No sh*t, Pt.3

     Friday.  Making progress.  Found a local guy who has a mini-excavator who came over and dug my old septic line up yesterday.  He's getting gravel for me today so I can start putting in the new pipe.  Turns out the unknown utility line running over my septic line is for the cable TV.  Shouldn't surprise me really.  Goes back to the old saying "you get what you pay for".  When I signed up for cable, they installed my buried line for free.  The guys who did the job were either in a big hurry and didn't really care, or they were incompetent.  In one place in my horse pasture, they ran into a rock sticking very visibly above ground.  Rather then attempting to go around it, they just ran the cable over it!  The first time a horse stepped on it it would have been toast!  With this experience to go on, I really shouldn't be surprised when they completely disregarded my septic line and ran the cable over it.  With a lot of care we managed to dig around the cable without severing it.  I got the basement commode re-installed this morning, so will go out when I'm done here and start getting the site final prepped for the gravel.  When that gets here, I'll have to carry it by shovel along the trench because there isn't enough room for a wheel barrow in the trench or along side.  When I get the base down and on grade so I have a nice even downward slope from the house to the tank, I can start laying in the new pipe.  As I get each section in I'll cover it with gravel so it locks it into place.  Sound like a plan?
     Anyway, I have less then two weeks before I do my trial ride down to visit my friends in central Virginia.  I'll load the bike with the two spare knobby tires, duffel bags and front panniers, having the weight set up exactly as I plan for my trip.  I also hope to have my new chain and sprockets installed so I can see how the larger counter sprocket works.  This will lower my highway engine speed about 500 RPM, but I'll lose a little bottom end punch.  I think I'll be fine riding one up, but will probably have to drop back to the stock size when I get home and have a passenger on the back, especially if we have luggage.
     Well, my new best friend should be here any time with my gravel, so I better get to work.  Hopefully, my next post will report the new septic line in and functioning well!

No sh*t, Pt.2

Day 4.  Things are getting tense.  The contractor that was going to come by yesterday was kept late on a job and couldn't make it, so I found a "friend of a friend" who has a construction company who is coming out today.  Hopefully.  Now, the problem.  I mentioned in my last post that I had called Miss Utility and they had come out and marked my lines.  However, (that's an ominous word, sort of like "but", it's usually followed by an "ah-oh" on the part of the listener!) when the guy (Miss Utility is a guy!  Who knew?) marked my lines, he apparently only had one color of paint, so both lines are day-glow orange.  I might mention that I have 4 lines to be located, power, phone, cable and power to the hot tub.  So, I'm assuming that two of the lines are well clear of the digging area.  Not good to assume.  Anyway, the one marked line goes down and actually appears to cross over (or under?) my septic line.  I have no idea what line this is, but am thinking either power or phone.  Big difference!  Also, the line is marked coming down the outside of the septic route, then 10 feet later is marked on the inside (house side).  So somewhere within that 10' the line crosses over the septic.  Apparently.  But where?  I have a call in, again, to Miss Utility.  She wanted to know which line it is so she can call the correct people.  I told her I don't know.  She said "the phone line is orange, the power is red".  I said they are both orange.  She said "oh, it must be the telephone".  I said no, they are both orange and I know one of them is power.  She said "well, I'll call the power company".  So, here I sit, waiting for the power company to show up.  My excavator is due here at around 10 am; it is now 8 am.  So, I ask, why would anyone bury any line, much less a 220 volt power line, over the septic line?  This definitely puts a kink in the works.  It should be a fairly simply job to dig up the old septic line and lay new pipe.  I don't think this will be quite that easy!  If the neighbors hear a "boom" followed by a little mushroom cloud rising from my house, they'll know I found the line, and it was indeed power.  Wish me luck!

No sh*t, man!

