#100

I usually use song titles for my little bloggy. The fact that no one ever gets the lyrical references doesn't even bother me...much. Milestones are funny things, they make you think of time and what you've done with it. I have to say of all the things I have latched onto, I would put writing this blog up there with the best. It's nice to soak you're soul and then wring it out. It's a cleansing exercise. The fact that anyone wants to read it, really cracks me up.

About two years ago my pal, mechanic, confessor, guru, coach, Big Worm said to me:

"You gotta check out this blog I am reading."

He was talking about Jauncho's Big Ring Circus. I was sold two lines in, and immediately in awe of the guys chops. Good writing, funny and it's ALWAYS about the bike. Good stuff. A few months later I was asked (after begging for weeks) to be a guest writer. I haven't been that nervous since before I got to third base, but it was an awesome feeling to see something I wrote on the screen of his blog.

Here I am at the one hundredth post, and I all I can think about is how much fun I have had writing this silly little blog. Now I have people in my life that I don't even know. Ms. Moon, Magnum, Nichol, and (in my mind at least) a bunch of admiring lurkers that are too awed by my coolness to post a comment. Anyway thanks, and thanks to all the people I do know, that in spite of knowing what a galactic dork I am, read and post. Sinks, Worm, Slade, Squatch,....shout out to the homeys.

I saw Juancho today chewing coal and spitting diamonds, while standing (by choice) in the rain. He has lost 25 lbs and shows no sign of slowing down. I knew I was never going to be half the writer he is, but I never thought I would have to fear him being thinner and faster than me.

I couldn't be happier for him.

W.B.Z.N.

Ain't No Sunshine

Top Ten Songs About Rain:

10. Rainy Days and Mondays- The Carpenters.

9. I Want To Go Outside (In The Rain)- The Stylistics

8. When The Levy Breaks- Led Zeppelin

7. Blue Eyes Cryin In The Rain- Hank Williams

6. Riders On The Storm- The Doors

5. Kentucky Rain- Elvis Presley

4. Tears In Rain- Joe Satriani

5. Come Rain Or Come Shine- Frank Sinatra

4. Red Rain- Peter Gabriel

3. Purple Rain- Prince

2. Who'll Stop The Rain- Creedence Clearwater Revival

1. Love Rain O'er Me- The Who

W.B.Z.N.

Grey Sky Morning

Back before the Internet, wave models, and real time surf cams, we used to use different methods for predicting surf. We had instincts tuned by years of experience, and primal triggers sounded an alarm in our brains.

Because we surfed all the time, and lived by the coast, we were tuned in to the rhythm of the ocean. I would wake for no good reason in the pre-dawn, and drive to the beach on a hunch. Armed with a huge iced tea, driving my V.W. bus with one hand on the horizontal steering wheel, and my left foot on the dash, I would point north towards the beach. It was faster to go down U.S.#1 but I always hung a right on Midway Road and headed for Indian River Drive, meandering along the twisty up and down route, bordered by the river. The royal palms would betray the winds direction and as the first colors of dawn appeared, I would make sweeping judgements based on the "Red sky at morning" axiom. I would red line my 1600 cc motor down the Dixie Highway towards the North Bridge. The first view of the water flowing in the inlet, and the direction of tide, would let me know if my timing was true, or another mirage.

I had a fishing pass, which meant the combination to the State Park gate was my secret possession. I would drive past the poor bastards from Palm Beach, Miami, and other pathetic locales, waiting in the dark, for the rangers to let them in. I would ignore their pleas, as I locked the gate behind me.

Running full speed down the wooden walkway, all the while compiling data: wind, tide, drift, until that fateful moment I was able to see past the dune line, and hear the boom of a set unloading in the shallows. With the sun creeping up, breathing in the smell of blue Sex Wax, I would wade into the hissing ocean. First peak would be marked by the others in the know, bobbing outside the break, looking toward the horizon, for the next set.

By eight or so, we would have our fill, and we would leave the scraps to the losers that slept late, and the unlocals waiting at the gate. I would go open the shop, and ask the guys at Sharkey's to call me when the grill was hot. People would come to buy wax, and ask how the surf was, and I would look them straight in the eye, at nine a.m. and say.....

"It was good this morning."

W.B.Z.N.

Strange Things

This is the ride from Saturday. Another six hour epic. A lot of damn funny stuff happened but, I am depending on a blog from Big Worm, so I will leave the details to him.

I have finally emerged from my self imposed post vacation funk. All it took was some quality time on the bike with pals, to get me back on track. I get by with a little help from my friends.

Still a little slow at work so, I finally opened a classmates.com free trial. I was looking at the profiles and wondered if I should fill one out. You have a couple options when doing this: 1. Pump it up a little, using terms like "director of operations" and "blessed with my beautiful wife, and gifted kids" then post a ten year old picture of yourself, pretending you are well preserved. 2. State the brief facts, with little or no emotion. I opted for door number two. I was really hoping to find one posted by an ex jock, after a three day bender, that went something like this:

Greetings from the class of 81! I am an old, over weight, balding, car salesman in a midlife crisis, and I got on classmates to catch up! Whoo! Go Cobras! Well I don't look as good as I used to but, I just got divorced and I am ready to go line dancing! Email me!

