Tuesday, December 28, 2004
If you give 10 bucks and skip your lattes this week, someone might get clean drinkable water so their kids don't die. If you then pass this on and each of your friends gives 10 bucks, well, it grows and grows, so quickly, and so easily, doesn't it?
The website is bogged down right now, but be patient, it will load (I hope this is a good sign)>
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
I miss him, like, a LOT. His cat is an incredibly sorry substitute for his presence, but I figure we can commiserate about not having someone to feed us and rub our chins until we drool.
And I am going to LOAF for the next two days.
Before Christmas. That rocks.
And, I want to take a moment to address all the obnoxious people who keep saying things like "I hate the holidays," "I can't wait until the holidays are over," "No presents, I hate Christmas," or whatever your fucking problem is...
If you don't like Christmas, shut the fuck up and get on with your life. Don't go out and feel like you have to buy shit because of Christmas. Go spend time with your friends and family, go do something nice. Do not go to the mall. If you really don't like Christmas, don't fucking participate! But complaining is just rude to those of us who DO enjoy Christmas.
I did some shopping and stuff, but the things I've enjoyed the most this year (and in years past) is the time I get with the people I love. I also love the Christmas music and lights, the crispness of the air, and the thouroughly-ingrained-despite-my-having-left-the-church-ages-ago sense of anticipation and wonder.
Christmas is totally about gifts. YES. From a religious standpoint, it might be the gift of god's son, or hope. I've received priceless gifts of friendship and love throughout the year, and it's this time of the year when we all think of the people around us dearly. Some may get material gifts to signify this, others may not. I had the gift of a wonderful dinner with friends last Sunday. And then I have family coming up this weekend. If you're reading this, you have the gift of life, and we all know a few who don't have that this year. It's a gift you ought to share with others around you like RIGHT FUCKING NOW, because you don't know which of us won't be sharing it next year.
Sometimes I've not been able to do gift-buying for christmas. One year, I was hospitalized just before the holiday, and sick too much before and after to shop. Didn't make a damn bit of difference to anyone around me. Trinkets are cool. But don't kid yourself. You don't really care about them, and neither do the people around you. They care about the gift of you. So give it up, scroogey, and stop yer bitching.
I am done with christmas shopping, now I have to come up with a bridesmaid dress.
Charles: Presence, not Presents>
Posted by Charles on Sunday, December 26, 2004 at 6:53 PM
Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Current mood: sick
Now entering Week 2 of the Creeping Death cold. It just gets worse and worse. Last night I couldn't even get through the night-- woke up at 2am and couldn't stop caughing. For like an hour. After which, I finally decided to take ANOTHER dose of Nyquil (on top of the dose I took before going to bed but after a giagantic glass of wine)
Waking up and getting my shit together this morning was difficult. If I weren't so goddam busy at work, I'd stay home. But there's piles of shit to do, and more coming in all the time. I'm sick as shit and people just keep giving me more crap to do. Hey, here's an idea... if I'm the only one staying until 8 every night, maybe you should give that work to someone who is leaving at 5? My one comfort is the knowledge that they're all walking out of my office with a colony of Creeping Death germs. I hate it when work gets like this. I hate it more when I'm totally fucking sick.
Bitch, moan, complain. I hope this will ease up next week. I think it will.
It's all just distraction from the most miserable part of this, which is that Paul's away right now. Blue Christmas, indeed. Aaargh! three weeks is too long! I'm too busy with working to even do anything weird like go to his house and make a scarecrow from his clothes, or smell his pillow or something creepy. I'd make a terrible stalker.
And speaking of Christmas, I picked up something really cool for my sister in-law (assuming I actually get my ebay stuff in time) and now I'm really just stumped by my dear old dad. Dads are so difficult!
hack cough ugh
Sunday, December 12, 2004
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
Current mood: cranky
Sorry! an unexpected error has occurred.
This error has been forwarded to MySpace's technical group.
I don't know about everyone else, but I'm thinking, after the first hundred or so times, how "unexpected" is it, really?
Current mood: aggravated
Error Occurred While Processing Request
Error Diagnostic Information
An error occurred while attempting to establish a connection to the service.
The most likely cause of this problem is that the service is not currently running. You can use the 'Services' Control Panel to verify that the service is running and to restart it if necessary.
Windows NT error number 2 occurred.
Current mood: excited
Saturday we breathed life back into the DRZ. It had very sad valves, and we put the new shims in, fired it up! Not only does it run again, but it feels like a new bike! More power, happier in general, still need to fine tune the idle and all that, but for now, it RUNS!
And, as I took it around the neighborhood to test it out, I was very immediately reminded of the way riding used to make me feel. Corner once, twice, and oh HELL yeah, this is the bike for me! Lately I'd been very much NOT enjoying riding. I never used to say "couldn't we just go somewhere in walking distance" so much (unless there's liquor involved) and I was getting more and more depressed about it. All of that was gone as soon as I pushed the bike down under me to take sixth street. You can tell the bike is pushed down enough when you are looking at your teeth in the opposite mirror. Would the SV take that? Uh, no.
So all is well again. At least, enough is well. I am in heaven on that bike.
The SV finally got its new battery and is safely off of the street and away from the meter maids. It will sit there for a few weeks until Paul comes back, during which time I'll hopefully formulate a better plan of action. And, most importantly, ENJOY riding again. Then I'll be in a better frame of mind to approach the thing.
So far, the things floating around in my head:
-numero uno: replace fork oil. For $12 and a pan of brownies I can get this little thing fixed, and maybe make a little improvement.
-numero dos: someone to help me set the rear suspension properly. I suspect it's set up for someone heavier, though I don't know why, since the previous owner was my size. Might this help keep it planted in the turns?
-tires: I'm tired of EXPECTING the tires to slip at least once in every ride. Last night it was when I got off of the freeway; the ride home before that was when I was on West Hill leaving work. Whatever. I don't know what it is, but it's nerve-racking. Rain Race Tires? The tires I have now are good for trips to Seattle, but how often am I really riding to Seattle? I know sticky tires are not long-lasting, but maybe it would be worth it to get rid of some of the icky feeling.
-Suspension: if I keep the thing, and the fork oil and rear shock don't work for me, that's a thousand dollars to sink into my bike. hmph.
-Selling it: which seems sort of logical, but I don't think there's a more suitable bike that I can think of. (except that SV dirtbike conversion?) Which leads me to believe that I might do better to just work on the one I have. Also, I DO like the motor. A bunch. And it's such a pretty blue.
Now, I don't have any real understanding of suspension, and I probably never would have noticed it had I stuck to crappy bikes like my first bike. But the DRZ has me spoiled. It feels so solid, really strongly stuck to the ground, anchored. Beautiful. The SV feels like it is rolling around, but not in a sticky tire sort of way; it feels like marbles on glass, gliding around this way and that, no real connection to the ground. That and all the clunkey stuff. I don't know how much of that is just my spoiled DRZ-riding ass, and how much of it is a nasty combo of suspension, fork-oil, and hard tires.
I DO know, that I am thrilled to have my real bike back up. And to enjoy riding again, and feel perfect again. The DRZ is like my own pair of legs, completely natural, and wonderful...
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
So it's Christmas time, I've become a little reflective.
This is what's inspiring me today:
I've also looked just a tiny bit (not enough yet) into where some of my money goes. It's too much to handle perfectly, but I've found that several of my favorite retailers are BIG republican funders.
Victoria's Secret? WTF?! Do I need to remind them that their bread and butter comes from the sexual revolution, which, in a world where we aren't allowed to to discuss anything but abstinence, DOESN'T FUCKING EXIST!
