For Junior

I originally posted this on Facebook when our sportbike club's "adopted son" Jake turned 21. He is now graduated from University of North Dakota, and is flying some badass helicopters in the Army, at Fort Rucker. I just stumbled across the post today and, even though I can't remember writing it, it IS my list, with an addendum, thanks to scattered advice from the interwebbage. Thanks, Mom, for suggesting it become a blog post.

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I've been thinking about this momentous occasion for some time now and have miscellaneous thoughts I've pooled together, both from my own head and the internet...two INCREDIBLY EXPANSIVE repositories (suppositories are the ones that go in your butt, fyi) from which to cull.

Things I'VE learned...

* Get in all you can. You may be gone tomorrow.
* Do something that scares the crap out of you, even just once. After that, you can brag about it.
* If you're miserable, work to change your pattern. Nobody HAS to be miserable, they're just too lazy to change.
* Sit down and have a beer with your parents many times over. They are FOUNTAINS of good stories. You'll miss out when they're gone.
* Simplify your financial life. Interest rates are depressing.
* Have a slap fight with your sibling....just try not to get hit. Then it's no fun anymore.
* Play in the snow, mud, and rain.
* Keep at least one person in your life who looks out for you as unconditionally as you look out for them.
* Read. For fun. Lots. Just go into a bookstore and grab the first book you see. You may stumble on a new favorite genre.
* Throw your heart out there (not literally) for someone to catch (I'm still working on this one...).
* Hang out in a coffee shop and play dominoes on a cruddy Sunday afternoon.
* Be nice to everyone you meet. Everyone's fighting some kind of battle.
* Let a stranger in line ahead of you.
* Some turns are sharper than they look. Nobody will laugh if you're cautious. Mock, maybe...
* Listen to different music than you're used to.
* Laugh at least once a day.
* Meditate once in a while somewhere quiet, and feel what it's like to not have a single thought. It takes practice.
* Call an old best friend. Be prepared to talk for hours. (Perfect for the coffee shop!)
* Retain memories of funny events, no matter how insignificant they may seem. I remember I laughed for WAY too long, tears and snot running out just at how someone had accidentally thrown a cigar across the room while gesturing in a conversation. Eight years ago.
* Don't be afraid to fart in the grocery store. People will walk through at that moment no matter what.
* Entertain yourself with your farts. Work on the longest, loudest, highest-pitch and scariest.
* Spend some time with your extended family, especially aunts and uncles...they have the BEST dirt on your parents.
* Make your favorite comfort food.
* USE the good china.
* Buy a round, you know...when you're allowed to.
* Refuse money from someone twice, then take it. No sense being a butthead.
* Dress to the nines, for no good reason.
* Get in the car and go. Anywhere. On a whim. Pack clean underwear.

When it comes to things to do before you turn 40, the Internet sez....

* Don't die!
* Learn a new language.
* Visit a new country.
* Pay off all your debts.
* Sing horrible karaoke.
* Rethink your least favorite food.
* Go outside your comfort zone.
* Take up a new sport.
* Drive on Route 66.
* Kick your all-day caffeine habit.
* Take your parents out to dinner.
* Document your life.
* Stop the tchotchkes.
* Do something romantically cheesy.
* Drop 50 bucks on a bottle of wine.
* Ride a motorcycle. Well, gee whiz...guess you can check this one off.
* Teach a class.
* Have a kid if you want one.
* Learn to work on your own house.
* Buy a piece of real art.
* One-up yourself.
* Surprise someone.
* Sleep outside.
* Get rid of logo t-shirts.
* Ride a roller coaster.

Global Warming is the poo. Take a big whiff.

Riding in November? Never thought I'd experience that up here. Winter seems to come a little earlier here in the Chippewa Valley. Earlier than in Illinois, and that's only about 4 hours south of here. As a motorcyclist, I jump on any opportunity to ride if it's warm enough out. I usually save the desperate, upper 30 degree rides for the beginning of the year, when I've been off the bike so long, I fear I will have forgotten how to ride.

