Build a Motorcycle
Just one quick little thought here before I get between the sheets.
I'm sure most of you have heard about the new law that says that you can now only build one motorcycle. That means a kit bike or one from scratch to in your life time. Is that a crock or what! It does not hold true for a car or truck. Build as many as you like.
Now I can't lay my eyes or hands on the bill that tells us this but it's around somewhere. You can probably find it on the net fairly easy. One thing that gets me about a home built bike or any other for that matter, is that the police are not that up on the serial number thing. The expect the numbers to look like vin's on a car or something. The stampings on bikes are not perfect even from the factory. I looked at the numbers on my Pan Engine and they are a bit funky and not in perfect line and neither are the ones on my Yamaha either. Older antique Harleys only had numbers on the engine so there are no numbers on the frames of these. A cop not up on this would think the numbers on the frame had been taken off and probably impound the bike. This has happened with newer bikes too as the numbers stamped in the engine and the frame are not in perfect line or evenly spaced apart on most. The industry has tried to do better but the older iron still has issues.
Basically if you crashed your bike and had to buy a new frame and put all your components into it the police would most likely impound the ride if you do not have all the paper work with you. One thing you can do in such a rebuild is go to the DMV and get them to stamp new numbers on it for a rebuilt title. There was an article about two guys a couple of years back who had their rides both taken by the police even though the owners had the titles and to them. As far as I know they never got them back because the police auctioned off the bikes and told the two that they could bid on them like anyone else if they had wished. This was an on going case with a lawyer and the police still auctioned the bikes even after determining they weren't stolen.
But here is what I'm pissing in the wind about. You can only build one bike now in your life time unless you get a manufacturers license. What is unjust about this law is that it does not pertain to any other motor vehicle. So, you can go out and build as many kit cars or hot rods or what have you with mis-matched numbers on the frame, body, engine, transmission, rear end and so on and not have a care. The police just are not going to crawl all under your car looking for matching numbers because it is to big a hassle. Someone may be driving around in a car with a stolen engine but the police are only looking at the VIN on the dash. A motorcycle has easier access for them to look at so the hassle is on the bike owner.
Throw in the profiling of a biker with long hair and already your a criminal in the eyes of the law. So while Johnny law is giving you the shake down beside the road, the guy driving past with his short hair and stolen engine go motoring happily on his way in his car, probably with a body in the trunk. (It's hard to carry a body in the saddles bags).
Funny how the most notorious crooks and killers ever caught all have short hair and drive cages isn't it?
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
SEX SELLS
Have any of you seen or heard about the new Britney Spears pictures. Now she's going commando and being chummy with Paris Hilton and making sure the cameras are getting a full view. Seems as if she can't get enough attention that she has to wear super mini skirts and ride in cars built low to the ground so when she exits all is open for public view.
It does make me wonder though, how in our society, we will accept such things as slitting a throat, blowing someone up, bloody chop them up movies, and people doing drugs, reality shows with people eating or doing gross things etc. But when it comes to anything about sex we think "OH my god!!. Did you see that?"
Europe has ads on television all the time with nudity in it. An Ad with someone taking a shower and washing their hair for a shampoo company shows the person completely nude. There are even nude television news channels on the air. The women will be doing the news or weather while stripping off clothes to nothing the whole time.
So what is the deal with sex sells over here? If we didn't treat it as such a no no then it wouldn't be such a big deal... Would it?
Wonder if I would garner the same sort of big time flash (pardon the pun) if I were to wear a kilt and riding a motorcycle in Hollywood while hanging out (whoops) with Paris and Britney. I seriously doubt it.
Have any of you seen or heard about the new Britney Spears pictures. Now she's going commando and being chummy with Paris Hilton and making sure the cameras are getting a full view. Seems as if she can't get enough attention that she has to wear super mini skirts and ride in cars built low to the ground so when she exits all is open for public view.
It does make me wonder though, how in our society, we will accept such things as slitting a throat, blowing someone up, bloody chop them up movies, and people doing drugs, reality shows with people eating or doing gross things etc. But when it comes to anything about sex we think "OH my god!!. Did you see that?"
Europe has ads on television all the time with nudity in it. An Ad with someone taking a shower and washing their hair for a shampoo company shows the person completely nude. There are even nude television news channels on the air. The women will be doing the news or weather while stripping off clothes to nothing the whole time.
So what is the deal with sex sells over here? If we didn't treat it as such a no no then it wouldn't be such a big deal... Would it?
Wonder if I would garner the same sort of big time flash (pardon the pun) if I were to wear a kilt and riding a motorcycle in Hollywood while hanging out (whoops) with Paris and Britney. I seriously doubt it.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Motorcycle People Love Indie Music Too
Many of us old folgies are stuck in the sixties and seventies era of music. We listen to the stations playing the same old hits day after day with no change in format. Main stream bands of days gone by who had plenty of hits but the stations only play a few of the popular songs until we are sick to death of them. How many of you are still wearing the same style of clothes from way back when or don't have a cell phone, computer or a color television set? It's time to shake off our cobwebs and get with it (As they used to say).
Main stream radio these days seem to have the same old thing over and over.Have you noticed that several stations have gone over to talk radio or if they do play music it's the same old tired stuff. I'm not sure but I wonder if the monopoly of clear channel had anything to do with it. Decide for yourself and look up clear channel radio on your computer and read what has been happening to radio stations all over the country.
About Indie music. Indie music is musicians who have decided not to go the big record label route and go it themselves. These are serious players who are out there playing small clubs and venues all over. Thousands of great musicians putting out great music of all types that never get any airplay. Groups like Abe Reed and The Spikedrivers, Lee Tyler Post, Splinter, Room Two, Veracity, Canvas and so many more there is no way I could list them all.
Now, there is a new magazine devoted to giving these bands and musicians a vessel to get their names out there. The magazine will make a debut in 2007 but you can go to their site now and get a subscription and be the first to have this magazine delivered to your door free for a limited time. Interested Indie Fans, musicians, bands and just plain music lovers should go to www.theindiemusicfranchise.com to get your copy. You can still get your motor running and head out on the highway but to some new kick ass or kick back tunes.
If you don't give Indie musicians a try then your missing 2/3 rds of the music out there.
