On Two Wheels, Part 1

I drove to work tonight because it was raining, HARD. It's the first time I've had to drive a steel cage to work in over a month. My round-trip to/from work is +-70 miles, depending on the route I take, and I figure I save at least $4 per round trip by riding, depending on which bike I happen to ride on a given night. My seven-night work shift also means I can exercise each of the four bikes at least once in a shift, weather permitting. All four have full-fairings and provide pretty good protection from the wind. My head sticks up higher than the windscreen on the Moto Guzzi and BMW, so I have to put my faceshield down if I'm caught in a rainshower on those machines.

I started riding "bikes" with motors when I was twelve. At that time our community was pretty rural and the county was geographically fairly large, so I suspect our Sheriff's department was stretched thin... we didn't often see a brown and beige Sheriff's cruiser, and we saw even fewer State Troopers. Those I did see seemed to ignore me... I think stopping us might have required calling out someone to deal with Juvenile offenders, and already overworked Deputies probably said, "I don't need the hassle". For four years I rode a Cushman Scooter similar to, (but not as nice 'cause it was OLD and WELL-USED), the one pictured above. It would go 35 miles per hour at full-throttle with a good tailwind, so although I have no idea how far I drove that thing, with daytime-only riding, nine or so months per year, I MAY have put 1000 miles on it in four years.

It was dependable. In addition to flitting around the neighborhood I used it to deliver "The Indianapolis News" to my customers for a couple years. Powered by a five horsepower Cushman Husky engine, it would start on the first kick when it was warmed up. Cold starting took two or three kicks with the help of full-choke. It had a centrifugal clutch... it was like an automatic transmission... there was no manual clutch to deal with. It would sit motionless until you increased the throttle. If you added throttle, (and you added throttle in the opposite direction of today's motorcycles), two spring loaded "shoes" attached to the end of the engine's crankshaft would be pushed by centrifugal force against the inside of a drum similar to a brake drum and the scooter would accelerate slightly faster than a turtle.

At the time many of our roads were barely "improved", meaning they were gravel-covered and graded whenever the county could get to 'em. These roads were traveled infrequently, and automobile wheels would cause gravel to be pushed aside so that there were two "paths" with very little gravel and a lane of gravel in the center in addition to the the sides of the "paths". Tiny wheels on scooters didn't negotiate these gravel roads very well... crossing from one path to another or meeting a car and being forced to the side of the road was like balancing on marbles.

Take a close look at the picture and you can see a little pedal on the right side of the floorboard. That's the rear (drum, of course) brake pedal. No speedometer/odometer. No tachometer.
Look again at the handlebars... no levers. Not only was there NOT a manual clutch, there was also NOT a front brake. It's a very good thing these little scoots would only go 35 or so, 'cause with only one (rear) brake they took a long time to stop, even from that sedate speed. Trying to stop quickly on rain-soaked pavement was an invitation to possible disaster.

I paid $50 for it with money I had earned on my paper route. I sold it to a friend for 50 dollars just before I turned sixteen when I started contemplating buying my first REAL motorcycle.

Looking back now through the eyes of a Dad, I'm surprised parents allowed teen-age kids in our community, (and in my case a PRE-teen), to ride a motor vehicle on public roads.
Strange feelings...
I wouldn't have allowed my kid to do it, but my son was 12 in 1995, and 1995 sure as heck wasn't 1959! But I have fond memories of riding that old "putt-putt", and I'm sure glad my parents didn't stop me.

I'll write about that first (and other) real motorcycle(s) later.

GWB Coin Flip, 9/11/11

Man, Would I LOVE To See That!

After the big speech Thursday night, even libs are beginning to question BOzo's intelligence.
No surprise to me... he's done nothing in his life of note except fool the fools.
Palin is smarter than he is. She had her facts straight on Paul Revere and made idiots of those trying to ridicule her. Obama's "Lincoln founded the republican party" comment? Dead wrong. Call the "Corpseman"!

But I bet she's a better athlete too.
I would just LOVE to see her take him on one-on-one in a game of B-Ball.
Sarah Barracuda Vs. BOzo!
Who are you betting on?

Where's a promoter when you want one?!!

Updated:
The only thing more stupid than the present occupant of our White House is our media, thinking we won't notice when they try to erase his gaffes.

6 September 1986

I had been out of work 8 months. My unemployment checks had ceased and my "networking" to find another flying job in the area had apparently failed. What was I gonna do? How would I pay the bills?
In the distance, I could hear the proverbial howling of the wolves.

The phone rang. It was my friend J.M....
"You still looking for a job? I need you. How soon can you start?"

There have been mergers and acquisitions, so my paychecks have had three different signatures on them. But today I'm celebrating 25 years flying as an EMS helicopter pilot.
What a long, strange trip it's been!

Will You Watch The "Jobs" Speech?

Fred Imus, (Don's younger brother), died a few days back. His appearances on the "Imus in the Morning" show always put a smile on my face. I TIVO the show and fast forward through most of it, slowing only for a few political interviews and Fred's now-and-then bits.
Just after BOzo's State of the Union address Don asked Fred if he had watched the speech. Fred replied he watched long enough to realize Obama didn't intend to resign, then switched the channel.
That's pretty much how I intend to handle Thursday's speech. I'll watch long enough to see which political factor will be furious by the end, then I'll start looking for a documentary somewhere on the WWII Lancaster bomber or an old "Honeymooner's" episode.
If there truly is a bombshell, (HA!), I'll catch it later on FOX News.


Are you gonna watch?

Work. Off. Work. Off. Work

I'm at work. I work 12 hour shifts from 7 P.M. until 7 A.M., seven nights in a row. My shift starts Wednesday evening, so the following Tuesday night is the last night of my shift and I'm headed home for seven days in a row on Wednesday morning.
The four pilots at this base have a sort of love/hate sentiment about working this schedule...
We don't need to take much vacation because of the seven day break every other week. But stress factors involved with the job can make this schedule tough-
More flights than normal or other work stresses, and we can begin to feel a little draggy by the sixth or seventh night of our workweek.
Our company doesn't care about our schedule so long as the work gets done safe and efficiently. We've tried other schedules and the four pilots at this base have decided we like this one best.

Our schedule, no matter whether it is four-on, four-off or seven-on, seven-off means we all spend a quarter of our lives at work, not counting extra days covering for someone bein' sick, and vacations. So we all work a couple hours more than the normal wage-earner out there who works 40 hours per week:
There are 268 hours in a week (7X24). 268 divided by .25, (the 1/4 of our lives we spend in the air or waiting for the call to go fly, equals 42 hours (average, obviously).

