" 33 "

I'm awake.  It's 2:09 dark thirty in the AM.  Instead of coming home tonight from the bike shop around midnight toasted, roasted, thrashed and ready to crash, I came home pumped up hard with my fire still stoked and burning on a full flame.  I performed some minor domestic magic, emptied the pick up of the trash I brought home to take to the dump on, at this point, some vague and hazy date in my soon to be immediate future.  I fitzed, farted, and diddled around with basement stuff til almost two and then sat down here and pumped Neil Young up to way past wow. 

Two beers later my boiler seems to be calming down.  Obscure relief valves I did not know I had have opened releasing the adrenalin built up but not used to full capacity over the course of the previous 16 hour workday. 

I ponder the wisdom of re-stoking the furnace with some sweet sour mash knowing that in a few hours I have to get up and do it again.  Go to the bike shop and play fire fighter attempting to douse numerous small blazes threatening to burn out of control unless I at least cast an angry eye or token gesture in their general direction.

In the meantime, as my brain struggles to come to grips with this new conundrum, I am still awake and by now I am tapping my old white boy feet to "Warehouse".  Oh no, it's almost over.  What to play next at volumes no human should even entertain introducing to their brain?  So loud I can feel inner juices bubbling up seeking escape from the din I have subjected them to.  Yes, some tunes are meant to be played just shy of painfully.  Later in the morning I will most likely want tunes I can barely hear as I struggle to chase and shake drunken cobwebs out of the way as I move into another day.

"Turn that crap down.  You'll go deaf ferchrissakes.  And where are you then smart ass?  .....................I said turn that crap down..........no, turn that crap off.

Uh?  Dad, you talking to me?  Can't hear whatja saying.  Got the tunes up. 

Walker's Paradise

I was taking a few rare moments from my recent business related only time on the Internet this AM to peruse some of the news from around the globe.  I hit the regular sites, Drudge Report, Drudge Retort, NY Times, Google News, etc.  An interesting article on pedestrian death rates popped up on my radar.  It appears that if one has a penchant for running over pedestrians, Florida is prime hunting ground.  I assume it is the concentration of old fogies that makes it easier pickings. 

If one likes to walk with a sense of safety, New England seems to be Walker's Paradise.  My own state comes in at number 45, New Hampster at 44, and Massachusetts is a relatively safe 42.  And while Alaska can claim being the 2nd safest state to hoof around, Vermont comes in as the safest place to wear out those new Reebok walkers you just bought.  If you want an edgier walk while up here in the North East, head to Connecticut (29th), or Rhode Island (31st).

I guess it is no surprise that states with more rural and less urban would be safer to walk in.   Cram more people and cars into smaller spaces and the interactions between the two groups will have a higher percentage of ugly results.  Why then does the State of New York come in at a lofty 39th?  No place is more crowded than New York City.  Throw in all the other urban areas in that state and I would have expected New York to be at least breathing down Florida's neck for the top spot.   I guess there might be something to the notion that New Yorkers are born street smart. 

I've been to New York City many times.  Only once did I come close to taking out a pedestrian.  Matter of fact it would have been a three-fer.  But I went on auto pilot and stopped inches from rolling over a very big black woman with a child clutched in each meaty hand.  She stepped back from the front of my GMC tractor trailer, looked up at me with eyes the size of pie plates.  I looked down at her with my pie plate eyes.  A scowl came across her face and she screamed, "Fucking Asshole", then proceeded to continue her Jay Walk across the street, dragging her scared shitless children behind her.  I will admit I checked my drawers when I finished the 6 blocks left to the Bronx Food Market.

47,700 plus pedestrians have been mowed down by cars, trucks, buses, motorcycles, or bikes between 2000 and 2009.   That breaks down to almost 5000 people a year. The article goes on to say that while automobile deaths have dropped dramatically, drops in pedestrian deaths have not enjoyed a similar decline.  The pedestrian death rate is hardly chump change when compared to other causes of death in this country.   But in the hierarchy of what we die from, getting nailed by a moving vehicle is just another hazard of living in an increasingly crowded country.

Later..............................................
_____________________________________

 Image from "I don't Brake for Nuns"

Whew!

Well I guess we dodged a bullet and I got myself some new underwear I didn't need.  Harold Camping now insists his prediction of the Rapture beginning on May 21st, 2011 was but a snafu in his interpretative calculations and that October 21, 2011 will encompass both The Rapture and The End.  I have to say, it certainly seems to be a more efficient use of World ending power to just do it once, get it over with, and move on to the next planet full of fornicators, blasphemers, and deviants.  I am guessing God did not get to the lofty position he sits in by wasting his time with installment plan destruction.  Smite once and move on, it's a big Universe.

