home in 10 minutes of smooth straight highway traffic. I went left. 120 miles later I arrived at home, I had tackled some of the meanest motorcycle road ever made, a very twisty turny high and low road that seemed to talk to me through the grips. As an added benifit, I needed to use the restroom . I have no problem going on the side of the road except there wasn't one. Just rocks and dropoffs with no room to park a 2ft motorcycle. I took the first T and hung left to Seguaro Lake, they have more than restrooms brother. I walked the shoreline and stood on the floating fishing dock listening to the water lap the boards while I watched cranes skim the surface. For a moment my mind blinked back to all the people in the construction traffic and how I wanted to bring them all here to feel this connected. It isn't really about the motorcycle, it's about letting go to find some meaning. I dream of taking a fuel injected trip up the twisties east of fairview for a soul injection of peace and tranquility, until then I have Canyon Diablo and a hundred other destinations bounced off the map I plan paying no real attention to, because it's not always where your going. Its where YOU are, not where are you.
You lived in Las Vegas long enough to take an extra pull off the tap in spring city and know how great life is. I miss it as much as I never want to go back. Because I have been there and this is one big ball of dirt . I don't want to miss anything. -Evan -

I have a theory. Everyone wants to be the alpha male, to be in the group. Society has carved out a market for people like these selling them things they don't need for way too much money.(think ipod, designer clothes and trendy phones, etc.) The govenment has made use of propoganda to create an ideal image of the group someone should strive to be in. A buttoned down, reserved, hard working, tax paying consumer. That's why when someone drives by in a ratty old jalopy, pops a wheelie or goes over a 100 mph; conversations shift. That so and so, opinions are passed with a bias sense of shameless sense of self promotion. I strive to own nothing for someone else, to do what I want for myself and help others obtain the same sense of freedom brings me joy. The theory is I despise all those that despise my behavior, because we are not the same. The defrentiation is in their mind and not mine. I simply mirrror what I recieve. I think that anyone caught in a white 4-door sedan, with khaki pants and pink hands is either showing their depth or secretly wishs to do more. As machines become increasingly more complicated, people have developed into dopes unable to do anything for themselfs. No longer are the high school dropouts working on cars, college prepped people are taking care of cars no one can afford to own anymore, except life without a car can not be concieved. In short, I don't think people don't like me popping wheelies, I think they hate that they can't or have ignorantly made a decision without any imput. Remember heart disease and lung cancer have always been the number one killlers. Dead motorcyclists don't pay taxes for 70 years though.

My letter to a friend in jail came back today because the pictures are too big. The limit is 4"x6" and I sent whole copies of magazine pages from the last Motorcyclist Magazine documenting the dangerous and incredibly amazing story of road tripping on motorcycle in communist China to the first MotoGP race held in a communist country. I acknowledge that it is my responsibility to check what the rules are before sending mail to an inmate, but I find it odd that such a rule exists. We belong to a world that has grown so taught with law that justice was lost somewhere. We have traded common sense in for a cheap lawsuit. Vote for me, I would like to be your next evil dictator. I couldn't do any worse.
In rural parts of the Utah and Colorado, state officials were having a hard time keeping the Colorado River to flow correctly. Controling mother nature comes at a cost as the loose sandy soil of the river bank began to errode quicker than they could keep the river contained. The solution was to plant a bush, originally found in England. It's tightly bound roots took hold quickly and grew tight to the water front. Within years it grew on both sides of the river bank. Now that the water was perfectly contained it flowed directly to the point where it ran dry while watering the plants that sustained the banks.
Simple moral people. This isn't a Disney film so I won't illiterate.

I saw "Worlds fastest indian" with Anthony Hopkins at the Camelview Harkins. I really enjoyed the film and understand why critics are dogging this film. It is a very passionate view of one very eccentric motorcyclist. You have to love motorcycles or be passionate to arrive at a place of comfort with the concepts provided by the film. For example. In motorcycling the tires are rounded for a reason. To turn the bike extra camber is used to manipulate the spinning gyro affect of the tires. centrifical force of the spinning tires draws a imaginary line of force. Physics dictates that this force holds the bike up right. The driver may feel tempted to "let" the bike row back and forth across the road. My dad explained this as "letting the bike drive" and frowned on such behavior. The positive caster of the front forks and the drag of the weight of front tire pushes the steering input out of line and the spinning front tire pulles it back straight only for the process to repeat as the steering angle is pushed in the other direction. Back to rounded tread of a motorcycle tire. Because the bike is a rolling gyro (hey remember how difficult starting and stopping were when you learned to ride a bicycle, the same gyro I am talking about made riding easy, but starting with out it difficult.) to get the bike to turn you have to move this imaginary line or centrifugal force. The forks are angled out and the tires round to bend the bike over in the turns. Because the tires are round for this purpose, there is very little tire touching the ground and you can only use so much of it. Turning takes force applied to the side of the tread where traction is most limited. Braking when the bike is upright is quickest, because no traction is used for turning. Turning and stopping at the same time is the best way to loose traction(bad) . Keith Code made use of an interesting way to control this. Picture an inverted pendulum with an arrow facing down on the bottom towards an arched real number line -10..0...10. As you turn this pedulum swings with the bike and the numbers the arrows
0..10...0 below them

point to steering percentage and below braking percentage. the ratio of steering to braking is related. It's possible either steer or stop, but becareful when doing both. This is the lesson I learned from the movie, my motorcyle and life in general. In life is only have so much time. No one can do everything they want to do and too much time spent in any one area, might be a waste of the most valuable resource. I wish I had the gift of communication to fully describe how close the relationship is between turning and/or stopping with limited traction is. Time is not a variable, I dare not treat it as such.-Evan the question is am I living my life, or wasting my time?