Many of us old folgies are stuck in the sixties and seventies era of music. We listen to the stations playing the same old hits day after day with no change in format. Main stream bands of days gone by who had plenty of hits but the stations only play a few of the popular songs until we are sick to death of them. How many of you are still wearing the same style of clothes from way back when or don't have a cell phone, computer or a color television set? It's time to shake off our cobwebs and get with it (As they used to say).
Main stream radio these days seem to have the same old thing over and over.Have you noticed that several stations have gone over to talk radio or if they do play music it's the same old tired stuff. I'm not sure but I wonder if the monopoly of clear channel had anything to do with it. Decide for yourself and look up clear channel radio on your computer and read what has been happening to radio stations all over the country.
About Indie music. Indie music is musicians who have decided not to go the big record label route and go it themselves. These are serious players who are out there playing small clubs and venues all over. Thousands of great musicians putting out great music of all types that never get any airplay. Groups like Abe Reed and The Spikedrivers, Lee Tyler Post, Splinter, Room Two, Veracity, Canvas and so many more there is no way I could list them all.
Now, there is a new magazine devoted to giving these bands and musicians a vessel to get their names out there. The magazine will make a debut in 2007 but you can go to their site now and get a subscription and be the first to have this magazine delivered to your door free for a limited time. Interested Indie Fans, musicians, bands and just plain music lovers should go to www.theindiemusicfranchise.com to get your copy. You can still get your motor running and head out on the highway but to some new kick ass or kick back tunes.
If you don't give Indie musicians a try then your missing 2/3 rds of the music out there.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Officer Wooley
Today I felt terrible what with coughing and wheezing, sneezing and blowing my nose, arrggghhh. I did not feel up to going to my wife's mothers for thanksgiving. Besides, I don't feel welcome there any longer.
I just stayed home in my easy chair after taking some cough medicine and a hand full of tissues. Above our television set is a family portrait of me, the wife and our toddler son. The photo was taken at the Police Department for they would do family portraits for us. The wife and I are both in uniform while our son is in a striped jumper. Flipping the channels on the set it was found not to be that much worth watching.
Looking at the picture brought back memories to me from when I first was hired at the P.D. back then. The P.A.T test and doing the weapons qualifying night and day where always tense for me. Being on the firing range was fun though even under the pressure of combat loading under timed target practice. My master eye is my left so I had to shoot left handed even though I'm right handed. Weapons always eject to the right so spent cartridges and shells would whiz past my face sometimes hot particles would come from the breech and sting me. The smell of all the burnt powder in the air and the sound over the loud speaker of directions would get your adrenaline up fast.
Doing the obstacle course was what I dreaded, especially the running part. Running the track and feeling like my legs were heavy as lead at the end of it.
On the obstacle you had to go through doors, crawl through pipes, jump a creek, climb a wall and several other things too. All at a timed run and if you did not make it you had just another chance to do it. This was not the sort of thing you wanted to do in shorts so I wore sweats even when it was hot. After doing the track run I remember almost puking and my lungs where screaming and burning. The thing to do though was to keep walking while trying to stand upright. Stopping and bending over trying to catch your breath is the wrong thing to do.
I thought about all of those things and more. Such as the first day I was issued my badge, uniform and gear. Driving home I kept looking at my badge and thinking: "I can't believe it. Me with a badge. I really have a uniform and a badge!"
What a thrill it was to me to be a part of the department. It took awhile for things to sink in to. The first time I assembled my uniform and tried it on I stood in front of the mirror taking it all in. I looked pretty dog gone good if I do say so myself. My hair was now short and I had trimmed down a few pounds. You have to get used to some things though like going to the rest room. All this stuff you have to take off then put back on can be a hassle. You have one belt and then a utility belt over that with all those keepers. Plus, there is your walkie and the shoulder mike that has to be within reach. At the time we still had those heavy Motorola radios that only had two channels with a toggle switch. Talk about bulky. And, you wanted to make sure to check your radio so as not to lay it somewhere to have an open mike. This was true in your vehicle as well. If your button was pushed and you did not know it, well, everyone else did. If that happened then communications would keep saying to check your radios until whomever it was cleared the channel. If you didn't clear the channel then they would begin going down the roll call list calling our numbers. The person who did not answer was the culprit. I was H126 which was for Humane Officers. We were dog watch which is not to be confused with Dog watch which was the 3rd shift officers. Confused?
Humane Officers search the streets and answer calls that have anything to do with animals mainly but we also look for any human illegal activities or traffic situations. A Dog watch is third shift Officers who, when all is quiet, see nothing but dogs roaming the streets.
One time in the beginning while on the way to a call I came to one of the license check points. I got out my wallet like I'd always done in the past to show the officer who I knew now. I pulled up and they waved me on through and we hollered back at each other something but I don't remember. I do remember thinking " Damn! I'm one of them now what was I thinking?" as I laughed to myself. I can just go right on through it. That's a pretty damned cool thing for a rookie.
Another time a women hit me head on at an intersection. I saw it coming and tried to get out of her way by moving as far to the right as I could. She kept on coming and never tried to stop at all, accelerating, slamming me hard. It happened all in slow motion like in the movies and I could feel blood rushing to my nose. I also remember thinking to myself as the impact threw me to the right in my seat and the rearview mirror headed right for my face "This is going to hurt and when is the shoulderbelt going to react." Luckily the belt caught me only inches from the windshield and jerked me back hard into the seat. I was dazed and confused and could feel warm wetness on me. My mind just knew I was bleeding profusely from somewhere. It turned out to be hot coffee from my mug which had been thrown from its holder and splashed all over.
A man came running up to ask if I was alright and all I could do was stare at him in a fog. He ran back over to the women's car and from where I was sitting could see her engine had pushed up her dash which had slammed her in the face. She was covered in blood and part of the engine was in the car. She had not been wearing her seatbelt. The man came back over to me and said the women wanted me to call her husband. Hell! I didn't even know where I was at the moment myself. Shaking off some of the cobwebs I got on my radio and called in that I was involved in a head on 10-50 at Providence and Washington Streets. "I need an ambulance code three communications." Code three is a hurry the hell up I have injuries call. Man there were sirens and vehicles coming from all over to my location fast. My wife was on Duty in another district and came, I'm sure, well over the limit.
