Motorcycle ‘Hoods

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I received a telephone call last week from Jim, my long time friend and adopted cousin. By way of introduction, Jim is married to Becky, my actual first cousin. I am fond of them both. Jim is not much older than I, but in remarkably good condition, considering. In his youth, which I believe lasted into his 50s, he raced cars, motorcycles and anything else with wheels. He was good at it, too, he says. I learned recently that he raced formula Fords at Daytona. That is cool. Anyway, he invited me to join him and his friend Terry for a ride the following Wednesday. Our objective was to eat lunch at a small café in Lometa, Texas. Before this invitation, I have never ridden with Jim, but I expected he was competent and quick.

I promptly accepted and agreed to meet at his home in Waxahachie at 0930 Wednesday morning. I could hardly wait.

In the days between the call and the trip, I groomed every aspect of my motorcycle. Reliable as a wood stove, everything checked out. I aired the tires to the recommended pressure, connected the battery to the charger and generally cleaned and inspected all the other parts. I was set. Then, the night before the ride, I went into the garage to perform one last minute check. I slipped the key into the ignition and hit the start button. Usually, the engine starts so fast I do not even hear the starter motor. I did not hear it this time either, but for a different and bad reason. The battery was dead. “No, no, no. This cannot be happening.” I thought to myself. Quickly, I plugged in the charger and began praying. As a precaution, I called Jim and alerted him I might be a little late. It seemed I might not make the trip, after all. I checked the battery just before retiring for the night. It was fully charged. I was reassured, but left the charger connected over night to be certain. Confident, I retired and slept the sleep of the Just.

Wednesday morning arrived cool and dark. The temperature hovered around 45 and thick clouds hung in the sky. “Why does it always have to be cold and cloudy?” I whined. It was not a real problem. The highest of the high-tech motorcycle gear cloaked me. It is wind and rainproof. There is armor in all the places where one might get a “boo-boo” should one suddenly find one’s self sliding along on the earth without the benefit of a motorcycle. It happens. A full helmet shielded my coconut. Steve McQueen never looked cooler.  (Pictured L to R: Terry, Hank's Bike, Jim)

My trusty bike fired up instantly and I was away to Waxahachie! After twenty minutes on the interstate, I arrived at Jim and Becky’s place. When Terry showed up, the three of us straddled our bikes, ready for a spirited ride and a hearty lunch. Jim took the lead, rolling into the street and disappearing toward the highway. Terry followed a hundred feet behind. I fumbled with my helmet strap, so I was an additional thirty seconds behind. Finally, I turned the key and hit the start button. Nada. The battery was dead. Again. I was helpless to save myself, so I sat, brooding, for fifteen minutes or so. Eventually, the “gang” realized they were short one rider and returned to the house. Luckily, Jim had a spare. We swapped batteries and launched again, only half an hour behind schedule. Stupid battery.

So began our adventure, a quest for a delicious lunch in a distant land. We turned south on US 77 under threatening skies. Our motorcycles sped toward whatever Mother Nature had in store for us. I could smell adventure on the air. Oh. Wait. Someone hit a skunk. Never mind.

To be continued.

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The Kayak Accident (Warning: This is terrible!)

You have been warned…

I received this from Paula.  Thank you, Paula, I think.
...

The day after his wife disappeared in a kayaking accident, an Anchorage man answered his door to find two grim-faced Alaska State Troopers.

"We're sorry Mr. Wilkens, but we have some information about your wife," said one trooper...

"Tell me! Did you find her?" Wilkens shouted.

The troopers looked at each other.

One said, "We have some bad news, some good news, and some really great news. Which do you want to hear first?”

Fearing the worst, an ashen Mr. Wilkens said, "Give me the bad news first."

The trooper said, "I'm sorry to tell you, sir, but this morning we found your wife's body in Kachemak Bay."

“ Oh my God!” exclaimed Wilkens. Swallowing hard, he asked, "What's the good news?"

The trooper continued, "When we pulled her up, she had 12 twenty-five pound king crabs and 6 good-size Dungeness crabs clinging to her and we feel you are entitled to a share in the catch."

Stunned, Mr. Wilkens demanded, "If that's the good news, what's the great news?"

The trooper said, "We're going to pull her up again tomorrow."

