tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152221.post110175331472205939..comments2024-03-23T07:49:50.940-05:00Comments on The Middle Ground: Hope you enjoyed Thanksgiving! How cool was I?Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger7125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152221.post-1101871726428446022004-11-30T21:28:00.000-06:002004-11-30T21:28:00.000-06:00Oh, and silly me, I thought your post was going to...Oh, and silly me, I thought your post was going to be about Thanksgiving Day.Tom the Redhunterhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01989584196825992054noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152221.post-1101871565696946662004-11-30T21:26:00.000-06:002004-11-30T21:26:00.000-06:00Another great piece of writing from one of my favo...Another great piece of writing from one of my favorite bloggers. I had to look up Pinky Tuscadaro, as I'm a bit behind on my "Happy Days" trivia but I did catch the reference to "Rocky Horror Picture Show" at your description of Tim Curry. I was in college when that one came out. Yeah, it was a bit much for me too, innocent youngster that I was. <br /><br />I haven't had a chance to check out your fiction yet but will.Tom the Redhunterhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01989584196825992054noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152221.post-1101838003537722642004-11-30T12:06:00.000-06:002004-11-30T12:06:00.000-06:00Either a new or used Triumph.. it depends on what ...Either a new or used Triumph.. it depends on what I find out here. CA is awesome for motorcycles, and Pacific Coast Highway was *made* for motorcycles. I have to watch it, as I barely know what I am doing on one and am taking the training course after the NewYear. Love English bikes.. lets hope all the parts stay attached when I get it over 50mph.<br /><br />I grew up in the city, fergawdsakes, and I know a rooster from a chicken, and so on and so forth!! Sheesh. Maybe because Chicago is such an ag/urban city and they're conscious about being in the middle of miswestern farmland, and the whole 'Hog butcher to the world' thing and such. But, c'mon.. I saw corn on an actual cornstalk beore I was 6, and we lived in the city! Not a suburb, but In. The. City. Some people, I swear. . .<br /><br /><br />Donuts in the show!! Hell yeah.. a kid in my class had a Olds Cutlass, and that thing did some awesome snow-tricks. The driver woudl also do a "Rockford" in the school parking lot, sliding the car 180* with the handbrake. <br /><br />I had a 1971 VW beetle, painted caution-stipe yellow. An awful color for a car, and it didn't do donuts. That damn thing drove like a slot-car. Hell, it was the size of a slot-car, so whaddya want? I would go off-road in it, just because It Could Not Get Stuck.<br /><br />My next car was a Jeep Wrangler. Ya think?Jason Rubensteinhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09028465657976012846noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152221.post-1101795829469635742004-11-30T00:23:00.000-06:002004-11-30T00:23:00.000-06:00Donal...that is funny about the cow tipping. All ...Donal...that is funny about the cow tipping. All these people were swearing it was something they heard about from people in the country. I was still saying, "Um...they were pulling your leg. Nobody gets in a field with a bunch of cows and tries to tip them over. they're 900 lb or bigger. Plus, you don't know if the rancher has his bull out there."<br /><br />Of course, these same people really had no idea how to tell a bull from a cow I think. you know, it's the one with the big..er..you know...horns. LOL<br /><br />OMG, I went to a county fair up there and I am walking with my friends through the award winning animal section behind this man and this woman in their khaki shorts and polos. There are two of every kind in the cages, one male one female. She looks at the mallard ducks and says, "oh, look, is that a goose? What kind of bird is that?" I don't say anything but pause behind them in the narrow walkway while he bends down and reads the tag. "Why does one have all the pretty colors and the other one doesn't if they are the same kind of duck?" I still say nothing and the guy shrugs and walks on with her.<br /><br />Now they are looking in a pen with a ram and a ewe. "Oh, look, sheep. Which one is the male and which one is the female." Can you feel my eyes rolling? I mean, serioiusly, these people are so underexposed that they have no idea which gender might carry a set of horns in the animal world. National Geographic anyone? Stop watching Days of our Lives for the love of God. <br /><br />They walk on and now we are in front of a whole line of chickens. One hen and one rooster in every cage. Some pretty cool breeds, too. She's exclaiming over their pretty colors and they finally get to the last ones which are your basic leghorn variety. White with red markings. The rooster has the classic big red comb and craw and the hen has the little red craw with no comb. Just like in those stupid bugs bunny cartoons.<br /><br />I mean, who hasn't seen a bugs bunny cartoon where foghorn leghorn, a ROOSTER, is walking around tormenting the dog and this rooster in the cage looks just like him. She says, "Which one do you think is the male?"<br /><br />Finally, I can't take it anymore so I step up beside them and point out the red comb and craw and say, "You know, like foghorn leghorn?" and she says, "OOOhhh...he was a rooster?"<br /><br />Ok...why are stupid people allowed to walk on this earth?