I remember when the drag races where populated by an un diluted type of person that drove around in pack rat wagons and bagabond buses to raise their children in a mechanical gypsy drove around the nation. Every event filled with people so pationate that their megar funds could be seen on display in the pits, but everything was hung out on the track. Kids stacked up on scooters and little red wagons modified with 2 stroke engines blasting past you with the puff of purple smoke and the vision of a 10 year old with a shit eatin grin. I almost forgot all those memories of this camp ground folley on the side of strip, if not for this last installment of the the Phoenix Super Chevy Show. I went for some crank and rods for my '83 Suburban that has spun to a different tune lately. There was cones set up in front for track racing and a very small group of cars attending, a few ticket wielding straglers sticking and leaving the sides of the track like the plaque in my arteries. At first it appeared as the place we got processed into consumers, coming in the gate in a hurried single file line and leaving holding bags and catalogs while wearing shirts depicting this or that vendor.

As I slowly made my way around I realized I was in a unique place in the best of times. The economy sucks, everyone is effected and these type of events are actually costing someone money. I enjoyed a day at the track with some of the best and most severly pationate people, everything that was ok 10 years ago and the liablility neigh sayer isn't paying to go right now. I'm not saying everything is legal, it just didn't bother anyone that was lucky enough to be in the pits fielding a car this year if your 12 year old moved the truck to the back of the lot. I had lunch with the Nierdam Family and at their family camps they run two jet cars. The brothers came in and out of the trailers making little adjustments and modifications to the few bits of the cars that could be tweaked as the father looked on and the women attempted to wrangle the kids into some form of order. I was given a nice embroidered shirt to wear down to the line and shoot some pics of the cars as they staged and raced for one last time. This was of course the point my battery died and I spied a young girl with a very big camera and asked her to double her exposure of the two jet cars, hoping secretly that this math problem wasn't boggling or that she knew enough of photography to attempt the term literally with a digital SLR. As the cars staged the parachute popped out of on of the cars and the other took off. Not holding a camera any longer and wearing the team shirt I hopped the rail and headed to the jet car as the turbine whined down. The crew chiefs sausage fingers couldn't fenese the parts together at this level of heat and everyone around the car is screaming, the fans in the stands are waiting...this was my moment. The crewchief packed the chute and held it in the spring loaded can as I pulled the cover over the top, lined up two very small parts and yelled to the driver to push the lever forward. It took two tries to nail it and the motor fragged the last two stages of the very expensive j-60 pratt and whitney turbine on that run. We went back to the pits to observe the damage to the Strike Eagle. The Nierdam Family is a great bunch that take everything in stride. A huge spread of food was brought out from a number of places and a few other players from other trailers where happy to swing by and say hey for a plate and that was fine by everyone.

The event itself was a bust. The stands where empty and the pits spotted with random transports. The car show was a great quality of craftsmanship, but still not the volume of cars that I rememeber it. I walked around the pits and meet a number of really great people all out to have a good time. The reality of the times was evident as every complement I gave a car owner elected the same responce, "The car is for sale" and then rather than chatting up the car the spiel to sell the thing that sacked the morgage or marrige was given an opportunity to live a new life.

I saw a rig there that really made me believe there was hope. A big rig with a huge sleeper on a single axle. Balanced on a channel beam was an old roadking, between the gas tank and the passenger side duals. The trailer was an old semi trailer with a home depot door in the home side of the tug. This guy did not offer to sell his car to me, or his bike. It was a beautiful day to be at the dragstrip, the loud cars and offensive language were a welcome thing for me, before I head back to my full time job of tip toeing the line of liablility and attempting to offend no one on my way through the day. Do yourself a favor if you cant afford it, you deserve it.

I had a great day off. I just got called in and I'm working Halloween, so this will be short. Super Chevy show rocked. Small party of really great people. Had a blast meeting awesome racers, walking the pits and some great food at the bbq.

