Spazzy Synapse Firings

I don't understand how DAYS can sneak by in between posts. My fans must have collapsed, mere inches from the life-giving fountain of useless burblings that is me. All one of ya. Mom. I kid.

I've got nothin. I've been either painting, working or riding. All, which, for the most part, make for a boring post.

The house is very nearly finished being painted. A couple of coats here, another coat there and we get the rest of the summer off.

Our club ride last Sunday was...interesting. We rode a little farther than we usually do and went south of La Crosse through the Mindoro Cut and then back through it toward home. Another Triumph rider went splat just out of the cut in the first turn. His bike broke one of the fence posts and then hovered halfway into the abyss below. Being a Triumph, aside from a scraped up plastic, a bent shifter lever, and a couple of superficial boo-boos, he finished the ride. I thought I'd drop mine on its side for fun as I was pulling off the side of the road to assist.

I need an automatic, retractable kickstand. There's nothing blonder than forgetting to put your kickstand down. Twice. Worse yet, an old dude on a Goldwing had pulled over to let me pass before the Cut and then stopped next to me to help our fallen rider. I was close enough to him that when I dropped the bike, my instrument cowl brushed up against his leg. Didn't affect him. He merely turned his head in my direction and asked, calmly, "Are you okay?" No sir. I'm stupid. Are you okay? Don't sue me.

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I went for a ride with my dad and his friend last night up to a new tavern on Lake Holcombe. Very nice. Ted's Timberlodge. All pine and slate and stone with a great view of the lake. That was a 70 mile trip. Then I got home and realized I didn't deposit my paycheck, so I rode to the bank branch farthest from my house. At some point I decided to get lost. "I wonder where EE goes? I'll follow it till it ends. Oh, it ends at H. I'll turn left here on H and ride that till it ends." That one was a long one. By the time I got to the end of H, it was getting darkish and all I knew was that I was south. And the farm guys in their pickup trucks were looking at me in a "paddle faster, I hear banjos" sort of way. I found a familiar route and followed it home...85 miles.

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How are you guys dealing with the gas thing? I think it's around $4.22 here. I could tell you that I've taken an active approach in taking my motorcycle instead of my car, but I like to ride too much. I keep finding the looooonng way home. Honestly, I'm surprised I even know what the price was...I must have glanced at the pump. I don't care, I haven't cut back, I say spook the caribou, start drilling in Alaska, and give me all the 93 octane fossil fuels ya got. I don't think this makes me a bad American. Let's just say I'm doing all I can to hold up my end of the Pursuit of Happiness.

This Saturday the club is heading up to the Twin Cities for a benefit ride. A guy who used to ride in the club (whom we know as "Fez") has an 11 year old little brother who is in remission from Stage 4 Hodgkin's and they are throwing a little party for him. I'm looking forward to seeing Fez again and meeting his brother, but it will also be an all-day motorcycling jag. Yea for me! And Brother is actually going to ride with us for the first time this year.

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Admittedly, my useless ramblings are more entertaining than current events...but sometimes you just have to build up the good stuff.

And I can't get "Mamma Mia" out. Of. My. Freaking. Head.

And Trish got Italy moments after I threw down my Hawaii gauntlet. Shush, Trish. Threaten me again, and I post up your artwork on the notes we passed from high school. Love to the W-W's!