One year ago today: December 22, 2015, speedometers, documentaries, Trump.
Five years ago today: December 22, 2011, dial (877) 504-8423.
Nine years ago today: December 22, 2007, Prof. Oz in China.
Random years ago today: December 22, 2010, 4U IWILL.
MORNING
Those Honda Fusions and their newer cousin, I forget what it’s called, are the luxury scooter of the era. (That's the loaner from the cycle shop when my bikes are being worked on.) At only 250 cc, I had no trouble wheeling mine down I-95 in the early morning. I’d hesitate doing that in rush hour, but on the open road, okay. Let’s say it is the only scooter I’d ever care to take on the Interstate. Ah, someone remembered I took the red scooter on a 13 hour drive to St. Augustine when it was new. Here’s the Rebel at the nearly famous Limestone, a required picture when I’m in the area.
That was the last obligation, I’m free to galavant around, but instead, I went right back to the shop to check on the progress with the Rebel. I suspect that is going to be my extraordinary expense this month, although these days this can only bend the piggy bank, not break it. Still, there were problems with the bike and I’d first like to give you a little background on my mechanic.
Power by Paco is the pre-eminent motorcycle shop in S. Florida. When you go to a pro show and see the custom machines, and those beautiful teakwood motorycles, this is the guy that builds them. He is the only mechanic I allow to modify any of my bikes, particularly my 1978 Ural sidecar. This guy, when it comes to motorcycles, does not make mistakes. Show here is the entrance to his shop with the Rebel to the right.
Now, the machine is basically sound, but that does not forgive the seller for not revealing known defects. I told him I was not a mechanic, but that everything and anything wrong with the bike would be discovered. However, I don’t think he [the seller] quite grasped what was being implied here. My question to Paco was simple, “Is it possible the owner of this bike have not known about these problems?”
No. Paco showed me how there were attempts to cover up some of the trouble, including some silicone sealant on the carburetor throats. And of course, an owner would know the oil had never been changed. Now, I could get this guy back, but instead, I’m going to do nothing at this time. Why? Because he still has the benefit of the doubt. You see, he could also have lied about being the owner.
Akureyi, Iceland.
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NOON
Here is a shot of the Rebel sans the carburetors. You can see from last day’s photo, the innards were completely gummed up. The entire assembly had to go into this solvent washing machine tub and in the end, just the work on these carbs came to $280. Paco charges top dollar, but it is only right that he should. There were further problems including but not limited to fouled plugs, lose drive chain, and the clutch tended to grab on downshifting. I see now how these types of problems are normally associated with a machine of far higher mileage. What I intend to do about it depends—but think of me whenever your luck mysteriously turns bad.
He finally waddles out of the back, not with your cable, but with an application form to “get you set up” in the system. So, what is your date of birth? What the? All I want is a $7 cable. It was to replace the one that was in JZ’s glove box when his truck disappeared. In the end, rather than waste more time dealing with Miami jerk-offs, I drove all the way over to Fred’s and raided his supply bin.
That reminds me, I don’t think I told you he quit his day job and has gone back to sculpting full time. He’s the guy who makes those acrylic flower sculptures, the ones where the roses and such are carved out hollow from the inside of the block. Here’s a Vivitar-grade photo of one piece, this block is around 8” tall. Myself, I don’t own much art, but there must be a significant market if you can get Fred to do it full time.
That’s why I said deflector, it is more descriptive. The bugs and road grit go around you, but they are still there, believe you me. It’s part of the motorcycling experience. And mine also looks snazzy. Way snazzier than yours, if that’s what you’re thinking. Besides, mine was installed by the top-dog pro shop. Neener.
I got to Churchill’s just after dark, but that traffic is a grim warning of how Florida denizens leave everything to the last minute. Maybe so they feel richer a little longer before they pay the bills? Anyway, I only made good time because I was on a motorcycle and I know the shortcuts. I know which school grounds I can cut across where the gates, parking pylons, and barrier strips are just wider than my handlebars.
AFTERNOON
Here’s JZ in his natural state, playing pool. Myself, I can’t do it because it is boring, but also if I do any such activity, I play to win. This is decidedly not JZ’s approach. He does it just for fun, often missing an easy shot to do something comical or give the loser a break. Well, not that JZ is that great either, I’ve seem him miss when he shouldn’t have. As said, me, I would play to win every game. You get that in kids like me who were born and raised in desperate poverty.
That’s the thought of Xmas family I’ll share with you this year. I’m sure you got situations of your own; it is only a matter of intensity and I say mine was worth. But doubt in what I say? Let me put it this way. Anyone who doubts what I say, well I doubt they would last a day around my family. The few who have tried came back to express awe that I associated with them as long as I did.
It’s not all gloom, I’m just irritable from the Miami drivers. The old ladies get angry when you drive around them because they are driving like old ladies. On the motorcycle, you can almost hear what they scream at you. It must be a nice day over on the shoreline, because they kept yelling something about a “beach”.