So it was a balmy upper 70's a couple of days right around Halloween. I've said it before and I will reiterate again: I have the best boss. Ever. I like to think I work hard for the man and I try not to ask for much. But my resolve was weak when, after a few weeks of temps in the 40's, then we get the mid-70's days, I begged for an opportunity to bail out of work at noon. And he let me. Twice.

I recently purchased a sweet digital video camera that's small, waterproof, and mountable. My dad happily (almost giddily, I'd say) fabricated a custom mount for the gas tank on the Freaky Tiki and it all works most splendidly. With that, I'd like to share a sample of video footage from an October 30th ride, complete with my one of my top ten favorite riding songs ("Hard Sun" by Eddie Vedder). I'm trying out some new video editing software, so this is kinda messy amateurish.

Hwy 95 is out near Arcadia, Wisconsin and it's a relatively unremarkable road. You typically won't find us riding on it except for this one spot. Although, after this hill climb, the rest of 95 is all fast sweepers, which, it turns out, are my favorite kind of turns.

Not bad for a hundred dollar camera eh? M.N. and my brother, whom are experienced, fast, and are my motorcycling mentors, are officially uncomfortable watching me. I call that a win. Not because I'm fast...I'm not. But because I've progressed so quickly in one season, they may not be convinced that I've tapped my true ability to ride well. I have miles to go, yes, but the second half of this season has made me prove to myself that I do, indeed, have some great potential at this sport. Sorry, Momma. [insert evil laughter here]

Happy Thanksgiving

Don't Ride Angry

Heck with that...Ride angry. It brings out the intestinal fortitude.

Over the winter, some club members decided to keep in touch by meeting for an occasional drinky-poo. Sometimes we feel the need during the riding season too. In some cases, it's the only time we use our cars. So, a Friday or two ago a handful of us wander off to the Joynt for 40-cent Premium Grain Belt taps. Undoubtedly, the only pride of New Ulm, Minnesota. Horrid everyman beer, cheap yet surprisingly, minimal hangover. Must be all the water in it.

To summarize the evening: Kuj drinks too much, is nagged for a lifelong bad habit to the point of absolute irritation, and, with hurt feelings and a "repression-in-progress" attraction issue rearing its frustrating head, walks the mile (uphill) home in the pouring rain after dark. Kuj empties drunken, pained soul on to Best Friend Trish via phone call. BFT offers comfort, compassion, advice as best she can to a rambling, sauced dope. Kuj wonders after talking to BFT if Kuj might be too old to be behaving in this manner. Then sleep takes Kuj. Sweet, sweet sleep.

Saturday passed with a weight in my chest and silence. Angry, hurt, need for solitude.

Sunday morning finds me amped up for the club ride. No more than usual. At the meeting spot near a gas station, I wander into the BP and grab a bottle of V8 and a package of little chocolate donuts, The Donuts of Champions (RIP John. RIP SNL).

Our Secretary, Mileageguy (forum names are used to protect the populace), was the ride leader that day. The route he picked was a great combination of new and old to me. Most of it was clean, open, higher-speed sweeping turns, and roads you could see all the way through. I've learned this is to my liking. VERY MUCH to my liking.

I can never explain how these little epiphanies arise in me. It always seems to be a combination of events or things that one can never really replicate. But they are almost always memorable. This combination? V8, little chocolate donuts, the copper wolf and crescent moon pendant my brother gave me that I decided to wear that day, the drunken, Friday night dip in spirit, greasing up the butt of my leather suit with armor-all (I stick to the seat otherwise), the roads, the suit, my first attempt at getting off the seat in turns to be able to go faster and confidently execute smooth turns.