WTF? Damn, but that's just as well, think of all the money I'll save on shit I don't really need.
Sadly, they are part of the Limited, Co., and that includes my very favorite place to buy clothes. Goodbye Express. Oh, and I have two shirts I bought a month or so ago I need to return to the store now.
And since Christmas is coming up, I've been thinking about gifts. I'm making something for some people, other people I'm not sure. But I do now have this handy list to keep in mind:
Nobody I know needs anything besides more time with the people they love, anyway. I'm making something for my sister that she will really like. I don't know about my dad yet.
Anyway, I've been meaning to look into changing banks for a while.
Our politicians are on a mission from God. They say they want to unite, but the actions show otherwise. They know that roughly half of the country does not agree with them, but they look forward blindly into what they want to see. In short, they don't give a shit about what you think.
But their financial supporters DO care what you buy.
Boycott, make informed choices. TRY. Make micro-movements, follow up with a letter.
Tuesday, November 30, 2004
Well, I mean, in addition to my 400. This is more for the road.
Things must be crazy cheap in Australia. $1900AUD=$1500USD. You'd be hard pressed to just find those forks here for that much.
Cool, well, christmas is coming. Tell my parents that's what I really need!
Convince them that I would crash less, they dig that kind of thing.
Monday, November 29, 2004
It made a little bit of sense to me, that my sister, once married, would alternate Thanksgiving dinner with her in-laws and Christmas dinner with her in-laws, every year. We still saw her Christmas morning, so this was somewhat acceptable. But my brother, who has apparently gone over to the dark side, is not even going to bother coming home for either of the two! And he’s not even married yet! This is pretty depressing to me. I am a complete sucker for Christmas, and I really can’t imagine it without my family all together.
Thanksgiving was a little depressing, first, because my brother didn’t come, but second, because my sister and her husband could not make it, since their car crapped out in Livermore. So neither of my siblings showed, and furthermore I had no real food since my sister was bringing the veggie food. That’s fine, Thanksgiving feasting turned into Thanksgiving snacking, which I can totally live with. But not having them around was weird and sad. My uncle and aunt had gone south, and very few of my cousins were there. My grandparents seem to have been ambushed by aging in the past couple of years, and this is visibly upsetting my grandfather. Maybe it’s a good thing that our numbers were so small: less stress for my grandparents?
Friday was a much better day. Grandma Kay’s waffles for breakfast (with peanut butter and maple syrup!) and then we went wine tasting, bringing along my grandparents. Which they REALLY enjoyed. I got tossed, and bought way too much wine. We picked up fancy-pants cheese on the way home, for a quick wine and cheese party. I was already drunk, then we all binged and ate too goddam much cheese, until we felt sick. Well, at least I did. I considered puking to make myself feel better, and for old times sake, since I always got sick at my grandma’s house as a child. But instead, crashed out face down in the turret room upstairs. Nap time was crudely interrupted by my mom who wanted me to get up to see a crappy movie. They only show crappy movies in Jackson, and The Incredibles was the least offensive. My grandparents had a wonderful time with us on Friday, and that night my grandmother slept through 8 hours for the first time in months.
Saturday, breakfast at Rosebud’s (best coffeecake in the world), tiny bit of shopping, and then home again. I baked brownies for my folks, which we scarfed with port, then we pulled out the Christmas stuff from the observatory. (no spiders this time, but did get one dead cricket.) Somehow it’s all left to me, and no siblings, decorating the tree with my mom. Sigh. I’m going to go cry now.>
|Currently listening: |
Merry Christmas From the Space-Age
Release date: By 20 August, 1996
Sunday, November 14, 2004
Good news! My DRZ exhaust valves are too tight. Finally, the dang thing shows signs of how it can be fixed. It was getting ridiculous to ride for a while. Parts are on order.
Everyone knows I can not cook to save my life, so Friday, I tried to make Paul teach me how to cook stuff. It worked, and was not too scary. I’m sure it bewilders him how I can be a vegetarian for 15 years and know nothing about vegetables.
Saturday afternoon was one of those sunny San Francisco Saturdays that make you wonder what exactly you’ve been doing with your time that makes you miss out on these lazy shuffling around the city days. It will start raining soon, and the sidewalks will become empty and the streets hostile again. Christmas time in my neighborhood is the worst, and I saw this weekend that the traffic has already started. Union Square before Christmas is as bad as it gets. One year this guy in a Lincoln Town Car Limo thingie ran over my foot on purpose. He was stuck in the predictable traffic snarl, and angry I suppose. I crumpled up the bag of chips I was eating and emptied it into his lap for shits. Oddly, getting your foot run over by a car doesn’t actually hurt. But it does make you mad. (like crashing motorcycles)
Saturday night I did something I haven’t done since I was about 13, and went to meet my beau’s mom. I was nervous, to be honest. But it was OK. She was pretty much like I’d imagined, and did not say anything like “stay away from my son, you floozy!” or “when are you planning to get a real job?” or “so, are you knocked up?” No, she was just as sweet and intelligible as I’d imagined, and fed me ice cream and wine and cheese and olives. Perfect. She did NOT, however, break out with any nekkid baby pictures, sadly. And didn’t seem to have any embarrassing stories to tell. Maybe later.
But Sunday, Sunday was the icing on the cake. Mimosas for breakfast, and then took apart my DRZ. And found the exhaust valves were omigod tight. Which is almost certainly the reason my bike has been dying constantly. This can be fixed, fairly simply, so that’s a great relief. I have really been missing my DRZ.
I was feeling sorry for Paul, as we rode back over the bridge, that he is riding with me, and it’s like riding with a goddam newbie rider. Every time I get on my bike, I ride a little bit worse. It’s embarrassing for me and surely for anyone unfortunate enough to ride with me. Putting air back in the SV tires spooked me a little, but I’m sure it’s a good thing once I get used to it. Need to learn more about suspension and figure out what steps to take with that bike, since the SV is the culprit, I believe, that makes me such a shit rider these days. I’m thinking, set the rear suspension more correctly if possible, perhaps do something with fork oil. Try to get advice from Charles. Then consider the options of throw money at it, or get out. Anyway, having the DRZ back up to snuff will be great.
Then I COOKED. It was unbelievable and fun, and did not turn out disastrous. I had a little supervision and moral support, but mostly, I am capable of a simple recipe. Hmph.
Aaaaaaand, Christmas is coming. Which I LOVE. I am crazy for Christmas music, and cookies, and family time. So I’m pretty excited. All starting this Thursday with family stuff in Sutter Creek. Wine tasting on Friday, and hopefully a Christmas tree at the folks’ house this weekend. Woot!
You forgot to mention the $230 enima.Posted by Pauly Unsaturated on Saturday, November 27, 2004 at 7:26 PM
Rebecca: well, I still think you paid too much for that, so I wasn't going to bring it up!
Posted by Rebecca on Saturday, November 27, 2004 at 7:27 PM
Thursday, November 11, 2004
Last year, I made my brother and sister footie pajamas like we had when we were kids.
Tell me what you want for christmas. Sit on my lap. This will be our little secret, right?>
|Currently listening: |
Dr. Demento Presents: Greatest Christmas Novelty CD
By Various Artists
Release date: By 31 July, 1989
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
"Yo. This is that site our mutual friend shot for. It's an amateur site but
she is naked as a jaybird in there. Keep watching the video. She get's real
nasty. I can't believe she did that! :)"
I wouldn't find this so offensive if it weren't for the abuse of the apostrophe.
