Blogrolled and Trashed.
I was visiting some blogs that use to have a link back to mine and noticed I'm no longer there. I've been thrown into the blogroll trash bin it seems. Thing is, I read a lot of different blogs from time to time but time isn't what it use to be. So many good ones out there that I just could not keep up with them all the way I would have liked. Perhaps its because as the time went by I began to write about things other than motorcycles. When I was with "that other place" I had a pretty good following and it grew until it fizzled out like many things do. Actually when all of it came down and the motorcycle gig was up, I felt down about the whole thing. Writing was a vessel that gave me joy everyday. Whether I was doing research or an interview or what have you it was fun. Its still hard to let it go after all this time and I should just learn to put it behind me. Even when the pressure was on to produce an article by a deadline or a filler for someone who did not have their article ready, while hectic and some times panicked, it was a thrilling ride. At times I would have an article or two waiting in the wings for just such occasions. Getting writers block stinks and learning from experience you write up as much as you can while its flowing. Although some articles would never get published it was piece of mind knowing you had a fallback piece. Every writer needs a little fall back piece.One just never knows when the well might go dry.
So some have deleted me from their blog roll. So be it.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Old Machinery.
Building a TearDrop camper is a little like stepping back in time. These things were all the rage back in the thirties and forties. The originals were four foot by eight foot rigs with room for a bed and a small kitchen in the rear that was accessed from outside. View one here http://www.buchfink.com/photos/31P7060042.html for a better idea. They come in all different sizes now-a-days but the general idea is the same. Make a small camper that's easy to tow, gives good comfort and protection from the elements and wildlife, is simple and easy to maintain and can go were the jumbo sized RV's simply can't go. Building these is something I'm enjoying because its creating something out of nothing but most importantly... I enjoy the heck out of it. It is old machine meets new machine.
Perhaps its because of my Fathers like of old machinery that I love the old machines too. My first encounter with old machinery was my fathers 1937 Cord convertible. I was just a tike of around three or four when I was messing around in our basement garage and climbed into the drivers seat of the old relic. It sat in a dark corner with only a scattering of daylight shining through a dusty window. Cobwebs abounded down there. The door handle operated as smooth as silk and even though the suicide door was heavy, swung open with such ease it didn't take much effort on my part. Climbing in and sitting at the wheel the door closed all by itself with a solid clunk of the latch. I sat there pretending to drive twisting and pulling on the steering wheel. Of course I played with all the switches and levers as well. I kept pushing the little starter button in the dash; if it had tried to start I'd of crapped my pants. Tiring of all this imaginary driving I tried to get out but didn't know how. I waled and waled until my father came in for some reason and heard me. Only the outside door handle worked and he gave it a turn to free his panic stricken son.
Even after that experience, I still loved that old car and would even play in it from time to time now that I knew how to get back out.
It was my fathers dream to get that car restored and make it road worthy again and over the years he did get some things fixed such as the vapor locking problem. But his big dream was to get it done up right ... someday. There was a family of hungry mouths to feed and a mortgage, and car payments and a business to run so it all had to wait.
My whole life that car was with us, Sitting around waiting for someday to come. It saw all of us kids from birth to graduation then marriage and raising our families. The time just never was right for the restoration to begin. Even after sitting for years that old car would crank up with only an hour of dads draining the sediment bowls and dropping a battery in it. Then it would sit for several more years. It was my fathers one constant dream my whole life and it never did materialise. Finally just a few short years ago he sold it to some fellow out California way who sent a special antique car hauler to fetch it. Funny thing to me, dad drove that car all the way from California to Georgia when he got out of the Navy only to have it wind up back there.
My 1948 Harley Panhead is my cord I guess. It sits out in my little shop in pieces waiting for someday when monies right and all the stars and planets line up just so. Be patient and some day will come.