I had to be extracted from the passenger side. I walked with much help to my wife's patrol car and she took me to the hospital. My left shoulder was hurting pretty bad and my shoulder mike had left it's imprint in my shoulder. Nothing showed up on any X-Rays but the Doctor said that in the future it might show up in the form of arthritis. The shoulder belt had been across the mike and dug it into me. I was given some med's to take for pain and could not drive or work the streets. The things made me act a bit goofy so I did desk duty entering info into the system. Not until I was home did we discover that my lap belt had cut like a knife into my leather walkie case saving me from what would have been a nasty gash. My shoulder aches now like someone is twisting the bones from time to time. To much lifting or pulling will really aggravate it. Raking leaves, for instance, brings on a dull throbbing pain. Sometimes I have my son pull my arm forward as hard as he can while pushing on my shoulder. It feels like something is out of adjustment at times and it seems to help ease the ache. Another thing is putting my hands behind my back, like being cuffed and relaxing, my shoulder will kind of drop in a way as if my socket is damaged. It's weird and hard to explain it. To much lifting is not something I can do anymore. People don't seem to understand that.
I get it in my neck as well but not like my shoulder.
Anyhow, that's one of the things I thought about this thanksgiving. I'm thankful I wasn't killed that day and have been lucky enough to see my son growing up.
Today I felt terrible what with coughing and wheezing, sneezing and blowing my nose, arrggghhh. I did not feel up to going to my wife's mothers for thanksgiving. Besides, I don't feel welcome there any longer.
I just stayed home in my easy chair after taking some cough medicine and a hand full of tissues. Above our television set is a family portrait of me, the wife and our toddler son. The photo was taken at the Police Department for they would do family portraits for us. The wife and I are both in uniform while our son is in a striped jumper. Flipping the channels on the set it was found not to be that much worth watching.
Looking at the picture brought back memories to me from when I first was hired at the P.D. back then. The P.A.T test and doing the weapons qualifying night and day where always tense for me. Being on the firing range was fun though even under the pressure of combat loading under timed target practice. My master eye is my left so I had to shoot left handed even though I'm right handed. Weapons always eject to the right so spent cartridges and shells would whiz past my face sometimes hot particles would come from the breech and sting me. The smell of all the burnt powder in the air and the sound over the loud speaker of directions would get your adrenaline up fast.
Doing the obstacle course was what I dreaded, especially the running part. Running the track and feeling like my legs were heavy as lead at the end of it.
On the obstacle you had to go through doors, crawl through pipes, jump a creek, climb a wall and several other things too. All at a timed run and if you did not make it you had just another chance to do it. This was not the sort of thing you wanted to do in shorts so I wore sweats even when it was hot. After doing the track run I remember almost puking and my lungs where screaming and burning. The thing to do though was to keep walking while trying to stand upright. Stopping and bending over trying to catch your breath is the wrong thing to do.
I thought about all of those things and more. Such as the first day I was issued my badge, uniform and gear. Driving home I kept looking at my badge and thinking: "I can't believe it. Me with a badge. I really have a uniform and a badge!"
What a thrill it was to me to be a part of the department. It took awhile for things to sink in to. The first time I assembled my uniform and tried it on I stood in front of the mirror taking it all in. I looked pretty dog gone good if I do say so myself. My hair was now short and I had trimmed down a few pounds. You have to get used to some things though like going to the rest room. All this stuff you have to take off then put back on can be a hassle. You have one belt and then a utility belt over that with all those keepers. Plus, there is your walkie and the shoulder mike that has to be within reach. At the time we still had those heavy Motorola radios that only had two channels with a toggle switch. Talk about bulky. And, you wanted to make sure to check your radio so as not to lay it somewhere to have an open mike. This was true in your vehicle as well. If your button was pushed and you did not know it, well, everyone else did. If that happened then communications would keep saying to check your radios until whomever it was cleared the channel. If you didn't clear the channel then they would begin going down the roll call list calling our numbers. The person who did not answer was the culprit. I was H126 which was for Humane Officers. We were dog watch which is not to be confused with Dog watch which was the 3rd shift officers. Confused?
Humane Officers search the streets and answer calls that have anything to do with animals mainly but we also look for any human illegal activities or traffic situations. A Dog watch is third shift Officers who, when all is quiet, see nothing but dogs roaming the streets.
One time in the beginning while on the way to a call I came to one of the license check points. I got out my wallet like I'd always done in the past to show the officer who I knew now. I pulled up and they waved me on through and we hollered back at each other something but I don't remember. I do remember thinking " Damn! I'm one of them now what was I thinking?" as I laughed to myself. I can just go right on through it. That's a pretty damned cool thing for a rookie.
Another time a women hit me head on at an intersection. I saw it coming and tried to get out of her way by moving as far to the right as I could. She kept on coming and never tried to stop at all, accelerating, slamming me hard. It happened all in slow motion like in the movies and I could feel blood rushing to my nose. I also remember thinking to myself as the impact threw me to the right in my seat and the rearview mirror headed right for my face "This is going to hurt and when is the shoulderbelt going to react." Luckily the belt caught me only inches from the windshield and jerked me back hard into the seat. I was dazed and confused and could feel warm wetness on me. My mind just knew I was bleeding profusely from somewhere. It turned out to be hot coffee from my mug which had been thrown from its holder and splashed all over.
A man came running up to ask if I was alright and all I could do was stare at him in a fog. He ran back over to the women's car and from where I was sitting could see her engine had pushed up her dash which had slammed her in the face. She was covered in blood and part of the engine was in the car. She had not been wearing her seatbelt. The man came back over to me and said the women wanted me to call her husband. Hell! I didn't even know where I was at the moment myself. Shaking off some of the cobwebs I got on my radio and called in that I was involved in a head on 10-50 at Providence and Washington Streets. "I need an ambulance code three communications." Code three is a hurry the hell up I have injuries call. Man there were sirens and vehicles coming from all over to my location fast. My wife was on Duty in another district and came, I'm sure, well over the limit.