Summer is harder than Winter. Our clientele are more active and are more likely to need our services. Weather is generally more conducive to aviating. Inclement Winter weather can sit on you for days at a time, and it's then that we frequently E.M.S.-
Earn Money Sleeping.

This summer has been stressful for another reason-
It has been hotter than normal and that puts added stress on people and machines. We had record high temps today (102 or so) and the forecast is for similar weather tomorrow. I had difficulty sleeping today because my upstairs bedroom was too warm. Still, I was glad I wasn't here at work waiting on a call to go take off in a "flying greenhouse" in above 100 degree temps.
(My counterpart didn't get a call today so the helicopter was still sitting where I left it last night when I parked it.)

It's an interesting job, different in almost all ways from the way most folks make a living...
And interesting almost every day because of the many ways people find to hurt themselves.
I love it. And I'll miss it like crazy when I can no longer do it.
And that day may be just around the corner.

The Miracle That Is Cosmetics-

Compare and contrast.

When The Slaves Are Intelligent:

You may remember this:




(She's on "The List".)
I USED to think Sarah Silverman was funny. I even thought she was cute, (although I hear she's hirsute and if I found that out for sure it would be a turnoff.)
But knowing BOzo was whelped in Muslim schools, and looking at his list of Muslim friends,
I could only shake my head in amazement at this video and at the polls that showed Jewish support for this poseur.
The amazing thing is that even as folks like Rodolfo and Flightfire come to the realization this guy is incompetent, there is still a surprising amount of support in the ranks of the "Slaves" out there.

And ya know what?
Intelligent slaves are wonderful, so long as they're still on your side.
But... when they finally turn on you?
Ask Pharoah, Mussolini, Hitler, and Ceausescu what happens then!

California II

Late August can be a miserable time here...
Temps can reach the high 90's and stay there, sometimes even staying in the 80's all night.
This year has been different, so far at least. We've had almost a week of PERFECT weather...
Cloudless skies and afternoon temps in the mid 80's, and I have taken advantage of this gorgeous weather to exercise all the bikes. Yesterday Sara Jean took her position on the throne of the '89 Goldwing and we rode 227 miles, mostly through the surrounding farmland. A couple observations about that:
She's more comfortable as pillion than I am in the front. I began to feel hot spots on my butt after a couple hours. There's just no way to shift your weight around enough in front to avoid 'em. On the other hand, she can move pretty freely back behind me. We stopped for lunch at a family buffet restaurant and afterwards she actually found herself nodding off in the warmth of the sun back there. (She asked if we could install seat belt and shoulder harness back there to insure she won't fall off!)

A few days ago friend Dean called and asked if I could come back and help track and balance the Huey again. I had gone down a couple weeks ago to help with this job but we never did get the machine to settle within limits. On inspection, Dean found a bearing installed wrong and replaced it. This time we quickly saw improvement, and after 45 minutes or so had the machine well within limits. Flying the old girl was SUCH a neat experience, and this 45 minutes in my log book puts me over the 3000 hour mark in the UH-1 series of aircraft. (I have time in the UH-1B,C,D,H,&M.)
I rode the 800cc beater BMW three hours round-trip to do this job and have decided the old Beemer may just be my favorite motorcycle of all time. It's just powerful enough to be confidence inspiring on the highway, smooth as heck for a two-cylinder motorcycle, and gets 53 mpg when driven with respect. I'm gonna keep this bike and start slowly restoring it.

Most of my riding lately has been done with a Harley Davidson alongside. I LOVE the sound of the things and have decided this is the best way to enjoy a Harley...
Insure a friend that owns one is in the vicinity so you can listen to that lovely engine thump away!
(But I'll still jump at the chance to buy a Sportster for quickie trips if I can find one priced right.)

My seven day on- seven day off schedule is wonderful with weather like this. Even with the bike riding, I've had time to do yard work. An hour or so each afternoon when the dew is completely gone and our 2+ acres looks great. (But it's been so dry I stir up a cloud of dust everywhere I mow... the air filter will need attention really soon.)

Another fatal crash of an EMS helicopter last week... four dead this time in Missouri. No details on the accident yet, but the industry is so small you always fear someone you know will be among the dead. Names have been released and I didn't know anyone aboard, but it still hurts personally and it hurts our industry every time this happens. We're already regulated so strictly I'm now turning down flights (due to weather) I could safely fly. Accidents like this one may bring on more regulation. I've said before, I'm glad I'm at the retiring end of my career, not just beginning it.
Disheartening.

To those of you who wrote, concerned about me after you heard of the crash, thank you.
Don't worry about me. I've scared myself in in a helicopter most of the ways you can, and don't intend to do it again.

Veronica

Joe got it...

The answer is Veronica Lake. I was also gonna use the following clues:

-4 feet 11 inches tall. Did she use a pillow to see out the windshield of that airplane?

-A comic book character was given a similar name in her honor. ("Archie's" Veronica Lodge).

-A character in an animated movie was a melding of Veronica and Rita Hayworth. (Jessica Rabbit)

-The U.S. Government asked her to change her hair style as a precaution in order to protect women who were increasingly replacing men in factories. (And she did).

This tiny beauty is just another of those that went to Hollywood, then died much too young under strange circumstances. But I too was surprised to find she had gotten her pilot's license.

-Born in 1922 in Brooklyn, N.Y. (Birthdate sometimes listed as 1919.)-Died in 1973-Became a pilot in 1946.-Flew, at least once, cross country from L.A. to New York in a light plane.-Considered "difficult to work with" on the set, it's now generally thought this celebrity was a paranoid schizophrenic. -BLONDE HAIR.

The Enemy of My Enemy...

I don't know much about Rick Perry, but I have learned this:
Trial Lawyers are frightened enough of him they have formed a Political Action Committee to put obstacles in front of his campaign.
So the John Edwards' of the world don't like him?
That says it all, doesn't it?
I think I may like him A LOT!

Do You Ride? Here's Useful Information!

I soaked up the lesson well-
I was following that pickup truck with a full two second gap.
In the bed of that pickup was a sofa.
Apparently the cushions on that sofa were not fully secured.
Yeah, you're gettin' ahead of me, aren't ya!
Guess the "Hang-time" for a sofa cushion that is caught up in turbulence and launched to an altitude of fifteen feet or so outta the bed of a pickup truck going, say, 55 mph!
(If you answered about two seconds, YOU WOULD BE CORRECT, BUNKY!)

Yes, I was able to avoid it.
But henceforth I'll give sofa-laden pickup trucks at least a three second gap!

Crosschecking The Instruments

A commenter responded to my video below:

"Just how many of you are there to watch those gauges. If there is a problem do those gauges tell you first or does the change in sound or feel? "

It's a valid question. I can remember being sorta overwhelmed the first time I looked at the dashboard of a complex aircraft...
How can anyone possibly make sense of all that?

