The Perfect Ride

There are situations, points in time, lyrical moments that cry out for whiskey.  Some incidents and accidents insist on massive, almost intravenous infusions of good Kentucky or Tennessee sour mash.  Other circumstances, temporary moments of altered states lean to maybe sipping lightly from a recently  filled stainless steel flask pulled out new from the Quality box full of bike parts early in the day when Life was hectic and I needed something special to look forward to in order to keep me on an even keel as the world in my immediate vicinity threatened to spin out of control.

Smiling my way through the rest of my day's labor, I  eagerly anticipated this moment when I could enjoy my first sip from that brand new Stanley commemorative 8 ounce flask and consider a job I hope is well done.  Finally finished and more importantly, hoping what I have constructed will bring a smile to the man who will soon throw a leg over this "perfect ride".

I sit here wondering how to impart the pleasure of constructing something that was once but a concept of many parts coming together, coalescing in my mind so many weeks ago.  I pondered as I hung, draped, and installed the many and various parts, my feeling of ownership or maybe responsibility for this pinnacle of civilized machinery as it slowly evolved with each gee whiz part I screwed on and adjusted.  This bike was a thoroughbred, a A flirtatious filly that would need the right jockey to push her to her limits.  And this jockey would only be able to push her limits if I had done my job.

Building such a fine machine caused delays as I anguished every little thing.  From making sure the saddle was level to creating the best chain line possible.  I used emery cloth.  I used almost every tool I own.  I wished for tools not in existence. I sweated details like I almost never do.  And I cussed like I always do.  I refused to let it go until the clock had literally run out.  I have to hook up with the infamous John Fox on the Turnpike tomorrow to pass my handiwork off as he heads south of the Mason-Dixon line to deliver this 18.6 pound beauty into the eagerly awaiting hands of it's new owner, Dave the Punk.  And while all our backs are turned, Bike Shop Jim finds that first limit in the parking lot out back.

Suddenly the Presidents of the United States swing into gear and with the knob turned up to wow, rock hard with "Mach 5" ......Drive with the top down.  Or tip back, sit back,  throw back some fine spirits and ...................................Grin.

What I missed

Far out.  The planet spins whether I am paying attention or not.  Events ripe for commentary unfold without my knowledge and when I finally touch back down to Earth, I am overwhelmed by sensory overload.  Lost in my own little world this past month and a half, I have missed out on being there to see important events unfold, finding out about them only after the dust has settled.

I had heard about the Tornadoes of last week, but only now, as I peruse the still images of the damage and the casualty count am I able to comprehend how devastating the events were.  My reaction is probably the same, but damn if I don't feel like the guy who shows up after the beer run to find out Cal Ripken Jr. just hit a grand slam and I missed it because I was not there.

I just watched a video of Obama's speech at the recent White House Press shin dig.  Made me laugh out loud.  Barack got some pay back for the recent stupidity from the Right side over his birth certificate.  I loved it.  But it makes me wonder why he let it fester so long?  And then I remembered how I would have handled it had it been me.  It would still be unreleased.  I did really enjoy the hits on the Donald, who apparently is now complaining the President's remarks were "inappropriate".  That just makes it funnier.  You go Donald, you da man.

The one event I was almost on top of was waking up to the breaking news of  Bin Laden's death in Pakistan.  Turns out while we thought he was hunkered down in some uncomfortable cave in northern Pakistan, he was really living the high life in a mansion 35 miles from Islamabad, the capital.  Hmm.............. It took us 10 years to find him?  And the Pakistan government did not know he was kickin his heels up poolside in their back yard? ..................................... The fact we did not bring the Pakistan government in on the mission is interesting and disturbing at the same time.  There will be some fall out.............Well I guess it's a good thing he is dead.  But the victory has a bit of a hollow ring to it.

Because I have been so out of touch recently, I took at least 2 minutes this morning to find a site that wraps up the important news from around the World on a weekly basis.  Seems to be an objective site in that all they do is offer links to the stories themselves.  Of course their picks could be construed as manipulative and in the end they really want the reader to join some secret group hoping to overthrow some government somewhere just because..........well just because that's what secret groups do.

The story that caught my eye was that Superman renounces his US citizenship in the 900th issue from Action Comics.  What?  The man of steel is turning his back on the USA?  Why big guy, why?  Damn, I hope he is not emigrating to China. 

Now that Obama's long form birth certificate has been released, there are several Birthers (Fox & Friends, etc) who were very quick to point out the problems with this "real" certificate.  Apparently though, their new standard bearer, Donald Trump is satisfied.  Now he wants Obama to release his college records.  What's next?  Permission to view bedroom habits inside the White House?.........................Oh yeah, the Right has already been there, done that.  Never mind. 

It'd be nice if the Right, the Left, and the Press treated us like we have a brain and focused on events and issues that really matter.  But as long as we continue to focus on stupid stuff, they will always be there to feed it to us.

Stay sane, or as close as as you can get....................................

The Reluctant Tycoon

Blog wise, April has been a bust.  I had other and some would say, more important things to focus on.  My bike shop for instance.  All month I kept telling myself that when the shop settles down after the initial Spring rush, I will have more time to dedicate to blogging, hanging out with my blogging buds, and contemplating my naval.

Things have not settled down at the bike shop.  In late March, business went from 0 to 100mph almost over night.  It has not slowed down since.  Everything in my life has been put on hold to make room for the bike shop.  And that is as it should be I guess.  After all, making money is what keeps the damn doors open. 

 I was caught off guard.   The last 5 years of mediocre or less cash in the till made the memory fade of the normal flow of a bike shop that is waking up from the long winter.  This Spring reminds me of my seasons 10 years ago.  Living, breathing, and dreaming of nothing but the bike shop, 24/7.  I knew I was one toke over the line when a bad dream woke me up.  It involved me, my daughter, one of my vendors and some wheel parts I ordered that came through wrong and oh my god, how was my kid going to win that bike race now.  Whatever it was, the dream was about bikes, business, and an angry customer who was related to me.  There is no bigger pain in the ass than an angry customer who is related.  Of course, my sweet daughter would never be a pain in the ass - ;)  It was a dream.

Even though I am exhausted, beat up, and more than slightly ragged around my edges, I am one happy buckaroo at the moment.  I am once again sleeping the sleep of the dead ( the one dream aside).  The extra cash has enabled me to fill my shelves fuller than they have been in several years.  I seem to have successfully made the transition from my old business model to my new leaner and meaner operation.  I am actually considering looking for those rose colored glasses I seem to have misplaced.

