I recall when I used to motorcycle 31 miles one-way to work each day, thought nothing if it. We used to drive 24 miles for a late night coffee back in Montana. I remember when gas was 35 cents a gallon. (These are memories, not facts.) If I’d known the full cost of a car (not just money), I probably would not have owned so many for so long. It requires a quarter of your take-home pay. Not worth it, guys. Pssst, all the best girls I’ve dated in my life had their own cars.Florida changed all that. Music changes people, too. It seems to take around five years for me to completely revamp my song list and change the way I play. I found myself relearning old Ventures tunes and resurrecting surf music that I vaguely remember in my youngest days. Have things gone full circle, or have I failed, or merely returned to my roots? Let me define what I want from music to put “success” into a better perspective.
I’m happy when music pays me enough to “bank the paycheck”, gets me on stage every week, and provides me a girlfriend at least twenty years younger than myself or in lieu of that, a steady supply of new girlfriends. The last time I had this was 1996, and that was only close. Music paid $150-ish per week, I played nine to twelve times each month, and groupies averaged 14 years my junior. Between 1987 and 1994, with 1991 off while I lived in California, I banked $92,000. I foolishly thought I’d do the same in Florida. (Did you know I had a Cadillac and $27,000 in savings when I moved to Florida?)
However, it isn’t like one can flip over to playing new music whenever something doesn’t work [like it used to]. The way I think about music isn’t an academy thing, it requires life-long exposure. The “pure” musician doesn’t really exist on the circuit. Any [musical] situation that doesn’t provide constant, if petty, rewards is doomed. At this moment, my reward amounts to this poppy seed bun and a cup of ginger tea.
Which returns the conversation to my Hungarian babe, the 42-year-old aerobics instructor. She is finally going to show. Here, decide for youself: instead of showing up alone, as invited by her cousin, she is arriving with the latest boyfriend. Instead of flying to Miami, she is driving down from New York with “him”, and staying five weeks instead of six. He is undivorced with a wife and two kids. Unmarried women morph into incredible bizarre-ness with age. I’ve declined the introduction. There is just something plain strange about women who are still single past 24.
I’ve got the price on this sidecar down to $3400 if the guy will sit on the deal another month. (He won’t.) That’s a real BMW, not the Russian copy. Another reason I won’t go higher for this quality is the simple fact this unit has 40,000 miles on it. That’s serious road time for such a rig. If he doesn’t get a better price, I may have it by mid-July.Note to sellers. If you take away the motorcycle, what is left is not the sidecar. It is called a “chair”. The complete assembly, motorcycle and chair, is what is called the sidecar. Just getting the word out to the group that needs it the most. Another thing that gets me is the prices for Hondas and Harleys. It just seems fantastical that people would spend $25,000 and $35,000 for the name. They are rarely seen on the open road; on the trip to St. Augustine I never saw another two-wheeler. So that’s one sky-high price tag to get to the local saloon.
The following are test words with no meaning in this blog.
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