First, it's just me watching those gauges most of the time, Anon. My Nurse and Paramedic are in the back kicking death in the ass, so they're no help at all.

Now, think of your car. Most of us have owned a car with a speedometer, tachometer, water temperature gauge, oil pressure gauge, and maybe even an oil temperature gauge in the dash cluster. What did you pay attention to, mostly?

The BK117 I fly was built to be flown with either one, or two pilots. Watch the video again...
I always turn the lights on for the entire instrument panel as an insurance policy. Most of the instruments you see over on the far left of that panel are redundant instruments I have in front of me. If you look closely, you'll notice this bird even has THREE attitude indicators (artificial horizons if you like.) So I pay almost no attention at all to the left one-third of that panel unless something on my side fails.

The far right side of the panel contains the basic flying instruments:
Airspeed indicator, altimeter, vertical speed indicator, heading indicator, and the aforementioned attitude indicator. In this particular bird, the green rectangle you see at the lower right corner of the panel is the GPS... attached in an absolutely horrible place because in order to program it I have to manipulate the cyclic with my left hand to turn GPS knobs with my right. It's a pain.

In the center of that instrument panel are gauges for both engines and the transmission:
Oil pressure and temperature. Torque, (power being demanded), engine and rotor tachometers, and exhaust (or turbine outlet) temperatures. It's safe to glance at all these about as often as you'd check your rearview mirror in your car, because all these instruments are backed with warning (idiot) lights that would illuminate should any of them get out of normal operating limits. This would also set off a "Master Caution" light squarely in front of my face to say, "Something's wrong! Take a look at what's going on with your flying machine, stupid."

So it's not so overwhelming as it seems. The night I took that video was extraordinarily calm and I was able to turn the controls completely loose to handle the camera. On a night like that it really is a matter of monitoring the gauges by glancing at them now and then, and making minor changes in the controls to insure the aircraft is at the heading/airspeed/altitude I want.
(And your comment about how the aircraft feels or sounds is a valid one... the machine DOES talk to you, and better pilots may feel or hear a problem before any of the instruments indicate something abnormal is going on.)

Another commenter said something valid for that night...
I AM still trying to convince others I actually WORK for a living!

The View From My Office:

I was surprised and pleased that my camera would record this video clearly in these conditions.
Look closely and you can see our home airport coming up on the horizon.

Absence Makes The Heart...

She left me more than a week ago.
I took her to the train station, gave her a kiss, and she boarded the train for her childhood stomping grounds to visit family there.
She was gone four days.

She came home long enough to pack a larger suitcase with lighter clothing, then left the next day for Arizona.
She was gone five days.

I missed her.
BAD.

Her airplane arrived yesterday at Noon. I was trying to think of anything I could do to show her how much I appreciated her. Dinner on the way home was a given. But figuring she might be thirsty for a cup of our home-brewed Arabica blend, I brewed a fresh pot, pre-heated and filled the thermos with it, and put just the right amount of dry creamer and sweetener in a thermal cup so that when we were comfortably on the road to dinner she could enjoy a cup from home. I handed her the thermal cup and reached for the thermos. She opened the top of the cup, saw it was full of something white, and, figuring it was a new cup with a piece of styrofoam in the bottom, upended it and covered her, me, and most of the front half of the car with the creamer/sweetener.
Welcome home darlin'!

But, dinner was VERY nice.
And a partly-cloudy 82 degree day was a welcome change from the 109 degrees she left behind.
She took a nap when we got home. During that nap I studied her, marvelled at how beautiful she is, and took comfort in the light hum she makes when she's sleeping soundly.
She's glad to be home.
The missing piece of my life is back where it should be, as is my missing "peace".

I may even clean up the mess she made of the car.

For Ears That Hear and Eyes That See:

"Shoot Him In The Face"

"What do you think of this 'Bond Arms' derringer?", I asked my friend the M.D..
"If you're gonna use one for home defense, shoot him in the face", he said.
My friend the Doc is hard core. We're on exactly the same page about the direction our country has chosen and he, like me, is preparing for ugliness as quickly as time and money will allow.

This looks like a versatile little gun. It's chambered to shoot either .410 shotgun shells or .45 Long Colt cartridges. You can also buy other, easily switchable barrels in other calibers as shown in the article here at Gunblast.com.
Me? I think the .410/.45 Colt version would suit me just fine.
Anyone have any experience with this derringer?

Shoot him in the face?
Messy...
Wouldn't want to do that in my living room.

ER's And RINO's

"Doctor it hurts when I do this."

Have we learned our lesson? Please... tell me we have.
And republican candidates, please note my request:
If you are a republican from a State North of Virginia, or a State East of Ohio, you need not apply for the job of President of the United States.
Your definition of "conservative" needs revising.

(And I've been saying for a year that BOzo is likely to have a primary challenger.
Ed Rendell... John Warner... some other "moderate" democrat... HELP US!)

In The Wind-

Escapism from barry munsterteiger on Vimeo.

For all my biker friends.
But especially for CJ.

Blinded By The Light

It's a HOT, humid Friday night.
I come to work knowing things might get interesting as the night progresses.
And they do.
Liquid flows in great quantities on evenings like this. Much of that liquid contains alcohol. Alcohol affects judgment. Poor judgment means job security for those of us in EMS.
But increasingly, it brings dangers to us too.

Our flight to pick up the patient, load him, and start the journey to get the care he needed was proceeding uneventfully. At about midnight, somewhere midway between the sending and receiving hospitals, a green FLASH hit me in the face. Your first reaction is, "What the hell is that?!" Your second (involuntary) reaction is to search for the problem in order to try to rectify it. That's a mistake. And it could have blinded me.

Someone, at midnight, out in the middle of nowhere, had pointed a green laser at our helicopter.
The brilliance of the light momentarily shocked and disoriented me. The "What the hell..." reaction contains a great deal of confusion, as your mind tries to sort out what could be causing such a bright light to suddenly appear.
When I finally realized what happened I dialed up the frequency for the closest operating FAA control tower, (in this case an Air Force Base) and reported what had happened. But I knew that action was probably futile...
What would the tower do? Maybe call local law enforcement and report what had happened so that if someone else reported something similar they could begin to track the culprit down. But the likelihood of catching someone doing this in the country in the dark of night is very, very slight.

Who would do such a thing? Why would they take the risk of blinding me and maybe killing all aboard my aircraft?
All sorts of answers come to mind:
An immature individual, thinking no harm would be done.
Someone under the influence of intoxicants, reverting to the thought patterns and immaturity of an adolescent.
Someone irritated by the sound of aircraft flying by on a hot summer night.
Can you think of others that, in an impetuous second, might do something so thoughtless?