Life is really good at the moment.  I plan on hanging on while I can.

Happy Trails.....................................................................................

This Company Does It Right

I am so tired of the word "Green" I could spit.  That somehow just attaching the word "green" before, after, or within the name of a product, service, or process, we are to believe whatever it is is kind and gentle to the environment.  Humans are not kind to the environment.  Just taking up space and breathing has an impact.  Besides the "environment" does care one way or the other.  It's physicality has precious little to do with what we attribute to it.

I think rather than pull at people's heartstrings by attempting to drum up worry over the plight of frogs, trees, or some obscure moss only found in a 3 acre parcel destined to become a shopping mall, we should focus our narrow minded population on what environment we are really talking about.  We should be making the point clear that if we continue to mine the planet of all the non renewable resources at the pace we are, soon "our environment" will be in sadder shape, maybe even unlivable shape.  Never mind the frogs or the snail darters.  Their demise or mutation is but a warning of what might be in the future for us.

Barring a planet wide human kill, our species absolutely needs to sharpen our management skills as it pertains to producing the basic human needs for 6 billion people.  Instead of exploiting our natural resources as fast as possible, we need to exploit with longevity and careful consideration in mind.  We should insist the life span of the products last longer, the packaging be re-usable, and demand food production with less chemicals.  And it all starts with the producers, growers, manufacturers.  Without them taking the lead, our cattle brained population will never fully be behind it.  We will continue to consume mindlessly.  That is what the herd does.  Smaller installments of reality now and in the near future has to be better than the obvious critical tipping point of reality we seem headed for.

One small company in Portland, Oregon has been actively trying to lessen their impact on our environment since they began back in 1976 while making the best products of their kind and being financially solvent and prosperous at the same time.  Chris King Precision Components makes high end bike parts.  Their products outlast anyone else's and are beautifully executed.  If you have any Chris King component on your bike, you make sure all your gnarly dude buds know about it if they don't notice when you first pull your ride off the roof rack.

Besides manufacturing everything, including their own bearings, Chris King has constantly looked for ways to lessen the impact of their machining on the local, national, world wide natural order of things.  Products that outlast their competitors is a great start.  They also take the time, effort, and investment to recycle and re-use thousands of gallons per year of cutting oil they need to machine their parts.  By squeezing out the cutting oil from the aluminum scrap before the recycler picks it up, they end up with a higher value scrap and get more money per pound for it.  Their work place is legend in the bike industry.  People love to work there.  The company is actively involved in local and national programs that focus on responsible stewardship of the planet.  And they make money to boot. 

Yes, their parts are expensive.  But I believe their example is one the rest of the manufacturing world should try to emulate.  Of course, we have to wean ourselves off the Walmartian mentality of  "cheaper is better" and the notion that consuming for consuming's sake is a good thing.  It will happen because at some point, even the cheap crap will eventually be too expensive to buy.

Later..............................................
___________________________

Images all poached from Chris King Site

A Small Piece of the New Economic Reality <~> Guilty Pleasures Lost & Found

If I saw this coming 25 years ago, I am guessing the folks with 6 inches of letters behind their name saw it too.  We just could not keep up this Ponzi Scheme economy forever.  And maybe the last rush of greed a few years back that pushed us over the edge was a result of the smart guys getting one last dip in the trough before the reality of economic shift hit main steam America. 

That most of American Business chose to profit from this shift instead of prepare for it with new strategies does not leave me feeling any confidence that our mover and shakers have the country's interests at heart.  American business has lived on short term policies to maximize profit now instead of long term planning that would have set them up to face the reality that the US is going to have to make room at the top.  Because of their ham fisted efforts and self centered greed, they have probably ensured we won't be just making room at the top, we are going to be pushed off.

It is what it is and certainly out of my hands.  All I can do is adjust to the new realities coming at me, or let them take me down. 

There are a myriad, no, thousands of small realities forming that will change the dynamic of what is the US economy in the next 10 years.  My reality is but one small part of it.  I represent the small retail store trying to make it's way among the muscle bound chain stores and Internet Hydra.  All my whinin, pissin and moanin is done.  Fairness has nothing to do with it.  I deal with it or I don't.
 
In retail, brick and mortar operations like mine had basic rules and goals that seemed to be shared across the board from one retailer to another. With the advent of the discount chain store and the rise of the Internet, all these rules have been tossed.  Classic profit margins designed to cover fixed costs, cost of goods, payroll, and leave the owners with some jingle to save or play with have been shot in the ass.  I used to aim for a store wide margin of 40%.  I only remember hitting it one year back in the 1990s, but we had many years of 38% or so.  Now I have to keep my doors open on 25% or less.  That leaves precious little other than some coffee money and maybe a new pair a pants every 6 months.

But again, it is what it is.  Rather than allow the Internet or the Chains low ball me out of existence, I am meeting them head on.  It finally dawned on me that holding my price and not being flexible was just driving customers into their arms.  10% profit is a damn site better than no profit. 

Okay, so I have finally come around.  But the rules change here in mid-stream has me floundering some at the moment.  I realize that in order to survive in the new economic reality, I have to have every phase of my operation under control.  The margin of error has narrowed dramatically.

Which brings up Guilty Pleasures.  Bear with me, there is a connection.  I just need to re-locate it.

All this recent entrepreneurial intensity of mine has created a writer's block.  It seems I have completely turned all the synapses still in existence to the chore of pulling my bike shop out of the hole.  I have none left for my creative writing.  As I write this now, I am experiencing serious guilt and remorse over the hour wasted not focusing on bike shop shit.

It was on the way to the bike shop yesterday that I realized how much I miss writing just for shits and giggles.  I don't care what I write about, I just truly enjoy the effort of putting words together that make sense.   That they sometimes do make sense is but icing on the cake.  It is the process of creativity I am missing, not so much the finished product.  Writing has become a substance abuse thing for me.  I am seriously jones-ing here.

Riding my bike used to be a guilty pleasure.  That seems to have changed over the last 20 years or so.  At some point, I do not know when, riding went from an escape mechanism to a requirement of my job.  Owning a bike shop and not riding is certainly possible.  Matter of fact, many bike shop owners do not ride.  But I felt obligated more and more to ride because of the business and less just for myself.

And now that gas is closing in hard on $4/gallon, I feel even more pressure to ride.  Commuting by bike just twice a week will save me $8.  Add in the health and fitness benefit and  to not commute by bike when possible would be stupid.  Unless of course my pockets suddenly got deeper.  And last time I checked, they seemed to have shrunk. 