I was totally fooled by the "mutual friend" thing too! darn those clever spammers! uhhh, yeah.>
Tuesday, November 09, 2004
For a while, I got better. I got better, and better, and it was fun. Then the fear set in. It started on July 11th, and it’s been getting worse since. There’s no explanation for that one, so it’s only me.
I can excuse myself somewhat for last night, but in the end, it’s always only you. That’s what makes you the rider. You are always responsible. Hit a deer? What were you doing speeding through the forest? I know. I do it, and when it happens, that’s what I’m going to ask myself. Car made a left in front of you? We all know that’s the most common accident, you should have taken some precaution. Did you make enough eye contact? Was your headlight working? Did you slow down for the intersection? You should know this, you’ve heard the stories, read the articles, you’ve even professed it to others. So what’s your fucking excuse?
I could explain it, that someone put three bottles of motor oil in the intersection where I make my turn after crossing Market Street. Going back and seeing the bottles and puddles meant something to me for sure. But the frequency tells me that there’s something wrong with ME. How many miles have I gone? Probably more than you. So why now, why all of the sudden, have I completely lost it? And what am I doing ignoring these messages?
I started out scared and it took a few years and many thousands of miles to gain some confidence. It was an uphill battle but there was a golden period earlier this year where I HAD IT. But the past few months I’ve just been sliding down the other side of the mountain, taking twigs and rocks in the face and hating myself more every minute.
The pavement hurts, but not so much as this. I’m not so much afraid of the falling off literally, it’s all the falling that continues even after you’ve picked up the bike.
This too shall pass. You sound like you know how to ride safely... you've just had some bad luck. It'll turn. I'm still trying to conquer my own fear of getting on a bike. I've always wanted to, but deaths have cooled my desire. But I don't think we should be hogtied by our fears. So I plan on getting a bike next year. Any bike recommendations?Posted by Joe on Sunday, November 21, 2004 at 11:54 PM
Monday, November 08, 2004
Current mood: other
Saturday was the International Motorcycle Show in San Mateo.
I sat on one of the Husquvarna’s and my feet were dangling about 1 foot from the ground. Now, I’m average height for a woman, and a bit short for a guy. But I’m not 1 foot short in the inseam! Who are these bikes designed for exactly? I saw about four people over the course of the day who might have been able to ride that bike. As Paul pointed out. “Husky has gone out of business twice during the time that we’ve been standing here climbing on their bikes.”
Cage of Death: SO COOL! What fun! I’m glad other people risk serious injury for my amusement.
Overheard at one of these crappy “American Iron” accessory shops, full of chrome, flaming do-rags, and halter tops, from an 11ish year old boy: “This belt that I saw at Hot Topic for $30 is only $19 here!” I hope all the patrons of that booth were duly embarrassed.
The Mille gets uglier every year: the tail now looks like a trivet. So sad. The Spider Man Aprilia was fucking fruity.
I really dig the Multistrada 620. So cute. Now if only it was made by Honda, I might consider it.
On the other hand, Suzuki’s “Adventure-Tourer,” or whatever they’re calling these things, the V-Strom 650, is a gigantic pig of a machine. What happened there?
It’s cool seeing the Baja, etc. setups at the Honda booth. I want a Ruckus. To put in my pocket, and carry around. It is too cute. It is $2000. The “Big Ruckus,” new this year, is an ugly turd, and it costs $5300.
The DRZ looks good, and not much different, and has deeper blue plastics. I miss mine. The Super Motard version was not shown, since we don’t get it in California. Boo. It looks like it’s gonna be neat.
The Monster Challenge was somewhat disappointing, except for one cute little café-racer style setup and paintjob. There was a very cute (and CA street registered!) Triumph flat tracker custom dealy in the Triumph booth, though.
The Husaberg had an electric start, and there was a battery in it. It was also very close to the door. We wondered how much gas was in it, and was it enough to get away with it?
Little kids falling off of dirtbikes is one of the most adorable things ever.
Dinner was at a crappy Mexican place where the food had no flavor. The company was good, but I don’t think there’s any reason for crappy Mexican food to exist in California.
Then I went to work at New Wave City, and Sunday I spent fucking off.
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
Current mood: oddly patriotic
Anyone who's talking about leaving the country because of this election needs to fuck off.
Your country needs you now more than ever.
I can't see anything to be gained by all the thinkers leaving the country. Yeah, maybe if all the liberals or democrats or whoever you call yourselves, leave, we'll have a great nation of, umm, what exactly? I have never seen any benefit from running away.
48/51 or whatever the latest poll number is, means that we are very close.
I rarely spew patriotic rhetoric, or at least not what's commonly recognized as patriotic these days, but I feel very strongly about making this country better, not worse. The concepts underlying our government are good ones, and democracy is a great responsibility. It's your responsibility to make it better, not turn your tail and run. Go cry for a while, then complain, then rebel, riot, write letters, run for office, do what you can. Do not complain about the way things are if you are willing to even consider abandoning them.
ugh, I hate the president, but you're a bunch of whiny retards too.
I've never even protested in a march before, but now I'm ready to pick up a gun and revolt. I'm ready to do whatever it takes to get our nation back from those fuckers.
That will make it easier for Bush to push his conservative agenda through Congress, potentially making his tax cuts permanent and appointing more federal judges including possibly some U.S. Supreme Court (news - web sites) justices.
"With a bigger majority, we can do even more exciting things," said House Majority leader Tom DeLay, a Republican from Texas. "
What the fuck are these people thinking?
Nevermind National Security, or the incredibly bad face we've made for the rest of the world to look at.
The rollback of civil rights is alarming and disgusting, not "exciting," and there's more on the way.
And new judges...
By the theory that when people find out they might not able to get something, they run out to horde it (like the stupid flu shot), it follows that we should all run out and get as many abortions as we can, while we still can. That means you boys too.
Nonsense. I can't make any sense.>
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Current mood: numb
Leo: (July 23—Aug. 22)
You'll feel a lot better with warm clothes on your back and food in your stomach, proving that cannibalism has a couple things going for it.
Not a lot to report here, except PAJARO DUNES SUCKS. I rode two hours down to spend the weekend with my family, only to be told when I got there that they don't allow motorcycles. Ridiculous policy. I don't want to start what will turn into a three page missive about this, but suffice to say PAJARO DUNES CAN SUCK MY FAT ASS. (also, gates don't keep motorcycles out, you stupid old hag.)
2 hours back, wasted my Friday night with that bullshit. Saturday rocked. Drank all day, crawling bars and restaurants near my house. I got pretty well tossed.
Picked up the handlebars, and they won't work for me. Anyone want some ProTapers?
Sunday ate at one of my favorite restaurants and traipsed around the City. I don't often putter around in SF anymore. It was a nice way to spend a weekend.
Then got a few beers and watched the debates I taped on Friday. Was that a debate? I'm not sure. The beer was tasty though.
My brother's in town this weekend for my cousin's wedding. Very cool, I get to see my whole family on Sunday for brunch, before the wedding.
AND, he has finally set a date for his own wedding, which means I'm starting to consider a road trip. But I don't know how much rain I'd get riding to Seattle in April... maybe it wouldn't be so great.
Hungry. (OK, not "numb." But I like the little guy with the fork in his eye.)
Monday, October 04, 2004
Current mood: stressed
So I had these two beautiful motorycles.
I loved them, they loved me, they even looked good together.
Then I decided to get off of one without slowing it down first. Crash!
Finally ordered the elusive parts to fix it on Friday. (believe me, it was harder than it sounds)
Sunday I just couldn't stand it, and pulled the runner apart and made it unhappy.
