Does anyone remember these things?

3 10 2011

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This is sort of a rant I think, but it’s really a sales pitch, for a way of traveling, and ultimately, I guess, for a way of being. And when I say sales pitch, I’m selling me more than anyone else.

It’s a philosophy I call: letting the bike decide.

Assuming you have the time on a trip and you’re not needing to be at point a by time x, then don’t plan anything, just ride. Go.

I have found this works on simple one day rides too, where pretty much all I choose is a starting north, south, east or west ( not much east in my current geographical situation, but you get the idea) then you just ride. You’ll find the best roads, see the coolest stuff, meet the most interesting characters. You just do.

So throw those maps away, don’t highlight a route, and don’t even get me started on GPSs ( which never ever ever will direct you to the ” right” road.)

Just ride, be ready and open to what you find. Go with it. You surfer dudes know what I’m talking about, cause you’re cool.

This guy does a good job of explaining what a triptik is (was?) for you guys that don’t remember ( or maybe you’re from Bulgaria?   😉  )
http://actionallen.blogspot.com/2010/06/aaa-triptik.html





Things continue to be difficult to explain

30 09 2011

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Passed this on I70.
Right near the first stretch of Federal Interstate to be opened by Ike. I wonder what the crazies of today would say about a spending spree like that now.

Not that I’m complaining about nice roads.

PS. I didn’t take that picture, but found it later on the internet as it’s hard to pull out your camera phone at 105.





Lonely Road, Lively Bar

26 09 2011

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So I’m talking with Mike from Marin Moto Works after he finished my tire change and his visiting mom (it was her birthday and that was the reason that Mike couldn’t work on Sunday… happy birthday Mike Mom…great chatting!) and Mike mentions that I must ride highway 50. The stretch thru Nevada is known as the loneliest road in America.

So here I am about half a tank down the road where I stopped for gas and ended up stopping for the night.

“Get me some more of them cups” says the cook to the guy with the cowboy hat who must be the proprietor.

“Ahhh you made me get up and stagger”, he shouts back as he gets him the cups.

BTW: if you live in the Bay Area or are traveling thru and need a bike guy go see Mike. He’s the real deal, not like the guys at one shop that I called on Saturday, that had the tire but refused to work on the bike because it was the wrong brand. Said the Poindexter on the phone: it’s a liability thing, we’re only authorized to work on BMWs.  Really? For a tire? Puleeeese.

Anyway see Mike, tell him bluetenere guy sent ya. Ask him how is Mom is doing.

location@8:05pm,9/26 http://m.google.com/u/m/duRlUT





An Experiment

25 09 2011

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WARNING WINE INDUCED RANT

Ok, so lets say I told you that you had to condense your whole life, all your stuff, into a box. Now lets set aside the exact size of that box for now, and lets assume that there are certain things, like food and water that, unlike some people in this world, you’ll have ready access to so you don’t need to take up precious box space for those things. So now you have to pick only the things that you ” need” and fit them in. Now the box is small so you’re gonna have to leave some stuff behind, it’s not gonna be an easy choice for somethings, but there isn’t room for everything… now live out of that box, or pack, or car, or shopping cart…now here’s the experiment’s hypothesis: there will come a point where you say to yourself “I really don’t need half this stuff I’m lugging around” and you’ll start to get rid of even more stuff and your box will get smaller, and smaller until the clothes on your back and what fits in your pockets seems like enough, and then even half that stuff will seem extravagant.

Or maybe I’m wrong, I mean I’m thumb typing on a tiny smart phone computer, so what kind of a minimalist am I really?





Ok so here’s a good story…

22 09 2011

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Stopped to eat in Westmoreland. Really just picked the restaurant because it was across the road from a motel.

(Thank you Google maps!!! The whole internet is freaking amazing!! Remember dial up? )

Anyways this place is called THE ORIGINAL TOWN PUMP.

Being the smart ass I am I asked Lauren why it was called original… like could there be two town pumps?  Well lo and behold out comes this gem and Gabriel the owner comes over to reinforce the story…

Turns out the guy that Gabriel had running the restaurant ran it into the ground… it’s been here for years.. owned by Gabriel’s family.. used to be called The Town Pump.

So this guy goes off and opens The Town’s Pump, and steals the phone number to boot!

But Gabriel does a fast refit of the place and in one month reopens as “the original”

Take that!

But even better he discovers that people are calling his old phone number and making reservations (huh?) at the Town’s Pump, but showing up at the Original, cause this is where it’s always been…ha…but there’s more…

The phone lady got mad at what apostrophe guy did and helped Gabe get 344-FOOD for a phone number….