Coming full circle here, I guess it just amuses me that no matter how priorities change, there is always that which you should do and that which you want to do.  The trick is finding the balance point.

Next post - Alcohol and why I stopped being a tee-totaler.  Or something else.  It's certainly a crap shoot.

Keep it 'tween the ditches................................................................

Stubborn Can Overcome Stupidity

I think it was 9/11 that started me on the downward spiral.  The year following that awful event left me and apparently the rest of the country in a funk.  Whatever happened, it was around then my business and my enthusiasm for it began to wane.  Each successive season found me struggling to create enough cash flow to stay out of hock. The old Bike Shop Business Model just was not cutting it.  The Internet, the economy, and my decreased interest in the business created serious roadblocks.

In a desperate move to keep things afloat, I used credit cards and loans to try and borrow my way out of the hole that seemed to grow larger no matter what I did.  And then the economy really tanked.  Thankfully, I had already decided on some bold cost cutting moves months earlier and when it did tank, I was in no worse shape than before.  I had not tied into any new debt for that year.  I did not order any new bikes on credit.  I made no huge Pre-season parts orders on credit.  I decided that if I could not pay for it, I would not buy it.  All this in an effort to try to pay down the old debt as much as I could and then close the shop.  That was 2008.

I was sure I would not be able to keep the doors open after September, 2008.  I was wrong.  September, 2008 came and went.  2009 came and went.  2010 came and went.  And here it is April, 2011 and I am still in business.  Far freakin out. 

Remembering where my head was at then and where it is now makes me grin.  I had been doing business a certain way for I guess almost 20 years, and suddenly I was throwing it out and adopting a new business model.  No new bikes on the floor.  Parts inventory kept slim and thin.  I adopted on time inventory, ordering many parts for repairs as I needed them.  And I dropped my help down to one full time employee (yours truly) and one part timer who was paid a percentage of each repair he did.  My gross income dropped dramatically, but my profitability on that gross increased.   And I have successfully nibbled away a large chunk of my old debt.  I am not out of the woods yet, but there is certainly a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel.  Enough of one that now I am looking for ways to create new business without taking on huge new debt. 

I would love to give myself full credit for this turn around.  Yeah, I was too stubborn to quit.  That certainly helped.  But what else was I going to do?  I had been my own boss for over 20 years and I was damned if I was going to go back to driving trucks.  All I saw and still see is if I am not at the bike shop, I am at Loew's, Home Depot, Walmart, or Mickey D's wearing some shitty uniform and making just above minimum wage.  Of course minimum wage would be a wage hike for me.  I haven't drawn more than three or four thousand dollars out of my shop in at least the last three years.

My tenacity was certainly the driving force for where I am now.  But without timely help from my landlord, my creditors, Bike Shop Jim,  and most of all, my loyal customers, I would not be here right now feeling so grateful.   Instead of seeing nothing but struggle and trouble when I open my doors everyday, I think of running the shop as a fun game.  A serious game, but that's all it is.  Me against the evil economic monsters who wait behind every spreadsheet waiting to take me down.  I have stepped up my game and learned even more than I thought I could about retail.  I have found creative ways to cut costs.  I have found money in old bikes and old parts.  But of all the things I have learned these past few years is that if I am comfortable or feeling full of myself, then I am in trouble.  If I am not trying to grow my business when I can and shrink it when it needs to be cut back, then my business will die.  I figure another two years of this and I will be back in the black or damn close.

Happy Trails......................................................

What is Hip

Even though I have been detached from the real world and lost in my own trip for the last month or so, I have been paying some attention to the events that swirl around me like all those tornadoes that recently touched down in North Carolina.  Some of the storms have abated, some are just heating up and others are about the same.  And I know that regardless of my feelings, mood, or inclinations, events beyond my control will always swirl around me. 

So for my own sanity, I have taken a vow of silence about things I may have opinions on.  Just the other day, a good friend who is in love with the Tea Party and what it represents told me he would vote for Sarah Palin if she ran for President.  My facial muscles twitched a couple of times.  I felt or was it heard a rush of sound building somewhere deep inside me.  But I literally gritted my teeth, turned away and said nothing.  I acted as if he had said nothing and shifted the conversation back to one of bike parts, Freds, and what was hip and what was not in our micro culture of Gnarly dude mountain biking.

I have been part and parcel of this cycling subculture for 24 years now.  I have also lived in many different parts of this country over the years.  One thing I learned is that what is hip is only marginally affected by national trends.  The national trend may get the fad rolling, but each area, region, neighborhood puts their own twist on it.  Each move to a new area I suffered as a kid, I was always faced with the problem of not fitting in based solely on the fashions I brought with me from my previous home turf.  I gave up early trying to fit in.  The result being I have always been either behind the fad, or in front of it.  Never solidly tuned in.

The perfect example is my titanium VooDoo "Zaka".  It represents this contradiction of my fashion sense perfectly.  It is both ahead of the curve, solidly into it, and woefully behind at the same time.  Mountain bikes have for years been graced with either silver components or black.  There was the "Ano Period" of the early 1990s, but that was just an aberration or short detour while mountain biking found and secured it's rightful place in the hierarchy of cycling.  White components popped up now and then, but never to the degree they are now.  I installed them on my bike 3 years ago, a good 2 years ahead of the curve.

Sadly, the frame of the "Zaka" is made of titanium.  Titanium is not hip.  Carbon fiber is the new hip frame material.  And if you can't afford it or fear it because it feels like plastic, then Scandium is the next hip material in line.  Regardless, titanium is old school.  So any points I may have garnered for being ahead of the curve are negated.   I have also gone retro with this bike and kept it rigid with no suspension of any kind.  Definitely not currently hip.  But the fact that it sports 29" wheels with white rims means I do have a clue of what is cool.

The bigger question I guess is do I even care?  Of course I don't care if I am hip, but I am a tad concerned I may not be un-Hip anymore.  After long ago embracing the notion I will never fit in, I have worked hard to make sure I did not.  I guess some pink components or maybe some obnoxious yellow ones will return me to the status I have come to know and love.

Later........................................................

Owning My Past

Not sure what happened.  Some switch somewhere got flipped, some hidden button pushed,  or I entered an alternative Universe.  Whatever it was that touched it off, turned it off, I have been at a loss for words now since my grand meltdown of last post.  It hasn't helped that the bike shop has taken up 95 % of my waking hours.  We hit 100 mph right out of the gate.  No run up, slow climb, no chance to find our shop legs.  The fan has been hit with Spring shit and I know it will not ease up for at least another month.  Financially speaking, I hope it does not ease up until September. 