(I told you it was terrible.)
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Dear Mister President…

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My day began early. I tuned in to CNBC to get a quick read on the financial markets before moving on to the mundane chores that make up my life in retirement. As I sipped tea, the TV told me one of my core holdings, Goldman Sachs, had soundly beaten Wall Street’s earnings estimates by $3.00 per share. “Woo Hoo!” I thought. It was a happy way to begin the day. I felt confident my shares would increase on the good news. Now that I rely upon Social Security for income, I need decent returns from my various investments for survival. My prospects seemed bright as I finished breakfast and stepped into the shower.

Imagine my surprise when CNBC broadcast your speech into my bedroom as I dressed. Always respectful of my President, I stopped mid donning socks to listen. As you spoke, a sense of dread began to creep into my mind. Worse, CNBC displayed the various stock index prices, including quotations for Goldman (GS) as you spoke. By now, you may have heard what happened. If not, I will share it with you now. Goldman Sachs, the premier American investment banking, er, bank holding company dropped like a stone. The rest of the market followed them down. I think my feelings were similar to those experienced by someone watching a high-speed train wreck at a distance. It was horrible to see, but I could do nothing to change it.

Overcome with emotion, I shouted “For Chrissake, stop talking!” However, you did not hear me. You just kept talking about how you wanted to crucify some of the most profitable businesses in the country. Because of your comments, I am somewhat poorer this afternoon. I fear there are millions like me, who will eat a little lower on the dog because of your remarks.

I want to go on record as saying, “Thank you very [bleeping] much” and “What the Hell were you thinking?”

I respectfully ask you to revisit the issue of banking and financial regulation. If you wanted to get to the heart of the matter, you might investigate the role of the Federal government in creating the current nightmare. There is a substantial body of banking law on the books. If enforced, these laws might have averted the depression we currently enjoy. The U.S. Congress is certainly among the prime culprits. How about imposing some restrictions on that august body?

Well, thank you for listening. I feel somewhat better now that we had this little chat. I simply do not trust I will feel better for very long.

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Avatar 3D and Other Random Thoughts

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Sunday last, I drove to the local mega-plex to see Avatar 3D. Frankly, I doubted the movie had the appeal of a The Lord of the Rings or Indiana Jones or Harry Potter, but I was sick of feeling cooped-up by cold, rainy weather. I decided to take a chance. Here are my thoughts, a few days later.

It was spectacular! The story is good. Set on the planet Pandora, humans are in conflict with the natives. It seems the planet contains a rare mineral and the corporate lackeys (that is us) are pushing the natives (the Na ‘Vi) from their homes to get at it. Humans are not appealing in this story. The scenery is amazing. The Na ’Vi are unspoiled children of nature. The humans? Well, you know. The humans do what we have always done, letting nothing stand in the way of meeting corporate goals. Greed fueled by power sums up the humans. It is depressingly believable.

The 3D effects are impressive. I found myself wishing I had less popcorn and more Dramamine. The 3D spectacles increased my feeling of vertigo. When viewed through 3D specs, scenes of Na ‘Vi racing through thick forest took on quease-inducing a tunnel-like perspective. Still, it was beautiful. I would see it again with a dozen seasickness pills in my pocket.

As I reflected on the content of the film, the movie reinforced my Luddite tendencies. In the movie, humans are incapable of appreciating the stunning beauty of this alien world or respecting its power. Why? Technology mesmerized the humans. It was easy to overcome obstacles with technical solutions; thus, there was no need to consider the value of those obstacles. The Na ‘Vi were simply in the way of progress.

My pre-movie expectations were wrong. This is a terrific film. The story is powerful and moving. The characters are rich; evil doers are easy to hate and innocents are wonderful. The “effects” are the best I have ever seen. If you have not seen this, I urge you to do so.

After you see it, let me know what you think.

-=*=-

Haiti experienced a 6.0 aftershock. It is difficult for me to conceive so much misery in a place well known for its suffering. Somehow, prayer and money do not seem enough.

Next, Los Angeles is enjoying heavy rain. Deadly mudslides are once again a possibility. Is there anything left that might be a simple blessing?

Finally, the voters of Massachusetts elected a Republican to fill Ted Kennedy's seat in the Senate. I am confident Hell has frozen solid. Oh, wait. This might be the answer to that "blessing" question, above. Maybe.