Today while I was out I passed by http://www.antillesseaplanes.com/ located in Gibsonville North Carolina. These guys love old machines too only they have the resources to do something about it. Seems a few years back one of them wanted an old sea plane and finally found one. Only the guy didn't want to sell it but rather all the old parts inventory he had. So, these guys bought the parts and found some planes to restore. Their passion has grown into a business and they are working on building new sea planes as well. I'd love to work there restoring those old aircraft from a bygone era. There is just something for me about bringing old stuff back to life. Nothing like taking a machine that everyone says will never run again and making it do just that.
I've had two years of body and paint training and have a small engine degree but for some reason never have been able to work in that sort of industry. So my TearDrop venture is filling my void of someday and hopefully will build into a nice side income so I can have that Panhead back on the road to.
Building a TearDrop camper is a little like stepping back in time. These things were all the rage back in the thirties and forties. The originals were four foot by eight foot rigs with room for a bed and a small kitchen in the rear that was accessed from outside. View one here http://www.buchfink.com/photos/31P7060042.html for a better idea. They come in all different sizes now-a-days but the general idea is the same. Make a small camper that's easy to tow, gives good comfort and protection from the elements and wildlife, is simple and easy to maintain and can go were the jumbo sized RV's simply can't go. Building these is something I'm enjoying because its creating something out of nothing but most importantly... I enjoy the heck out of it. It is old machine meets new machine.
Perhaps its because of my Fathers like of old machinery that I love the old machines too. My first encounter with old machinery was my fathers 1937 Cord convertible. I was just a tike of around three or four when I was messing around in our basement garage and climbed into the drivers seat of the old relic. It sat in a dark corner with only a scattering of daylight shining through a dusty window. Cobwebs abounded down there. The door handle operated as smooth as silk and even though the suicide door was heavy, swung open with such ease it didn't take much effort on my part. Climbing in and sitting at the wheel the door closed all by itself with a solid clunk of the latch. I sat there pretending to drive twisting and pulling on the steering wheel. Of course I played with all the switches and levers as well. I kept pushing the little starter button in the dash; if it had tried to start I'd of crapped my pants. Tiring of all this imaginary driving I tried to get out but didn't know how. I waled and waled until my father came in for some reason and heard me. Only the outside door handle worked and he gave it a turn to free his panic stricken son.
Even after that experience, I still loved that old car and would even play in it from time to time now that I knew how to get back out.
It was my fathers dream to get that car restored and make it road worthy again and over the years he did get some things fixed such as the vapor locking problem. But his big dream was to get it done up right ... someday. There was a family of hungry mouths to feed and a mortgage, and car payments and a business to run so it all had to wait.
My whole life that car was with us, Sitting around waiting for someday to come. It saw all of us kids from birth to graduation then marriage and raising our families. The time just never was right for the restoration to begin. Even after sitting for years that old car would crank up with only an hour of dads draining the sediment bowls and dropping a battery in it. Then it would sit for several more years. It was my fathers one constant dream my whole life and it never did materialise. Finally just a few short years ago he sold it to some fellow out California way who sent a special antique car hauler to fetch it. Funny thing to me, dad drove that car all the way from California to Georgia when he got out of the Navy only to have it wind up back there.
My 1948 Harley Panhead is my cord I guess. It sits out in my little shop in pieces waiting for someday when monies right and all the stars and planets line up just so. Be patient and some day will come.
Today while I was out I passed by http://www.antillesseaplanes.com/ located in Gibsonville North Carolina. These guys love old machines too only they have the resources to do something about it. Seems a few years back one of them wanted an old sea plane and finally found one. Only the guy didn't want to sell it but rather all the old parts inventory he had. So, these guys bought the parts and found some planes to restore. Their passion has grown into a business and they are working on building new sea planes as well. I'd love to work there restoring those old aircraft from a bygone era. There is just something for me about bringing old stuff back to life. Nothing like taking a machine that everyone says will never run again and making it do just that.