In the meantime I am hangin on, hangin in and hangin ten tryin to turn bike repairs around as fast as I can and keep the consuming cyclists' need for the latest bike bling sated.  I handle the early season cash flow like some circus juggler on a unicycle, hoping I look calmer than I feel.  Knock on wood.  So far so good.

Of course without the support of the folks who find me tolerable enough to help out, my story might not be so cheery.  As much as I would like to consider myself a loner, when I take the time to think past the gruff bravado, I realize that I need other people in my life.  Without their interference or support at specific points in my life, my journey would surely have gone down different paths and more than likely ended many years ago.

It would be logical to focus on those folks who surround me now.  But what about the interactions I had many years ago that altered my Life in ways I did not appreciate then but now I know had a major influence on where I ended up?  When I think about it, the negative incidents stand out now as positives.

For some reason my memory of getting busted for cocaine possession at the Pine Knob Music Theater in Oakland  County north of Detroit,  Michigan back in 1978 has been flash-backing in recent days.  I remember I was on tour with Genesis, but we had an unusual night off as our concert was not until the next night.  Fleetwood Mac was playing that night and the whole crew from our tour were invited to the show.  The night and my life may have turned out quite differently if I had just stayed back stage and partied with the rest of the crew.  I didn't stay back stage and well, my life was never the same after that.

I remember my usual over indulgence of Jack Daniels, many lines of toot, and then I decided I would go out among the crowd watching the concert to find some young lady to invite backstage.  I went out the door  from back stage  to a hallway that would eventually take me out to the public areas.  Not sure what I was thinking, but I decided that a fortifying snort of toot would be a good idea if I was going to even have a chance of talking sense and not mumbling nonsense.  I leaned up against a concrete pillar in the Lobby and pulled out my bag of toot.  Dipped my spoon in it and...........................two hands grabbed my hands that that were up til then busy getting a good spoonful of toot ready for deployment.  I looked up and yeah, I knew in an instant, I was busted.  Caught red handed, snagged being extremely stupid and probably in a world of trouble.  The two plainclothes cops had me in handcuffs and in the back of a squad car in no time.  I spent the next week sleeping on the floor of the intake cell at the local jail waiting for a bed to open up in the general population.

I had been out of control for more than a few years by this time in my life.  My family had grown weary of my stupidity and I knew calling my parents would mean serious recriminations.  I expected the sound and light company I drove for to help out, but they left me and moved on to the next show.  Can't blame them, but up to the point of my incarceration, they had always gotten their people out of jail.  I was the first victim of their new hard line policy regarding brushes with the law.

I called my parents.  They bailed me out.  I caught up with the tour, took back my truck from the temp driver  and finished that tour.  I went on two more tours, but it was never the same again.  My week in Holding not only dried me out, but gave me some serious previews of what I was headed for should I continue the path I was on.  I stopped the cocaine and laid off the binge drinking.  Some folks, and apparently I was one, cannot handle too much fun and stay out of trouble.

Now I know the cops who busted me, my fed up parents, and a lenient judge all conspired without the other's knowledge to straighten my sorry ass out and force me to face Life as an adult and not some overgrown angry teenager.  There are many signals in Life that warn of trouble ahead.  For us lucky ones, others help us see them in time.


Keep it 'tween the ditches.........................................
_______________________________

Image of Sammy Salamander who lives under our front porch.

The Joy of Living

I cannot remember the exact year it happened.  Was it eight years ago?  It was at least six or seven.   Maybe even ten years ago.  I guess I am hazy about the exact dates because this brief period of my life I planted so deep I would not have to remember the dark depths I found inside.  I almost died.  No fooling.  Regardless, I now know this experience has changed my life forever.  And not for the better.   I already had a list of other negatives I lived with.  What is one more, more or less?

I seem to recollect it all started in the Fall when I attended a group meeting of Hepatitis patients over to the Southern Maine Medical Center.  We would be the first group in Maine to partake in a drug regimen of Interferon and some other drug that would rid us finally of the Hepatitis that coursed through our bodies day in, day out.  Over a hundred people sat crowded in a room at the hospital and listened to a fellow wearing a nice suit explain the process and how beautiful our lives would be once we had successfully finished the year of injecting poison into our bodies.  I assume it was just shy of chemotherapy.  Just shy enough that they trusted us to self medicate.

We filled out questionnaires.  We were handed release forms to read and sign.  We listened as the potential negative side effects were explained.  The injections would be painful.  We would probably lose energy and not be as active as we were used to being.  Lethargy and exhaustion would be daily experiences.  Our appetites would be affected.  We might become depressed.  But on the up side, all these negative side effects would begin to ease up the further into the regimen we journeyed.  Our bodies would adapt.  And after a year of it, 60% of us would be Hepatitis free.  The other 40%, oh well, at least we gave it a good shot.

Even though the "medical experts" already knew from the trials, what they did not explain was that 11% of us would most likely fall into such deep depression that we would consider suicide as our only way out.  I found out for myself, but only after I had fallen into such deep depression that I did in fact try to take my own life.  The only thing that saved me was my own stupidity about how to carry off a successful suicide.  Did you know that all the new anti pollution junk the government has insisted be installed in the newer cars create such a low amount of carbon dioxide that filling a van with it and hoping it will be enough is hard to pull off?  I didn't and for once my own stupidity saved my life.

But let's back up some.  Back down from the climax and fill in some gaps.

The first week of the therapy was indeed painful.  Very painful.  I assumed my reaction to it was normal and sucked it up.  The depression came as expected.  The second week , the same pain and what I thought was just more of the same depression.  I had been told I would eventually rise above it, so I continued to poison myself with their drugs for another 6 weeks or so, each week sliding a little further down the hill into the pit I did not see coming.

My memories of exactly what happened in that eighth week or so are fuzzy.  I remember being in so much pain, physically and mentally, I saw no way out but to kill myself.  I cannot explain why I kept this to myself and did not complain.  I was drug addled and apparently out of my mind.  My only focus was how worthless I was and that I knew the World would be better off with me not in it.  I grabbed a hose from the garage, stuffed it up the exhaust pipe of the red Dodge Caravan,  took the other end of the hose and climbed into the van.  I started the engine, laid down on the back seat that could be made into a bed and waited to die.

