Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Big ol' project.
So when Doug said, "Don't worry about it. You'll work it off." I didn't think I would be extending a loft in his new shop that is equal to half the floor space of the whole place! I'm just happy to be giving something back to a guy who would help me build my bike from the ground up. With help from my brother (The sexy guy in the pic above) the three of us are gettin' it done. The shirt off his back is an understatement of what Doug has given to me and my family.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Kwanzaa Kitty
Last night I was walking out the door with my dogs for a walk. I step out and there is a strange looking cat that I have never seen before, sitting on my door mat. So instead of my 3 boxers tearing it to pieces, I stomped next to the cat to get it to leave. After it was gone, our walk was rather uneventful. I watched a flick and fell asleep.
Then today, the fam wakes up, dogs go for a walk, breakfast, shopping blah blah blah. After getting all the groceries inside I go back out to close the trunk and that damn cat is sitting in my driveway. I went in and got the wife because she's a sucker for a furry animal (in more ways than one), so she sees it and immediately feels the urge to feed it. I suggested plenty of other activities we could partake in, such as, Knitting or slamming our faces together and see who's tougher. She insisted that it was hungry and went back out to deliver some food and water. "Where's the kitty? I can hear it but I don't see it."
The shitty kitty climbed into the engine compartment of her Blazer! I slammed the doors, honked the horn and even tried rocking the damn thing but that cat wouldn't budge. Finally I opened the hood and found it hiding under the idler pulley. In my best little girls voice I got that sucker to come out and snatched it up. Then, much like the Grinch, my heart grew 3 sizes as it buried its head in the crook of my arm and began trembling. "Ah hell! Amber, go lock the dogs up, this cat needs to get warm."
Amber, with a need to name every animal she encounters, dubs thee, Kwanzaa Kitty. We had nothing that would resemble cat food in the house so I cut up a cold hot dog and Amber fed Kwanzy in the bathroom. Turns out none of the organizations that are suppose to handle this situation worked the day after Christmas. Animal Control wanted me to keep the cat until they called me the next day. I said that I had 3 dogs who would Houdini that pussy in a heart beat and that an over-nighter was not an option. You know what that cold hearted bitch said? "Well you're going to have to put it back outside then." Getting frustrated, I paused and chose my words carefully, sweet talking my way into another option. She told me that I could take it to the P.D. and they would hold it until the next day. SOUNDS A WHOLE LOT BETTER THAN LEAVING THE POOR CAT OUTSIDE IN FREEZING TEMPERATURES!
I wrapped up Kwanzy and set her down shotgun in the truck and started the engine. Then the unexpected happened. Kwanzy climbs up on to my lap and puts both paws on the steering wheel. When I asked if it knew where the Police Dept. was, it hopped down and curled up for the duration.
So, Kwanzaa Kitty is in the slammer for the night. Booked on driving without a license and attempted murder. I honestly hope someone is looking for this cat. It was pretty rad for a feline. I might even miss the little fucker.
Then today, the fam wakes up, dogs go for a walk, breakfast, shopping blah blah blah. After getting all the groceries inside I go back out to close the trunk and that damn cat is sitting in my driveway. I went in and got the wife because she's a sucker for a furry animal (in more ways than one), so she sees it and immediately feels the urge to feed it. I suggested plenty of other activities we could partake in, such as, Knitting or slamming our faces together and see who's tougher. She insisted that it was hungry and went back out to deliver some food and water. "Where's the kitty? I can hear it but I don't see it."
The shitty kitty climbed into the engine compartment of her Blazer! I slammed the doors, honked the horn and even tried rocking the damn thing but that cat wouldn't budge. Finally I opened the hood and found it hiding under the idler pulley. In my best little girls voice I got that sucker to come out and snatched it up. Then, much like the Grinch, my heart grew 3 sizes as it buried its head in the crook of my arm and began trembling. "Ah hell! Amber, go lock the dogs up, this cat needs to get warm."
Amber, with a need to name every animal she encounters, dubs thee, Kwanzaa Kitty. We had nothing that would resemble cat food in the house so I cut up a cold hot dog and Amber fed Kwanzy in the bathroom. Turns out none of the organizations that are suppose to handle this situation worked the day after Christmas. Animal Control wanted me to keep the cat until they called me the next day. I said that I had 3 dogs who would Houdini that pussy in a heart beat and that an over-nighter was not an option. You know what that cold hearted bitch said? "Well you're going to have to put it back outside then." Getting frustrated, I paused and chose my words carefully, sweet talking my way into another option. She told me that I could take it to the P.D. and they would hold it until the next day. SOUNDS A WHOLE LOT BETTER THAN LEAVING THE POOR CAT OUTSIDE IN FREEZING TEMPERATURES!
I wrapped up Kwanzy and set her down shotgun in the truck and started the engine. Then the unexpected happened. Kwanzy climbs up on to my lap and puts both paws on the steering wheel. When I asked if it knew where the Police Dept. was, it hopped down and curled up for the duration.
So, Kwanzaa Kitty is in the slammer for the night. Booked on driving without a license and attempted murder. I honestly hope someone is looking for this cat. It was pretty rad for a feline. I might even miss the little fucker.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Sugar Free
It all started with Doug. He would fire his bike up across the street and I could feel something inside me get all sorts of anxious. I step outside just in time for him to take off. I wouldn't think too much of it until a few years later. I got the itch. "Doug, I want to ride." fell out of my mouth one day and it felt good. Real good. Without hesitation he said, "Let's do it." So I went on a hunt to find the type of bike I wanted. At first, a brat style bike was calling my name. The lines, the wheels, but most of all the freedom.