We hear more and more reports of lasers being focused on aircraft. And one of the things that scares me is the thought that IF a pilot is blinded by these lights, the accident report will surely come up with big question marks as to why a perfectly healthy pilot flew a perfectly functional aircraft into the ground, killing patient, Nurse, Paramedic, and him/herself.

I now know of two incidences where this has happened to helicopters in our fleet, and in both cases it happened when a patient was on board and the pilot could not divert to investigate and see if he could locate the culprit.
And if this behavior escalates, we're going to have to begin to consider wearing some sort of protective eyewear to preclude being blinded by lasers.

What a world we live in, huh?

A New Chapter

Our Nation is about to undergo the "change" we were promised.
I "hope" I'm wrong about how this chapter will unfold.

We have an administration that has not formulated a (constitutionally required, annually) budget in OVER two years.
And the media is allowing it.

This administration oversaw the delivery of weapons to folks it knew would use those weapons to hurt/kill people. One of our Border Patrol agents was killed with the complicity of this administration.
And the media is ignoring it.

The agencies responsible for overseeing our financial system and warning us when things are getting out of hand...
(The same agencies that were perfectly happy to okay the program responsible for lending money to prospective homeowners who had ABSOLUTELY NO CHANCE of repaying those loans),
has finally awakened and is about to downgrade the Nation's credit rating no matter the outcome of ongoing debt ceiling negotiations.
And the media is trying its damndest to spin it in Obama's favor.

Our media has taken a page straight out of "Pravda".
The voters were/are ignorant.
And it's mostly because "The Fourth Estate" has failed us miserably.
God, please help us through the coming troubles.

Certifiable?

Well, the price was right.
Really, REALLY right.
And I've decided I love older boxer BMW's.
Picked it up yesterday, this one's a 1984 R80RT that I'll be wearing out between home and work.
(And I'm still looking for a buyer for a perfectly functional 1987 GoldWing Interstate!)

Repositioning The Deck Chairs On The Titanic

We live in interesting times.
At the end of his term, this President will have increased our debt load more than all the other Presidents in history, COMBINED.
I think the only way we could possibly have avoided a meltdown is if our leaders had agreed to take drastic action, yesterday. That obviously hasn't happened...
We're still giving millions to folks who study shrimp running on an underwater treadmill.
We're still giving money to folks who funnel it to the Taliban.
And we're still giving guns to folks who are killing our Law Enforcement officers.

"There are icebergs in the waters ahead, Captain."
"Steady as she goes, Mr. Murdoch. But move those chairs over closer to the rail, please."

"But I Could Have Told You, Vincent..."

How fortunate am I?!!
When weather gets a little schmutzy I get to sit around, surf the net, and still get paid.

We had rain yesterday afternoon, dropping the temperature from the high 90's down to about 70 degrees, resulting in an evening with reduced visibilities and low scud all around.
So the phone rings and my communication specialist says, "Weather check for..."
and I laugh before they can even finish the sentence.
I joke... "What are you trying to do, kill us?!!"
On nights like this they know the answer before they ask, but they still HAVE to ask.

Anyway, while being paid well for sitting on my can, last evening I found a neat site and I'd like to share it with you.
My life has been a blessed one, and there are VERY FEW people I envy.
This guy is one of 'em.
If you like bikes and things mechanical, poke around and enjoy.

(You'll have to tolerate bein' subjected to a thirty-second ad, but it's worth it.)

The Debt Ceiling

It's times like these when I realize how far out of touch I am.
Every now and then I have to shake my head in wonder because what seems SO simple to me obviously isn't. And at these times I fall back on you guys to help bring me up to speed.

Here's what has me baffled:

-Why do we have a debt ceiling?

Seems it's a self-imposed limit we're unable to restrict ourselves to!

-If we're gonna have to constantly raise it, (and apparently we are), and every time we raise it we have to watch stupid politicians arguing about who's at fault and what terrible consequences there'll be if we don't jack it up again, why don't we just do away with it completely?

The Sky's The Limit!

Just think how many jobs could be created or saved if we had no limit on our financial resources! And we could use stimulus money to raise the minimum wage to like.... $100 per hour. No more poor people!

Hey...
I like this "Progressive" thinking!

Chrysler Bailout

So!
Yesterday our government completed the sale of Chrysler to the Italian "Fiat" corporation.
In this transaction, U.S. taxpayers only lost 1.3 BILLION DOLLARS.
How many jobs were created or saved due to the loss of that $1,300,000,000.00 ?
Our country is in the very best of hands.

Debates

Presidential political debates CAN be devastating...
Gerald Ford lost the '76 election when he stuck his foot in his mouth about Poland in his debate with Jimmy Carter.
Jimmy Carter lost the election four years later when Ronald Reagan made him look like an idiot saying "There you go again!" during their debates.
George H.W. Bush lost to Slick Willy when he reneged on his "Read my lips, NO NEW TAXES!" pledge.
Al Gore looked like a doofus when he tried to physically dominate G.W. Bush by occupying Bush's personal space during their debate.
John Kerry was, and is, just a stiff.

Barack Obama performed well in the debates in '08 because he had no record to defend.
That won't be the case in '12.
If he ends up being the Democrat nominee for POTUS, (and I still think that's in question), he'll have to defend policies that have run the country aground emotionally and economically.

I doubt this country can survive as a Representative Republic if Obama is re-elected.
From here on, it's gonna be fascinating to watch.
Bring on the debates!

Boyer-

My bride and I LOVE old movies. We have so many of them recorded on our DVR, (and continue to record more), we'll have difficulty watching all of them in our "spare time".
Two nights ago we were watching one of our favorites, 1939's "Love Affair" with Charles Boyer and Irene Dunne. That's a still from the movie above.
(1939... an UNBELIEVABLE year for movies!)
This movie was later remade as "An Affair to Remember" with Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr, then (sort of) rehashed again as "Sleepless in Seattle" with Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan. ("Love Affair" with Dunne and Boyer is my favorite of the three, although the others are VERY good.)

But as I watched I once again noticed one of that era's very noticeable co-stars... cigarettes.
It made me wonder if Boyer, like so many of his peers, died of lung cancer.
He didn't.
The way he died is sad, but oddly romantic.
If I've piqued your interest, read his biography and how he actually died HERE.

Jimmah and BOzo!

US55846324

That's me. US55846324... A number burned into my memory bank forever.
When I was drafted into the U.S. Army I became US55846324.
Guys who enlisted had a service number starting with "RA" instead of "US". We assumed the "RA" stood for Regular Army. Who knows why we draftees were "US".