Now I have no bike. Which, admittedly, I deserved.
Carburetors are not my friends. I know, but I suspect that I would hate a fuel injector ten times more, since I could not see the mess and understand the not-working bits.
Despite frustrations I had a wonderful time yesterday.
Saturday I got to go see James race sidecars at Sears Point. Very cool. James is nifty, and now a Hot Racer Boy.
Friday I drank, but did not get "tanked."
SOMEONE I know has just picked up a brand new KTM 950. I have no idea who, though. I really hate when people text message my cellphone. Please stop; I have no clue who sends the message. Usually it's just Jack, but I think it must have been someone else this time. Anyway, whoever you are, can I crash your bike? Pretty please? I ain't got one of my own just now.
Being a passenger is fun.
Bitchslaps on the house tonight.
John Foley (ape)
It's about time you started riding bitch again.Posted by John Foley on Tuesday, October 05, 2004 at 9:08 AM
Posted by Pauly Unsaturated on Tuesday, October 05, 2004 at 2:23 PM
Friday, October 01, 2004
Current mood: ProTaperiffic
Finally ordered the bars for my SV.
Fucking Renthal has all these teaser bars listed on their website which you can't actually buy. After several times trying to order parts which I found there, then finding out that, no, that one is ALSO not available, I've completely abandoned Renthal. Fuck 'em. This is like my vendors in China. They will tell you how great their products are, and how much they are excited to work on stuff and get the business, but as soon as you send them a development, they just tell you they don't feel like doing it. That's if they respond at all. Hello! Renthal apparently learned their business in China. I even emailed them and told them I wanted to figure out how to buy their product and they didn't respond. "Please tell me how to stick money into your business!"
Anyway, I secretely wanted the ProTapers for no apparent reason, and with ONE phone call to Hippie Mark, I can have them. They are on their way now in black, and I'll have them next week. Hack off the ends, visit my SV, and hope for the best. We'll see then if I need longer cables.
All I need now is a footpeg. and a charge on the battery. Woot!
And, I'm going to go get tanked tonight at Cat Club. Who's in with me?
Tomorrow I'm gonna try to make the races to watch James monkey the sidehack (Go James!), and then I have to work tomorrow night for New Wave City. Yippee-fucking-doo, it's the eighties! The kids love it.
Sunday, I punish my carburetor.
John Foley (ape)
current mood: buy me a Goddamned drink.Posted by John Foley on Saturday, October 02, 2004 at 12:39 PM
2 more poops.
why do people give each other fat poops?
do not hack the bars till we mount and measure please
Thursday, September 30, 2004
I'm tired of being told "no."
I'm only allowed 2 props. 2 props isn't even close to "mAd PrOpS". This shit ain't even close to where it needs to be in terms of accurately expressing my "prop" needs.
Cycle Gear Rulez!! Although they didn't have valve shims for my RD at the SF store...
I agree. Cycle gear is sooooooo weak, in fact all motorcycle stores are weak. They are always staffed with complete jerks, who won't help you and act like you've never seen a bike before. Not to mention the fact that you had the nerve to ask for help, now that I'm thinking about it, screw scuderia west too.Posted by B. on Wednesday, October 06, 2004 at 11:27 PM
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
Current mood: "awesome!"
Oh good. Now you can give "props" to people in their blogs.
What the hell does that mean? Is it a shorthand for making actual comment? Cuz I love anything that will keep me from actually having to think too hard. oh, yeah!
I also see that I can tell you my mood and what I'm doing. So I can choose from "touched," "predatory," "numb," "contemplative," "indescribable," etc.
Ugh. Wait, no, this is "awesome!" More ways to be EMO!
I'm feeling awesome. Always. But you gotta say it like Doc. "Awesome!"
I also get all this crap:
and so on.
I'm so glad.
why can't I make the stupid happy faces work?
mad props to me, yo!
damn, I guess you can't give yourself props.
John Foley (ape)
Well, thinking too hard does give you wrinkles. So you lucked out!
No props for you.
Charles: poops? I will give you poops!
Posted by Charles on Saturday, October 02, 2004 at 7:06 PM
Tuesday, September 21, 2004
Now, I’ve lived in this neighborhood for ten years, but I clean up better than most of the other residents. I got the distinct feeling they had us pegged for out of towners that got lost in the slums. The first charm was that the bartendress asked us what we wanted, but told us “nothing complicated.” Yay! What a great place! We went about enjoying our drinks while all hell broke loose around us, with a drunken Irishman throwing a cellphone, smashing a bottle, and storming out. Awesome!
On to dinner, at Axum East. I’ve been to the one in the Lower Haight several times, and was pleasantly surprised. Much bigger, and the food seemed just as good. A little different ambiance, but whatever.
Decided to catch the earlier Mousetrap show instead of going to the Vertigo bar, and since I was confused about the actual time, we piled into the car and went. At some point I realized it was an hour earlier than I’d thought so we stopped for a Barrel of Monkeys flaming drink for four at the Lingba Lounge. Charles requested parlor tricks and got them, then looked perturbed.
Out to Hunter’s Point for the Mousetrap thingy. There was liquor and a burn barrel and some couches, so I was happy. The sky was beautiful and I had some of my favorite people around. It was a good time. Oh yeah, there was a life size mousetrap, like the game. Yeah. Cool, but just a fraction of the fun for me. Fun was getting up and down the hillside in my ridiculous furry platform boots with chrome heels. I totally did not break my ankles!
Where next? Sara wants to go to Noc Noc. I mention donuts at the roundabout and Charles wants to go back to do it. And the Mighty Festiva is squealing with joy as we jerk around the circle several times. Charles has not been drinking, and deserves to have his fun too. Finally we exit the circle and make our way to Noc Noc where we get nearly rockstar parking and find ourselves with a crappy floor table. We are all folded up sitting on the floor in a room full of stinky smokers and hippies. The table next to us looks more comfortable. Sara mentions that next she wants to go somewhere she can dance, and I suggest the table next to us. It hardly takes any cajoling at all, and she is ON IT! Charles gave me money to put in her waistband. The people sitting there look bemused, then get up and vacate. Yay! We got a much better table. Unfortunately, sara cannot find the money she earned.
Saturday morning we got ready to go meet Sara and Charles to ride Mt. Hamilton. Paul has never been before, this is one of my favorite rides. But, it’s raining. Just a little when I wake up. Forecast says it will clear up. Anyway, we’re all on dirtbikes, and traction is really just a bonus. But Charles will have none of it, so Paul and I decided to go without them. Then got lazy and confused and made bizarre plans based on the fact that we both thought it was Saturday. Anyway, it ended up not mattering because he couldn’t start his bike. It seems that the XR series won’t run without a sparkplug, and his was stolen while it was parked by my house. Sheesh! Very ironic, since we had just been discussing this very issue, and the fact that his sparkplug wouldn’t even work for smoking crack. Something about a carbon core, or, oh who cares, anyway, two up to Scuderia was an adventure, as I haven’t had a passenger in ages and I only have one passenger peg.
Fast forward to the afternoon, when we finally got to Mt. Hamilton. It had rained in San Jose also, but it wasn’t raining when we got there. The ride up was nice, very little traffic, but the road was a bit slippery. Water in the corners where the trees were. Very thick fog at the top, but very very pretty. This is the first time in a long time that I’ve gotten to the top and NOT seen that asshole UC cop. Guess it was too cold for him to bother. Took the little telescope tour/lecture, and warmed our asses on the heaters inside, then headed down the back. I think this was one of the nicest runs I’ve ever had down the backside and Mines road. Saw a lot of wildlife—deer, quail, some other neat looking birds. Paul saw two tarantulas. Just a beautiful day for a ride. Stopped at the Junction, which for once had no other motorcycles, but was full of colorful locals inside. Headed back into the East Bay, where I of course became lost. Took me like an hour to recover and finally found my way back for a cup of tea before heading home for another week of drudgery.