Now that I have completely ruined any chance of making the Rapture Elevator, I figured I would take a look around the planet to see what the blissfully ignorant teeming masses did once the grand event did not unfold as Harold indicated it would.  Was there a collective sigh of relief echoing across the oceans?  Were there screams of disappointment that once more God failed to live up to the promises his prophets had made?

No on both counts.  Collectively, Mankind did not even blink an eye.  Sunday morning came and it was business as usual.  Fornicators fornicated, Blasphemers blasphemed (not sure if that is a word, but hey who cares), and the knee benders showed up pew side as usual to pay deep respects for a God they know is watching.......................SSDD. 

But one person apparently was MIA.  Seems Harold, the man who stirred up this recent End of Days scenario, was keeping his head down.  I am trying my hardest to be somewhat sympathetic to the many people who divested themselves of their worldly goods and obligations in anticipation of being included in the group of 200 million chosen to go topside.  They woke up on Sunday, May 22, 2011 and their cars were re-poed or being re-poed.  The bank computers were busy churning out all kinds of past due notices these poor unfortunates will be facing in the coming weeks.  Their kids will have to make friends all over again.  And I imagine dealing with such a complete let down of faith and belief will take some time to get over. 

As I said, I am trying hard to find some sympathy for them.  Failing that I started looking for some pity.  That cupboard was bare also.  So I tried to laugh at them and I couldn't.  They did not get what they asked for.  But they surely got what they deserved for allowing themselves to be led down the garden path.

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

An Update on the Last Date - The God Variable

First of all, I noticed that some Internet gremlins got hold of Google and screwed up my last blog post.  Several comments mysteriously disappeared.

Hmm.................... Is this a sign that in 3 days we will see the beginning of the end?  According to a fellow name of Harold Camping , the recent series of exploding watermelons in China are a sign.  So maybe he would also like to add to his list of random events signaling the end, my lost comments.  I would be honored if they were added.  If for no other reason than to keep his comedic lunacy at a fever pitch.

But what if he is wrong as he was in 1994?  The World will still spin and the planet's creatures will continue to fornicate, grow, die and new malls and subdivisions will be built.  Or maybe just old malls will be sold and old subdivisions will be sold.  Regardless, Life as we know it will continue it's erratic but steady pace.

According to Harold, 200 million of us will ascend to Heaven.  He claims even Jews can make it if they accept Christ as their savior.  He made no promises regarding Muslims, Buddhists, or folks of the Hindu religion.  The 6 billion or so of us who are left will suffer excruciating deaths by fire, crushing earthquakes, or be turned into pillars of salt.  This agony will last until October 21st when I am assuming the Earth will self implode, explode, or just wink out of existence.  Whatever happens our pain and suffering, especially the pain of anyone rooting for teams from Cleveland, will finally be over.  I am guessing some Cleveland fans are secretly hoping he is right.  The first sign Harold is right will be at 6PM, Australian time on May21st.  An earthquake will strike Kiritimati Island, a Pacific Ocean atoll and follow the Sun around the planet.

Harold's claim is based on foolproof mathematical formulas that tell the whole story.  Numbers don't lie and I for one, after careful scrutinizing of his addition, have to admit the numbers add up.

2,011 + 391 - 1 = 2,401, or 7 x 7 x 7 x 7.  See.  Right there in front of you, the proof stares back with detached and emotionless truth.  2011 is obviously this year and 391 refers to 391 BC when he claims The Old Testament ended but I am not quite sure what the one "-1" is.  I am assuming it is the God Variable.  But I have faith his math is right on.  I mean really, 59 = 7x7 + 11 -1 right?  If this is correct then he must be also.  Logical and well thought out I have to say.

I would look into this more, but I have to head down to Walmart for some new underwear.  If I have any chance of making the Rapture Elevator, I am hedging my bets by wearing brand new, not just clean, underwear.

See ya in Heaven or maybe under some rock.....................

Wear Clean Underwear on May 21st

I think I was 8 or 9 when I was first confronted with the concept of the end of the World.  My mom and I were on our way north from the Washington DC area to visit my aunt and uncle in Maine.  We stopped in New York City for 3 days and did the tourist thing.  Empire State building, Statue of Liberty, etc.  We spent one day just walking around.  I had never seen buildings so tall, or people so crowded together.