For some reason and again I cannot explain why, I had taken a small travel clock with me when I climbed into the van.  I am thinking I wanted to watch the last minutes of my life tick off like some countdown in reverse.  I laid there for twenty minutes.  I could smell the exhaust in the van, but it was nowhere close to being fatal and I knew it.  Hell, I was still alive ferchrisakes.  Still determined to see this through, I closed my eyed and gritted my teeth.  This was damn well going to be my last day on the planet.  If I ever knew something was a sure thing, my self inflicted death was it.

I may have dozed off.  I do not know.  I do know that at about 1 hour into it, my eyes popped open and all I could think of was, "I don't wanna die!"  I opened the sliding door of the van and rolled out of it.  I must have laid on the ground for many minutes hacking, coughing and thinking how close I had been to death and how stupid I was for thinking death was something to look forward to.  I climbed to my feet, stumbled back into the house and called my wife.   When she answered, the previous eight weeks of Hell on Earth came out as I sobbed and cried my way through my narrative.  My wife came home immediately and a couple of hours later, I was safely set up in a group suicide watch house in Saco.  For three days I was monitored, questioned, and talked to.  I walked out of there knowing two things.  The aftermath of an unsuccessful suicide is almost worse than what led up to it and that if I ever again made an attempt, it would be successful.  If for no other reason than to avoid the embarrassment and deep shame I felt for trying to take my own life in the first place.

This tale might have ended here with our hero successfully confronting his demons and making it out alive.  But there are always residual effects to something like this.  An incident of this nature in one's life leaves scars, deposits doubts, and as I am realizing now, damage to my brain chemistry I can only assume is what that Interferon poison did to me physically.  Because ever since my up close and personal interaction with Interferon I have become what I assume would be considered "clinically depressed".  Ever since then, I fall into periods of such deep depression, I become dysfunctional.  And thus, you now have an explanation of my last ten days of Hell.  An excuse offered up to explain my recent absence. 

 ~*~

I had hoped to return to this blog on an up note.  Write something that exuded joy and well being or maybe humorous as I tried to put up a cheery front.  But I guess what I needed to do overwhelmed what I wanted to do.  I have had this bullshit bottled up for more than a few years now and this recent dip into my dark currents pushed me over the edge.  I had to purge myself.  Speak the truth and see it in writing.  I wrote this more for myself than anyone else.  Hopefully though, my tale strikes a chord somewhere.  But more importantly, strikes a chord with me.

And please note that I have thus far resisted seeking help from the "greatest health care system in the World".  The regular failures they charged me money for when dealing with my own medical needs over the years has instilled an almost phobic fear of returning to them for any help.  I hold them responsible in a large part for what I deal with today.  If I want drugs, I will find my own.  I will either find the solution for myself, or I won't.  Doctors can take their pills and shove em deep up where the Sun don't shine.

Later....................................................
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Image poached from "Depression Cell" .

Red America - Be Careful What You Wish For.

I find it interesting that the current unrest that has erupted in the Islamic World seems to be mostly in Islamic countries that had designated Islam as their "state religion".   In the "Islamic States", that is the countries that have incorporated Islam as the foundation of their political and legal makeup, there is less visible unrest, but anyone who has been paying attention knows it boils just under the radar of public scrutiny.  The countries where Islam is practiced by the majority of citizens, but the government is set up as secular with no official religion, well, they seem to be the most stable.

Certainly there are many other variables that would cause a population to be content or unhappy, but often times it is how a government handles  its citizens that brings things to a boil.  Theocratic governments are historically inflexible and stuck in singular mindsets that do not allow for change.  Governments who place an emphasis, or maybe a stamp of approval on one religion over others set up barriers and divisions within its country that cannot possibly be helpful in the long run.  When a government takes no official position regarding the religions of it populace, it only makes sense that this would help smooth out the interactions in country some, by allowing the population to sort out the cultural structure on its own. 

I would hope that the current madness within the Muslim World would cause those Americans looking for more of an official recognition of Christianity  to take a lesson here.  When the government gets mixed up with religion, bad things happen.  Whether the government decides to stamp out religion (USSR, China, Cuba) or make it the law of the land (Iran, Pakistan, Afghanistan), their interference is counter productive to that country's healthy progression as a culture.

Religion will never be stamped out.  Nor will it ever be totally embraced by all.  Belief cannot be dictated.  When it is, people get pissy,  people get arrested, people die.  Religion can be a positive force when left alone and kept out of the mundane reality of governance.  But try to incorporate it into state policy and the future is bound to be ugly at some point.  Besides, calling yourself a Christian because the government says so does not make you a Christian if you do not believe. 

Later................................................

In Your Face Dad

My father once said to me, "The damn Rock n Roll, it won't last.  Just a fad.  And a stupid one at that, what with all that pelvis thrusting and gyrating."  I was maybe 7 or 8 at the time, but I remember it well.  I had just come home with my first RocknRoll 45 RPM record, a Buddy Holly tune, "Peggy Sue".  My hard earned allowance of 50 cents a week covered the cost.  I played the shit out of that record.  I wore it out in about a month.  Then I went to work on the B side.

That was 50 years ago.   Yes, the RocknRoll of the 1950s and 1960s is gone, but what it spawned is still going strong.  As is American Blues, American Jazz, American Country and Bluegrass.  Many people around the World might hate our government, but they love our music.  And though our nation's geopolitical and economic influence may be heading downhill, I am guessing that no matter what happens to us, no matter where we end up, our music will persevere.

So I sit here listening to Buddy, Fats, and the Everly Brothers and think of my father.

In your face Dad.

Thankfully There is Always Something to Whine About

It's back.  On the surface, it seems the same.  But flip the "on" switch and watch out Mr. Man.  The somewhat dimwitted and slow electrical friend who left for a few days of complete rest which included some much needed high colonics, low colonics, mud baths, and back rubs, has returned re-invigorated, reinvented, and re-adjusted to the point I do not recognize my friend anymore.

I had gotten used to slow.  I had gotten used to it's idiosyncrasies, foibles, and tendency to break wind at the drop of a hat.  Like a comfortable pair of old shoes finally being re-fitted with new soles and heels, it looks the same but once again I find myself breaking those old shoes in again.   Stiff and awkward, the shoes and I will need to become re-acquainted.

Nothing got wiped out.  It is all still there, just slightly out of order.  My friend came back from the Computer Heaven Spa and Retreat with new procedures and routines that insist no matter how old a dog I am, I must learn some new tricks if I want to play with my old friend like we used to.  The relationship has changed.  My friend has changed and is adamant that I change also.

Okay, well, I don't wanna change.  A man gets used to things a certain way, things in certain places, order and chaos set up to his liking and when someone comes along, whether it be a mechanical someone or a flesh and blood someone and changes everything, it is a natural response of a real man to resist, even when it makes no sense to resist.  Real men know exercising futilely is some of the best exercise there is.  Just look at our political system if you are in need of evidence.