I had to be extracted from the passenger side. I walked with much help to my wife's patrol car and she took me to the hospital. My left shoulder was hurting pretty bad and my shoulder mike had left it's imprint in my shoulder. Nothing showed up on any X-Rays but the Doctor said that in the future it might show up in the form of arthritis. The shoulder belt had been across the mike and dug it into me. I was given some med's to take for pain and could not drive or work the streets. The things made me act a bit goofy so I did desk duty entering info into the system. Not until I was home did we discover that my lap belt had cut like a knife into my leather walkie case saving me from what would have been a nasty gash. My shoulder aches now like someone is twisting the bones from time to time. To much lifting or pulling will really aggravate it. Raking leaves, for instance, brings on a dull throbbing pain. Sometimes I have my son pull my arm forward as hard as he can while pushing on my shoulder. It feels like something is out of adjustment at times and it seems to help ease the ache. Another thing is putting my hands behind my back, like being cuffed and relaxing, my shoulder will kind of drop in a way as if my socket is damaged. It's weird and hard to explain it. To much lifting is not something I can do anymore. People don't seem to understand that.
I get it in my neck as well but not like my shoulder.
Anyhow, that's one of the things I thought about this thanksgiving. I'm thankful I wasn't killed that day and have been lucky enough to see my son growing up.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow
Each morning at work I am asked how I am doing by one of the office personal. He makes his way around greeting everyone first thing in the morning when he arrives. It's one of those things that makes you, me at least, feel as if I'm a person and not just a warm body at work. This sort of thing is rare today in the work place. Most often I reply back " I'm doing pretty good so far. At least when I woke up I found I was still alive- that's always a plus sign."
One morning I was not feeling all that great in mind, body or soul and I threw him a curve. "How are you doing this morning? He asked.
"When I woke up this morning I found I was dead. But, I'm feeling much better now." I replied.
His look was one of those what do I say to that looks. After a quick moment he shot back " That's always a good sign."
Somehow along the way from yesterday to today I've lost a part of me that used to look forward to each new day. My maternal mother had a nervous breakdown when I was around nine or ten when away on a trip with her mother. She had found a postcard with two German Shepherd puppies on it that reminded her of our two dogs. She had sent it to me just a day before she had her nervous breakdown. So strange it was to me that I should receive it after learning what happened to her. It was almost as if she knew something was going on but perhaps not. The wording was the mother I knew all my life. That mother and life was gone forever. Just as if a wrecking ball had come and knocked the foundation out from under our home causing it to crash to the ground. My mother was there but she wasn't.
Before, she had always been a loving person who would often sing for no reason and laugh. Now she was an angry person who was full of hatred and suspicious of everyone. I still remember the few trips to the hospital to see her. I had wanted to see her and did not fully understand what was wrong. We would arrive, and after the big locks on the mental ward were opened to let us in, I'd see her sitting in a chair just looking out the window or staring off into space. A nurse would go over and tell her we were there and she'd turn and see me and just smile and talk to me like she always had. Going over to her and giving her one of the pictures I'd drawn and receive a huge hug in response :I'd tell her I loved her.
It was only a fleeting glimpse of who she once was. Only a few minutes into the visit she would become agitated and we would have to leave. Some time later she was allowed to come home even though she still needed treatment. Pop never had much time to do things with me when I was growing up. It was just like the words to a song from Cat Stephens go: "The Cat's in the Cradle with a silver spoon, little boy blue and the man on the moon. When you coming home dad? I don't know when? But we're going to have a good time then son. We're going to have a good time then."
He had a lot to deal with and had kept it all inside most those years leading up to the breakdown. Things had become worse but being a young kid I didn't see any of it coming. Not until it did and I still did not fully understand it. I mean, nobody even talked about it with me except to say my mother was sick. Before the breakdown my mother and I were very close but afterwards I did not even know her. She was not the same person. She looked like my mother and sounded like my mother but it was no longer her.
After my Pop fought long and hard to get her the help she needed she called for a divorce. I was in the fifth grade. During my sixth grade year kids at school picked on me and finally I just quit going to school after a short time. Nothing ever happened and nobody came to make me go so I didn't.
At the divorce, the court ruled that I was to stay with her. My Pop had never had her committed persay so they deemed her well enough to keep me. We stayed in the huge colonial style home, just she and I and the pets, Pop had worked his ass off for because she wanted it. Pop slept on the floor of his office in a sleeping bag until he could get an apartment. All he was allowed to take with him when he left were two suit cases full of clothes, his shaving kit and that sleeping bag. He still had to pay all the monthly bills of the house, alimony and child support as well as mothers car. Mother bought me a go-kart and a stereo out of the blue. That go-kart was ridden day and night. Sometimes I'd be out riding it after midnight up and down the road while other kids were in bed because they had to go to school.
I lived in this house that was now empty of anything I'd known. She slept all day but for an hour or so and only came out late at night also for an hour or so. She'd sit in the dark thinking mean and hateful things and laughing out loud to herself now and again. It was scary when at one point she began telling me about the devil and how to practice sorcery.
She hated my father and all she did was speak ill of him to me all the time. I began to fear her and tried to keep out of her way. I didn't want her to knock the crap out of me again. The fear was so much that when I did go to bed I'd lock my door with my dog inside with me for protection I hoped.
She gave away our pets and all that was left for me was the television set. One day while watching the set in the den a man drove up and my mother met him at the door. She walked right past the den as she had done many times not even acknowledging me. She came into the den with the man and without looking at me pointed to the set while I was watching it. The man nodded at me then proceeded to turn it off and unplug it from the wall. He walked out with the set and my mother turned without a word and went back upstairs to her room.
There I was sitting in the dark staring at the empty space wondering what had just happened.
I couldn't believe it. A couple of days later I remembered we had a small black and white set somewhere. I found it and hid it in my room to watch late at night.
Mother mostly bought junk garbage when she would go to the store and very few staple foods. I had to teach myself how to cook. I'd do egg sandwiches until they ran out and then rice or plain noodles with butter or oatmeal. When the bread would run out I'd eat peanut butter out of the jar. I got good and mixing bits of different things to have something to eat. Sometimes she would go to the store and buy t.v dinners and I'd heat those up but that was a rarity. Aside from having some good dinners at my friends house I'd cut lawns and do yard work to earn money for food. I'd ride my bicycle several miles to the mall and eat at Morrisons Cafeteria. I'd really pig out on the great food there.