Wow, it finally happened. I was driving down Indian School road at about 20 miles per hour and the bike just stopped running, there was a loud clunk and as I wheeled the bike off the road it scrubbed off lots of speed. As I put my foot down to steady the dead bike my shoe was filled with hot antifreeze, a reasonably good indicator of what was to come. I pulled the chain out from around the wheel and swing arm and cleared the obstrucing links from the sprocket,but the damage is internal and the wheel bearings will need to be replaced. As for the antifreeze spray I think the wayward links whipped up my water pump and cracked the housing, also freeing my clutch release mechanism. I am fortunate to have good friends. Hollywood secured a trailer at work and helped my pack my cracked cycle home. Six hours of pushing, pulling, walking and waiting has left me with feelings of indifference of something I am quite fond of. I can not disconnect the memory of sweeping through a largly arched and slightly banked turn at high speed and low angles, but I could see myself doing it later in life on a different bike too. My fear is that these years come past too fast. I think that allowing time to pass for a day is a year too long. -Evan

As I sit in my glass lobby contimplating lifes inevidible consequenses my mind shifts into neutral and the big empty volumous concrete cavity in which I reside becomes a tomb filled with small noises and infinite possiblilities. Mysterious machines stirring, whirring and purring set a soundtrack that seems to inspire when listend to too closely. To function with out extensive input. The success of any machine is to task endlessly and in failiure, emotions aside it is removed and discarded without any fan fare of its job completed. Life is about everything else involved. -Evan

Great news on the home front. I got into a 5 day class for MAT120 with my favorite math teacher. She is awsome and I am officially a full time student. Also good to note, the transmission in my motorcycle has tossed another bearing and I can now fix my bike the right way. Rather than going to the salvage yard and throwing the same 30k mile engine in it I am going to put new bearings in the transmission. I have never done this before, but that has not stopped me so far. I am also forced to use a YZF 600R cylinder head, pistons and cylinders on a FZR 600 block. While checking the web for compatabiliy before wasting any more money I found out this is a very good option. I will have a significant increase in horsepower. I'm working a 12 hour shift today to offset some of my increased cost of living expenses so I'll make this short. I'm so happy I could shit, everything is working out great. -Evan

Hind sight. Your 6 o'clock, check your six or check your self. The over all make up of man is good. Evidence by the demograph of a large population. I have faith in man kind, but not man. In the heart of man is infinite possibilities. I will continue to make the best choices possible to live happily. Keep in mind that hind sight is earned, and can be quite expensive. -Evan

When riding a motorcycle the thought of safety is almost an oxymoron. As I slid into the taught hide of my riding suit and heard it make the sound leather makes when it is asked to stretch I thought how my life may be extended at the price of life. The real estate I now occupied was paid at quite a ransom. Guiltless none the less at the donning an animals skin, it's former epidermis now my armor. I wonder why god made cows so perfect for riding motorcycles and then gave them hooves. god is funny. Evan

I just got my full body leathers from a dude on e-bay. Turns out it was 15 minutes from my house so I picked them up and paid cash. I love the jacket and zip in pants. I feel like a cartoon crime fighter. Seriously the power rangers ruined motorcycling for the people who liked the safety equipment. Safety when it comes to motorcycling is like life insurance. You hope you never have to use it, but you can never have enough. I will post pictures some day, maybe. I have the coolest helmet and am getting another one that actually fits. Next will be the boots and gloves. Everything matches the bike that I currently ride. Evan

I have sobered up considerably and am beginning to question my prior observations already. Evan

I am having a rolling rock epiphany. This has to be the closest I have been to lucy in the sky with diamonds or dancing with mary jane. I can't describe it, but life has purpose. I can't define it further. I went to this dive bar tonight, you know the one with peanut shells on the ground and bra's hung from the ceiling. Let's just say I learned a lot. I only had one beer, I knew my button up shirt and soap like smell would give me away to the locals. I got three rolled tacos from Filibertos went back to my house. I started watching Desert People, a racing documentary about pre-runner style trucks that float off the rugged dirt roads they race across. Later on with green glass aplenty in my bottle cornocopia waste container-I just feel like hugging everyone, maybe I'm not a good drunk. I feel like everyone serves a very important and unique purpose in this world organism we collectively make up. Way to go team. Evan

Good fortune seems to come with someone's misfortune. I am very lucky to be where I am today, but at the expense of others. Like a man standing in a crowd of beggers, guilty for grabing the first rung on the ladder out of the crowd that spawned him. I put a new patch cable on the monitor to connect the computer to the sound system. I am spoiled rotten. I also purchased a new knife. I lost my knife a long time ago and I have needed one many times. Because I have survived with out it and now have it I feel guilty. Like the fat kid crying after he ate the ice cream cone. Money will always be a problem, I wouldn't mind to see the other side of this coin though. Evan

I want to follow my thoughts as an individual living a very interesting life in a very interesting time, oddly in a very interesting time of my interesting life. Interested? Read on. I am battling inner conflict. Not on any major level, very minor. I question myself constantly when I recall confidence coming more easily. Faliure in any sense brings with it a new fear. I don't regret anything, but I want to learn from it. Lets see what lessons in life I have learned, or should have learned so far. I have a folder marked "Current Court Documents Pending" I would like to eliminate this folder as well as others. I should be afraid, but I am more defiant than ever. Like the pet pestered by the people who bring it the life it has come to enjoy. I want to fight, when losing is the only solution. I don't want to give up, but some battles are futile. I want to find enjoyment in the sterile narrow confines of society. to enjoy the sound of white noise...maybe Satyam Shivam Sundaram isn't the appropriate mood music to write a blog to. Seriously go download Thievery Corporations new disc. It makes your eyes roll back in the sockets and stare down the optic nerve like a telescope to the cerebellum. Evan