 So here I sit in front of my new/old computer and am happy to report that I sit grumpy once again. My machine is fixed, but now it is "too fixed".  Any concerns I may have had at a possible drop in whine factor evaporated as soon as I opened up my "bookmarks".  Nothing was as I left it.  This, which was up here next to that is now down there next to something else.  The seldom visited links I had moved to the bottom out of the way were now gumming up the works at the top, middle, bottom, and everything in between.

Life is beautiful again.  I can still complain about these damn computers with conviction and a false sense of victim hood that comes with the notion that all machines are inherently evil and are just waiting for the chance to ruin my day at any opportunity.

I'll visit everyone soon.  It's back to the bike shop for now...................................
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Image has nothing to do with the post.  Just one of my valve caps on my current favorite ride.  Posted for BBC's enjoyment and to let everyone know, this monkey is at play again.

And just because I just today re-discovered this tune I offer up this:

**** Seems my new safety features will not allow U Tube to load onto my blog.  There are also some other issues with things being blocked and refused.  Let me know if this video worked for those of you who might try it.

Tired of Updates? Well, Get Used To It.

In the face of mounting computer woes here at the home/business computer center, my ability to surf the Web has been cut back to the bare basics.  I can follow no links at all now.  If I try to comment on someone's blog, or say, post some pithy remark after being righteously indignated upon finishing some article, I get spanked back to the BSOD (Blue Screen Of Death).  All connections are cut and I have to start over.  Any remarks or thought I had begun forming into cohesive lumps of words that might make sense were lost.

I can post to my blog if I approach it just the right way.  But I have to be careful injecting images.  I can't upload from my computer anymore, I have to use my Web hoster Picassa.  That seems to work.  But try to visit someone and all I can do is lurk.

I could and probably will.......no I probably won't use the shop computer to drop in and say hey.  Once I hit the bike shop, all my internet time is spent chasing parts, bikes, etc.  When my day is done there, all I want to do is come home.  And I told myself I would not rob shop time for personal time.  At least try to keep it to a minimum.  And having just instituted this new policy, I am gung ho, assholes and elbows trying to impress myself with myself as I don my retailer hat and sell Sanford Maine the bike stuff they need.

My computer is scheduled for a thorough reaming and cleaning this next Monday.  Hopefully I will be back to my usual early AM slinking around your blog or the one next door.  I promise to wear pants.

Later......................................................

Grateful for the Problems I Have

Life gets in the way of the things I want to do.  I try to convince myself that what I want to do is what Life should be focusing on.  But no.  Life has its own damn agenda and it more often than not only includes me as so much excess baggage.  I get swept along by events unforeseen and not prepared for.  And suddenly the comfortable little rut I had constructed for myself has become a minefield.

I sidestep as many mines, pitfalls, and incidents that promise ugly outcomes as I can.  I cannot avoid them all......................................................And then I notice that while I have become totally wrapped up in my own puny problems, elsewhere on the planet, folks are dealing with problems of the Life and Death kind. 

Suddenly I feel foolish.  Suddenly I realize that for all the little irritations I have to deal with, there are people right now whose home washed away and their family is missing, or they are on some desert road with their life's belongings on their back and hoping some jet doesn't decide to fling bullets their way, or they are facing some kind of awful death as a disease works its way through their refugee camp.  As bad as I would like to pretend my life gets from time to time, I am fairly sure a sizable portion of the planet's population would love to switch places with me.

Owing more money than is coming in is a laugher when held up and compared to say, being buried up to your neck and watching the village line up next to the rock pile.  Water in my basement seems a minor league distraction when watching a tsunami take out a town of 17,000.  Scowling and cussing under my breath when another ATV/Snowmobile screams by disturbing my peace seems so petty when somewhere over the desert of northern Africa, fighter jets are screaming by and strafing lines of people whose only crime is trying to get away.

Being the typical American human,  focusing first on my problems rather than anyone else's is predictable if not understandable.  Average Joes such as myself tend to do this.  But then we really have to focus on what's in front of us.  It's all we have and for the most part all we can do.  We rise to occasions as needed and fall back to normality when the fires have been doused.  Dealing with the mundane is what keeps everything afloat.  Dealing with disaster is what we do to try and get everyone back on the boat so the focus can again be directed to the routine problems of keeping a society cohesive and moving in a good direction.

Anyway, just some Monday morning thoughts after watching catastrophe once again visit some fellow humans.  Sadness settles in with that second cup of coffee and I sit stunned.  My only consolation is my gratitude for the relatively peaceful existence I have been blessed with.  No matter how bad we think our lives are unfolding, there is always someone else carrying a burden we wouldn't wish on our worst enemy.

Keep it 'tween the ditches..............................................

Pissed

The following whatever it turns out to be will a much needed expulsion of pressure from my spleen as I sit  and try to type and drink my way through the violent internal turmoil brought to full steam through my own mishandlings.  I know what I would like to do, but can only sit here frustrated and SCREAM.....silently! 

The following was written last night after a close encounter with almost insane rage and then posted tomorrow, which by the time you read it will be at least today,Wed 3/9/11.  Delaying publication will leave me some time to review what I wrote before I make a fool of myself and post it out there for all to see.

Okay, Okay.  I know.  The fool ship sailed a long time ago.  I'm comfortable enough with my flaws and ingrained clueless demeanor now that posting more of it is just more of Mike's character anyone who knows me already knows.  You might as well know too in case you didn't know it already.  Call it a replay of tendencies I cannot seem to lose.  If I wasn't a bonehead at least once a day, I probably would take my temperature when I got home and crawl into bed.

First a shot glass of Rebel Yell and some Papst Blue Ribbon beer poured carefully into my favorite Pub glass I haven't used in so long there is 1/2 inch of dust in the bottom.  I will rinse out the worst of the dust first though.  

Ah that's better.  Where to start?

It all begins out there in the heavens, the beyond, the not here and now when  Universal Realm Operator 12 connects Darkside Out Post #4 with my Bad Karma HQ, allowing my Shitty Day side to link up from out there in whatever Hell hole they all exist in.  Though their secretive communication was beyond the range of my hearing, my radio and TV reception, and any telepathic inclinations I may have, I know this is how the conversation went down earlier today prior to what happened later today.

 "Out Post # 4?"


"Yes HQ.  OP #4 here."