I thought the whole point of computers and all that crap was so that we could spend all our time playing, while the robots and computers did all the work.
I feel so gypped.>
Thursday, September 16, 2004
Is that what you're calling Paul now? At least you can finally admit it, you big lesbo.Posted by John Foley on Friday, September 17, 2004 at 10:16 AM
Hey, I didn't "out" you!!!!
Oh, wait, I guess it's not really necessary.
John Foley (ape)
OUT? I was never IN!Posted by John Foley on Saturday, September 18, 2004 at 1:54 PM
Jimy did pretty well for himself with this thing and wants to give someone a bunch of money to encourage them to vote. I think that's pretty cool. I think it'd be even cooler if he gave ME the money, but, whatever....
Go here, sign up, look at Jim and James with no clothes on, win big money, and VOTE.
ps. if you win, you should buy me an ice cream cone. With sprinkles.>
Wednesday, September 15, 2004
Both parties suck, (I happen to think one sucks less than the other. And right now, that's very important to me.) and they both think that there's a dollar amount on each vote. Some voters are worth investing in, others are not. If you're reading this, you're probably in the "don't waste the campaign dollars" category. They're counting on your apathy to let them run the country for their own purposes.
So, for the sake of my grandfather, please do your goddam job. Go. Vote. It's not so hard, and you get a little sticker when you turn in your ballot.
And, who DOESN'T like a sticker?
You people all need to move to Russia.Posted by John Foley on Thursday, September 16, 2004 at 8:38 AM
please backtrack to their home page, for many inspirational messages.
register to and vote.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
Last year we all had to evacuate the building (and the entire four or five blocks) because their "controlled burn," wasn't.
Not so funny to the people who live here.
My eyes/contacts are bothering me, so I know I'm not imagining the smoke in the air right now...
Monday, September 13, 2004
And had a generally wonderful weekend. Again. What did I do to deserve all this?
I finally saw the buffalo in Golden Gate Park. All these years I've lived here and never gone to see them... and, uhhh, it was a little anti-climactic. Those are some seriously ugly and lazy creatures. And the double fence means it's hard to poke, prod, or otherwise pester them.
Some macaroon took the perfectly divey-bar by my house and turned it into a hip-hop-lounge sort of place. Which I wouldn't even care about, except it was nightclub-loud with some crappy DJ mixing disco and hip-hop, or whatever the fuck they call it these days. ***NEWS FLASH: Disco sucks! It might have been sort of funny and ironic the first time someone mixed it into modern "music," but now it's just sucking and making you look like a dumbass with bad taste.*** I preferred the dirty dive bar incarnation greatly. Plus there was no liquor in my drink. Boo. Now where should I go to drink in the neighborhood?
I have not seen charles in so long, I think I am going to cry.>
Thursday, September 09, 2004
Pushed a block to park her at the Chevron, then hiked up the block where it fell off. Found it in the crosswalk (must have fallen off immediately after I'd shifted up from that light.) Watched a few cars run it over, and retrieved it. Cleaned a bunch of crud off of it (Thank you Redwood City Honda for ignoring my warantee-covered oil leak. Fuckers) and found a truck full of cheery Irish guys with tools. (Thank you "Sparky's Electric!")
Stuck it on and tightened it a bit with the wrong tools, will check again when I get home tonight.
I know, I need to wash the dirtbike and tighten bolts.
Also, my chain is so loose, I fear I may run over it. Heh.>
Wednesday, September 08, 2004
So every year just before Burning Man, I always think “this is the last time.” And then every year, when I come back, I’m so thrilled, can’t wait to get back next year… Then when it approaches, I’m tired of it again.
This year, I really think it may be the last time. At least for a while. I don’t know for sure that the event and the art were less than in the past. I do know that my involvement, inspiration, and motivation have dwindled, and my interaction was so minimal that I’m not sure I could justify another trip next year.
Which isn’t to say I didn’t have a good time. I had a REALLY good time.
Left Wednesday after work, tossed a little bag onto the bike, met the boy (yes, there’s a BOY), and we headed up to beautiful downtown Oroville for the night, at a five-star Days Inn, or something like it. Intention was to get a few hours north for the night, and save the daylight and rushing so we could enjoy the scenic ride out and still get in to BRC in time to gather our crap and set up in the daylight.
Watched Martha Stewart brainwashing freaky little kids on the TV and learned how to make a Barbie cake. Conked out and got up late (hello? Days Inn alarm clocks are not to be trusted) Packed up and then tore everything apart looking for my bike key. (I brought a spare, but still) Gave up and then found it under my back tire. Is this a bad sign?
Breakfast was iffy, but we quickly found our way up to highway 70 Feather River Canyon, which is one of the purtiest roads I’ve ever ridden. After finally losing the cop, we enjoyed tiny spurts of fun in between trucks and unresponsive traffic switches for the bridge work. Seriously, I LOVE this road. I’d love to come back to the area for a camping weekend or somesuch. Maybe rent an Airstream at “Jackass Flats?”
Into Susanville for lunch and then went looking for our dirt road. Which was, uhhh, completely unmarked, so we passed it. Doubled back and guessed on which turn-off it was, and with some luck, I was right. Smoke Creek Desert road, or whatever it’s called, is a dirt/gravel road across the desert from 395 to about 10 miles north of Gerlach. Very little traffic, really pretty and un-developed. Gravel and some rocky bits tossed my bike around a little, but I definitely was doing better than I did last year on the same road. The XR behind me was handicapped by street tires, so I got to have the delusion that I was doing well, comparatively. Noticed a cave on the left side of the road, and meant to come back to it on the return trip for exploration.
Got to Gerlach and it was still NOT hot. At all. At the gas station, one of the Perimeter workers asked if we were going in to BRC now. “It’s really bad in there,” he told us. Um? Really bad, like what? Like it’s wall to wall hippies? There’s no running water? It’s hot? It’s cold? You fucking dumbass, it’s a goddam desert! “Bad what?” “It’s a total whiteout,” he says. I stopped myself from saying “OH, shit, I guess I’ll just go home then.” “It’s OK, I’m on a dirtbike,” has become my answer to any of this brand of stupidity (It’s raining/dusty/hot/cold/muddy/there’s traffic/there’s no parking/what-the-fuck-ever). “Well, you have to go in through the gate!” he gets all exciteable. No shit, dumbass, but now that you mention it, I COULD go in through the side if they’re all as dumb as you.
Into the city, to the airport, found my sister and parked our crap at Thunderdome. Started trekking around to get our shit to camp. (why must my sister camp on the other side of the world?) I was drinking by the end of my second trip to schlep stuff, and the tent was up before sundown. Happy happy.
And then a bunch of stuff in between. I think every time at Burning Man, at least for me, it’s a little different. Some years I’ve spent a lot of time working at thunderdome. Some times it’s all about the art and the city, some years it’s been about the people I meet and get to know. This year my focus was very narrow and very nearby. I was downright reclusive with this incredible boy, and carry a bit of guilt and a lot of joy from that. We traipsed around suffering through intense blisters and had a damn fine time. Drank a bit, gave bad advice and ate my sister’s food. There was some really cool art, and a lot that didn’t capture me at all. It was a good time, but I’m not sure it was a patently “Burning Man” experience.
