Trees

Well. I am still sick, so I will be commenting on a variety of things I am looking to for inspiration.

First, my Mother, who was a first generation American Irishwoman, used to believe that there was nothing that couldn't be cured with tea, toast and a few Hail Mary's. I would like to add NyQuil to that list. If you can stand the peyote dreams. I would like to submit last nights dream for your interpretation;

I was watching three people in hoods, performing a pagan ritual on an oak tree, but it clearly had pine bark. They were in hooded robes and it was daylight. The woman next to me said, the second person in the ritual "favored" me. Please help, as I am still disturbed by the whole dream. All comments are encouraged, sarcastic, academic, and religious.

Kelly Slater, may clinch an unprecedented 9Th world surfing championship, if he wins The Billibong, at Jeffery's Bay, South Africa this week. He entered the first event as an obligation to his sponsor and won. Then he won the next two events, and decided to see how long the streak would last. Now with no intention of staying on the tour this year, he may win the title. He has a one thousand point advantage over some mouth breathing Australian. Unbefreakinleavable! This is kinda like Lance riding a parade lap and winning a time trial.

Someone just said "Fuck" on the live feed, of The Tour de France, other than a French rider wearing the Yellow, I think that's the funniest thing that could happen in the race!

Ta, Ta.

W.B.Z.N.

I Feel Pretty

Pretty crappy. Go ride with out me again!

How could I cruise thorugh flu season and then get nailed twice in three weeks?

Oh well I'll call you when it's over.

W.B.Z.N.

Young Americans

Port Saint Lucie had a marina, pool and a rec hall with one ping pong table. The facilities were one of the selling points guaranteed in the sales contracts, issued by the General Development Corporation. It was the center of our universe and we homed in on it, every morning, every summer day.

This day, we would all be there early to watch the Kiwanis and Jaycee's set up the festivities. The burgers and dogs would be on the grill. A local band would be warming up on the shuffle board courts, with "Smoke On The Water" and "Sunshine Of Your Love". Somewhere around noon, the parade would start at the ball park, and end in this most glorious location of my childhood. The possibilities were endless, music, games, swimming, food, and the hopes of getting a girl to like us, all hung in the air.

The central obsession was our bicycles. I was a master of the wheelie, and in those days you could ride your bike in the parade, and not be chased off by officials. We decorated our Sting Ray knock offs with cray paper in the spokes, and flags on the sissy bars. We all wore red, white, and blue in honor of the holiday, and dreamed of winning an award for the best decorated bike. Prima Vista Boulevard was lined with friends and neighbors and the glory of being center stage was fantastic. We would take turns riding wheelies up one side of the street, and back the other, weaving in and out of the floats, muscle cars and marching bands. We rode next to Miss Sandy Shoes in a red Corvette. We road next to the Ft. Pierce Marching Cobras. We rode next to my friend Kevin Hand's band, as they played Jumpin Jack Flash, over and over, his blue sparkle drum set, and drumming skills the envy of us all.

The day would go on forever, and then at night the fireworks would be lit by the Optimist club, with a rag, wrapped on the end of wooden stick, soaked in kerosene. We would stay at the marina long after everyone else had gone. Full of candy, completely out of Black Cats, M-80's and bottle rockets, we tried to stretch every second of the day, we hated to see end. Cruising home sunburnt and shirtless, with the decorations tattered and dragging beneath our wheels, we were serenaded by the frogs and crickets. In fitfull sleep we would twitch and kick, rewinding and reliving all the adventures we had that day.

Happy Fourth Of July.

W.B.Z.N.

Smooth

A great skater has the ability to skate over what we used to call, kinks. Take a crap line, let the weird things happen, and roll out. If you can do that with style, that's the key.

I always judged skaters (prehistoric and current) by how good they look in the air. Watch the right skater, they always know where they are. They don't flail. They see the landing without looking for it.

Right now my vision is riddled with Jersey barriers, and ledges with big, metal, brackets bolted into them. I have never been good at hiding my disdain. I need to learn.

It's all about flow. Move through the landscape and make it look good. I am trying to find a good line. I hope I pull it.

W.B.Z.N.

Back On The Chain Gang

Four of us met, to ride on Sunday
We invited more, but only four came to play
Slade has a list, of the things for the ride
it's all in arranged, and neatly inside

Juancho rode well, not in front or in back
his shorts are transparent, and you can see his crack!



In the woods there are bears, that love to eat berries
when they get hungry, they get kind of scary






Worm navigated, so no one had to choose
Slade in second, then Juancho
I was the lantern rouge!




That's me breathing heavy
not to be dramatic.
I really can't help it
I'm an Irish asthmatic!

We all had fun, and weren't shot by guns

we out ran the rain, and then we were done!

W.B.Z.N.

Born To Be Wild

My lust for the west still has a hold on me. After reading all Neil Pearts books on motorcycle touring, I have been thinking about the idea of a cross country trek on a BMW F650GS. I have always considered motorcycles an accident looking for a good place to happen, but I am easily swayed by things I read or watch on T.V., so I am hitting the idea up against the wall.

I haven't considered any information based in reality or logic. I am just mentally kicking tires. It's either that or chew gum. I have noticed that sometimes these crazy ideas take root, after all that's how I got into cycling. I will let reality creep in if I ever get serious.

I thought I would throw it to the panel and get your comments, pro, con, or funny.

vroooom.

W.B.Z.N.

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

I am in the jaws of some exotic virus. My mouth piece fell out in round two, and I kissed the canvas like a lost love.

Juancho, Big Worm, Red Dragon, now is the time to put in the miles and shake me off your wheel. I'm on the rivet.

Go ahead ride, you DAMN DIRTY BASTARDS!!!!

W.B.S.N.