<br /><br />Now, for the intimidation factor...you are probably right. One of my cousin's friends from the force (he followed my dad) was getting married and we were at the reception. the groom is drunk as hell and we are all on the dance floor acting stupid and all of a sudden this guy puts his arm around me in that very drunken way, with his stinky jack daniels breath in my face and says, "You know...I hath a cruthsh on you." could have knocked me over with a feather. then he says, "But..I knew Loui (cousin) an your daddthh woulth beath the crapfff outh offf me if I askth you outhh."<br /><br />Um..flattering but not flattering particularly as the drunken bride seemed to be getting all upset, so I gave him a shove towards Loui paid my respects to the parents and hustled it out of their.<br /><br />Next week the guy is all embarrased and apologizing up and down (probably because the bride gave him an earful when he was sober), embarrassing the hell out of me all over again and then he ends with, "besides, I always thought you had a boyfriend."<br /><br />Just about fell over on the spot. I think my problem maybe that I'm just a little obtuse. My brother says that guys like to have encouragement. Well, when your oblivious to the fact that they might even like you, it's hard to figure out who you should be encouraging. LOL<br /><br />On that note, I started to write something in an email and I might post it here as it started getting funny so it sounded like a blog post.Kathttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05208095650375780838noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152221.post-1101794335757661212004-11-29T23:58:00.000-06:002004-11-29T23:58:00.000-06:00tone...before I had a license, the only thing my d...tone...before I had a license, the only thing my dad would let me drive was his big blue 72 blazer with what seemed to be three foot high mudders. That was before "monster" trucks and cars. We drove it around the construction sites my dad would pull security for. That was fun.<br /><br />One of my other memories was driving in the snow in the Firebird. Posi-tran is good in the snow. But we would go down to the mall parking lot at about midnight when it hadn't been plowed yet and do donuts watching a wave of snow fly in the air. Of course, as an adult I realize I was stupid and could have creamed it on a parking light in the lot, but it was fun.<br /><br />A triumph, huh? New or used?Kathttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05208095650375780838noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152221.post-1101793702475525712004-11-29T23:48:00.000-06:002004-11-29T23:48:00.000-06:00Mike, sweety, I've got all the gear. Full face he...Mike, sweety, I've got all the gear. Full face helmet, thermal gloves, thermal underwear, insulated pants, insulated leather jacket with a zip out liner, chaps, special boots that cost me $120. Face mask.<br /><br />I've ridden in every kind of weather. 114* heat (seriously, on a 2500 mile trip in August. Can you say "heat stroke"?) LOL The lowes temperature was about 41* and it felt like 20 below with the wind. Even with all that gear on, by time I got home, my hands were frozen in position, my knees were frozen in position and I couldn't feel my cheeks, lips or nose. Oh year, I even had a full windshield on, but when the wind is doing about 10, while that's no biggy in 60* weather, at 41* it sucked. Everything was so cold, by the time I thawed out, it actually hurt.<br /><br />I'm not big on pain. I hate pain. LOL From then on it's mid march to mid November. The bike goes away after that because it's usually (like now) about 36* during the day and the snow comes. then it's like 14* with a windchill factor of -5. Call me a wimp, but the bike gets put up. LOL<br /><br />My bike is a 1981 Suzuki 850L. An 80's version of a touring bike. It's been stripped down and gone through. No extra aluminum, no pretty parts. The frame was powder coated black along with the 4 in 1 exhaust. The motor was sand blasted and polished so it's now shiny aluminum. It's got a mikuna 4 barrel with racing jets for the carb and the seat is a harley seat that my dad helped me customize. Not one of those little bitty brick seats, either. The kind with a nice fat touring seat on the front for long distance riding and a brick on the back for the passenger to discourage requests of that nature. LOL<br /><br />I bought it for $1300 four years ago off a guy with a limp and a cane. He and his buddy drag raced street bikes and he had crashed. Not that bike, but another one. didn't matter. His wife said, "sale" and he did. The only thing, when I bought it, I had to get a different clutch on it. The old one wasn't really old. It was a racing clutch and so damn stiff I had to stand on the pegs to get leverage to pull it in to change gears. Since I nearly killed myself the first day I had it, I ran out and had a regular clutch put on.<br /><br />Maybe I'm giving too much away, but I love fast cars and fast bikes. This bike will come off the line and do eighty in third gear before even getting close to the redline. Of course, one day, and I have many of these one days which I'll tell about sometime, but, on this day, we were cruising back from st Louis on hwy 70. Basically a straight shot on a Sunday, not much traffic. so, a bunch of us are out on 70 in the middle of no where when the lead bike kicks it up. That was a 1500 harley, so he had almost 650 cc on me. Off the line I could beat him everytime, but he walked away on the open hwy.