"Mounting frustrations instigated here at HQ with things mechanical, electronical, and unsatisfactory encounters of the long distance phone kind of your client, one Mike Macrum, have racheted his stress level up better than 40% above normal over the last two weeks.  The target is now primed and ready to be taken to the final level, just shy of Meltdown.  This is a check,,1,2,3,4.....Check?  Are you ready to proceed OP #4?"


"Check HQ.  Everything's a Go here."


"Okay, implement final procedures to bring subject to full boil."


"Roger Wilco HQ.  Final countdown to meltdown on my mark........Mark.......10...9.....8."

This conversation early this morning between HQ and Op #4 set the stage for the moment I was not waiting for around 6:15 PM as I tried to make sense with one more phone voice, this time named Helen who was located somewhere not close.............Pause....Need some music.  And a picture or two if I can remember how the self timer gizmo works.

Backing up some here - Over the last two years, I have done what I considered a much better job of running things down to the Bike Shop.  I actually was beginning to feel I had a grip.  I was watching all the lines, not just the bottom one.  I felt oh so smart and on top of it when I caught over a $grand mistake in my bank account the same day it happened and stopped disaster before it even lifted off, I almost sat back satisfied.

And then I looked at the credit card processing fee on the bank statement................Hmm.   At first that is all I had.......Hmm.  I set the statement down on the counter and poured some more coffee.  In mid pour, I realized what I was Hmming at.  Two charges for processing, not one.  I dropped everything and chased down my processing statements online.  But first, because I had wiped my computer clean when it recently died, I had to re-register to see the account.  An hour and two or three phone calls later I had my recent statement staring back at me.  $76.50.......Hmm.....I look at my bank statement.........Yep, it's there.  But what about this one just under it and just after almost in the same electronic breath on the bank statement, this $110.50?.............Hmm.........I sit on the stool sipping coffee and feel myself winding up as I try to make sense of this.

Back on the phone at 6:30 PM with ,now it's Angela, she informs me that the $110.50 is not going into their account.  Angela continues talking, but I have tuned her out.  I realize in an instant, a flash of recollection, the code words my previous credit card processor had used to deduct my hard earned money and make it theirs.  The codes on the bank statement were the same as I remembered.  I say to Angela,

"Uh Angela?"

"Yes sir."

"When did I sign on with you people?"

"Mr Macrum, let me bring that up on the screen..................You came on board September, 2009."

I feel sick.  Any delusions of grandeur about my business acumen disappear in an instant.  I have just been caught being extremely stupid.  Expensively stupid.  Outrageously stupid.  Mindlessly stupid. 

"Mr Macrum?  Are you still there?"

"Uh Yeah , I'm here.  Angela, I have to go now.  I have a door to kick in.  See Ya......Click."

I punch the off button and toss the phone on the sales counter.  I first stare at the phone, then the bank statement, and finally back at the online e-statement.  My nausea passes and slowly turns into a growing, erupting, boiling over anger.  I turn back the recall roll in my brain and try to remember how this might have happened.  I remember the sales rep who got me to switch told me they would take care of turning off the spigot to the old processer.  I then remember making sure by telling the bank to not deduct any more money to that account.  Yet I sat there realizing that by not following up, I had been screwed.  And screwed out of at the least several thousand dollars over the last year and a half.  Feeling chumpish and rube-ish does not even cover how I felt.

"Okay HQ, subject Mike Macrum is now ready for meltdown.  HQ?  Are you there?"


"Yes OP #4, we are monitoring his stress levels.  The question to your there, I mean after all it is you who is there with boots on the ground.......Will this incident be enough to push him over the edge?  We would like to include your opinion as part our final judgement of when to pull the lever."


"HQ, I would say given his history, we are wasting our time."


"Why is that OP #4?"


"Well, you could give him a few more hours.  But I don't think it will make any difference.  He seems impervious to his own stupidity.  He is more resilent or is it dense than you might think.  Pushing him off the edge might just be wasted energy for not much gain.  Most likely he'll just lay there a lump and take up space.  You will gain no beneficial returns."


"Okay OP #4.  Keep us posted.  HQ out."

Distracted to a state of almost not making it home safely because some idiot pulled out in front of me as I was lost in some dark fantasy about me, the CEO of the criminal processor company and some ropes and stones applied in excruciating ways, I finally got it under control and decided there was no better reason to take a drink than because of what just went down.   That and I hadn't tipped one back in a month or so.

I had previously unloaded my sad sack story to my wife over the phone.  I obviously had exhibited the right amount of pitiful me sorrow for being such a dunce, that she didn't lay into me.  She just said, "So you fix it and move on."  Or maybe she could sense just how tense and clearly ready to implode I really was.  Whatever, she cut me some slack.  I truly appreciate that.

So with my third beer and a second shot of Rebel Yell sourmash warming my belly, I feel comfortable and cozy once again.  The alcohol has dulled the pain the sharp jagged searing edge my self inflicted stupidity cut into my ego.  I remember the why of what it is I carry as I go forth into the madness and wilderness that is always just around every next bend.

Money can always be made again.  Mistakes are but something you try to not repeat.  And always remember the Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers - "Pot will get you through times of no money better than money will get you through times of no pot."

Of course with no money nor any pot, it's the thought that counts.  Just remembering Phineas, Frank, Fat Freddy and his Fat Cat conjurs up very pleasant and soothing THC tinged flashbacks.  An almost satisfactory contact high is located, downloaded and allowed to join the alcohol charged memories recent and long dog gone.

Tomorrow, or well, later today, armed with righteous indignation and a hangover I will march into the bank.  Before I leave, this situation will be a memory. .............Hopefully one I won't soon forget.

Later Gator.............................................................
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An Afterword - I have now spent wasted my whole morning getting the thief off my back.  We will see if they comply.  If not, I know where Addison Texas is.

And Another Update

Apparently my computing woes are not even close to being rectified.  Well, I am feeling somewhat rect-ti-fied in an anatomical way I guess after the money I have spent recently to clean up this mess.

My linking process has shit the bed.  I can only link to another blog through outside links like Google or from another blog.  This adds to the time I normally waste and so it has become more cumbersome than it is worth.  I am also on occasion being tossed off the Internet in the middle of commenting.  The bugs, they just seem to be hanging on. 

I'm heading to work now.  I'll see if the Bike shop computer is doing the same thing.

Anyway, I'm still struggling here.  So bear with me.

Later...........................................

The Rafter of Turkeys

The local rafter of Turkeys that made it through the worst of winter visited me last week.    Their Fall membership of over 20 birds had shrunk and there were no wee ones scooting here or there.  All presented adult plummage and size.   It was a tough winter and I was pleased to see the 10 or so birds strutting on top of the hard 2 foot snow pack in the yard.