When Doug would get back from a run, he looked like a new man every time. Weather he broke down, dumped it or had smooth ride, he always came back with a sense of clarity that would show through. I wanted that. I needed it.
After about 4 or 5 months of looking for a 750, Doug called me up and said his buddy had a 68 sportster for sale. I didn't think it was a good idea at all. With a need to get out of the house for awhile, We headed up to Milwaukee to see Cody Davidson. As I stepped into the shop I saw a rusty pile of motorcycle and felt the need to sit on it. "Can we make it run?" "We can make it run." It wasn't until we stopped for some food that I looked back at my truck and saw that ironhead shinning under the street lights in Culver's parking lot that I knew this was my bike and come Hell or high water, I'd be riding this bitch in the spring.
First step, get her running. After checking everything that we had eyes for, Doug honed in on the mag. He decided on a rebuild and we called it a day.
With a rebuilt mag and a whole lot of anticipation, we started kicking, and kicking, and kicking. Nothing. I know Doug wanted to hear her fire up as much as I did. With sweat dripping like tears from a born again, we had to pack it in. Before he left my garage, Doug said he would call the man and see if he had time to lend some advice.
That man would be Warren Heir Sr. First words out of his mouth, "Not another chopper!" After giving me and Doug some shit for this ugly bike, it was up on the lift and getting timed. Warren told us what to do and without any questions me and Doug were spinning wrenches. By noon we were ready to kick. Combustion, back fire and FLAMES! I was buzzing. So, I'm holding the throttle wide open and Doug is kicking for what seemed to be hours and all of a sudden, Two feet of flames shoot out of the carb and hit me in the dick. Ok. Cool. Warren suggest we dive into the top end next time.
A few weeks later, with everything removed but the engine we roll it back into Sr. In 4 hours The entire engine is on a shelf, in a hundred pieces. Full rebuild.
When Doug would get back from a run, he looked like a new man every time. Weather he broke down, dumped it or had smooth ride, he always came back with a sense of clarity that would show through. I wanted that. I needed it.
 | |
| Doug lookin' Grizzly |
After about 4 or 5 months of looking for a 750, Doug called me up and said his buddy had a 68 sportster for sale. I didn't think it was a good idea at all. With a need to get out of the house for awhile, We headed up to Milwaukee to see Cody Davidson. As I stepped into the shop I saw a rusty pile of motorcycle and felt the need to sit on it. "Can we make it run?" "We can make it run." It wasn't until we stopped for some food that I looked back at my truck and saw that ironhead shinning under the street lights in Culver's parking lot that I knew this was my bike and come Hell or high water, I'd be riding this bitch in the spring.
First step, get her running. After checking everything that we had eyes for, Doug honed in on the mag. He decided on a rebuild and we called it a day.
With a rebuilt mag and a whole lot of anticipation, we started kicking, and kicking, and kicking. Nothing. I know Doug wanted to hear her fire up as much as I did. With sweat dripping like tears from a born again, we had to pack it in. Before he left my garage, Doug said he would call the man and see if he had time to lend some advice.
That man would be Warren Heir Sr. First words out of his mouth, "Not another chopper!" After giving me and Doug some shit for this ugly bike, it was up on the lift and getting timed. Warren told us what to do and without any questions me and Doug were spinning wrenches. By noon we were ready to kick. Combustion, back fire and FLAMES! I was buzzing. So, I'm holding the throttle wide open and Doug is kicking for what seemed to be hours and all of a sudden, Two feet of flames shoot out of the carb and hit me in the dick. Ok. Cool. Warren suggest we dive into the top end next time.
A few weeks later, with everything removed but the engine we roll it back into Sr. In 4 hours The entire engine is on a shelf, in a hundred pieces. Full rebuild.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Drunk on Religion
Dr. Williams prescribed me the numbing agent to calm my calamity.
Taken orally as needed when necessary. Repeating momentarily.
The ice cracks and begins the dilution.
Drink like a Mexican, viva revolution.
State of mind bending as the brown starts to fade.
Thicker than the last, this next one will be made.
I'm a pepper, you're a pepper mixed with sour mash.
Create a chapter, preach a rapture, see how long you last.
Alcohol is similar to the pages in your bible.
Exercise to frequently, wrapped around a light pole.
So listen to your doctor, or practice what you preach.
The choice is yours but please be warned; me, you will not teach.
A punk ass kid once exclaimed, "It's people just like you!"
Then out the door my brother came and through the air punk flew.
On the ground began to pound his bible thumping head.
Not everyone believes the bullshit that you all have read.
The ice has slid and hit my teeth, the sound was quit upsetting.
The bottom of this broken glass is great for the bloodletting.
It seems as though the poison flows too deep to stop the slashing.
I scrapped the bone, now no one's home to hear this author laughing.
Taken orally as needed when necessary. Repeating momentarily.
The ice cracks and begins the dilution.
Drink like a Mexican, viva revolution.
State of mind bending as the brown starts to fade.
Thicker than the last, this next one will be made.
I'm a pepper, you're a pepper mixed with sour mash.
Create a chapter, preach a rapture, see how long you last.
Alcohol is similar to the pages in your bible.
Exercise to frequently, wrapped around a light pole.
So listen to your doctor, or practice what you preach.
The choice is yours but please be warned; me, you will not teach.
A punk ass kid once exclaimed, "It's people just like you!"
Then out the door my brother came and through the air punk flew.
On the ground began to pound his bible thumping head.
Not everyone believes the bullshit that you all have read.
The ice has slid and hit my teeth, the sound was quit upsetting.
The bottom of this broken glass is great for the bloodletting.
It seems as though the poison flows too deep to stop the slashing.
I scrapped the bone, now no one's home to hear this author laughing.
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