I’m writing this so I’ll remember: Fuck the Temple Burn. In the past few years this has been one of the high points for me. I’ve never gone out to watch the Man burn, preferring to stay at camp away from the crowds of yahoos and tweakers. The temple has always been a more quiet, reflective burn. This year it was so very different, I nearly followed Kevy’s lead and walked out. I stayed, but the bitterness won’t go away. The crowd of people gathered was just an extension of the yahoos; there was yelling and bitching, complaining, selfish fuckups and some dumbass with laser pointers. I never heard such angry hippies! “fuck you,” “fat bitch,” and an assortment of other insults and pathetic empty threats were tossed around the group while we sat. They yelled over the singing and complained about every goddam thing around them. I won’t return for that. I’m so sorry for David Best and his team. Every time I see his/their work, I’m in awe, but the crowds that have gathered are not worthy. The burn itself was beautiful, as was the temple in its finished state, but the rest of the experience was really disgusting.
Monday morning plan was to leave ASAP to get our asses onto that dirt road for the long trip home. Note to self: do NOT use angle iron to stake a tent. Left much later than we wished, and only after fucking with my bike when it wouldn’t start. So we took 80 instead, and in order to avoid my falling asleep while riding, we rode like jackasses most of the way. Weeeeeeee! Got home in good time, tired, dirty, and, at least for me, a little euphoric.
glad u like the boi
sorry BM was just that, a BM
heehee BM.Posted by John Foley on Sunday, September 12, 2004 at 11:07 AM
Wednesday, August 25, 2004
It sounds like fun, sure, to go to Vegas, but it’s for work, and most of the time will be steaming samples and dealing with incredibly stressed out boss-types in the sweltering heat. Then, so maybe I get a couple of hours to myself in the evening, to spend, um, in Vegas, by myself. Yawn. Good stuff? We’re staying at the Bellagio. Fancy! For a cheapskate like me. Bad stuff? Leave Saturday morning, return Monday early afternoon. Hello? Where the heck did my WEEKEND go?!?!?!? Ugh. Then it’s Wednesday night straight out of work, heading out to Burning Man. I mean, that’s great and all, but I haven’t had any time to prepare. Um. I need to do a few things first. But there’s no time.
But the past few weeks have been GOOD. I’ve seen 90percent of my most favoritest people in the world. Had the best birthday I’ve had in years (totally beat the crappy Chinese food year) and got to see my grandma last weekend. She’s pretty much my favorite person ever. Went for an incredible weekend camping trip to Big Sur, with a refreshing lack of planning and crap-worrying, and just a little bit of “hey, where’s that dirt road go?” exploring. And, AND, with fancy schmancy BLUE DRINKS. We were the swankiest drunks in the campsite. Nevermind we had no lantern, campfire, or, um, breakfast (raccoons do the darndest things!) It was perfect.
The finger has closed up, no longer bleeding, oozing, or turning weird colors. I lost motion in it, and now trying to get it back, but I don’t know whether it’s going to be permanent or not. Doctor prescribed physical therapy, and if I can’t get better motion by the time I get back from Black Rock, I’ll take him up on it. But it does seem to be getting better, so it may not be necessary. I complain about it a lot less now, which seems a good indicator. And I’m able to do things finally which I’d been avoiding for the past month or so since the accident. But it’s still really sore, and the scar is still designing itself. The bike is seeing progress, but slowly. I’m still on my original schedule: heal the finger, buy new gloves, and THEN fix the bike. I got new gloves last week.
And, yeah, I’ll admit it, I’m AWOL partially because I, uhhh, met someone. And then chased him down until he thought he was chasing me. (or is it the other way around? hmmm) So shoot me. It happens sometimes.
Pfft. Can't be that important, since you both still claim to be single.Posted by John Foley on Thursday, August 26, 2004 at 10:50 PM
Did'ja ask him if he's the Devil? Even if you're sure he isn't, ya still gotta ask, ya know. Them types is a sneaky sort, they is.Posted by Golden Delicious on Friday, August 27, 2004 at 9:09 PM
Friday, July 30, 2004
It was bad enough that I was constantly daydreaming about riding.
Last night, I actually dreamt about Tunitas Creek Road. Like, omigod, I REALLY need to be there. Oh! Zayante! Pescadero! And Old Santa Cruz! God, I’m so sad.
I don't know how much longer I can wait. The finger isn’t healed, but maybe it’s “good enough.” I'll just take a bunch of advil first.
I’m thinking soon, very soon, a bit of mellow riding through the fun stuff. Anyone? I’ll be slow; for some of you, it’s your one chance to keep up... (Is that sarcasm or an actual delusion of grandeur?)>
Thursday, July 22, 2004
Fortunately, he seemed a little distracted and did not ask how I’d managed to scrape myself. I hate lying, and probably would have fessed up to the stupid accident. It’s embarrassing, for one thing, since I still can’t believe I got bitten by a stupid pothole. What kind of newbie-biker crap is that? I’m running something like 75K now, how the hell did that happen? Plus, I do not need to hear any more lectures about the dangers of motorcycling. Seriously, I would have been more injured had I hit that pothole on a bicycle.
In fact, all I can think about is riding. I’m JONESING so bad for a day, or three, on the bike, in the twisties, in the dirt, I don’t fucking care WHERE. It’s uncomfortable to ride right now, and I’ll admit I’ve lost a little of my riding joy. So I don’t ride for fun, but sitting at home is killing me. I can’t do anything. What did I do before motorcycles? I used to sew. Shit, that takes two hands. Every little thing is a pain in the ass now, and I just pine for my bike and a nice little road trip. I guess what I’m really missing is the feeling of wanting and being freely able to go out and ride. All. Day. Which I suppose I COULD do, since I’m able to ride to work and all, but, something’s not right.
Good news: I’m finally going to get the DRZ tires and wheels sorted this weekend, and that can only make riding better. I’m working on Saturday (someone’s got to pay for shiney new SV parts) and seeing my favorite people on Sunday. Life is good. Right?
I’ve settled pretty much on the idea that the SV needs Pro-tapers and *BARKBUSTERS*. That’s right, if it can’t be my beautiful shiney clean baby, it can be an angry little machine. Grrrrr. No, they don’t serve any purpose. I’m a girl, I don’t have to make sense. Now, does anybody know how I can best accomplish this? There seem to be a million diferent models on the Pro-Tapers website...
My bike has one black wheel and one red one. Scratches just add character. Be proud.
power to the people.
i need rim locks, we gotta switch sets of rims,
OH, wait, there are rim locks on BOTH sets of rims.
Friday, July 16, 2004
I'm finally in less pain. (not ready to give up complaining, though!)
Actually started looking at ebay for parts. I need to take photos of the damage this weekend so I can actually have a clear picture of what exactly I need. (It’s nothing like what Kevy did to her bike. I’m not nearly that cool.)
Anyone have an idea of what's needed to convert to ProTaper bars on the SV? I think it will take a few changes... but I don't know what.
But tonight I’m going home to hang out with my mom and sister all weekend. My mom is going to flip out (yes Charles, like a NINJA!) when she sees this scrape and me gimping around not being able to use my hand. Not sure whether I should say something to my parents before we leave (and cause a ruckus) or wait until we’ve left town and she notices it on her own. Maybe I should act surprised at it when she sees it… “holy shit! How’d THAT get there?!?!” “Why’s my bike all fucked up? Mom, were you riding my bike again? I knew I shouldn’t have left it at your house!”