They went through instinctual motions probably engrained by millions of years of evolution and pecked repeatedly as if there was something to eat on the snow.  Or maybe they were just nervous tic's resulting from them being so out in the open.  All the while their one eye facing me bore into me hard.

Wild Turkeys, like most birds, have fantastic eyesight.  Usually if they sense any movement inside the house they scatter instantly.  This day, they sensed me but only moved quickly to another spot in the yard.  It seemed they were waiting for me to get my camera.  I did and when I put it against the window, a couple of the bigger ones moved closer.  "Yeah, look at us.  We made it.  We're the badasses, yeah that's right.  We cool."

They paraded around for several minutes and then as if on cue, all took flight and were gone.

One more sign Mud Season is almost upon us.  Spring is just around the corner.

Our Government at Work

I was just going to give myself one half of an hour this morning to cruise some headlines and visit a couple of blogs.  Then off to the bike shop.................... I should know better.  Damn Internet.

I have always enjoyed a bit of chaos.  The self inflicted chaos I have created for myself over the years is testimony to that.  Rigid order is fine for British gardens and smoked filled men's clubs, but out here where us loose dogs exist, random acts and erratic behaviour keep the ruts from getting too deep.

There is more than one kind of chaos.  Relatively harmless chaos like spontaneously stripping your clothes off and running across the infield at Fenway, and the ugly kind of chaos that apparently has Mexico by the short hairs right now.  The drug cartels, border hopping, and the efforts of both governments to stop it.  I hear and read Mexico is now a very dangerous place.  Monthly death tolls are not counted in double digits, they are counted by the hundreds.

As much as I believe we should be able to move about and do what we want without lawmen interfering, I do understand that when there are no rules, or rules that are not enforced, some people will take advantage and the results are usually ugly.  So, I begrudgingly acknowledge that we do need some order, a few rules, and some punitive measures just to keep the few idiots from completely overrunning the rest of us.

The ATF (Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms Agency) is one arm of our government's many arms that attempt to contain chaos of the ugly type.  The ATF is tasked specifically with curtailing chaos created by guns.   Illegal arms sales, illegally upgraded weapons, trafficking of guns, pretty much anything to do with guns that fall outside the multitude of US laws on the books pertaining to guns.  I am supposed to feel safer with the ATF on the job.

I pretty much stopped feeling safer a long time ago.  My safety is up to me.  The government can only give the appearance of providing safety.  It is really up to us to provide our own safety on a day to day basis.  Besides, controlling guns inside the US is an exercise in futility.  There are just too many guns out there.

My loss of confidence in the US justice system was reinforced this morning when I read an article about an ATF agent who blew the whistle on a gun running operation the Feds were involved in.  My less than enthusiastic confidence that US Law is morally superior and rooted on some ethical high ground was reinforced at the same time.  Seems the Feds were allowing huge numbers of weapons to pass across the border from the US to Mexico so they could build an airtight case.  In the meantime while they dragged their feet "gathering evidence", 958 people died violently in March, 2010 inside Mexico.  Everything was fine and good as long as only Mexicans were dying.  But once a US agent died, well, now it was a problem.

Entrapment has always rubbed me the wrong way.  From John DeLorean to a situation regarding Anti War protests involving myself, I have never liked it when lawmen actively encourage illegal behaviour as a means to ending said illegal behaviour.  Of course I understand the logic, but the ethics are lost to me. 

This situation is a perfect example.  The ATF allowed thousands of guns to cross the border to be used by losers to kill other losers.  Of course the losers involved also shot more than the occasional tourist, innocent stand byer, and yes, even some of the cops trying to stop them.  The problem the ATF were tasked to prevent, they made worse. 

The ATF should hang their head in shame.   But they won't.  They will roll a few heads, shake off the bad publicity, and come up with another brilliant plan to put us or someone else in danger.

Later.............................

Agent X6

Yesterday I hated computers.  Specifically I hated mine.  Even after I paid for the sweat and toil of an expert, what I had returned to me from the Computer hospital were two warriors who were weaker and not up to full speed.  They functioned as if in a fog or maybe more like they limped and gimped as they performed their most routine of duties.   Having suffered wounds so deep, the effect would always be part of what life remained inside their copper wired souls.  But they were back and Life was almost back to normal.

I dealt with their failings as long as they did not affect my day to day business.  But I soon discovered that besides not having a CD/Rom player anymore, my USB magical port of call for data transferred from the outposts to the home base was non functioning.

This was unacceptable.  I could deal with slow.  I could deal with no CDs.  There was already hours of music safely saved within the gulliwots of my hard drive.  But not being able to pass documents back and forth on the magic memory sticks was too much.  I called my local computer whiz kid.  He took control of my ailing friend and the screen went mad.  Windows opened.  Windows closed.  Dark recesses were visited by probing mice.  The computer shut down.  The computer started back up.  More windows, more patrols by the mouse patrol.  And then in the utility manager an unknown agent, a sneaky saboteur, an evil program lurked.  His name - "Agent X6".  And he was up and running amok.

Over the phone which was on speaker, "There he is, the little bastard."  Click and the counter agent mouse clicked Agent X6 off.  "You should be all set now Mike......'Puter might not work like you remember, but it works.  See ya."  And my local whiz kid relinquished control to me again.

And now I sit typing while Neil Young's "Southern Man" blasts through my ear phones and the USB port o call is eagerly accepting new cargo. 

Oh Happy Day...................................

Just An Update

My recent problems with computer malfunctions and the pressures the local cyclists are putting on me anticipating Spring have caused me to remain away from this keyboard.  I have had no computer time other than putting it to use with my business in mind.  I have begun the annual quest for elusive cycling gee gaws winter weary consumers saw in some obscure article on the latest gee whiz bike stuff that will never be available in the real world.   They have fanatsized about how a new ride would feel.  Or if packing a light pocket book, they imagine what upgrade they can afford to at least give their cycling season that needed boost and pyschological edge out of the gate.

The winter weary cyclists have had all winter to fantasize and they are ready to at least do some serious tire kicking.  Repairs are now officially stacking up and I find my time would be better utilized wading through them than typing words that mean little in the cosmic madness we exist in.  It is time to manage some of the madness instead of whining about it.

The computers are back up and working, though not at the level they once were.  Seems both could use some more TLC.  But I need both as my bike shop has become dependent on them working.   That will have to wait.  So............................

See ya soon.........................................