I've had two years of body and paint training and have a small engine degree but for some reason never have been able to work in that sort of industry. So my TearDrop venture is filling my void of someday and hopefully will build into a nice side income so I can have that Panhead back on the road to.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Friday, October 12, 2007
Boot Camp For Troubled Kids.
I suppose you have heard about the fourteen year old youth who was murdered by the very people in trusted to make this child into a model citizen. Turn him around from his wicked ways and help him on the path to the straight and narrow. Martin Lee Anderson was punched and kicked by guards after he collapsed from forced exercise.
I was watching CNN last night with coverage of what needs to be done to stop this abuse by so-called-caregivers for troubled youth. These are not isolated instances but rather more than a thousand such abuses and the on going problem of camp counselors forcing children to eat vomit, be confined as punishment without food or water, making kids wear sandbags around their necks and beatings and other abuse.
I can't believe that every single guard, and the nurse, in the death of Martin Lee Anderson have been acquitted even after viewing a video showing the actual beating.
Now if this abuse suffered by Martin Anderson had been administered by his own parents, do any of you believe they would have been acquitted of all the abuse? What if this had been done by High School coaches or teachers? Would the total lack of justice had the same outcome?
HELL NO!!
The parents would have been carted off to jail, given a trial with the same evidence and either faced the death penalty or been made to serve the 30 years sentences.
These boot camps are doing nothing but being abuse centers and not the help they claim to be. These kids are being mistreated, killed and abused by nothing more than paid child abusers who evidently are above the law as the show last night repeated over and over the mistreatment and abuse.
I suppose you have heard about the fourteen year old youth who was murdered by the very people in trusted to make this child into a model citizen. Turn him around from his wicked ways and help him on the path to the straight and narrow. Martin Lee Anderson was punched and kicked by guards after he collapsed from forced exercise.
I was watching CNN last night with coverage of what needs to be done to stop this abuse by so-called-caregivers for troubled youth. These are not isolated instances but rather more than a thousand such abuses and the on going problem of camp counselors forcing children to eat vomit, be confined as punishment without food or water, making kids wear sandbags around their necks and beatings and other abuse.
I can't believe that every single guard, and the nurse, in the death of Martin Lee Anderson have been acquitted even after viewing a video showing the actual beating.
Now if this abuse suffered by Martin Anderson had been administered by his own parents, do any of you believe they would have been acquitted of all the abuse? What if this had been done by High School coaches or teachers? Would the total lack of justice had the same outcome?
HELL NO!!
The parents would have been carted off to jail, given a trial with the same evidence and either faced the death penalty or been made to serve the 30 years sentences.
These boot camps are doing nothing but being abuse centers and not the help they claim to be. These kids are being mistreated, killed and abused by nothing more than paid child abusers who evidently are above the law as the show last night repeated over and over the mistreatment and abuse.
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Oh what a weekend!
It didn't begin all that badly except that my truck overheated on the way to work Friday morning. (A busy weekend was coming up and I had to have transportation). Cruising down the highway at seventy miles an hour when my temperature gauge needle went slam into the red. The truck began having bad spark knock from the heat and the rattleing sounded like the bottom end was about to come out. Luck would be with me though as a rest stop was right there when I needed it so I pulled over, called into work, sat there in the pre-dawn hour waiting for the truck to cool off so I could limp it home. Got that fixed and all is fine so far. My son was working the Shriners fish fry and I was able to get the truck going again in time for that.
The next morning I had to be at the first annual Reidsville Lake Music festival to help out with a concert. It started at 10 a.m. and I arrived at 11 a.m. after getting turned around for a little while. I enjoyed being there with old friends and some family members for the better part of the day. www.SongBear.com records was the promotor of this twelve band day long show. I feel sorry for the people in the area who missed out on some fantastic music.