In my mind Will Ferrell plays the lead, and falls down half way through the speech. I didn't find anything like that. The 120 pound weakling I was in high school, is still holding out hope. It's a sick dream I know, but it's Monday, and it's all I got.

W.B.Z.N.

Take a Picture

I came home early to get ready for the Joe's ride tonight. You know when Worm ain't riding due to weather, it's bad. He is a weather guru. So I decided to scan some photos. I noticed there was a streak on the inside of the glass. I took the scanner apart and cleaned it.

*Elapsed time one hour*

Then I went looking for some other photos of this ramp, which led to cleaning out more files and shredding documents. My wife came home and needed to get on the computer. I decided to clean up the wiring in the closet, that houses the scanner, printer, and fax.

*Elapsed time, three and a half hours*

She went to get dinner going, and I started scanning. I had to reboot the software because the computer wouldn't recognise the scanner, kind of like when I used to go to bars, to meet women. I got it working. I arranged the photos and scanned them.

*Elapsed time, four hours, forty seven minutes*

All this, just to prove to Juancho, that I was the guy in the pics.

And this is what my life would be like if I didn't ride.

W.B.Z.N.

Late For The Sky

I have an office in my house. Years ago in a galaxy far, far, away an accountant told me it was a good deduction. We chose square footage, over percentage of house, and it was a healthy write off. The walls were covered in album covers, posters, and billboard charts, given to me by the band. There was a couch for band meetings, a desk, a computer, and a drum set in case my abilities were ever in question, which they often were. The road manager and I used to count money at the end of tours, here. Once there was so much cash, it took us three hours to make sense of it all. The band wrote me a check, for more than I make in three years, when we got a publishing deal with Warner Chapel, right here on this empty desk.

I redecorated recently and decided it would be good to have a bed for guests. The paraphernalia seemed like a football player in his Letterman's jacket, long after graduation. It all came down.

I found some old pictures of myself when I was cleaning up. One of a pretty good front side air, one of my old V.W. bus, and one of me behind the counter at North Jetty Surf Shop. Happy times all. I was twenty three. It's very hard to look back at that simple time. I am sure if I could talk to myself back then, all I would have wanted was everything I didn't have. I had friends surfing in Hawaii, guys were on MTV, dancing with chicks in lingerie. The world was giggling it's keys, and I had my tongue out like a puppy, waiting for someone to throw the ball.

I wonder if I will look back when I am eighty, at pictures of myself at forty five and think, "Man you had it all, and didn't even know it." Looking back, is a great way to get a pain in the neck, and as it turns out, the heart. Second guesses and what if.

A friend I hadn't ridden with in while said yesterday, that I couldn't stand to go slowly uphill. Man he nailed it, and me. Later when I was gassed, he said, "Just keep spinning."

I hear ya brother, I hear ya.

W.B.Z.N.

Emotional Rescue

I once had a physciatrist tell me that I was a mascot. The term apparently refers to people that resolve conflict by being funny. It's a role I played in my large family. The down side is it makes me neurotic. Kind of like Robin Williams on crack.

Today I rode with Squatch and Juancho. I have never considered myself a mediator, that's how Squatch referred to me. These two are quite a pair. If what we did today was a movie, it would have been Lawrence Of Arabia, substitute the bikes for the camels, and the Turks and Arabs, for Juancho and Squatch.

It started cool and rainy and ended hot and oppressive, the weather was weird too. Juancho is a man on a mission and like most of the converted, his zeal is a tad Jim Jonesie. I love it. I envy his quest. He is getting skinnier, tougher, and as he sheds his skin, a little gnarly. He was pretty focused on Squatch, who was playing a mental game of chess all day with our hero. He played well and refused to give up, which set the theme for the ride. A six and a half hour Mexican stand off started at G.B.S. and included: Fern, Tom Brown (Squatch smashed his bad knee), Cadillac, the Green Way, a stop at a mysto store, that I am still not sure was real or hallucination,

part of the Food Lion Loop,

the hills from the Joe's Loop, a stop at Fresh Market, for weird stares, banana's and O.J.,

the secret single track climb (Squatch cramped), and (after waiting for someone to blink and draw pistols) I cried "UNCLE!" and we headed back to town, via the power line, and parted ways on Live Oak. I know that was a long sentence, but the ride was six and a half hours. I got to see their abusive relationship, and they got a peak into the mascot closet. I think we are even, but you'll have to ask them.

There's a lot more to this story, and two hours of activity I missed, before I invited myself on this love fest. I will leave that to Juancho to clear up. Their Will Be Blood, I promise you. I may not be invited to ride with those boys for a while, but I will say this: I had a good time, and now I have enough hours this week a day early. When you get a second, ask Juancho how he feels about pace lining on the road.

The following is a rant Juancho launched into on the ride. Priceless.

Did you catch the nipple check?

W.B.Z.N.