When we stop at intersections to wait for everyone (me) to catch up, it's also an opportunity to move around in the lineup. About halfway through the first part of the ride, I just had this moment. Or something. We were zooming along some great roads and I realized how good I felt. I was actually following right along with the mid-pack guys. At a gas-up stop, Mostly Naked and Turd Furgesson were standing nearby and M.N. said, "Have your Wheaties today? Good job!" I said, "I think I gradu-ma-tated!" The gang stopped at an intersection just before this wild, uphill section on 95, and I jumped in front of the faster guys...M.N. and Turd. Mostly Naked passed me again, but Turd stayed back. Holy hell, that was fun. Off the seat, knee down, the pavement visible up close in the corner of my eye. It was the first time I can remember ever feeling the adrenaline pumping, heart racing, feeling out of breath. But without fear. Not even on track day did I feel like this.

The first stop after that section, we paused for the group and I was caught up in a big, one-armed hug, and I hear Turd holler through his helmet, "I think you DID gradu-ma-tate!" Later on, I told him how nice it was...that it felt like a proud daddy moment. He said, "I did feel a little like a proud daddy...I can't get that kind of moment for myself anymore. I have to look elsewhere."

Let this guy hug you. It's nice.

Somewhere around the halfway point in the afternoon, I took a couple of turns a little wider than I was comfortable and realized my time for personal glory was subsiding...and I dropped back to my Hind Tit status. After that, it was just a calm Sunday drive. Brother was on the ride too. He hung out behind me for a little bit early on, gave me a thumbs up as he passed me and then told me later that he couldn't ride behind me anymore. He wasn't sure what was going on in my head and said he couldn't watch. M.N. said something similar...something about watching me ride, leaned over, on the double yellow stripe (which is sometimes slippery), and cringing a little.

Best. Day. Ever.

Lesson learned? Get drunk once in a while. Cry. Walk home in the rain. Swear and writhe at the air. Take a break in a park. Feel pain. Swim in it a little. It truly does make you stronger. And most of all...do something that scares you once in a while. Because the feeling you get from accomplishing something that up until that moment terrified you, is fantastic. And the memory of your own moment of glory lasts a long time. Longer, if you put it down in a blog. :-)

First one in, last one out da club

About three weeks ago, our sportbike club hosted their 22nd annual Laguna Seca ride...which, if you are keeping track of professional sportbike racing, is nowhere near the actual Laguna Seca race. Anymore. But "CVSC Ride Then Drink Thingy" seems trite.

It's held on a Saturday, we have about a 150 mile ride beforehand and an after-party at a bar/hotel about 20 minutes or so south of EC in Osseo. This year I decided to skip the ride, mostly to help out the other two club members in the kitchen cooking up the fixin's, but also because the Laguna ride usually attracts many more people outside the club and I wasn't all that thrilled with the idea of riding with so many new people at once. Besides, HELLO! Food! All day being around it!

One of our club members hooked us up with a pig and roaster and did all the shopping for the rest of the chow. We had (aside from the roast pig) ho-made salsa, ho-made potato salad, and baked beans. He also picked up bacon from Sam's Club that was maple-flavored and was DELICIOUS. It was so good, I could smell maple syrup the rest of the night...though I think it was on my upper lip.

He and the other club member got to the bar way early to start cooking the pig. I showed up later in the morning, after getting lost on a county road and then spending about 5 miles worth of Cty Rd K poking along in newly laid, deep gravel. Honestly, the DOT is out to get us motorcyclists.

The remainder of the day was spent with the chop, chop, chop, boil, blend, mix and drink. Then...THE PULLING OF THE PORK! SOO-EEE!

Me, the Master Chef (Andy) and Sous Chef (Andy's son Zack)

Meanwhile...on the ride...

Mostly Naked on his newly mostly naked bike (hint: I've recently re-nicknamed him "Dances with Pine Trees")

Brother on his pristine machine


My Roomies...out front

The after-party...well..

Our 19-year-old club member ("son" to Mostly Naked and I) who, last week, left us for his first year of college in North Dakota...and to learn to fly Army helicopters. We miss him already, the little punk.

A little puke on the beer pong table, which, predictably, ended the beer pong tourney.


And this...well...I might have to get permission to tell this story. This is above a stall in the women's room. That's all I think I should say.