<br /><br />Didn't give me a pause, I kicked it down a gear and cranked the throttle. The windshield was a full windshield but I had it cranked back a bit for aero dynamics. This is a touring bike you understand, but I laid down across the tank behind the windshielf and put my feet on the rear pegs and that seemed to give me about another 5 mph. The speedometer only goes to 95 believe it or not. I had the needle buried. I dropped my left foot back down and brought it back into 5th. By that time, all I could see was a little space in front of me. My peripheral vision was nothing but a blur of colors and we were passing everything on the right.<br /><br />There were a few smaller bikes with us and they were trying like hell to keep up. I was the second biggest bike (first was the 1500). <br /><br />At this point, the speedometer needle is just stuck over on the right side and jumping up and down because it couldn't go any farther. I had no idea how fast I was going, I just noticed that the big bike was still walking away, so I crouched down even further and had the throttle fully open.<br /><br />It was exhilirating and scary all at once. Like flying.<br /><br />all of a sudden I hear a pop and the speedometer goes dead. I broke the cable. Didn't matter. the big bike was topping out but I still had about 3000 RPMs before redline so I was slowly inching up.<br /><br />Just about then, this stupid ass in a sea foam green camaro whips out in the lane in front of me while I have a diesel to my right. I think the guy was doing 70 (the speed limit). you ever hear "aim for the hole"?<br /><br />We were going down hill so the diesel was picking up speed and scrunching the hole between his left front fender and the camaros right rear fender. There was no way I could shut it down that fast and live to tell about it and the chances of making in the hole was slim to none, but I was taking slim over crashing on the grassy median. At 100+ crashing is just bad.<br /><br />So I cranked the throttle back the last quarter inch left and zoomed through the hole. Unbeknownst to me my stupid ass younger brother was right behind me and barely made it, too. My other cousin was not so lucky and he ended up driving on the shoulder beside the camaro.<br /><br />For those that don't ride, that's called an "ass clencher". Which means, when you get off the bike, you have to unclench your ass in order to pull the seat out of it..<br /><br />Anyway, just as I come out in front of the diesel, directly to my right, I see the big bike take an exit. I swing to the right still doing about 100+ as I barely made the exit. Thank the lord above the exit ramp was long. At least long enough for me to gear down and stand on the breaks, coming to a screeching halt right beside the big bike at the stop sign at the top of the ramp. My uncle on the big bike turns to me and yells "What took you so long?"<br /><br />At which point I finally look back and see that my brother is riding a wheely up the grassy embankment of the ramp because he missed the asphalt part and my cousin is being stupid and riding up the entrance ramp the wrong way because he totally missed the exit all together.<br /><br />I'm like, "Dude...why are we stopping?" He points over to my gas tank.."don't you need gas?" I look down...er..sure enough, I'm on E, empty. Did I tell you that this little speed demon bike only gets 30 miles to the gallon? "Er...thanks. I do."<br /><br />We drive over to the gas station, get off, pump gas, I walk with really shaky legs to the side of the parking area and try to light a cigarette. My hands were shaking so bad I couldn't hold the flame steady. My bro and my cousin come over and one of them grabs my cigarrette and takes a big drag. Neither of them smoke.<br /><br />Mikey starts choking. "Dude...what did you do that for?"<br /><br />His reply, "I needed it."<br /><br />According to my uncle he was doing about 130 at the highest point. I probably was doing more like 120 125 tops. Either way, after 100, the world has a way of narrowing down to about a 6 inch square in front of your face.<br /><br />While that was fun, I never went that fast again. 90, yeah..over a hundred crouched down like a daytona rice burner...nope. <br /><br />Seats are expensive you know and I'm pretty sure that one was deformed after that..Kathttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05208095650375780838noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7152221.post-1101783892186994362004-11-29T21:04:00.000-06:002004-11-29T21:04:00.000-06:00There's a Triumph with my name on it, and not soon...There's a Triumph with my name on it, and not soon enough. But that's a story for later, I think.<br /><br />What a story... and being kid whose Dad had "Clout", boy I can relate. The Curmudge worked for the city at a 'high-poobah' level... and we didn't really want to test how much trouble he could get us out of.<br /><br />Now, take a muscle car or two and race to someone's house from school - all on Chicago city streets *and* through narrow city alleys. Asfastaspossible. Clip a garbage can and not only do you send Mrs. Sullivans' leftovers all over someone's backyard but you scratch one side of your car a lovely, but impractical, shade of new steel. This is why the Curmudge never lent me his 1974 Mercury Grand Marquis with the 465 under the acres of hood. Not that I'd know how to drop the keel in that thing. .Jason Rubensteinhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09028465657976012846noreply@blogger.com