Sunday was my wife's day of leisure and relaxation.  I was using her car, so she had good reason to stay home.  And then there was the rain.  A gentle, easy rain, just what we needed.  But a cold rain none the less.  So imagine my dear wife's chagrin when she went downstairs to check the laundry only to find waste water all over the basement floor!  Mind you, I wasn't home at this time of watery, odiferous emergency.  After a multitude of towels and rugs thrown down before the evil smelling tide, the emergency was averted, temporarily.  After much digging and snaking, the cause of this turmoil was a septic line that had over the years become compressed to the point of complete blockage.  Did I mention that I am grateful for my wife's sense of humor?  Anyway, Monday I began digging in the area where I believed the blockage to be, but saw no signs of pipe or leakage.  Thinking maybe the worse case scenario was rearing it's ugly head, I dug up the septic tank and checked it.  Level looked fine, so I didn't think the drainage field was clogged (thank goodness!).  I called the sewerage people and had the tank pumped out.  Boy, talking about nasty jobs!  I found it rather repulsive playing in my own poop.  Imagine spending all day, every day, playing in some strangers poop.  Yuk!  Anyway, everything looked to be fine there, so my original assessment appeared accurate; a stopped up pipe between the house and the septic tank.  So I got my trusty pipe snake and started playing.  No satisfaction.  I then rented a big, power snake, a "Drain Buster!", and went to work with that.  Still no relief for my constipated drain.  Last resort, I called a pro.  I hate doing this.  I just find it wrong on so many levels to hire someone to do a job I should be able to do myself.  My hired pro and his faithful sidekick came out last night, and after $353.00 worth of work told me my pipe was compressed and totally blocked; I would need to have the line from house to tank dug up and replaced.  Two bright spots here.  First, these guys, my hired pros, did a great job.  Although not successful, it wasn't for lack of trying.  I really did not mind paying for their service, unsuccessful as it was.  They were good!  Secondly, when I called "Miss Utility" to have the underground wires marked before excavation of the pipe, they were out to my house before 8 am today.  What fantastic service!  So I sit here now, no useable plumbing (unless I want water in my basement again).  My bathroom facilities consist of a porta-potty and a bucket of water from the hydrant at the barn.  Thank goodness for emersion heaters!  The company I had out last night can't do the job until the middle of next week, which definitely exceeds my wife's fine sense of humor.  I have a call in to another guy who says he'll be out this evening to appraise the situation.  I think if he can't do it in a timely manner, I'll be renting a backhoe and attempting the job myself.  Hey, never too late to learn a new skill.  Who knows when I might be called upon to be a digger-upper.  So, we'll see what happens with all this sh*t.  I'll keep you posted.  Meanwhile, I'd stay upwind of me if I were you!

me and women

I feel bad for my wife.  And I am deeply gratified to have married her.  Let's face it, she has a lot to put up with.  For example, she is a neat freak (in a good way!).  She does not endure clutter well; everything in it's place.  Then there's me, the slob.  Ever hear the phrase "a cluttered desk is the sign of a genius"?  I must be really, really smart!  I am constantly leaving stuff around the house, all my little notes, my tools, my clothes…..  You get the picture.  Not too pleasant for someone who thrives on neatness.  But still she loves me.  Then there are my women.  Oh how I love women!  Not all women, mind you.  Some would have the tendency to drive me to drink.  But those that I connect with, I do so in a big way.  Maybe it's because I grew up with a mother and two sisters.  No, I think there is more to it then that.  I believe maybe it has to do with the feminine energy.  I am very comfortable with my masculine energy.  I must admit that there have not been many men that I have felt very close to.  I'm not sure why this is, but it is, so there be it.  But when I connect with a woman of strong feminine energy, WOW!  I can feel the energy, bask in it's wonder.  I feel so complete when with such a woman.  Now, to clarify, this has very little or nothing to do with sex.  Truth be told, I don't really see myself as a very sexual person.  I know that the sexual relationship between a man and a woman can be extremely potent, but maybe I just have experienced too much baggage from such relationships.  I'm sure there are situations where this level of communication can be a very fine thing.  But that's not what I'm talking about.  I love the sharing of the masculine and feminine energy.  There is no more completeness then this.  When I am with a woman friend who I share this experience with, I am in bliss.  And all women are different.  I am amazed at this revelation.  I am not speaking of physical characteristics, or even mental expression.  No, I think it's on the level of spirit.  It's sort of like each woman has a different position in the circle surrounding me, and the energy shared has subtle differences based on this alteration of perspective.  I don't really know, nor do I much care.  I am normally one to over-analyze everything.  I can make the most simple complex.  Yet, with this, I am completely content to just accept that it is.  Interesting.  Back to the original point, my wife.  She puts up with this.  I'm not sure this is her druthers, but in accepting me, she accepts my need to share my self with women.  I know this is difficult for her.  I accept the fact that I am a different beast.  But I am grateful for her acceptance.  She needs not worry, really.  I love her deeply.  To be honest, it is her love that allows me to express myself so completely to others.  She is my foundation.  Now, that is pretty cool.  Yes, I am grateful, but I still feel sorry for her.

46 days...