I was all alone and did what some kids only dreamt about. Aunts and Uncles never came by or called to check up on me and my Pop wasn't allowed to by the court system. He wasn't to have contact with me without her permission and he didn't even get any visitation. He had not done anything wrong but I didn't know why he didn't come by. No telling what lies my mother had told the courts about him. Again, nobody had told me anything and all I felt was alone, scared and abandoned. Then I began to get mad and then wild. But I wanted to see my Pop so I 'd stay up all night so I could hop on my brothers old bicycle he'd left behind and ride to the next town to see Pop. The world would be just waking up as I made my way in the dark to his apartment. But I'd be so tired when I got there and Pop would be getting ready for work. He was surprised each time I arrived but was happy to see me. While he finished getting ready for work I'd pass out on his couch and he would be gone when I awoke most times. So I'd hop on the bike and make my way to his office to visit with him.
Life sucked but I kept hoping for the better and each day I woke up...well, that was a good start.
So, yesterday I woke up again and today I did the same. Let's hope that it is a repeat performance tomorrow.
Each morning at work I am asked how I am doing by one of the office personal. He makes his way around greeting everyone first thing in the morning when he arrives. It's one of those things that makes you, me at least, feel as if I'm a person and not just a warm body at work. This sort of thing is rare today in the work place. Most often I reply back " I'm doing pretty good so far. At least when I woke up I found I was still alive- that's always a plus sign."
One morning I was not feeling all that great in mind, body or soul and I threw him a curve. "How are you doing this morning? He asked.
"When I woke up this morning I found I was dead. But, I'm feeling much better now." I replied.
His look was one of those what do I say to that looks. After a quick moment he shot back " That's always a good sign."
Somehow along the way from yesterday to today I've lost a part of me that used to look forward to each new day. My maternal mother had a nervous breakdown when I was around nine or ten when away on a trip with her mother. She had found a postcard with two German Shepherd puppies on it that reminded her of our two dogs. She had sent it to me just a day before she had her nervous breakdown. So strange it was to me that I should receive it after learning what happened to her. It was almost as if she knew something was going on but perhaps not. The wording was the mother I knew all my life. That mother and life was gone forever. Just as if a wrecking ball had come and knocked the foundation out from under our home causing it to crash to the ground. My mother was there but she wasn't.
Before, she had always been a loving person who would often sing for no reason and laugh. Now she was an angry person who was full of hatred and suspicious of everyone. I still remember the few trips to the hospital to see her. I had wanted to see her and did not fully understand what was wrong. We would arrive, and after the big locks on the mental ward were opened to let us in, I'd see her sitting in a chair just looking out the window or staring off into space. A nurse would go over and tell her we were there and she'd turn and see me and just smile and talk to me like she always had. Going over to her and giving her one of the pictures I'd drawn and receive a huge hug in response :I'd tell her I loved her.
It was only a fleeting glimpse of who she once was. Only a few minutes into the visit she would become agitated and we would have to leave. Some time later she was allowed to come home even though she still needed treatment. Pop never had much time to do things with me when I was growing up. It was just like the words to a song from Cat Stephens go: "The Cat's in the Cradle with a silver spoon, little boy blue and the man on the moon. When you coming home dad? I don't know when? But we're going to have a good time then son. We're going to have a good time then."
He had a lot to deal with and had kept it all inside most those years leading up to the breakdown. Things had become worse but being a young kid I didn't see any of it coming. Not until it did and I still did not fully understand it. I mean, nobody even talked about it with me except to say my mother was sick. Before the breakdown my mother and I were very close but afterwards I did not even know her. She was not the same person. She looked like my mother and sounded like my mother but it was no longer her.
After my Pop fought long and hard to get her the help she needed she called for a divorce. I was in the fifth grade. During my sixth grade year kids at school picked on me and finally I just quit going to school after a short time. Nothing ever happened and nobody came to make me go so I didn't.
At the divorce, the court ruled that I was to stay with her. My Pop had never had her committed persay so they deemed her well enough to keep me. We stayed in the huge colonial style home, just she and I and the pets, Pop had worked his ass off for because she wanted it. Pop slept on the floor of his office in a sleeping bag until he could get an apartment. All he was allowed to take with him when he left were two suit cases full of clothes, his shaving kit and that sleeping bag. He still had to pay all the monthly bills of the house, alimony and child support as well as mothers car. Mother bought me a go-kart and a stereo out of the blue. That go-kart was ridden day and night. Sometimes I'd be out riding it after midnight up and down the road while other kids were in bed because they had to go to school.
I lived in this house that was now empty of anything I'd known. She slept all day but for an hour or so and only came out late at night also for an hour or so. She'd sit in the dark thinking mean and hateful things and laughing out loud to herself now and again. It was scary when at one point she began telling me about the devil and how to practice sorcery.
She hated my father and all she did was speak ill of him to me all the time. I began to fear her and tried to keep out of her way. I didn't want her to knock the crap out of me again. The fear was so much that when I did go to bed I'd lock my door with my dog inside with me for protection I hoped.
She gave away our pets and all that was left for me was the television set. One day while watching the set in the den a man drove up and my mother met him at the door. She walked right past the den as she had done many times not even acknowledging me. She came into the den with the man and without looking at me pointed to the set while I was watching it. The man nodded at me then proceeded to turn it off and unplug it from the wall. He walked out with the set and my mother turned without a word and went back upstairs to her room.
There I was sitting in the dark staring at the empty space wondering what had just happened.
I couldn't believe it. A couple of days later I remembered we had a small black and white set somewhere. I found it and hid it in my room to watch late at night.
Mother mostly bought junk garbage when she would go to the store and very few staple foods. I had to teach myself how to cook. I'd do egg sandwiches until they ran out and then rice or plain noodles with butter or oatmeal. When the bread would run out I'd eat peanut butter out of the jar. I got good and mixing bits of different things to have something to eat. Sometimes she would go to the store and buy t.v dinners and I'd heat those up but that was a rarity. Aside from having some good dinners at my friends house I'd cut lawns and do yard work to earn money for food. I'd ride my bicycle several miles to the mall and eat at Morrisons Cafeteria. I'd really pig out on the great food there.