I may later give you more trip details. Here’s the basics. It is a 250 mile trip door-to-door. Yet it took me nearly nine hours to make the trip. That’s because with the smaller Honda, I’m more apt to zip down a side road just to see. Unwilling to get lost in the quagmire of Ft. Meyers, I took the Rebel on the freeway for ten miles, hitting 80 mph, maybe slightly more. It is not fun to ride at such speeds, I think. Plus, the Rebel has a slight “buzzing” feel at that rate, indicating that although it may never have been rolled, it has fallen over more than a few times.
Pictures will have to follow on the new windscreen deflector shield that is now on the Rebel. Road grit doesn’t really get annoying until you are up around 65mph, a good top cruising speed on the now revamped machine. These flecks of dirt are present even on flat and dry roadbeds that otherwise look clean. All is fine until a semi-truck comes honking down the other lane, leaving a trail of turbulence. This will be too quick a trip to rack up any big memories, though I still have that invite to the Xmas party in Lake Placid.
“You Can't Have Your Kate And Edith Too..”
NIGHT
Leaving early, I left JZ at the pub. The drinks are twice as expensive as back home, even if I was used to paying for them. At six bucks a bottle, I’m not hanging around. Plus tip, that’s more than twice, its 2.5x. Plus, since Hanalee and Barbara left, there are never any good-looking young babes in that bar. (That’s the English Barbara, not the bar Barb, with the teenage sons in jail.)
Here’s the Honda odometer at 270 as I left on this trip. The total back and forth mileage, we know from experience, is 450 miles. I can easily put on another 240 in the city because JZ lives 33 miles from my doctor. I’m curious what we’ll show on the clock when I return.
There is a donation library in JZ’s condo in the common room. I remind you he lives in a fancy joint, which he likes to remind me if he tried to buy there today, he would not qualify. That’s the place he wants to sell and I’ve told him since day one that idea is plain crazy. Where his life may lack a little adventure, it is compensated for by mounds of security.
The library is a good barometer of the place, the books are in excellent condition. The population of the condo is quite well-educated. Also, quite well-indoctrinated, as the content of many books goes overboard with the Holocaust theme. But I got an excellent book on shipboard navigation, and another on understanding the Florida foreclosure process.
This has planted a tiny germ of an idea that ties in with my plant for revenge on the Arcadia foreclosure auction. You may recall how the court clerk told us we were the only bidders, but then that other bank shill guy was there. Apparently that does not count as another bidder. He is just there to make sure nobody gets anything cheaply. Well, I found out there are several ways to disqualify him on the spot. I’ll get back to you, but leave me alone while I’m still learning.
Exhausted by the day, I went home and crashed so soundly that I didn’t hear JZ come rolling in after midnight. His condo is small, half the size of my place, so never plan on a good night’s sleep unless you can tune out. There is no corner where you cannot hear the TV and yes, JZ has the TV on always. As you know, I will watch movies. TV or DVD, doesn’t matter, as long as it is not useless channel surfing. Today was a bunch of reruns of a series called “Laramie”
I have never seen this series before and did not recognize any of the actors. It was very well-made, I thought at first it was movies. Maybe that’s what put me into such deep sleep. JZ says he came in and cooked a meal. I never heard a thing. JZ, on the other hand, has nothing against sleeping 15 hours a day if he wants. Maybe I’ve caught the JZ sleeping sickness. I say he’s lulu to want to wait until he gets a new truck to come up to visit my place, where that blonde lady asks me about him all the time.
ADDENDUM
For your evening fare, here are some random views of the day. This is the bass player at Churchill’s who struck me right because she was using a plectrum. It was another shred type band playing what sounded like indie music, but once again they were super tight. I imagine them to be the same caliber of music as back in my day--older people thought it was just noise with over-sexified lyrics. This little lady was good, and that’s by my standards.
Here’s JZ pointing too Buddha’s pot belly. Too much saki at the sumo match, that was his conclusion. I’m not sticking around for Xmas this year, I asked JZ to give my greetings, but there is no place like home. In recent years, the family gets together at the sister’s place, having voted that the restaurant celebrations were getting too expensive. Not only that, you show me a restaurant that everybody likes. I’ll miss the family, but I’m looking forward to a long and quiet Dec.25, 2016 at my own little cabin in the countryside.
It’s a gamble, but I’m going to try to squeeze that eye exam in tomorrow. I have the Rebel back, so I can get around most of the really bad traffic. It’s a foolish plan, I know. It’s worth the chance so that I don’t have to make a special trip back in here solely for that test. Signing off for now, JZ and I did not head out chasing broads as is our normal procedure. Without wheels, he can’t meet up anywhere (except Churchill’s which is near the metro rail). Besides, he got some tubs of cottage cheese, which he cannot eat. But that’s all I need to be happy, so that’s mostly what I dined on the whole visit.
There, now you know too much.
Last Laugh
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