I can't really explain how great life really is. Maybe its the cloud of narcotics and wine, but really its the awesomeness of living in the history of my long life. Riding the same bike I learned on over and over has given me and endless experience of wow. I traded the shaded shield on the v2 helmet for a cleary(hollywoods term) It's an experience listening to the engine only as I idle and ride down the road wearing my helmet of sound. The wind and other sounds are bleated as the sound directly below me is heightened and I ride around feeling like I need some feeler gauges to check the clearance of my shim under bucket v4 below me as I head to the book store for some unwinding of gears from the simple trip. I am enjoying the good life. Today I wasted my money on a heart monitor watch and chest band as well as some work out clothes. For a guy that rides a motorcycle, watching your health seems like an oversight of some sort. Here is to my brother the cop who on my insisting says he will make some sort of changes to make his health better. An ironic thing I am worrying about the health of my brothers in arms, when in chance anything but the opposite should be taking place. Why is it that the most insignificant of options for most would be the most important to another in the same DNA chain. You give me one, ONE, one more functioning protein link and by god what would I be. What would I give you. Is it my lack of clotting that gives me super human abilities of simplicity of education or with it and without the disorder would I be as awesome as my father, I have five brothers to answer the 50/50 question and the answer is no. I don't think anyone has answered the call or maybe the call has passed with time as the dawn of ages begins with out the sunset of another. I think we are all awesome in our own way, others fail to notice. For those still reading, the wine is taking effect and I would like to speak directly to your tempertempanic as I murmur something I should not know. TIME IS WASTING. Life is a gift that we all take for granted, youth is plundered everyday, this something we can see and agree on, but the thing you may not see is you are still young. Your definition of it is changing as you age, but as others age around you, it does not. You are still young, you are still mobile, changing, placid life. Live while you still can, die with no regrets. I hurt, we all hurt, hurt more, faster, better, become what you are made of and make something of yourself before everyone forgets you in some matter of dust or rock. Life is not what you make, its not what you do for yourself specifically. Steve Jobs, a very rich man, died at age 56...a success, a great man. What do you leave behind. bodies, people that depend on you, that spawned from you? What example do you leave behind. Are we worried about a longing memory or a longer epic entry in history. What spot in history did my father leave behind. ME! You? Lets make it happen together. I'm not enough for the memory of even one person, let alone two. So lets make our true potential shine though, lets make the impossible seem tangible, realistic and practical. Lets bring the moon a little closer and hollywood a child time story. We can be anything, why choose mediocrity. Why does every channel on the TV make Idiocracy look like a parable. If stupidity is popular, I want to be a super nerd.

Ok so I know its been a while, lots has happened. Megan and Eve moved to Texas, I moved into in home care and riding my pops bike most places. These are the most bike relevant pics I balanced the front tire and picked up some wipers (fork seals), put a new tube in the back, went to Macayos down town and hicking in North Scottsdale (gateway), I also got a new tinted bubble shield for my V2 helmet.

Just a rough draft, I havn't finished it yet, but it should sync as I work on it. Back to the grind, enjoy.

MapView

Gotta go to bed for work, will work on google map more later.