I was all alone and did what some kids only dreamt about. Aunts and Uncles never came by or called to check up on me and my Pop wasn't allowed to by the court system. He wasn't to have contact with me without her permission and he didn't even get any visitation. He had not done anything wrong but I didn't know why he didn't come by. No telling what lies my mother had told the courts about him. Again, nobody had told me anything and all I felt was alone, scared and abandoned. Then I began to get mad and then wild. But I wanted to see my Pop so I 'd stay up all night so I could hop on my brothers old bicycle he'd left behind and ride to the next town to see Pop. The world would be just waking up as I made my way in the dark to his apartment. But I'd be so tired when I got there and Pop would be getting ready for work. He was surprised each time I arrived but was happy to see me. While he finished getting ready for work I'd pass out on his couch and he would be gone when I awoke most times. So I'd hop on the bike and make my way to his office to visit with him.
Life sucked but I kept hoping for the better and each day I woke up...well, that was a good start.
So, yesterday I woke up again and today I did the same. Let's hope that it is a repeat performance tomorrow.
Sunday, November 19, 2006
Magazine Page Layout
More boring thoughts from me. I keep searching for info on the web about putting together a magazine. It seems to be a dead end when trying to find out how to do page layout the old fashioned way. Everything assumes that you want to do it on the computer and all searches turn up loads of stuff for this. But just trying to find out how to do it like days of old is nowhere to be found. I can't even find a thing that shows anything close.
Even graphic design sites all assume you are wanting to do it on computer and it makes me want to pull my hair out. On the computer you can't put the pages on a table to see if you like what you have. Rearranging pictures and wording to fit on a table is easier because you can look at what the finished product will look like. The computer makes it so you can't compare one look with the other side by side. You have to keep pulling one page up and then the other. I want to do it the way Hugh Hefner and EasyRiders did it in the beginning because everything can be spread out on the floor or table then rearrange to try a different look.
The whole process when I did up my concert posters was more enjoyable doing them the old fashioned way. It was fun to mix and match and move things around on an actual poster board to see what it would look like. Making it fit and then being able to stand back to take a look. Then come back later while walking through to see it again. Maybe make a change , maybe not. The whole process was a lot of fun for me and the computer can not be manipulated in the same manner as doing it the old way. You are limited to what a certain program is designed to do.
Another matter is trying to find a printer who will accept a design for print the old way. They all want everything done on Quark or another system and submitted to them via computer. This way they can just load it up and run it and you have to HOPE it comes out how you want. If you screwed up the look or page layout and bleed you'll not know until the printing is already done.
The minute pieces of information I've found on printing the old way is very little and does not show or tell you all that much. Perhaps I should get a scanner and do up my pages into the computer that way. I could still do the layout the old way with the pages numbered and then scan into my computer. Maybe that would work because I can't see going out and buying Quark or something only to be limited as to how I want things to look. Besides, those programs cost a pretty penny and I'm a cheap ass sort of bloke.
More boring thoughts from me. I keep searching for info on the web about putting together a magazine. It seems to be a dead end when trying to find out how to do page layout the old fashioned way. Everything assumes that you want to do it on the computer and all searches turn up loads of stuff for this. But just trying to find out how to do it like days of old is nowhere to be found. I can't even find a thing that shows anything close.
Even graphic design sites all assume you are wanting to do it on computer and it makes me want to pull my hair out. On the computer you can't put the pages on a table to see if you like what you have. Rearranging pictures and wording to fit on a table is easier because you can look at what the finished product will look like. The computer makes it so you can't compare one look with the other side by side. You have to keep pulling one page up and then the other. I want to do it the way Hugh Hefner and EasyRiders did it in the beginning because everything can be spread out on the floor or table then rearrange to try a different look.
The whole process when I did up my concert posters was more enjoyable doing them the old fashioned way. It was fun to mix and match and move things around on an actual poster board to see what it would look like. Making it fit and then being able to stand back to take a look. Then come back later while walking through to see it again. Maybe make a change , maybe not. The whole process was a lot of fun for me and the computer can not be manipulated in the same manner as doing it the old way. You are limited to what a certain program is designed to do.
Another matter is trying to find a printer who will accept a design for print the old way. They all want everything done on Quark or another system and submitted to them via computer. This way they can just load it up and run it and you have to HOPE it comes out how you want. If you screwed up the look or page layout and bleed you'll not know until the printing is already done.
The minute pieces of information I've found on printing the old way is very little and does not show or tell you all that much. Perhaps I should get a scanner and do up my pages into the computer that way. I could still do the layout the old way with the pages numbered and then scan into my computer. Maybe that would work because I can't see going out and buying Quark or something only to be limited as to how I want things to look. Besides, those programs cost a pretty penny and I'm a cheap ass sort of bloke.
Saturday, November 18, 2006
A Bit Of History On Wooley
(click on picture to view)
My friend, Billy Jones of www.bloggingpoet.com, did something along these lines on his site. He is a three time published author and pretty soon a fourth book is coming out. Of course I'm no where as traveled as that old scooter tramp is but I'm working on it. Don't think I'd follow in his footsteps exactly as his road has had some mighty big potholes to climb out of. For Billy though all those pot holes are what made him who he is I reckon.
My father, who was a Navy lieutenant and pilot at the time, was on leave in California when he saw my mother, who was on vacation from her job with the FBI, on the beach. He whistled at her as she passed by because she had sexy legs. She winked back at him and after a sister and two brothers born between sea duty and a move to Georgia I was born last. ( I've been last every since)
I was born in 1962 in a small hospital (Kennestone General Hospital) in Smyrna Georgia. I was the runt for years as my older brothers ate like pigs and I got the scraps. And, I had to fight the dogs for those.
Pops had a friend who owned a Harley Davidson dealership and Jim and his wife would ride their bikes over to the house and my oldest brother and I would ogle the gleaming machines while they were parked out back. We also had an uncle who rode a variety of road bikes and he would ride from Michigan to Georgia to visit. One time we visited his hippy pad in Michigan and and became spellbound viewing his two choppers and one Honda in the rickety garage.
Later my parents divorced while I was still young and my father remarried. She is a wonderful women who most during my youth and today believe she is my maternal mother. If not for her I would not be here today. This union brought me two more brothers and another sister. All of them older than me so I still got stuck with being the youngest and now even farther down the feeding chain. They all ate like a barn yard full of pigs. My brothers used to pull pranks on me and one even used to beat my ass and torment me which made me into a much angrier teen ager who did some not so nice things.
