In Memorium

Marcine. My best friends mom. Lived her life in the tiny town of Forgan in the Oklahoma Panhandle. It's a tough place to live, and subsequently breeds the toughest, and in many cases nicest, people you will meet.

I met her son my sophomore year of college and we've been friends for the last 20 odd years. Every now and then, we'd go to Forgan for a weekend and Marcine was always there to feed us and let us crash on the floor of her tiny house. She never gave us any shit for coming home late or in the back of a cop car either. She had Shane later in life and was a senior citizen while we were in college, but she always got around great and came down to Stillwater to see us several times. She lived the last several years with Shane and her grandkids in College Station and it was always good to visit and see her. She took people as they were and was friendly to everyone. Although she lived a long and good life, and her leaving is the end of her signifigant pain, there are several big, tough, guys that are really sad right now.

Little Sisters.....

So what does this look like to you? A mild mannered Navy wife living in the San Fernando Valley? Maybe.... but this is actually a Ninja. You want to be an ex wife or ex girlfriend who wants to fuck with me and make my life hell? Go ahead.... but my sister knows where the information is and how to get it. She will figure out why you are so damn sketchy. She's fucking ruthless and not scared to tell me if you're a piece of crap. She also makes gluten - free chocolate chip pancakes... so fuck off.

FRISCO CREW

Forget what you make think of San Fransisco, and know that this group is still keeping it from completely becoming Sodom and Gomorrah. They way these guys live their lives and treat each other is the way I imagine the Roman Legionaries did in the days of Pompey Magnus. Theirs is a world of hard work, hard circumstances, getting a job done, scraping by, standing independent in a city that encourages you to take a handout. Wherever they are, something is happening. Ride your bike with them around the City for an afternoon and you will realize your skills are horribly lacking. You'll also realize that those clowns at the local "bike night" in the Flingers parking lot are nothing but fucktards who have a $700 monthly payment to live a Bob Seeger song for 3 hours a week.

Friends in Low Places....

I've got nothing interesting happening right now, so I want to make several posts about people I know and have met along the way. You may know some of them, most you probably don't. But they are my people, and I've deemed them worthy to write about.

Let's start with this guy. Most of you know of him. Certainly the types that would be reading my shit would. To sum up my feelings about him: He's complicated. I've known him to be incredibly cool, and I've known him to be a dick. I've got the same failings myself, it's just that nobody is looking at me. He's had a shitty year, and I hope things are getting better for him. He and I had the same type of year basically, pretty much down to the letter. But again, nobody gives a shit what I'm up to. You can all think what you want, and leave a shitty comment, but this is my position: I have arguably the coolest, most badass motorcycle sitting in my garage waiting for spring so I can terrorize the streets again, and it's about 30% because of him. When he wants to be he is the most encouraging and inspiring person I've ever met. A compliment from him, can, and has, sent me home from a party to spend hours at my workbench in the attempt to make something that is already great, even better. His skills are unquestionable, and he is outstanding at anything he feels like being good at. His is a true American story, up from nothing and to the top, all built on calluses and cuts, frustration, fear, talent, competitiveness, luck, and for sure a few dirty deeds. He's down now, and it's his own fault, and he knows it. Some people are enjoying giving him a kick right now too, but those will be the same people that will line up to slobber on his balls when he comes back.... and he'll come back. ....I just hope everybody gets their bikes.

OKC to San Diego to Frisco...and back.

This last summer I took this thing out to California to ride around in paradise for a couple of days, and to take it to WCC and get some pics in front of the shop. I had fucked up my life in a signifigant fashion at the time with some women trouble. That trouble appears to be behind me now and I'm spending my time, and possibly my life, with a great lady and her three great little ladies. This trip allowed me to spend a lot of time alone thinking about what I want and where I'm heading. I'm thankful for the life I have, and the people I have to share it with, and the responsibility that goes with it.

I was putting in a lawn sprinkler system for a lady this past week. Every ten minutes or so she would come out with some inane question about what I was doing. And it wasn't just an ask and answer deal either, it was a stop what you're doing and walk me through this kind of thing. Well, she let me know that I was out there working, she was looking up sprinkler systems, installation techniques, equipment manufacturers, etc. on the the internet and reading about them and that's where she was getting all the questions from. 20 minutes and 3 stupid questions later I used my shovel to cut the cable line. When the cable repair guy showed up to fix it, I explained the situation and asked him if he could give me a couple hours before he fixed it. We had a good laugh about it.

If you're writing about it on the internet handyman site, it's because you don't do it in real life.

The internet is not for finding questions to bug construction guys with.

Babysitting.

This is what you get for letting me watch your kid.