Well the last part of the trip was a straight shot, due to time. I still made a few unscheduled stops, they make every trip the adventure it is meant to be. One of the differences between a road trip and a motorcycle trip is your visible to everyone, so the person stopping me for road construction starts up one of the few conversations she will have that day. Every motorcycle operator in 31 degrees threw out the low peace sign signifying 2 wheels, like a fraternity of like minded or absent minded individuals. I had been following a van that was going slightly faster than I like to ride the Madura (70 mph) due to the pleasure of wind buffeting it provided. The driver caught up with me at a gas stop and confronted me. A Japanese man in his 50's approached, "You follow me?" I said yes and he continued, "You follow me!". I didn't know what he was attempting to say with that statement and my tank was full, as I suited up, he ran over to a stand and pulled some pamphlets out and ran back over, "You follow me, you come!" Pointing at a tour map to a spot a few miles down. This how I ended up on a Japanese tour as the only english speaking individual. The others appeared to be college students, I pulled to the front of the trail head and parked the bike. It was kinda warm compared to the brisk weather I was riding in earlier and I still had 3 layers on the bottom and top, after I lost the leather jacket, gloves and helmet. Everyone met up shortly after and made a run for the top of the hill, I was admiring how this gent was showing up the 20 yr old kids as I walked up. As I neared the summit of the 100 yd hill, completely out of breath I realized the key to the bike was in the pocket of the leather jacket with my wallet, laying on the seat of the bike. My laptop also strapped to the passenger papillion, the full weight of my liability before me I felt like the rural area of Page, AZ and the horrible shape I am in warranted the calculated risk. The distance covered and left to cover looked marginal and my mind never fully made up I descended to the mouth of Horseshoe Bend sick with worry. All the while the tour guide continued in broken english and excellent Japanese, pointing out plants and wildlife as well as soil condition, rocks that break in your hand, sand, soil and rock planes existing feet from each other. These things I watched not speaking fluently in Japanese. As we neared the mouth the guide asked something of the students and the only female in the group grabbed my hand, my short ego boost was blasted as I realized we were all linked together and walking in a line. The guide made a loop around a oval rock telling us to watch were we placed our feet. We stood facing him and he said to take 3 steps back. Not watching us, but watching our feet. I 2 counted steps, before he said, "won", "true"(step) "tree" (step). We looked up at him for further direction, no one holding hands now. The guide simply said, "now tuurnn round." We turned a foot and a half away from the edge of drop off. I'm not sure exactly how far down it was, but I stifled the urge to scream like a little girl and the worry of my trip faded in the shear terror of sure death after a very long fall. After a little while it wasn't so bad, I enjoyed it immensely, but I had road to cover and the ache of liability soon returned and I began my assent to the top ahead of the group. At this point the fear instilled in all of us gave us a bonding point that if I ever see them again, there will be no awkward moments and instant friends. I feel fairly close to every person in that group. I made it back to the bike and piled on most of my clothing and took off waving to the group just covering the top of the hill. This accidental 30 minute stop defined my whole trip and is why I will always leave time for things like this when I can. The rest of the trip slowly sped up as I and the bike grew together and my apprehension faded to resolved reality. The bike ran better and better as I rode and my original fears faded into appreciation for every dollar spent on the maintenance of such a fantastic machine. I originally thought that Suzuki only made the madura for 3 yrs or so, because it was a failure to launch vehicle, with no core audience it made no purpose to build, but now I believe it was so over engineered and expensive to manufacture that they had to pull it from production. A V-4 overhead valve, water cooled, 6 speed with overdrive and shaft drive, great fit and finish. The only real complaint was the bike sits this 5'8" rider directly on my tailbone making no comfortable long term riding mount. It holds 3.5 gal and gets around 40 mpg, leaving me with my 2 gal gas can simply for lazy side of the road fueling to increase range between stops, made unnecessary by the absolute need to stop every 2 hrs to give my but a break.

Well it isn't an adventure if everything goes as planned. So far I feel very fortunate. I had a great trip, Paula sorry I had to leave early, now you know why. I had so much fun visiting with the few people I was able. It's nice to visit home, but it continues to change so much it makes me feel either old or under educated that I think it should be right to walk your dog with out a leash and let your kids ride quads down to Bestway for a coke, without a fine for a jobless town. Its still good to see that most people have not changed too much. Thanks to all the family that helped out, hung out and chilled with me. The bike was running great and the weather is cooperating, the new fuel pump relay seems to have done the trick. I am driving deliberatly slow for many reasons, so I don't expect to be back in town early. Its about the journey, much love for a gentleman named Jon, who is on the Main Street Commitee in Panquitch, Ut. He not only stopped and picked me up when the bike broke down, he came back and picked me up.

$40 dollar speakers and a 20 buck amplifier, both the must have items from 89. I remember reading about these in Playboy at a hefty price tag so when I saw them @ my local goodwill, I had to have them, I put them on pass through rca's on my stereo amplifier Megan's mom left behind and pulled an input off the back of the Vizio for remote volume control. This system is just plain stupid. Turned up (once) I can watch the glass move in my apartment and can hear everything crystal clear from about 200 feet with the door closed. Thank goodness all my neighbors work during the week and Frank is near deaf (not my doing). Megan took a pic of me heading to work and through some dirt bike googles of our back yard. I have only been commuting to work, so no new bike pics. Hence the pic of dinner, not a vegan...

Brand new tires and ratchet straps. Let it be known I live no where near the store even though its a bustling metropolis of bars and churches. Thanks to McBro for the putting the rubber where it meets the road. I owe you. These pics are a months income... I should finish school.