It didn't begin all that badly except that my truck overheated on the way to work Friday morning. (A busy weekend was coming up and I had to have transportation). Cruising down the highway at seventy miles an hour when my temperature gauge needle went slam into the red. The truck began having bad spark knock from the heat and the rattleing sounded like the bottom end was about to come out. Luck would be with me though as a rest stop was right there when I needed it so I pulled over, called into work, sat there in the pre-dawn hour waiting for the truck to cool off so I could limp it home. Got that fixed and all is fine so far. My son was working the Shriners fish fry and I was able to get the truck going again in time for that.
The next morning I had to be at the first annual Reidsville Lake Music festival to help out with a concert. It started at 10 a.m. and I arrived at 11 a.m. after getting turned around for a little while. I enjoyed being there with old friends and some family members for the better part of the day. www.SongBear.com records was the promotor of this twelve band day long show. I feel sorry for the people in the area who missed out on some fantastic music.
Monday, October 01, 2007
Keith Urbans Motorcycle Accident.
Keith Urban had an accident near his home in Australia today. The result of a man on another motorcycle trying to get a picture while following Urban. Urban had to lay the bike down to avoid a car coming in the other direction that was turning in front of him. He admits that he had sped up when he noticed the other motorcycle was following him and was trying to get away from it. Urban was on the way to his AA meeting and his destination was something he wanted to keep private.
These paparazzi are so out of hand anymore. Just because a person is a celebrity of music, movies or sports does not mean that their whole life is to be spent without privacy. There are places and times for photo ops but they, like the rest of us mere mortals, need their own space and freedom from hounding.
I relate it to a person being at work and then when they are home, people from work keep calling after hours and on weekends wanting something. Just imagine trying to just go out to dinner with your friends or family only to be hounded by some office hound. Or, your in your own back yard enjoying the pool and here is that office person coming over un-announced, gawking at your wife in her bikini and staring at your kids. How about this one; your on the way to a funeral and the office hound is hot on your trail wanting something and won't stop until they achieve their goal.
It all boils down to respect and to know when enough is enough for gods sake. No wonder these celebrities get so angry and lash out. Wouldn't you do the same? I don't blame a one of them for snatching a camera and smashing it on the ground or punching another one out who won't get out of your face. Isn't it strange how paparazzi don't fall under the stalking rule? Or do they? Perhaps these celebrities should send out certified letters to all the tabloids and magazines with a court order to leave them alone and, any picture taken would include a ten thousand dollar fine to both the photographer and the magazine who printed it without the persons permission plus two months in jail.
Keith Urban had an accident near his home in Australia today. The result of a man on another motorcycle trying to get a picture while following Urban. Urban had to lay the bike down to avoid a car coming in the other direction that was turning in front of him. He admits that he had sped up when he noticed the other motorcycle was following him and was trying to get away from it. Urban was on the way to his AA meeting and his destination was something he wanted to keep private.
These paparazzi are so out of hand anymore. Just because a person is a celebrity of music, movies or sports does not mean that their whole life is to be spent without privacy. There are places and times for photo ops but they, like the rest of us mere mortals, need their own space and freedom from hounding.
I relate it to a person being at work and then when they are home, people from work keep calling after hours and on weekends wanting something. Just imagine trying to just go out to dinner with your friends or family only to be hounded by some office hound. Or, your in your own back yard enjoying the pool and here is that office person coming over un-announced, gawking at your wife in her bikini and staring at your kids. How about this one; your on the way to a funeral and the office hound is hot on your trail wanting something and won't stop until they achieve their goal.
It all boils down to respect and to know when enough is enough for gods sake. No wonder these celebrities get so angry and lash out. Wouldn't you do the same? I don't blame a one of them for snatching a camera and smashing it on the ground or punching another one out who won't get out of your face. Isn't it strange how paparazzi don't fall under the stalking rule? Or do they? Perhaps these celebrities should send out certified letters to all the tabloids and magazines with a court order to leave them alone and, any picture taken would include a ten thousand dollar fine to both the photographer and the magazine who printed it without the persons permission plus two months in jail.
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