When I graduated from OCS I became Lieutenant 05261163. I was 05261163 until the ARMY started using Social Security numbers for an individual's service number. Now that identity theft is a problem I wonder if they're still using SS numbers?

But it's funny how those numbers stick with ya...
Important numbers.
My first phone number, (a party line), was 370W1.
Now it's BR549.
Call me.

47.653/ 41.325

Two Honda GoldWings-
One, a 1200cc four cylinder.
The other, a 1500cc six.
When I bought the bigger, newer bike, the intent was to start trying to sell the older bike right away. Well, it hasn't quite worked out that way.
The newer bike is wonderful. It rides like a dream and the onboard stereo system sounds as good as most cars. Sara Jean loves the thing and rides pillion with a broad smile on her face. But...
In many ways I like the old bike better.
It probably weighs close to 100 pounds less than the newer bike. That makes it much easier to maneuver at slow speeds and also shows up in the miles-per-gallon figures.
Driving to and from work, behaving myself, the four cylinder 'Wing gets 47+ mpg.

The newer bike is smoother and a little quieter. By smoother, I mean like the nearly unnoticeable difference between a car with a great new wax job and a car that has been worked over with a clay bar. There is a difference. It's not a big deal.
And under the same conditions the calculator showed the 1500cc bike covered 41.235 miles on a gallon of fuel. That's far better than any of our cars, so I save a small chunk 'o change each time I ride to work, but I'm still looking for a machine that will use about one gallon of gas on the 64 mile round-trip.
That's gonna require a bike with a much smaller engine.
And I'm still looking.

I left home for work tonight with some concern about the weather. I intended to ride the 1500cc 'Wing, and hoped I could drive the 45 minutes to work and arrive before the coming deluge struck. I tuned in "The Weather Channel" to get a quick update on what I'd be facing, only to find Peter Lik spouting off about how to get a great shot of a volcano in Hawaii.
So much for the foremost experts on weather, huh?
It's a bit like Headline News these days...
Want Headline News? How 'bout a little Nancy Grace instead?!

Fifteen minutes into the ride it was pretty obvious I was gonna get wet. The complete horizon ahead was dark gray with occasional cloud-to-ground lightning.
Twenty-five minutes into the ride, the bottom fell outta the bucket.
It poured.
But for a while I stayed relatively dry. My arms got wet first. Then the water caught up in the turbulence forming behind my helmet started trickling down my back, eventually pooling on the saddle and soaking my crotch. The temperature dropped from 95 to about 65 degrees and I actually was uncomfortably cool for the first time in days. But then the rain stopped, the temperature rose, and I was ALMOST drip-dried by the time I pulled into the hangar.
It was bound to happen eventually... a pop-up storm drenching me on the way to or from work. And I'm less fearful of it happening now than I was before. The big fairing does a pretty great job of protecting me.

If I'm going to get a bike that gets 65 mpg or so I've got to first sell the older GoldWing.
Anyone out there want a bike that rides great, is smooth as silk, and gets 47+ mile to a gallon of gas?
Call BR549. Let's talk.

A.W.O.S.

"AWOS" stands for "Automated Weather Observation Service". These days, many little airports have these machines and they provide a great service... an unmanned weather reporting station, updating the weather conditions 24 hours a day. The radio frequencies for these reports are published in several places so pilots can tune in and find the local weather as they start their approach process.
Here's the report I heard when we returned from our final last night:

"****** Community Airport, Automated Weather Observation 0720 Zulu-
Wind 190 at 6 Knots.
Sky condition- clear below 1-2 thousand feet.
Temperature 30 Celsius, Dew point 27.
Altimeter 29.79
Remarks- Density Altitude, 2 thousand 4 hundred feet."

There's a ditty I use to try and remember how to convert Celsius to Fahrenheit-
"Thirty is hot. Twenty is nice. Ten is cool, and Zero is ice."
So when we landed last night at almost 1:30 A.M. it was still hotter than a firecracker, and with a Southerly wind it got worse as the night progressed. Today was unbearable, and I was glad to be sleeping in air-conditioned comfort.
But tonight?
REPEAT!

The natives will be restless.

Motorcycle Artwork

Now and then you'll see a machine that has been restored so perfectly it takes your breath away.
Driving such a machine on the street, risking damage seems a shame.
To me, this old BMW falls into that category.

WOWO

How things have changed.
AM radio is almost all talk-radio now.
If you want music, you listen either to FM or satellite radio. And that's progress, 'cause AM sucks as a conveyor of music. It is seriously degraded by thunderstorms and other atmospheric phenomenon.

But come back with me to 1966. I was a Private "E-nothing" (lowest rank possible) in the ARMY at Ft. Jackson, S.C., just outside the State Capital, Columbia. Homesick as I could possibly be, I was thirsty for anything that remotely reminded me of home. My most prized possession at the time was a General Electric AM/FM radio I had purchased at the Post Exchange. With it, at night, I could tune to 1190 on the AM dial where I could hear a station several hours drive from my hometown of Indianapolis come booming into South Carolina...
WOWO, Ft. Wayne, Indiana.
Top 40, news, weather and sports...
At least I got news from Indiana, which frequently included stuff from Indy.
I was comforted.
In the (infrequent) event I couldn't get WOWO to come in, I'd turn the dial to the left and 890 WLS out of Chicago would generally be there as an alternative. And if thunderstorms precluded me from listening to stations close to home, I'd drop even farther down the dial to 690 WAPE, "The Big Ape" out of Jacksonville, Florida.


There are still AM blowtorches out there that can be heard over much of the middle United States...
1020 KDKA, Pittsburgh. 1120 KMOX, St. Louis. 890 WLS and 780 WBBM, Chicago.
1200 WOAI, San Antonio. 850 KOA, Denver. 1040 WHO, Des Moines.
Late at night I still poke around on the AM dial to find a strong signal. But I listen today because I'm searching for news, weather, sports, and political discussion.
Near-perfect music listening is just a CD or FM radio frequency away.

But how I miss the days of being able to tune in WOWO as I shaved in the morning and hear "The Adventures of Chicken Man!"
My heart hurts a little...
Some things just aren't better than they used to be.

Twenty-Eight Years Ago

Is it possible?
Twenty-Eight years?

I woke when she shook me. Still dark outside, she was standing next to the bed...
"I think my water broke."
Yes, I could see it had.
Grab the 'phone, call the ER...
"Her water broke. What now?"
"Bring her here."

That five minute drive started in an unlikely way-
The starter was kaput on our Fiat 124 Spyder, so I pushed the little convertible to a downhill slope, then with fingers crossed, jumped in and popped the clutch. What a relief when the engine started!