For some reason I have been having troubles posting. In the past few weeks I have really stretched the limits of motorcycling in general. I have been using the beemer for everything and Bali has nothing on me this week. I took home a boat load of groceries, diapers, a bicycle and a tv home on the bike. I hit up some yard sales and use it everyday for short and long runs. This particular bike does everything so well. Its feeling loose with the miles so I baby it a bit, but it still hauls and I mean literally, very well. Work has kept me busy so the few trips I have taken have all been related. I take the long way when possible. I keep my magazines for some reason, I think my mom could tell me why, and I am always perusing them in some fashion. One of my favorite writers is Peter Egan from Cycle World magazine (and others). I like to find ways this individual that lives life in the margins we wish we all could resembles me. I wasn't surprised to find that he and his wife took this very bike 4000ish miles into Canada and back to Wisconsin without a real hiccup. He is a touch older in years, but I am catching up. His praise of the Buell Ulysses makes me second guess it, because I have inadvertently copied many of his moves, outside of successful writing. I wanted to share my first adventure in motorcycling, because it came up the other day. Growing up in the mid 90's gave me a good view at great bikes and my age and location placed me in the dirt bike tangent. My nephew had a yz250... I was in 7th grade and height impaired, it didn't stop me. This event galvanized my NEED for a similar system of self destruction(my nephew broke his arm twice on the bike). The begging began and my father busy with the farm turned the problem over to my brother for my Christmas present that year. This type of thing had happened once before after my closest brother in age had a groping party in our basement and showed the movie RAD, I believe I was the only person in the room in love. I asked for a Freestyle bike with a rotor and got a '72 sting ray chopper...in hindsight, I could have reacted better. This Christmas was to be like the others. My Mom sewed a thick cushion with a vinyl cover over a piece of plywood cut by my dad on the table saw. An old tote gote frame with a tiller briggs and stratton mounted and the work was done. My brother Karl is extremely insightful and his abilities of innovation are quite remarkable, seeing his hand 0n my "bike" made it real for me enuf and I sucked up the zero suspension bike with a cv clutch after only a few temper tantrums. The ever clever Karl had done up the primary side of the clutch with an 8" frying pan as a cover, a 4 vane water pump, large ball bearings and bailer springs. It worked good till I was full tilt and spun a ball bearing out and hit my calf. As soon as the bruising subsided I realized the bike now had a different launch pattern, almost tossing me into the flower garden. This is the moment when I started really learning piece by piece mechanics. I rebuilt the carb, cleaned the tank, removed and re installed the exhaust and played with the clutch and hand controls. I learned a little late about checking and changing the oil though and moved on to a Kawasaki enduro years later. Nothing can replace that old tote gote for me and the slow memories we had. 7 mph is actually really fast when your riding vertically up a hay stack when the throttle sticks though. I have had a few bikes over the years and I'm always looking at more, but for the first time in a while I have a little bit of that hardy go anywhere do anything ability that the first one had, and its a bit quicker too. Thanks to all my friends and family for supporting my bad habits as long as you have. Love you.

To a bromance that started quite a while ago. I really enjoy my one day off, but much of that is made possible by my friends and friends of friends where ideas come together and conversation is relaxed and smooth, usually further enhanced by spirits. The weather is hot, but bearable. Cigars in the pool. Classic cool. Stay tuned for tomorrows adventure, I cant remember enough of this trip to post some rhetoric, but the night time confessionals are the best. When the booze loosens the tongue and the feelings flow out of a bleeding heart, the noise goes away and peace fills the soul.

I try to head out to harolds cave creek coral when I can and my set appointment stands. Good times aside, the ride is smooth and winding through an awesome little retirement community of Palo Verde, near an entrance to Tanto national forest. This is just short vid of my regular commute, enjoy.