Plus tomorrow Gabe’s beer and wine ticket comes in which this other guy can’t get cause he has a felony ( but claims to not serve alcohol for religious reasons…but now we know the truth) and once The Original Town Pump has that??? Forget about it The Town’s Pump..is over..

Oh, and that’s not ice cream…thats butter.





Dear Mothers

19 09 2011

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Your love for your children is clear, undeniable…. but what about their poop?

Don’t you love everything about your little bundle of joy? Keep your little poop bundles with you on your travels. Bring them home with you and put them in a box…. then when your kids get older and start giving you shit… give ‘ em that box.

This way you leave me out of it.

Onward.





Dear Yamaha Motors

19 09 2011

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CHANGE THE NAME!

This is the single best motorcycle ever made!

“Supposed to give the GS1200 a run for it’s money?” Forget about it, your bike wins hands down, the GS feels like a lawn tool by comparison.

But you gotta fix the name.

No one in the good ‘ol USA is gonna buy a bike named after a desert in Chad, or Nigeria, or wherever it is… no one really knows or cares about the long heritage of the name and that you guys basically invented the whole genre that Honda kinda took over with that Africa Twin
( another naming mistake)

Sorry but heritage is not what sells, image is.

Here’s a tip: Americans are racists! I mean it wasn’t that long ago that church’s were being bombed and poor Medgar Evars got taught a lesson. So face the facts and know your market.

I suggest the name I flipped off a post or two ago: Yamaha SuperT.
Now you could sell the crap out of that. Do it.





The Hooters is actually in Crestview

18 09 2011

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And the waitress Taylor is the nicest person I ever met.

She grew up in Niceville down the road ( which could account for her nice-ness, not the town’s name, a joke she hates, but just the small town nature)

Kyle is moving in next week. He’s an army veteran and mixed martial arts competitor with a strong wrestling background, if he gets the other guy on the ground it’s over.

Kyle gave Taylor a fake engagement ring as a promise ring, it turns her finger green sometimes. I couldn’t tell it was fake, she had to explain.

She didn’t say it but she’s clearly in love with him. What do I know kids ( a bit actually) but you should just do it, get married… try it, give it a chance.

PBR makes me all sentimental…





You Gonna Get Gas?

17 09 2011

WARNING WARNING THE FIRST OF MANY RANTS:

So the guy who I will refer to as The NonBuddha asks : You gonna get gas?
( This is after waiting in his big ol pickup truck behind me at the last fuel stop… where I had not dismounted but I was checking in on Google latitude because I’m so hip)

I knew what he was saying in his passive aggressive pushy-ness. I’m sure he’s used to bossing around his children and his wife. He probably has some poor coworker or employee that he uses his sarcastic pretend politeness on to bully his way thru life. If he had been straight forward…” dude move your bike while you txt I’m in a hurry for my heart attack” Then I would have moved – no problem.

But you know me, right?

Here’s the full exchange:

The NonBuddha: You gonna get gas?

Me: I just did. ( Continue to play with internet)

The NonBuddha: Well I’d like to get some.

( a few more editorial comments : he’s sitting in AC, I haven’t been there anywhere near how long it will take the NonBuddha to pump his giant gas tank…I only hold 4 gallons ( plus one more in reserve) Plus how does this guy know I’m not texting my sick wife or something )

Transcript continues:
Me: ( calmly) isn’t there another pump open? ( Eye contact established by me for the first time)

The NonBuddha: no

….. insert pause…..

At which point the “mom” at the pump on the other side says: “you can use this one, we’re leaving.”

I’m sure that is the conciliatory role she plays with her annoying American male as sure as I also am that the NonBuddha has an equally enabling wife in his life ( because otherwise he would have learned by now how to talk to people instead of being all pushy and indirect at the same time… I’m bet this guys kids just “love” him…. or he wouldn’t have made it this far thru his life.

What’s the lesson? Beats me… maybe you know.

PS: this is the kind of thing you obsess about inside your helmet for a few hundred miles until something else displaces the thought… and in my case it’s some Do DoDoDo DoDoDo  Do Dooo  song that I’ve been singing for the past hour non stop. ( Guess the song from that clue and you win a prize)





Fuel stop number one. Murder attempt number one..

17 09 2011

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My Location@11:55am,9/17 Florida’s Turnpike, North Okeechobee, FL 34972 http://m.google.com/u/m/dqdKiQ

Attempt number one..@116 miles.. lady in a white SUV…I wonder if I should have installed that super loud truck horn I left sitting on my coffee table?

No getting off the bike fuel stop was a success.

And away we go…