At the hospital, things were moving slowly...
They had connected her to a monitor so we could watch the baby's heartbeat along with Sara Jean's vital signs. We quickly learned how to tell when the next contraction approached, and since they were still separated by 45 minutes or so I asked, "How long before she'll deliver?"
"A couple hours, maybe longer."
I was hungry.
"Honey, would you mind if I go eat breakfast?"
"No, go ahead."
I went to our local greasy spoon and ordered breakfast, announcing to everyone I knew that today we would be parents.
Back at the hospital, I was kinda shocked by the scene-
They had given Sara Jean a drug called Pitocin to speed up the labor process, and WOW!!, did it work!
We could still foresee an oncoming labor pain, but now they were coming every few minutes, and saying SJ was in considerable discomfort when they hit would be extraordinary understatement.

Time for the delivery. I scrub up with the Ob/Gyn. He insures my hands are scrubbed raw before he allows me to don rubber gloves to come and observe the birth of my baby.
I stand at Sara Jean's head, watching the action down below in a big mirror. Of course the birth is a miracle, but it's a bloody, messy miracle. The blood is understandable. The mess? Well, we won't go into that.

"Outside plumbing!"
Until this morning, the Doc has been predicting a girl. The baby's heart-rate when he first hooked up the monitor made him reconsider. We didn't know what we were getting until HE was born.
I whooped!
We both wanted a boy.

So now he's a 28 year old man, living in Arizona. Our work schedules conflicted this year so we cannot be with him on this special day, and that sucks, but we'll work on making up for it at a later date when his schedule (and mine) is not so frenetic.

On July 6, 1983 I could not have imagined the way this story would unfold.
I was out of work, we were living in a teeny-tiny house, driving a little Italian Sports Car with a busted starter.
God blessed us that day with a healthy baby boy, and he (and my son) have blessed us nearly every day since.
My son is a wonderful, caring human being. I could not be more proud of him.

Happy Birthday my son. We'll see you as soon as possible.
And Lord, thank you for giving him to us.

Last One To Leave, Turn Off The Lights, Please.

My son left Los Angeles last month.
Boy, am I glad!
That town always makes me a little uncomfortable. He's back in Arizona, and I can now finally send him the handgun I bought him for his birthday almost exactly a year ago.
(Guns are BAD, doncha know?!)

The great State of California has a new law I'm sure you're aware of...
They're now gonna TAX online sales.
This is really smart because it will raise SO much revenue.
For those contemplating leaving the State because of high taxes, this may just be the "straw" that broke the critter's back. And of course those departing will be the ones paying the taxes. Those not paying taxes won't much be affected by the new law.

I really think California's fate will be the same fate our Federal Government will experience, but California will feel the pain sooner...
Maybe MUCH sooner.
Friend BZ goes so far as to say in Cali there are now two classes of citizen:
Hosts, and parasites.

For most of you, pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!
Nothing to see here.
Move along.
And if you're the last to leave, turn off the lights.

Me And Dad Install The Ceiling Fan

For those new to the blog, my Dad passed away in 2003.
He was one of those unschooled guys that could figure out how most things work, and could fix them with a pair of pliers, a roll of duct tape, and a foot-long piece of baling wire.

We had a garage at our old homestead. It was a mancave...
a comfortable place for my Dad and me and the inevitable four of five buddies that would show up needing a little work on their cars or bikes. My friends loved both my parents and knew they were always welcome at our home. Anytime they broke a transmission synchronizer or blew an engine, they'd find a way to our garage.
We were ALWAYS tinkering there with something.

Against one wall of that garage was a large wooden cabinet with a myriad of small, uniform drawers. Each of the drawers had a dymo-tape identifier:
TAPE
AIR PARTS
SCREWS
BOLTS/WASHERS
And so on.
When Dad died, that cabinet ended up in my garage.

Yesterday I finally had the time to replace the patio ceiling fan that corroded apart last year. I opened and took everything out of the box, then compared the scattered bags of parts to the list of everything that was supposed to be there, according to the destructions.
All was well. So I turned on the "Dennis Miller Show" and started work.

These things used to be a nightmare. In the old days it was obvious someone who didn't speak English had written the destructions, and that's why I call 'em that. But the destructions are much improved now... not perfect, but much, much better. Impatience and lack of reading skills on my part are more of a problem now.

All was going well...
Up the ladder, crane your neck, install a component, down the ladder, read the destructions, grab the next stuff to put together for installation.
Everything went like clockwork and I was feeling mighty proud of myself until I got to the "blade installation" part of the process and the destructions called for bolts with washers to attach the blades to the fan motor.
The bolts were in a bag.
Where were the lock washers?

Back to the box with all the packing materials in it...
GOOD GRIEF... Enough styrofoam to make a couple hundred coffee cups, and a ton of irritating little plastic bags that used to have itty-bitty parts in them!
Mutter and search. Mutter some more.
No lock washers.
So I grab a bolt and head to Dad's cabinet, open the door marked "BOLTS/WASHERS", and start digging for the tiny lock washers that fit the bolt. I needed ten of 'em for the five fan blades.

And as I'm digging toward the bottom of the drawer for tiny lock washers the memories come flooding...
All the times Dad was there, over in his chair, letting us do the work and learn from our mistakes, only commenting or advising us when we needed him.

I found ten washers, put them on the bolts, then went back up the ladder...
Only then did I see there were bolts and lock washers in the fan motor that had to be removed, then re-installed with the fan blades. The bolts I had in my hand were extras.
Grumble, mutter, curse.
Damn destructions.
Damn Chinese. I think they do this just to raise an old man's blood pressure and try to kill him.

Dad and I finished the job.
The ceiling fan AND the light on it work fine.
I took the extra bolts and the now not-needed lock washers back to the cabinet drawer marked BOLTS/WASHERS and added them to the others.

Dad is strong there, and I could never have imagined how comforting that cabinet and the memories it sparks would be to me.

Thanks Dad (and Mom), for providing that little hub of activity where EVERYONE was comfortable.
Through those memories you'll both live forever.

Coming And Going At June's End-

So, let's see...
What's happened that I haven't shared with you?

UPS Tim passed his Private Pilot Helo check ride!
And just in the nick of time too, thanks to Clarke. Tim had scheduled himself in the Robinson Factory Safety Course, which he needed to complete in order to be insured while carrying a passenger in the R22. We finished his training and started looking for a DPE, (Designated Pilot Examiner) to give him the check ride. One DPE I knew had just resigned from the position. Another (Clarke) was off chasing MidWest floodwaters with his company helicopter, and recommended we call the FAA and tell them of our predicament. One of my old friends at the FAA couldn't do it because he had no time in the R22. Another called and left me a message to call him back, and when I did it he didn't return my call. (Four un-returned calls!)