During highschool I worked in a Hospital keeping the emergency room clean for the next victim. Moved on to a construction company then went to work at an aluminum extrusion company and worked my way up from sweeping floors and doing warehouse work to driving trucks. I was promoted and moved into the office and over the years went from sales to collections and finally to warehouse manager.
Not long after being at the extrusion company my tormenting brother and I made amends after a few years when we had a (small) confrontation in our parents den. After that we watched each others backs and became close.
We road motorcycles together, hopped up our cars, tried to steal each others women and partied together. Can't remember just how many pool halls and biker bars I hung out at back then. A friend from highschool, which I road with, introduced me to some hardcore bikers over in the Stone Mountain area. Had some good times hanging with that group. I met an Outlaw at work fresh out of prison and we did some partying as well. (Did a write up on this here blog about him sometime back).
In 1984, on Columbus day, someone stole my Harley off of one of my bud's carport in the middle of the night. We found a place at the end of the driveway where they dropped it and left some of the fresh red paint on the asphalt with some of her oil. We were in the middle of replacing the primary chain when she was taken. Not long after that I acquired my Panhead basket case for a mere five hundred bucks. Did I mention it was a basket case?
I've owned several cars over the years. My favorites were my 1966 Ford galaxy with it's 390 , dual exhaust and dealer installed under dash air conditioner. That air conditioner blew so cold it would freeze you out of the car. My next favorite car was my 1975 Camaro. I pulled out the weak 350 and installed a 396 with a transmission from a vette. It was an easy swap with only a minor modification made to the tranny cross mount and moving it back a tad to bolt up to the sub frame and tranny mount. The engine was putting out around 500 horsepower and was topped with some finned aluminum vette valve covers and an 850 double pumper carburetor. With the mufflers uncapped she sounded like a freight train coming at you. She'd smoke the tires with ease but she was a bit front end heavy. She'd haul ass!
Years later I moved to North Carolina, got married, had a son, worked at a waste treatment plant, worked for the Police Department then went back into a trucking firm.
A few years ago I began writing for GarageChoppers which no longer exists and I've also tried concert promotion. There are two stories in the works on my computer at this time and juggling two at once is keeping me busy. I hope to have one in print so I can brag to my friend Billy about it. I've also got a magazine on the back burner but can't get any help on getting it off the ground.
At this time I'm working at a machine shop and trying to figure out how to make my dream ride come together.
(click on picture to view)
My friend, Billy Jones of www.bloggingpoet.com, did something along these lines on his site. He is a three time published author and pretty soon a fourth book is coming out. Of course I'm no where as traveled as that old scooter tramp is but I'm working on it. Don't think I'd follow in his footsteps exactly as his road has had some mighty big potholes to climb out of. For Billy though all those pot holes are what made him who he is I reckon.
My father, who was a Navy lieutenant and pilot at the time, was on leave in California when he saw my mother, who was on vacation from her job with the FBI, on the beach. He whistled at her as she passed by because she had sexy legs. She winked back at him and after a sister and two brothers born between sea duty and a move to Georgia I was born last. ( I've been last every since)
I was born in 1962 in a small hospital (Kennestone General Hospital) in Smyrna Georgia. I was the runt for years as my older brothers ate like pigs and I got the scraps. And, I had to fight the dogs for those.
Pops had a friend who owned a Harley Davidson dealership and Jim and his wife would ride their bikes over to the house and my oldest brother and I would ogle the gleaming machines while they were parked out back. We also had an uncle who rode a variety of road bikes and he would ride from Michigan to Georgia to visit. One time we visited his hippy pad in Michigan and and became spellbound viewing his two choppers and one Honda in the rickety garage.
Later my parents divorced while I was still young and my father remarried. She is a wonderful women who most during my youth and today believe she is my maternal mother. If not for her I would not be here today. This union brought me two more brothers and another sister. All of them older than me so I still got stuck with being the youngest and now even farther down the feeding chain. They all ate like a barn yard full of pigs. My brothers used to pull pranks on me and one even used to beat my ass and torment me which made me into a much angrier teen ager who did some not so nice things.
During highschool I worked in a Hospital keeping the emergency room clean for the next victim. Moved on to a construction company then went to work at an aluminum extrusion company and worked my way up from sweeping floors and doing warehouse work to driving trucks. I was promoted and moved into the office and over the years went from sales to collections and finally to warehouse manager.
Not long after being at the extrusion company my tormenting brother and I made amends after a few years when we had a (small) confrontation in our parents den. After that we watched each others backs and became close.
We road motorcycles together, hopped up our cars, tried to steal each others women and partied together. Can't remember just how many pool halls and biker bars I hung out at back then. A friend from highschool, which I road with, introduced me to some hardcore bikers over in the Stone Mountain area. Had some good times hanging with that group. I met an Outlaw at work fresh out of prison and we did some partying as well. (Did a write up on this here blog about him sometime back).
In 1984, on Columbus day, someone stole my Harley off of one of my bud's carport in the middle of the night. We found a place at the end of the driveway where they dropped it and left some of the fresh red paint on the asphalt with some of her oil. We were in the middle of replacing the primary chain when she was taken. Not long after that I acquired my Panhead basket case for a mere five hundred bucks. Did I mention it was a basket case?
I've owned several cars over the years. My favorites were my 1966 Ford galaxy with it's 390 , dual exhaust and dealer installed under dash air conditioner. That air conditioner blew so cold it would freeze you out of the car. My next favorite car was my 1975 Camaro. I pulled out the weak 350 and installed a 396 with a transmission from a vette. It was an easy swap with only a minor modification made to the tranny cross mount and moving it back a tad to bolt up to the sub frame and tranny mount. The engine was putting out around 500 horsepower and was topped with some finned aluminum vette valve covers and an 850 double pumper carburetor. With the mufflers uncapped she sounded like a freight train coming at you. She'd smoke the tires with ease but she was a bit front end heavy. She'd haul ass!
Years later I moved to North Carolina, got married, had a son, worked at a waste treatment plant, worked for the Police Department then went back into a trucking firm.
A few years ago I began writing for GarageChoppers which no longer exists and I've also tried concert promotion. There are two stories in the works on my computer at this time and juggling two at once is keeping me busy. I hope to have one in print so I can brag to my friend Billy about it. I've also got a magazine on the back burner but can't get any help on getting it off the ground.