Your thoughts are welcome.

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A Day in the Life of a Senior

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My thanks to A.L. for this.  I could have written it myself, I think.  Hm.  Maybe I did.  I don't recall.  Do you?
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"$5.37." That's what the kid behind the counter at Taco Buenos said to me. I dug into my pocket and pulled out some lint and two dimes and something that used to be a Jolly Rancher. Having already handed the kid a five-spot, I started to head back out to the truck to grab some change when the kid with the Emo hairdo said the harshest thing anyone has ever said to me. He said,

"It's OK. I'll just give you the senior citizen discount."

I turned to see who he was talking to and then heard the sound of change hitting the counter in front of me. "Only $4.68" he said cheerfully. I stood there stupefied. I am 48, not even 50 yet, a mere child! Senior citizen?

I took my burrito and walked out to the truck wondering what was wrong with Emo. Was he blind? As I sat in the truck, my blood began to boil. Old? Me?

I'll show him, I thought. I opened the door and headed back inside. I strode to the counter, and there he was waiting with a smile.

Before I could say a word, he held up something and jingled it in front of me, like I could be that easily distracted! What am I now? A toddler?

"Dude! Can't get too far without your car keys, eh?" I stared with utter disdain at the keys. I began to rationalize in my mind.. "Leaving keys behind hardly makes a man elderly! It could happen to anyone!"

I turned and headed back to the truck. I slipped the key into the ignition, but it wouldn't turn. What now? I checked my keys and tried another. Still nothing. That's when I noticed the purple beads hanging from my rearview mirror. I had no purple beads hanging from my rearview mirror.

Then, a few other objects came into focus. The car seat in the back seat. Happy Meal toys spread all over the floorboard. A partially eaten doughnut on the dashboard.

Faster than you can say ginkgo biloba, I flew out of the alien vehicle. Moments later I was speeding out of the parking lot, relieved to finally be leaving this nightmarish stop in my life. That is when I felt it, deep in
the bowels of my stomach: hunger! My stomach growled and churned, and I reached to grab my burrito, only it was nowhere to be found.

I swung the truck around, gathered my courage, and strode back into the restaurant one final time. There Emo stood, draped in youth and black nail polish. All I could think was, "What is the world coming to?" All I could say was, "Did I leave my food and drink in here?" At this point I was ready to ask a Boy Scout to help me back to my vehicle, and then go straight home and apply for Social Security benefits.

Emo had no clue. I walked back out to the truck, and suddenly a young lad came up and tugged on my jeans to get my attention. He was holding up a drink and a bag. His mother explained, "I think you left this in my truck by mistake." I took the food and drink from the little boy and sheepishly apologized.

She offered these kind words: "It's OK. My grandfather does stuff like this all the time."

All of this is to explain how I got a ticket doing 85 in a 40. Yes, I was racing some punk kid in a Toyota Prius.. And no, I told the officer, I'm not too old to be driving this fast.

As I walked in the front door, my wife met me halfway down the hall. I handed her a bag of cold food and a $300 speeding ticket. I promptly sat in my rocking chair and covered up my legs with a blanky.

The good news was I had successfully found my way home.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Just in case you weren't feeling too old today:

The people who are starting college this fall were born in 1991.

They are too young to remember the space shuttle blowing up.

Their lifetime has always included AIDS.

The CD was introduced two years before they were born.

They have always had an answering machine.

They have always had cable.

Jay Leno has always been on the Tonight Show.

Popcorn has always been microwave.

They never took a swim and thought about Jaws.

They don't know who Mork was or where he was from.

They never heard: 'Where's the Beef?', 'I'd walk a mile for a Camel', or 'de
plane, Boss, de plane'.

McDonald's never came in Styrofoam containers.

They don't have a clue how to use a typewriter.

Pass this on to the other old fogies on your list.

Notice the larger type?

That's for those of us who have trouble reading.

P.S.. Save the earth.. It's the only planet with chocolate.

...