So we were in a fix. Tim had already paid the non-refundable fee and needed the license in hand to attend the course. But Clarke passed through the area and, realizing our problem, worked Tim into his schedule. Tim passed with little difficulty, then immediately DROVE to L.A. to attend the course! He's back home now, wearing brown and a smile.
Of course I'm proud of him!

The annual goose roundup went with little in the way of a hitch. Thunderstorms in the area worried us and actually delayed our flying for half a day, but otherwise it was a fun, safe, efficient operation this year. (The geese don't think it's much fun).

I've been riding one bike or another to work so long as the weather allows. The routine is to check out the forecast before I leave home at 6 P.M., and if I can make it to work without getting wet I have been riding in, knowing that the likelihood of rain will be slim in the cool of the morning but increase when the sun comes up. I try to ride each of the bikes at least once a week to keep batteries charged and engines exercised. I've only driven four wheels to work six or so times in June and I've been lucky so far...
I've had to wait out morning showers twice, then drove home on damp roads with spray being kicked up to soil the bikes, but I haven't had to ride home in the rain... yet.
Oh well. When it happens, I have rain gear and I know how to use mild, soapy water, then wax on a motorcycle.
Sara Jean has been along on the six cylinder 'Wing on several rides of around 200 miles through the countryside.
Beautiful. We both LOVE it.

So here we are. Tomorrow is July.
Time has flies.
How's by you?

The World Is Going Crazy

This city desert makes you feel so cold...
It's got SO many people but it's got no soul and it's taken you so long to find out you were wrong when you thought it held everything.

How I love that song!
I often listen to it as I ride "In the wind" to work, meeting another car or bike on the road every five minutes or so.

So many people.
No soul.

Keith! Keith! Keith!

Finally...
Our long nightmare is over.
KEITH IS COMING BACK!
He'll be on the "Current TV" Network.
(I think that's channel 124,007 on your TV dial.)
He's gonna set the world on fire.

Which Came First- The Train Whistle, Or Insomnia?

Dan asked if I could work a couple days for him so he could go to the Viet Nam Helicopter Crewmember's Association meeting and dinner.
Days.

I hate working days.
But I want Dan to go enjoy his meeting. Dan is ALWAYS there for me when I need time off, so I've gotta be there for him too.

So Friday night I set my alarm for 5 A.M..
Ugh.
I'm normally beginning to think about hitting the sack then.
No real person is just getting out of bed at 5 A.M..
I hit the hay at 9 P.M., grabbed my copy of "Proficient Motorcycling", read a chapter, then rolled over. Sleep came quickly.

Bam!
My eyes are wide open. I squint them to clear my vision and look at the face of the clock/radio...
2:20, and I'm wide awake.
I turn to lay on my back and take a deep breath. A storm is supposed to arrive just about the time I leave for work. I listen for the sounds of thunder.

We've talked about how bad my job has been for my hearing. Flying helos over 43 years has destroyed my high-frequency reception. I can no longer hear the dog whine.
Or certain sounds my cell phone makes.
Or Sara Jean talking, sometimes. (Often.)

But I CAN hear the drumbeat of an approaching helicopter.
Or the sound of distant thunder.
Or the sound of a big radial engine.
Or the similar sound of a Harley-Davidson motorcycle.
Or... the sound of a diesel locomotive on the tracks half a mile from our house.

I can hear the low, quiet hum of Sara Jean almost snoring as she peacefully sleeps. But over that comforting sound I hear, almost feel, the sound of huge pistons compressing and igniting diesel fuel.
How far away is it?
How long before I hear the train whistle blow as the train approaches the intersection where our road crosses the tracks?

Before 5 A.M. the engineers cheat when they blow their horns, God bless 'em.
As they approach an intersection they are supposed to blow LOOONNNNG, LOOONNNNG, SHORT, and then as they enter and go through the intersection, another LOOOOOOONNNNGGGG blast.
(It's the letter "Q" in Morse Code, but I don't think that has anything to do with anything.)
Maybe BZ or some other railroad fan can give us a clue?

I listen for what seems like ten minutes before I hear the whistle, and this engineer is a good neighbor...
There is a long row of houses right next to the tracks at this intersection, so his signal is about 1/3 the volume it will be in mid-day. It makes ya smile to think these guys are thinking of folks in bed in those homes.
What an odd feeling...
I really should be sleeping, but I'm not discontent... comfortably lying in my bed listening to someone at work, being considerate of his neighbors.

I hear two more trains pass. They too cheat on the volume of their horns as they go through the intersection.
Of course I don't remember going back to sleep.
What I DO remember is the alarm going off at 5 A.M..
I HATE working days!
(I hope you had a great time at the VHCMA dinner, Dan! )

"Re" Words

I wondered out loud-
"What are we 're-creating' when we participate in recreation?"
My wise Auntie responded, "Well, you're certainly recreating muscle tissue. You may also be de-stressing and recreating mental sanity and calm."
Made sense.

So now Anthony Weiner has resigned.
"Re-signed" what?
How does quitting equate with signing for another hitch at something?

I think I "re-sent" that use of the word.

Let's Play "Political Aspirations".

Official unemployment is just under 10%.
I've seen studies that place REAL unemployment at somewhere between 18 and 25%.
Groceries, gasoline, and other sources of energy are taking off, and Dems are now chatting-up a possible $1.00 per-gallon tax on gasoline to see how we all react.
Housing is in the toilet and it looks like that toilet is about to be flushed.
We've been through "the recovery summer" last year with no relief, and it looks like there is little or no chance of another "Quantitive Easing" to pump more fiat currency into the economy in order to get its heartbeat back into a normal rhythm.
Frankly, the outlook is grim. I've been laughing at the Lame-stream media's attempts to belittle the Republican presidential candidates with their "Who can beat Obama?" mantra...
If the economy doesn't get turned around, and SOON, Gilbert Gottfried could beat him.

So let's play a little game, shall we?
Let's say my fears come true and the economy continues to tank. At some point Obama's numbers, (already below 50% approval), will be so bad even his most devout supporters will realize he is unelectable.
What then?
Who will step forward to run against him in the primary?

Perennial kook Dennis Kucinich will surely throw his hat in the ring.
Hillary? She hasn't hurt herself too badly in her job as Sec. of State, so she could certainly stick her toe in the water.
Another possible candidate I was thinking might try for another run at it is Jerry Brown...
I think he's now fully realized the HORRIBLE shape California's economy is in...
He's even begun to say things that anger Union workers there, for heaven's sake!
How could he get out from under the yoke of the California economy and the coming disaster there?
By being a hero and stepping forward to clean up the mess Obama has made!
And let's see...
There's a congresscritter in New York that will soon be out of a job that could also run as "Bill Clinton II", isn't there?