     Forty six days.  Seems like a long time.  That's how many days I have before my trip to Alaska.  So, how do things look?  Let's see, as far as my motorcycle goes, I installed the Intiminators in the front forks this week.  These are new valves that help the suspension react to bumps quicker, thus improving handling.  They do make a world of difference; I'd definitely recommend them to anyone who rides a Suzuki V Strom 650.  The bike feels better planted on bumpy surfaces, so will be a big help on the rough gravel I'll be traveling on in Alaska.  I'd really like to upgrade my rear shock absorber as well, but don't have the money for that now.  Maybe later.  I fabricated a mount for my CB antenna so I can monitor the truckers on the highways and on the "Haul Road" in Alaska.  My J&M handlebar mounted CB radio works okay, although my range is somewhat limited.  I think that's more because of my short antenna then the radio itself.  I can also run my IPOD through the CB, so can listen to music in my helmet speakers if I feel like it.  I find I rarely do this, however.  I guess I just like the solitude of the ride.  My old battery seemed okay, but I purchased a new, higher performance battery and have that installed so I'm (hopefully) not left stranded on some remote road in Alaska with a bike that just makes a "eh" sound instead of starting.  I have an appointment made for service at my dealer this week to check the valve adjustment and bring into spec if necessary.  I'll have him install new spark plugs and air filter while he's at it.  I went ahead and did my oil change this week, so that's done.  Oh, yeah, I bought a set of tank panniers from Aerostitch recently.  They work great!  They will give me a little extra cargo room and shield my knees from rocks thrown by passing trucks on the "haul Road".  They'll also allow me to put more weight on the front end of the bike for better handling.  My new Russell "Day Long" saddle is fantastic!  My tail bone doesn't bother me at all now.  This is a much bigger deal than one might expect.  Before, after a half hour, the base of my spine would just start to ache.  Time and miles would just make it worse to the point I'd have difficulty concentrating on the ride.  I had my carpel tunnels relieved last year, so my fingers don't go numb anymore.  Man, I feel like a kid again!  After I get my bike back from servicing  I'll take the body work off and check everything out.  I want to make sure all the wiring I did for my "farkles" is doing okay.  Then I just have to mount my new tires, sprockets and chain.  I went up one tooth on the counter sprocket to give me better gas mileage by lowering highway rpm.  I'll report later on how well this works if I think of it.
     I've been going over my camping equipment and checking that out.  I'll step this up in the next week or two.  I still haven't decided on which tent I'm taking.  I'll have more on this in an upcoming post.  I'll also talk more about my mental/spiritual preparations.   Until then, be well!

but, why a motorcycle...

I am asked that fairly often.  Typically, the conversation might be as follows.  Wow, you're traveling a lot.  Must be nice to go to those places.  But, why a motorcycle?  Aren't you worried?  The age old response is "if I have to explain, you wouldn't understand".  Sounds like a cop-out.  But in actuality this is very true.  When I attempt to explain why I ride motorcycles to someone who does not ride, I know in my heart that it is a losing battle.  I guess some of us are just different.  Maybe more adventuresome?  Maybe it's just a lack of respect for life?  After all, we all know how dangerous these things are.  But is this true?  Let's start by looking at the facts.  Motorcycles are prone to have more fatalities then other vehicles.  On the surface this is true, just look at the statistics.  But let's dig a little deeper.  If one were to look at experienced riders who wear proper safety equipment and drive in a sane manner, I predict the results would be far different.  We've all seen the bozos flying by, weaving in and out of traffic, wearing a tank top, shorts and flip-flops.  These guys generally wear either no helmet at all or one of the novelty helmets that do nothing in a mishap.   Statistic waiting to happen?  Then add in the factor of drugs and alcohol.  When I started riding, we generally learned on a dirt bike in the back field.  A 150 was a big bike and a 650 was "huge".  Now, someone learning to ride can go out to their local bike shop and purchase a bike capable of going quicker then any car on the road.  There are bikes that will do 7 second quarter miles and near 200 mph right off the showroom floor!  Now, the new rider might not be inclined to purchase one of these hotrods (though I have seen it happen!).  But still, to be able to buy a machine that is capable of so much more then the rider often leads to big problems.  It's amazing how fast one can get into trouble!  Anyway, this post was not intended to be about why motorcycles are not as unsafe as made out to be.  Let's just say that in the hands of an experienced rider wearing the proper safety equipment a motorcycle can be as safe as the operator riding it.  I could go on to say that because motorcyclists must compensate for the distracted fools operating automobiles while texting, or reading the paper or latest novel, or putting on eye makeup or whatever else they can find to do to avoid actually driving, they tend to be better, more defensive drivers.    So, back to the original intent of this now lengthy prose.  Why do I personally ride?  It incorporates every aspect of my being.  My senses are heightened and I tend to feel more alive when I'm on a bike.  I'm not in a cage, looking through the windshield at a world with no interaction, no sensory input; like watching life go by on a TV screen.  No, I am interacting at every level of my being.  My senses are constantly stimulated by the sounds and smells around me, my body interacting with the environment of the bike as I lean into turns, accelerate ahead and prepare for the next input required to continue my "flight" into the unknown.  Every ride is an adventure!  When I ride, my total self is involved.  My body, my mind, my emotions and, yes, my spirit.  There is no better way to experience my world then from the saddle of a bike.  I guess I can sum things up with another often heard quote:" Live to ride, ride to live".