> From Go-Quiz.com
Charles: i'm home. go see a doctor. we will fix the bike.Posted by Charles on Monday, July 19, 2004 at 7:01 AM
I hope it's my advice that you took on the treatment of that finger.Posted by B. on Wednesday, July 28, 2004 at 7:12 AM
Wednesday, July 14, 2004
Last night was a new low, and I took a nap after my friend called to say he’d be by later. Of course he didn’t show up at all, what are friends for? I woke up after midnight crying. I don’t think I’ve ever woken up crying before. I don’t know what I was dreaming about. But I’d left my contacts in.
I wish Charles wasn’t overseas; he would take care of me. He would find a way to make sure I didn’t feel so shitty right now.
So the swelling doesn’t seem to be getting any better, so I found my wire cutters and destroyed my ring. Damn, I liked that ring. I hope this helps.
So far only one other person has seen it (besides the guy who picked me up off of the side of the road) and he said it looked like it was doing well. But may have been lying to make me feel better.
People in the office keep laughing at me. I look funny, walking around the office holding my hand over my head. I keep threatening to punch them with my one good hand if they don’t knock it off.
I’m spending the weekend with my mom, and I’d been hoping that the finger would start to improve before I had to let her know. I don’t like to make my parents worry. But I’m not sure that’s going to happen. I haven’t gone to the doctor because it’s a wild pain in the ass. It would take half a day just to have someone else tell me it’s ugly, keep it clean, elevated, ice it… and then I have to pay someone for that privilege? If I do have to see a doctor, I’m going to tell them I fell off of a bicycle. Bicycles are dangerous! I want to hear that stupid doctor tell me maybe I ought to consider giving up bicycling.
What sucks? Nevermind that I’m in constant pain, it’s really the inconveniences that suck. I can’t do things like dishes and laundry very well. Nevermind lifting weights, that’s not happening for a long time. Showering with one hand. Trying to open those fucking childproof containers. Grocery shopping. Trying to untangle the blankets. Work has slowed down to a snail’s pace, and just in time for the boss to load a bunch of work on me. The absolute worst thing is putting my glove on to get on the bike. (Need to borrow a larger pair of riding gloves from someone!)
I haven’t even begun to think about the bike or gear yet. I need to replace a bunch of crap but I’m waiting for the finger to stop hurting. Then I’ll send these gloves back to Alpinestars and tell them what I think of their crap. Tell Joe I tested those frame sliders, they worked pretty well (should have gotten “tank sliders” too though. :( Dammit) Go back to my pothole and pee on it. Collect some blood and send it to CALTRANS, along with the before and after pictures (thanks, motherfuckers). Find the dirtbike bars I always thought would be cute on the SV anyway, and figure out what conversions need to be made. (barkbusters! Yay!)
Eat ice cream in my underwear.
I'm not trying to get on you about the doctor thing. If you'd like a larger pair of gloves I'd be willing to ship you mine. I'd drive them over but I don't trust my car for a trip that long. They're the older (cooler) style Alpinestars SP3, you probably saw them when we rode. I'm pretty sure they're size large and just a little warn in. The thumb is starting to wear through a bit where the nail is, and they have a bit of road rash. Other than that though they're still good gloves. I'm going to upgrade to the fancy kevlar covered ones, I hear they make you faster...
Just let me know if you'd like 'em and I'll get them in the mail to you
Let me know if you need any help showering... :-o
Serioulsy, if u need anything, drop me an email or something...
Sunday, July 11, 2004
I can't really wrap my head around what just happened. But I do know it REALLY REALLY sucks.
Went to the South Bay to do the oil change and clean up the SV. It served me so well touring up to Seattle and all; I thought I’d be nice and take care of it. Changed oil, replaced the bent shift rod, cleaned and lubed chain, I EVEN POLISHED THE FUCKING THING!!!!!
Came out to leave, and "man, that is such a purty bike!" I do that a lot.
Now it’s taken several steps toward being a little street rat. I can’t have anything nice. But THIS I don’t understand.
Coffee in Mountain View, then up Page Mill and over 35. I’m not going too fast, just a more scenic route home. 92 is totally backed up, stop and go. At the bottom of the hill there is a stoplight, where you can go straight or make a left turn. I always go straight, then hop on 280 with the big round onramp. But I thought you could also turn left and go that way. For shits, I decided to check it out. BAD IDEA. It’s all luck, what puts you in the wrong place? A stupid sense of finding out where that road goes…
Wait at the light, there’s a guy on a sport touring bike pulled up just behind me, I’d passed him earlier, a nice responsible rider. I get a green arrow, make the turn, straighten up, and I’ll be on my way. Hey look, a little pothole thingy in the pavement.
A little pothole that makes my bars shake violently. I thought, "the bike is tossing, but it will come out fine" Then, "I’m fucking crashing!" I can’t believe it. I don’t understand it. It wasn’t a giant pothole, I wasn’t moving all that fast, and I was going in a straight line.
I fall hard on my left hand and slide a ways; the bike falls on its left and slides even farther. I watch it slide away throwing dollar signs out behind it. Then I see the guy on the sport tourer coming up and braking and swerving, maybe a little too much, and thinking he's going to hit me. This made me feel guilty and I was very relieved he didn’t. I get up, and I’m really pissed. This makes no sense to me, and the bike, the bike was pristine. Not anymore.
I walk toward the bike and all I can think about is how it’s gonna be all fucked up, and it was so nice just a few hours ago. And all my good riding gear is trashed, which I just bought a few months ago, and all because of this fucking pothole.
The guy had pulled over and I was at the SV same time he was. He wants to know if I’m ok, I just want the bike up. We get it up and out and I start feeling sick, and I know my finger’s fucked, but not sure how badly.
A lady in a car stopped to help, but I sent her away, since there wasn’t much to do. I started calling James immediately to try to get help, since everyone else is in Europe, but was too out of it to remember that James was at Thunderhill racing… An ambulance was suggested, but unnecessary. I felt sick for a while and sat on the side of the road to gather my wits after sending the other biker on his way.
I told the guy I wouldn’t try to ride it away. My finger, I wasn’t sure if it was badly damaged. The SV handlebar has bent to an extreme angle, and left a funny scar on the tank (I’m not laughing yet. I loved my pretty blue bike) The mirror and stalk have broken off, there’s road rash on stuff, and the end of the shift lever is nowhere to be found (the only part I wasn’t able to recover.) The passenger peg is now very stubbornly stuck in the up position, as is the real footpeg.
I have a tow service. Do I tow it home? And leave it at a shop? $$$! And then how do I get myself to work? That’s a crappy option. Tow it to San Jose? What an operation, and then I have to tell my parents. The whole tow truck return to San Jose would be very dramatic looking, and more than they need. I always like to wait a few days to tell them, so I’m already OK, and they don’t have to panic.
I was starting to think that my finger WASN’T broken. Does the bike run? Why yes! Can I shift it, well, not really. The lever is missing the foot part at the end. I figured I’d try riding it to the end of the street to see, and decided that I could actually do it. My finger had become movable again, and the guy had given me his one sad little Band-Aid to put on it. Helpful? Mostly in spirit, but it was nice to keep the nastiest roadrashed bit out of contact with my gloves.