No more excuses. I finally called my provider and hooked up the internet at my house. I have no reason for not posting more and will create a new blog for the family as that is what I am constantly talking about and will segregate allroads to my motorcycle mayhem and random reasonable debauchery. I have picked up a .30 cal WWI rifle for about a hundred bucks and took it to the range, although firing corrosive rounds from 1984 Czechoslovakia it is true enough and fun. Makes the idea of WWI a lot more scary knowing this is the least valuable weapon outside of a knife, which screws onto the top making the whole thing a 10 foot stick. My Harolds outings have been a little difficult, but a very important time of my week. I have great friends. Every moment is an accident I happen to catch a pic on. So these shots are random as is the commentary. I have been spending lots of time at the house doing what I enjoy spending time with the family, but I still make a little time each week to do random things and have some fun me time. As I'm sure it is with everyone we are watching the pennies and this was an easy desision to make with the cost of starbucks drinks. By brewing at the house and eliminating redbox, this easily will be cheaper and more efficient. I will post a link to my new Family blog to eliminate dual entries so you can chose what info you want to hear. I can say this. Living solo for so long has had a dramatic effect on my ability to communicate and react, but this life is an on-going process and the rewards are ours to extract the enjoyment from. That being said I'm loving every minute of it. Thanks to all.

I had a great trip out to Texas and I can not get the pics to load right now. Wi-Fi is free @ starbucks so it shouldn't take long to figure out. I drove a moving van down loaded with the belongings of Ann, Megans mom. In the cab a furry cat named peter and I slowly made the way down. In the back was everything and the beemer. Although the truck drove heavy it was a good day to be on the road, Ann was following in her vehicle and was there for the assist as I ran out of gas on a hill in pouring rain. We split in Hempstead where her family is at. I really enjoyed spending the night in Hempstead. Great people, beautiful country and I could get the bike out of the back. I put it on a trickle charger as the battery is perdy much done. I headed out the next morning with thick black clouds to the south (my direction of travel), but thought I would beat the rain. Leaving all the rain gear Fred gave me packed tightly in my bags (except clothes, all my clothes got inadvertently left in Arizona in the re-packing around the bike) As I edged the point of the down pour I missed my exit for starbucks, had I made it I would have seen the text from Mcbro saying he was no longer in South Houston, but in Spring. I rode in the worst weather I have ever seen, standing water, the wake of a semi, my own wake, and rain drops that could be considered a bath in my only set of clothes. Pants and a hanes t-shirt. When I stopped under an overpass, just east of Pasadena, TX. I pulled my phone out of my helmet (the only dry area) and checked my messages. Turned around and rode the lakes of houston called freeways back to Spring. I was soaked to the bone when I turned into Mcbro's drive, but it was awesome, I wouldn't have changed a thing. That BMW is the best riding bike I have ever driven. At times the riding position is uncomfortable, you really sit up there on that thing and the pegs are a shade higher than my knees like, but once you hit the wet it works and on the road I put the seat all the way up with the screen and its perfect. The time at Mcbro's was the best in years. Rather than watch him work himself to death on the block party, we got to sit in the garage and talk, watch some movies, just chill. The fourth came and went with great food, good friends and interesting conversation. The kids did the fireworks this year and it went well. Megan and Evelyn stayed for the show, Joe her dad came over earlier with Nolan, her brother for a a bit. Time passed too quickly just hangin out. Mcbro and I went over the bike tuesday night and wired in a spare battery where the radio was and finally hooked up the relay to the fog lights (huge life saver). Without clothes and leaving additional stuff @ home made a streamlined beemer, light on its feet and letting the suspension do its job rather than jostling my joints. I hit the road around 11a, as a light rain began. I out ran the front around 2p and ditched the rain gear south of Austin. I settled in for the rythm of the ride. 6th and 4000 rpm, my new tire gliding over the asphalt surface and the engine just a whisper of growl from the exhaust pipe. The left side rocker could use an adjustment, but it only rattled a bit on start up as soon as oil pressure was up its tick would soften as the hydrolic lifters took up the slack. I did not have the money to change the oil before I left. This left a guilty feeling as the bike sucked up every mile without a whimper. Good bikes deserve good treatment. All fluids checked, but nothing changed and sipping the fuel, it still took about 120 dollars of fuel over the 1200 mile drive. Somewhere in the hills of east texas another storm front was waiting. Passing most traffic at my 90 mph pace with the foglights on, forming a pyramid of high power lights blasting a laser beam of light in front and my additional LED trailer tail lights and turn signals. With the mist of my wake being lite by the auxillary lights, it looked like tron on the freeway and I had no problem alerting passing cars of my presence. I'm sure my location this close to New Mexico had them checking the rear view for different reasons as the speed and amazing amount of light could only be from something extra terrestrial. At one point in Las Cruces, I was actually afraid I would be pulled over by police for having too many lights and wattage on the silver streaking beemer, but my bright yellow rain gear made it look like what I was, speeding cautiously, I was passed by 3 cops and was greeted by thumbs or nods. About an hour out as the sun started to crest, I pulled off into the desert to find a place to catch some rest before the swelter came. In the middle of no mans land I came upon 3 shoed horses. They just walked up to me, just past that a large steel open top cylinder filled with cool, green water near their trough. 50 yards past that a brand new border patrol truck with a young occupant. I greeted him with my intentions and given permission, put up the center stand on the loose soil and laid down on the rain gear, 3 hours later was shift change for the young man and my presence may not have been introduced. I was rousted by 4 men with guns in a suburban and a small chopper. Very cool alarm clock and this was the alert I needed to shoot 50 mph down the dirt road and hit the highway back to 90-100 mph all the way to Tucson traffic just as the sun started to hang in the middle. A stop for fuel in Casa Grande a gift from my girl back home as testament that she would like to see me again as my bank account had not been replenished by my employer yet and a good long inhalation of the circle K coolers put me into Fountain hills around 2pm the day after I left. I kissed Megan at Starbucks our tradition on my long runs and motored down the street two more blocks to our humble edifice, putting the beemer back on the center stand for what seemed like a week. Patting the gas cap and telling the beemer thank you for a safe trip goes against my Associates Degree in Automechanics, but it does explain the angel bell and St. Christopher emblems. There is always a lag. The adrenalin of the trip ending and the trip in general extends the next 24 hours, but for days later the slackness in attention and muscle tissue sets in. Everything becomes a dream, living your own life vicariously. I love my family and enjoyed seeing them the most, but a long day on the road, no matter the weather or conditions is enjoyable for the enduring challenges and changes needed to overcome it.