Appliance Wars

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Remember, just before Christmas my refrigerator quit. At 20 years of age, I thought it was just getting good. After all, when I was 20, I was just getting good. So, I got a new fridge under the most stressful circumstances imaginable (See Christmas in the Key of Eek). When I returned home from a rush trip to New Mexico, I found the clothes washer had gone “toes up.” Before I could even get it repaired the dishwasher began failing. Crikes! For the past two weeks, I enjoyed a constant stream of repair trucks followed closely by appliance delivery vans. The new fridge arrived December 19. The clothes washer arrived yesterday. The new dishwasher arrives next Wednesday.

The new appliances are unrecognizable. Take the clothes washer for example. It has controls worthy of the space shuttle. (I think it has I-Drive!) It uses no water, detergent or electricity to speak of and it makes sounds that seem unnatural for an ordinary home appliance. It sounds as if it might be digesting, rather than washing, my clothes. The spin cycle creates a high-pitched whine that I first thought was a prelude to an explosion. It is quiet but spooky. Worst of all, when I press the button, the lid locks shut for the duration. I do not know your experience with laundry, but I have watched the washing machine fill, agitate and spin by periodically peeking under the lid since I was a little boy. A machine that will not let you peek is not to be trusted. Who really knows what it is doing in there, anyway?

All I have left of my original appliances are the clothes drier, cook top and oven. They are gas-fired antiques and ought to last a little longer than the pyramids. Still, I have learned to take nothing appliance for granted. I can almost not wait to see what shenanigans these trusty servants get up to next. I will keep you posted.

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Reach for It!

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Got a problem? Reach for more technology!

The recent fiasco over airline security is the latest in a troubling series of events. For me, the predictable reaction of Federal authorities shows just how far Washington has strayed from the reality enjoyed by the rest of America. “We need more funding [aka “your money”] to assure this never happens again!” They plead. Do not worry. There are so many bad things that can happen; most of them never get a chance to happen twice. It might even be smarter to try to avert things that have not happened already.

When a young Nigerian man boarded that plane in Amsterdam, his name was on “A” list but not “THE” list of possibly dangerous persons. The excuse given for not detecting the risky passenger was that “… there are over 500,000 names on that list.” How lame can you get? The explanation relies on the idea that it would be nearly impossible to find one name among so many. I guess they keep the list in a giant ring binder in a desk drawer at the TSA’s Washington office. Under those circumstances, it would be a Herculean chore to look up one name. If they keep the list on a computer, the chore is manageable. Connect that computer to the internet and the task is trivial. Anyone who has ever run a Google search knows you can query the entire planet and find millions of solutions in a fraction of a second. So could TSA or any Federal Agency with a trace of competence.

Instead of using the tools at hand in a responsible way, the cry is for yet more technology. Now, they want high-tech “Porno-Scans” of the passengers. I think I speak for many when I say “Yikes!” Why should we buy more toys, when the current ones are unused? The answer is simple. The citizens have fallen for this swindle for as long as there have been bureaucrats. A lack of technology gets the blame for a government that simply does not work.

Maybe there is an upside to this. If the Feds implement full body scans, I bet The Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders’ scans will be on U-Tube within a week.

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Another Sense of Snow

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I took the photo [left] December 2007 in Iowa. In truth, the image does not do justice to the icy beauty of the place. I was visiting Dyersville at the time, home to the “Field of Dreams.” It seemed mildly appropriate to include it here.

As the New Year begins, I find myself in a reflective mood. It has been a remarkable year. In 2009, I bid farewell the corporate rat race and began fitting myself into a life of retirement. That is retirement, not inactivity. Ready or not, I live. Recently, I almost bid farewell to my son. That sucked. The event reminded me how ephemeral life can be.  Mine.  His. Even yours.  It is our dicey existence that makes each day and every moment precious.

Now 2010 lies before me like a field of new fallen snow. In my youth, I would surely charge in, throwing snow everywhere until I was numb below the eyes. Today, I am more circumspect. I see the snowy field of 2010 as a blank canvas. I wonder what I will do with it. What marks shall I make? The year, like the snow, will not last forever. Whatever I do must be timely. I hope to add to the unspoiled beauty of the field. There is no guarantee of success, but at least I am thinking about it. As with all things, if I approach each day with a sense of discovery, I may look back to find artistry in my track across snowy 2010. That is my hope.

I hope you and I will look back on our path through this year with a sense of peace, accomplishment and wonder.

What could be better?

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