One of our walks was through Central Park.  Apparently there is one area of the park where all the whack jobs congregated.  They would stand at some prominent spot, a park bench or on a concrete wall surrounding a fountain holding signs or the Bible and voice their opinions on any number of subjects.  "The End" was apparently a hot topic.  More than a few had distinct views on when we humans would finally wear out our welcome.  I can remember one fellow was sure we only had a few months left.  He assured me and the small group of onlookers that unless we repented our sins, God was going to plow us under and start over in a few weeks.

Eight year olds tend to take anything an adult says seriously and even worse, literally.  What followed my exposure to this new world view, was probably one of the first serious conversations I had with my mom about anything other than the real world, real time things kids think about.  The guy scared me.  He was serious.  He was an adult.  And he told me the World was going to end.  I had been well schooled by that point to listen seriously when an adult got serious.  I believed him.  My mom talked me down, trying so very hard to keep a straight face. 

Anyway, ever since then I have been fascinated by End of the World theories and warnings.  Over the years I realized that at some point one of the whackos was probably going to nail down the right date.  Odds being what they are and all.  So whenever I see a new End of the World date pop up, my first thought is, "Hey, maybe this one is going to be right."

Imagine my delight when I heard the other day an interview with a fellow who is positive May 21, 2011 is our day of reckoning.  And by October 21, 2011, it is a done deal and only a select few will be allowed into Heaven.  The rest of us will end up in some galactic landfill somewhere.  The man went on to explain that once he was convinced it was all over in a few months, he actually became a happier man.  He stopped worrying about mundane realities of the physical world and concentrated on the world he was sure he was headed for.  He hoped to be one of the "chosen" who would end up poolside in Heaven sipping cool drinks and swapping tall tales with St Peter, Gabrielle, or maybe even the big guy himself.  He even claimed he had stopped paying bills, had not filed his taxes, and had given away almost all his worldly possessions. 

Is May 21, 2011 the date that will finally win the Armageddon Lottery?  Maybe, maybe not.  All I know is just to be safe, and make the right impression in the right circles,  I'm going to be sure I'm wearing clean underwear on May 21, 2011.

See ya soon.........................or not.  ;)

Well Done Mr. President

My initial reaction when I heard Bin Laden had been killed was, "Jeez, about time ferchrisakes".   It was not until I had had time to really process the information and let it filter through all the pent up anger and frustration built up inside of me these past ten years that I experienced my true reaction. 

I was not dancin in the streets ecstatic, but I was pleased enough to high five and grin.  As the days passed since I heard, it seems a weight has lifted off of me.  The sorrow and grief from 9/11 ran deeper than I thought I guess.  America got a bit of closure and a much needed boost to our morale.  Suddenly we resembled our old selves again, if only for a few days. 

And how was news of Bin Laden's death received in the Islamic world?  At first like us, not much other than being stunned.  I think the entire world was caught way off guard by the audacity and daring of a US raid into the heart of Pakistan.  No immediate outrage, just muffled half hearted complaints at first from his supporters.  Al Qaeda  had been sucker punched.........hard.  And that pleased me immensely. 

What pleased me the most however, was the reaction from most of mainstream Islam.  Instead of the predicted outrage, I have the distinct impression a majority of the Muslim world is happy that Osama Bin Laden is dead.  Yes, he will always be a hero to the fringe lunatics who use terror to make their points.  But like I always knew, the average Joe Muslim is just like me, they just want to be allowed to carry on with their lives peacefully.  Like me, they hate that fringe voices have hijacked their culture and use it in all the wrong ways.  Maybe now the stupid, petty hatred many Americans have for any Muslim will ease up. 

And then this morning I read an article about the outrage of one of Bin Laden's sons.  Why was he not captured alive and given a fair trial?  His burial at sea was a purposeful slight to Islam.  His wives should be released immediately.  and so it went, blah, blah, blah.  Omar, his son, thought that his father should have been afforded the same right to trial as Saddam Hussein of Iraq and Serbian President Slobodan Milosevic. 

Dude, those guys were nasty actors for sure, but they were leaders of real countries that at least pretended to follow real laws.  Your dad was a thug without a country and deserved to be shot down like a mad dog.  He received much more respect than I would have given him. 

Which brings me to our president.  My internal polls regarding Barack Obama had been inching down these past few months as I watched him give ground to the ever increasing domestic stupidity coming at him from the Right.  But his ballsy call to go through with this mission just raised him back up in my eyes.  There is definitely steel in this man's backbone.  It appears to be high grade spring steel.

Well done, Mr President.

And to Seal Team 6 and all the military and intelligence people involved..... Excellent job guys.  Just excellent.

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

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.........................................
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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..............................................