I think it's a distinct possibility that BOzo could have a primary challenger.
Can you think of anyone else that might step forward?

24 Hours In France.

It's now about half over.
If, like me, you enjoy endurance racing, or if you're just a Corvette nut, you might enjoy going here for a quick look, or a long stay.
(200 miles per hour at night! EGADS.)

Details, Details.

It's a strange feeling...
It does what it was designed to do VERY well.
The engine is smooth as silk, quiet, and powerful enough to propel that huge lump of metal, rubber, and plastic at a rate that can scare ya real good. I had Don put a new set of speakers in the armrests you see back there where Queen Sara Jean resides, and the system reproduces music so crisp and wonderfully I'm hearing sounds I've never before heard in some of my favorite "Classic Rock" tunes.
I've been driving it on the 64 mile round-trip journey to/from work. I've been disciplined and have kept my speed at or below the 55 m.p.h. speed limit, and I've checked two full tanks of gas...
Forty-one miles-per-gallon, which ain't bad for a machine with an engine powerful enough to motivate any small car.

I've started calling it "Galactica", named after the Battlestar in the series of the same name that my son and I religiously watched together while he was still living at home. It's an appropriate name for something so big and ponderous, I think. But it's odd...
I have no real affection for this "bike" yet, and wonder if I'll ever develop a personal connection with it as I have with other machinery that has served me well.
Maybe fondness will come after we've been out on the road comfortably eating up the miles. We'll see, and I'll let ya know.

I'm at work tonight and there are Thunderstorms lurking out there, so we pulled the BK117 into the hangar to protect it from the wind that was already whistling around, and the hail that MAY come when the Thunderstorms are overhead. Now when the phone rings and my Communications Specialist asks, "Can you go to....?", I laugh before she even has the name of the destination out of her mouth.
"WHAT?! Do you want to kill us?!"
And she laughs and says what I already know... they have no choice. They have to call even when they know I'm 99% likely gonna turn them down. And that's what'll happen for the rest of this night/morning, probably.

Anyway, with the aircraft in the hangar and the likelihood we'll go out tonight and "kick death in the ass" bein' pretty slim, I set about doing something I've dreaded since I bought the thing...
Detailing the six-cylinder GoldWing.
There are little places on this bike that have their own little places. Everything is covered in little plastic panels, and it's one of the things I hate about this machine...
Ya can't see what makes it work. You can see the camshaft covers on the engine, but you can't see the carburetors. You can't see the transmission. You have to strain to look behind the hard bags to see where the driveshaft meets the rear wheel.
The motorcycles I have owned up to this point had all their workings exposed, and you could go to a spray car wash and hose 'em all down to get the dust/road mist off 'em.
Not this thing. Plastic covers hermetically seal everything.
Who knows what's behind those covers?!

So I got a pail of water and put a little "Dawn" dishwashing liquid in it, and started washing one little piece of plastic at a time, then rinsing it, and then using this product to lay a coat of wax on.
(I can recommend it, particularly when you're able to do one little part at a time.)
You just spritz it on while the finish is still wet, then use a towel to wipe the wax/water mix off. It leaves a coat of carnauba wax behind and shines just fine.
It took me about an hour to finish the job and I have to say, I'm quite pleased with the finished product.

Clean and shiny, "Galactica" is an impressive machine sitting there, waiting and hoping along with me that the rain is long-gone before we head for home in the morning.
Now, I like lookin' at it.
Who knows...
I may learn to care about the darn thing after a while!

Intelligent Life?

This is what passes for intelligent discourse in some places.
Challenge someone to "put their money where their mouth is", and they insult you.

Updated, 11 June:
The thing that scares the puddin' out of MSM regurgitaters like Paul is discussed in this post and the comments following.
They're scared of her because she has "flyover country" common sense and makes fools of them at nearly every turn.
That's why Paul and his ilk, when asked why they don't like Palin, can only respond, "She's an airhead".
Except if Paul got into a discussion with her, she'd separate him from his stones, (providing he has a pair!)

Indescribable Courage

I'm posting this at 1 A.M. local time. I'll be quite interested to see how much attention is paid to the anniversary of the D-Day invasion by our major media sources today.
Two things can quickly bring me nearly to tears when I dwell on them-
Thoughts of the guys in the landing craft approaching Omaha beach, looking at the high ground they'd be facing when they started their beach crossing...
And the Eighth Air Force guys that knew they had something like a 25% chance of being shot down each time they departed on a mission, and therefore had very little likelihood of succeeding in completing the 25 flights they needed to log in order to muster home, yet they nevertheless climbed into those lumbering bombers and went out to try to preserve the freedoms their loved ones back home enjoyed.

If we are not regularly reminded, we'll soon forget.
And we ARE NOT being regularly reminded.

To BZ's Dad, my Dad, my Uncle Garlin, and all that generation of men who knew first-hand what evil there is in this world-
Thank you. God Bless you.

Feeding Our Addiction

It was a wonderful find, and came about simply because I am "frugal".
I LOVE Arabica coffee. We had almost always before had good luck with WalMart's "Great Value" branded goods. Here was an Arabica coffee carrying that label, and it was THE CHEAPEST COFFEE IN THE STORE.
I bought a can.
We loved it. Recommended it and served it to our friends who also loved it.
So now comes the next chapter and I know you've probably experienced it too...
They don't carry it anymore.
And the stuff they've replaced it with sucks.

"New and improved!"
That phrase almost always means, "More profit for us!"
Give me back "Old and unchanged", please.

eBay. Again.

"Honey, would you kill me?"
"Are you looking at motorcycles again?"

I was.
And there I found an absolutely perfect 650cc BMW going for WAY less than I thought it was worth. I put it in my "watch list", then realized it was listed "no reserve", and it was gonna find a new home within the hour.

Temptation.
It would be an eight hour drive to pick it up.
"Well, if you REALLY want it, bid on it!"
(God Bless my wonderful wife.)
I decided to watch and see how the bidding went.

With two minutes left the bid jumped $65.00.
With 90 seconds left it went up another $100.
With a minute left the number changed by another $100.
Two guys were now showing they were REALLY interested in this bike.
Thirty seconds before bidding closed one of 'em rounded the bid up to the next even thousand dollars.
And the clock ticked down to zero. The bike sold for $465 more than the asking price just two minutes before bidding ended, an increase of about 25% in that short time.

My wife sighed in relief.
And actually, I did too.