The move has gone great and now the commute takes minutes. It makes more time for family and day care is really just there if we need a date day or something. My hours have changed a little, but it works out great. Mona came by for a visit and we got to have breakfast together and coffee. OMG Zola is growing up just as fast. I feel older every day. Thanks for all the love and support. I mostly spend my time cleaning now and catching naps when I can, but give me a ring and see. I do have 4 days off a week.

I picked the best of the best and wanted to post one more time on the trip before I moved on. The pic of the beamer and I in the valley was about an hour out of El Paso and I needed to use the restroom, there where no services at this exit, but the expanse of nothing was nice. As the sun peaked up on Thursday morning 2 hours to Tucson I began to think of my responsibilities at home and hit the road early, making two great pic's in the process. About 6 days after I got back, it was time to head to Harolds. I had a great time and the burnout was short but smoked out the bar. You can see the headlight between Dirty and me in the pic. The routine has since picked up and all is normal again, but it looks like a good tune will do. I will be burn'n and turn'n on the morning of July 3rd to get to McBro's in time for the party. Megan, her bro and Evelyn will be flying down and spending time in the area as well as the party.

I posted these a little close and the chronopictograph is incorrect. It was an awesome and somewhat epic trip for me. It was so awesome to see family again the trip itself paled, but was still very enjoyable. Somewhere west of Las Cruces I blew a fuse and should have put a relay on the driving lamps like Fred said, I hard wired them for 16 bucks after a failed relay repair $21 bucks didn't do the trick, the bmw sips fuel and the tires are cheaper than the last two bikes I have ridden. The ABS is working a little more intermittently, I believe a new battery may just help it out a bit. I helped a stranded motorcyclist get some fuel and he tipped me more than I paid for food all the way back. There is something surreal about chasing that mirror of a mirage in the distance for hours, the camera was just what I needed to focus on the details and actually made for a safer trip as I was always looking for something to take a picture of. The kick stand finally gave way just outside of Tucson while I was looking for a bush. Just as it kissed the ground and started to give I caught the bike in its momentum and caught it, but the kickstand had been failing for a while and I happened to be the guy who severely overloaded it one too many times, the center stand works flawlessly. The vids with the bike riding should be watched with the sound down as the condenser mic does not like wind too much. Looking for more rides and time in the future, but for now a little love would do the beemer justice for ticking like a swiss watch through the dirty south and into the dusty west. Love you and thank you all. Especially Fred and Linda, Thank you for your hospitality, love and time.

M4H01371.MP4