Got my sad little SV down to San Jose, riding with my hand up in the air the whole way to try to keep swelling down. Got to the house, and fortunately the parents were at church. I figured I had 40 minutes to get out before they came in and I had to do some explaining. I pushed the SV as close as possible to the wall so they won’t see the roadrash. They MAY notice the lack of mirror, and then look, but I’m hoping for the best. Anyway, I’ll tell them in a couple of days…
Called a friend for paramedic advice, mostly because, well, I’ve just crashed and want to hear a friendly voice. Also any tips on what’s the right way to clean this up. No luck, so I ran hot water, scratched away some of the dirt, doused it with bactine, took some ibuprofen, and put a gauze bandage deal over it. I’m missing a bunch of skin. I think it will take a while to heal, but be ok? I hope.
Couple glasses of water to calm down, and out the door. With any luck, they won’t be home or see me leaving.
Damn, I still haven’t been able to get my street tires on the DRZ, and so much for preserving these knobbies. The extra wheel set concept sounds good, but for me it doesn’t really work. Fuckit. And I’m on the road, heading home, hand in the air. This is really hard to do on the freeway for and hour. It’s like those people who accidentally leave their blinker on but I’m using a hand signal and left IT on. All the bikers coming back from Laguna Seca think I’m waving at them. Whatever. I’m fussy and sad. I just lost $1000 to a fucking pothole.
What MUST be replaced:
My riding gear. Fuck, this is the worst part. That really costs a lot, and it was mostly new.
The shit lever.
Then the really ought to replaces:
Footpegs and brackets,
Frame slider? Maybe
Need to see Joe about fork straightness once I’ve replaced the handlebar.
The tank is a new shape, with a cross-hatched scar from the bar end. The tail and signals and holeshot flyscreen have roadrash.
Fucking goddam piece of shit pothole.
I still don’t understand this. I’ve ridden over millions of potholes. I don’t get it. I know my dirtbike would not have lost its temper for a pothole. Fucking streetbikes.
Make that "shift lever."
"must replace... shift lever"
Hey, sweetie. I hope you're healing up ok. Horrible to find you on here this way... but hopefully you're doing alright. You might want to try and get that ring off your finger, if you haven't already. It could really do damage to your finger by leaving it on... you can get it cut off at a jewlers and they can repair the cut fairly easily, if I remember correctly. The rest of the stuff is just that, "stuff," and it can be replaced... glad to hear you're ok for the most part.Posted by MonkeyDude on Tuesday, July 13, 2004 at 5:15 PM
I'm so sorry!!
Let me know if there's anything I can do.
Welcome to the Crashed SV Club darlin'. I'm sorry! I can honestly say I feel your pain. It always seems totally fine till the last second before you eat pavement. Then you sit up going "What the fuck just happened?!?!?!"
It wasn't your fault.
It was the universe cocking the Fuck-with-me-gun.
At least that's what I tell myself.
I'm going to have a rather large bill myself to get my bike back.
You wanna team up and do some porn together? That'll make us $3k quick!
Posted by Kevy on Tuesday, July 13, 2004 at 7:59 PM
Pot holes, rocks, they all fuck your shit up. I wrote down the parts you need, if I come across any in my search for straight wheels I'll shoot you a link or pick it up for you. Take care of that chunck of meatloaf on your fingerPosted by Ink and Metal on Wednesday, July 14, 2004 at 11:41 AM
Saturday, July 10, 2004
Thursday, July 08, 2004
Something's up with my SV clutch. I've been in denial about it for a month or so.
Bike's only got like 14000 miles on it, so what the hell is that?
or, yay! Now I get to learn how to rebuild a clutch!
Guess it's time to shell out for the shop manual first.
Anyway it needs to be cleaned up (damn big bugs between here and Seattle) and oil changed and a few other bits. It wasn't too long ago she was shiney and perfect. What happened to us?
But the dirtbike is still set for dirt. Got wheels and tires, but everything's in the wrong place. What's a girl to do?
It's hard being me.
Some people need live-in butlers. I need a shadow-mechanic.
Rebecca: I got some drunk boys to poke at the bike last night. It seems to feel better. hmmmmm...Posted by Rebecca on Friday, July 09, 2004 at 9:50 AM
Tuesday, July 06, 2004
A lot of people told me not to do the trip in one day. Several people told me I "couldn't" which is probably why I "did." And now I've done it and can say: never again. That sucked.
I made quick work of Washington. Washington is beautiful, and I got on a cop's radar just once (that I know of, but I'm pretty sure that if I didn't see one, I would have gotten pulled over). He was sitting in the median with his hair-dryer pointed at me, and I grabbed a bunch of brake. Somehow I got away with it.
I love all the rivers and bridges up here.
Into Portland after french toast, with the best intentions of sticking to the speed limit all the way through to at least Medford. Yeah, right! I'm an incorrigible speeder, and my speedo creeps toward 80. Another cop on the median outside of Eugene, he points at me too but I've just slowed down from one of my marathon speeding/passing sessions.
Red lights flash behind me on the other side of Eugene, and I see I'm done. Boo. But I pull over and he keeps going. Yay! I win!
That's a sign. That I should speed more, right?
Stopped once in Oregon for gas. I am getting the best gas mileage ever, I can only assume because the traffic is so smooth. People in Oregon and Washington know how to drive! Pass on the left, move to the right. As I get closer to California though, the traffic gets worse and worse. It's not that there are more cars, it's just that more of them are "hanging out" in the left lane. Where they DON'T belong. There needs to be a law against trucks passing on uphills. Omigod. I am so good, I am NOT lanesplitting at all.
It gets really damn hot and I peel off all the extra layers. It's not enough; I am near California. Up a nice little mountain, and "welcome to California" Aha! And now I start speeding for real. Down the twisty mountainside, weaving in and out of the cars. (just because you bought a car that looked fast in the ad doesn't mean it should reside in the "fast lane")
There's a cop at the bottom, but again, he has just missed my REAL speeding. heh. Two more cops within 50 or so miles. Fuckers. But somehow I am getting away with it.
It's fucking hot in California and there are too many cars. All sitting in the left lane. Now I'm weaving, and my gas mileage has dropped dramatically. There's a huge backup in the pass by Shasta, which I fortunately am able to lanesplit. Fuck those other states, there's no way I'd give up lanesplitting.
Somehow I missed the 505 and ended up going all the way out to Excremento. Whatever, I was home by 10, in time for the Simpsons. Most importantly, there was a Guinness left in the refrigerator. Yay!
So that was the first long trip by myself, first long trip on the SV. Here's what I learned:
- I LOVE Seattle. I already knew that. But I'll never live somewhere that I can't lanesplit.
- The scenic route through Oregon was nice, especially the Dunes. But the rest of the coast up there- never again. Too many flurking RV's. And that was on a Thursday morning!
- Bring extra keys for everything that takes a key.
- Things I can’t do without: electric vest, MP3 player (with earplug speakers)
- That windscreen is cute and all, but it’s never going on a long trip with me again. I’ll leave it on for around town, but I’d rather ride naked than have that fucking thing blow ALL the air directly at my head all day. I found that if I popped my head around the side, or leaned up and back, the wind noise it created dropped a lot. Kept wanting to take it off but couldn’t figure out how to get it home without breaking it.
- The “long way” scenic route is often quicker since there’s less traffic, and more speeding.
- Seattle to San Francisco needs to be two days: For one thing, it’s scenic if you do it right, and it blows if you do it wrong. Also, a ride that long and boring is just a recipe for speeding tickets. I have no idea how I made it home with my license intact, but I shouldn’t push my luck.
- I MUST go ride the Washington forests again. Mt. Rainier was beautiful, and I just got a little taste.
- I should have planned more of what I wanted to do in Portland and Seattle before I got there.
- I have a new favorite bar. It is very far away. Boo.
- I want more road tripping.>