At this time I'm working at a machine shop and trying to figure out how to make my dream ride come together.
Friday, November 17, 2006
What About Turn Signals ?
Maybe I'm just getting old but I seem to remember a time when a car had turn signals. These days most of these new cars just don't seem to have them anymore. Ever notice that? Now if I was buying a new car today I'd sure want the signals as standard equipment. Do you have to pay extra for them these days? Seems that when I'm on the road each day that only a few cars have these relics of the past. Today they are equipped with cell phones, televisions, computers, coffee makers, newspapers and all sorts of other items designed to keep the drivers attention on everything. That is - except for the road.
Big Rigs also seem to be lacking this once standard piece of flashing appendage. Such as the one that forced me over to the shoulder of the expressway this week - his rear trailer wheels were even with my front left wheel while he moved over into my lane. At least I thought it was my lane when he was passing me. If I had been in a new car I'd not had time to react and avoid an accident because I'd probably have been on the phone while reading my paper and making a fresh cup of coffee as I turned the station on my television. So, because I'm behind the times and don't have all these options my eyes were boringly set on the road and what was going on around me.
Now don't get me wrong as I know these Semi's have huge blind spots on them. I've driven a few big trucks and ridden in just a few as well in years past and I still knew when I was passing another vehicle to keep an eye out for a clear time to move over. It's not easy these days to pilot a Semi down the road as the norm today is a fifty three foot trailer being pulled by a twenty foot, long nosed tractor. My first days in trucks were when they were cab overs with forty foot trailers and a few forty five footers. Then after a couple of years the forty eight footers became all the rage. Some states, like Alabama and Georgia, frowned on a forty eight and when the fifty threes came along - you only had very few roads that you were allowed on with them or face a huge fine.
I'm not trying to bash big rig drivers as for the most part these drivers can handle them better than most people in a Honda Accord. Oh sure you see more on the news these days about Semi's being in accidents but that is more in part to the larger volume on the road at this day and age. It's like having a field of twenty race cars on a track with a two thirds being Chevrolet. More Chevy's wreck out during the race than the Dodges or Fords. Why is that? Because of the shear numbers ratio. Does that mean the Chevrolet drivers are worse drivers? No! It just means there are more out there to wreck.
Now here is something else I've noticed in the automotive field these days. Chrome or lack here of. You want chrome on your car you have to buy chrome wheels. No more bumpers like the old days that protected your cars expensive body. Nope! Today the bumper is made into the fabric of the car so if you hit something all sorts of body damage follows. You just can't put on a fresh bumper and be done with it. Now-a-days the fenders and all get crushed in. Another thing is with old style bumpers you had a place to tie things on with and something to attach a bumper hitch to.
Vinyl tops. Has anyone seen a new car with a vinyl top? I can't remember when the last time was I saw a new car with a vinyl top. You? How about a plain Jane car for just good old cheap transportation that wasn't a piece of junk? Used to be you could get a Chevy Nova with a solid drive train, a heater, am/fm radio and vinyl seats for a fair price. The car wasn't fancy but it looked good and performed well and didn't have all the bells and whistles to break down on them. It was just a simple vehicle that got the job done at a great price. And, they had turn signals at no extra charge.
Maybe I'm just getting old but I seem to remember a time when a car had turn signals. These days most of these new cars just don't seem to have them anymore. Ever notice that? Now if I was buying a new car today I'd sure want the signals as standard equipment. Do you have to pay extra for them these days? Seems that when I'm on the road each day that only a few cars have these relics of the past. Today they are equipped with cell phones, televisions, computers, coffee makers, newspapers and all sorts of other items designed to keep the drivers attention on everything. That is - except for the road.
Big Rigs also seem to be lacking this once standard piece of flashing appendage. Such as the one that forced me over to the shoulder of the expressway this week - his rear trailer wheels were even with my front left wheel while he moved over into my lane. At least I thought it was my lane when he was passing me. If I had been in a new car I'd not had time to react and avoid an accident because I'd probably have been on the phone while reading my paper and making a fresh cup of coffee as I turned the station on my television. So, because I'm behind the times and don't have all these options my eyes were boringly set on the road and what was going on around me.
Now don't get me wrong as I know these Semi's have huge blind spots on them. I've driven a few big trucks and ridden in just a few as well in years past and I still knew when I was passing another vehicle to keep an eye out for a clear time to move over. It's not easy these days to pilot a Semi down the road as the norm today is a fifty three foot trailer being pulled by a twenty foot, long nosed tractor. My first days in trucks were when they were cab overs with forty foot trailers and a few forty five footers. Then after a couple of years the forty eight footers became all the rage. Some states, like Alabama and Georgia, frowned on a forty eight and when the fifty threes came along - you only had very few roads that you were allowed on with them or face a huge fine.
I'm not trying to bash big rig drivers as for the most part these drivers can handle them better than most people in a Honda Accord. Oh sure you see more on the news these days about Semi's being in accidents but that is more in part to the larger volume on the road at this day and age. It's like having a field of twenty race cars on a track with a two thirds being Chevrolet. More Chevy's wreck out during the race than the Dodges or Fords. Why is that? Because of the shear numbers ratio. Does that mean the Chevrolet drivers are worse drivers? No! It just means there are more out there to wreck.
Now here is something else I've noticed in the automotive field these days. Chrome or lack here of. You want chrome on your car you have to buy chrome wheels. No more bumpers like the old days that protected your cars expensive body. Nope! Today the bumper is made into the fabric of the car so if you hit something all sorts of body damage follows. You just can't put on a fresh bumper and be done with it. Now-a-days the fenders and all get crushed in. Another thing is with old style bumpers you had a place to tie things on with and something to attach a bumper hitch to.
Vinyl tops. Has anyone seen a new car with a vinyl top? I can't remember when the last time was I saw a new car with a vinyl top. You? How about a plain Jane car for just good old cheap transportation that wasn't a piece of junk? Used to be you could get a Chevy Nova with a solid drive train, a heater, am/fm radio and vinyl seats for a fair price. The car wasn't fancy but it looked good and performed well and didn't have all the bells and whistles to break down on them. It was just a simple vehicle that got the job done at a great price. And, they had turn signals at no extra charge.
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