It's all in a name

Hippy.  That's how I've identified myself since the 1960's.  Call me naive.  In my experience, a hippy was (is) a person who incorporates all the traits I see as positive in a person.  We believed in peace, love, seeing the best in others, integrity and honesty.  You get the gist.  We believed in the concept of group sharing, of enjoying each others company, of helping each other, of seeing the best in others, and accepting their quirks.  We believed the whole could be greater then the sum of the parts.   Sure, it wasn't Utopia, but that's what made it special.  We had to work to make it happen, to donate energy into the system.  Granted, it wasn't for everyone.  But, when it clicked, it was a thing of beauty.  Then came the media.  "Hippy" became synonymous with dirty, lazy, lice infected druggie.  Truth be told, most hippies I knew didn't do drugs, nor did they drink or smoke.  Our bodies were our temple to be worshipped as sacred.  So how did this change in perception occur?  I believe people are scared of what they don't understand.  They feel threatened because they don't really know themselves, so they have no foundation on which to base a sound self image.  Rather then try to see what the movement was about, they demonized it.  As for the media, they love a good story.  They could see 100 "hippies" and focus on the very small minority that  were outrageous enough to sell the story.  Everyone with long hair became grouped as undesirable.  So, if the name I envision has far different connotations to others, is the name an accurate description of how I present myself to others?  Conversely, is my choice of names placed by me upon others an accurate representation, or am I being lazy?  In my haste to lump together others in a group characterized by a name, am I in reality merely discrediting their individuality?  Worth consideration.  As for me, if "hippy" is no longer a valid name, what is?  After much consideration, I believe there is one.  Friend.

Politics? Oh no!

Politics.  Just the word brings angst.  And it tis the season.  It seems there are two extreme points of view with no common ground.  But is this really the case?  If I look at the common perception of each party, I see the Republicans viewed as archaic dinosaurs that don't want to change anything.  They are pro big business, pro whatever-it-takes energy pursuit, pro wealthy.  The "aristocrats" of society.  They are anti-women, anti-environmnt, anti-gay, anti-progress and are known to kick sleeping dogs.  Meanwhile, the perception of democrats is big spenders, pro big government, socialist monsters who want everything given to them.  They don't give a damn about the national dept.  They are generally dirty and ill kept. Their motto is "live for today, let our kids worry about tomorrow"!  To them, reality doesn't enter the equation; they have their dreamscape.  Kind of extreme, huh?  Well, listening to many people talk, if I were new to this world and didn't know any better, this is the perception I would probably have.  But is this true?  Is there any reality to this scenario?  Yes, I believe there are those extreme elements that do hold onto these views of the "enemy".  But I also believe that the majority of us are more centered.  For example, my beliefs make me more of a Republicrat.  If I must hang a label on me, I am a fiscal conservative and a social progressive.   Having worked for the government, I do not believe big government is the answer to anything except how to best waste money.  I have no desire to share a bed with my fellow man, but am not going to damn another for their preferences.  I do believe that all  should be respected for the character of their being, not their mode of dress, the length of their hair or the music they prefer.  I believe that what makes this country great is the opportunity to be successful, whatever that vision may be.  So the poison atmosphere so prevalent of late scares me.  I see extremes wanting and willing to do whatever it takes to be victorious.  Whatever happened to the concepts of integrity and respect?  I believe that the vast majority are not extreme.  But where is their representation?  It seems like the the only choices represented in the voting booth are extremes.  Or at least that is what we are led to believe.  In an earlier post, I quoted the old comic strip "Pogo" in saying "we have met the enemy, and he is us".  Maybe it's time we took back our country from the political elites and started really talking about solutions.  Maybe the new motto should be "we have met the solution, and he is us"!

all my relations

     I was talking on the telephone to a friend of mine the other day when he said something totally unexpected.  He thanked me for being his friend.  Sounds kind of odd that this would be unexpected.  This started me thinking of the people in my life.  I never really considered how fortunate I am to be able to experience my friends and relatives the way I do.  How wonderful the experience!  I think about those few "good" friends I have, and I am grateful.  But what about the "others"; those people that I share time with, then they are gone.  There are so many I meet in my daily life travels.  For example, today when I was going into the health food store there was a girl walking two small dogs.  A smile and a comment brought about her excited description of her dogs, their names and how they came into her life.  She was so pleasant, so enthusiastic.  It really added so much to my day to experience a small part of her life.  While in the health food store, the salesman commented on my shirt from a blues festival in New York State and started describing his experiences at a similar festival held locally.  I do enjoy people so much.  They each have a unique story to tell, an offer of a missing puzzle piece in my life experience.  So the relationship need not be exceedingly deep or long lasting.  A smile, a glance, that slightest hesitation can convey so much.  How much have I missed when caught up in my own petty issues.  I dread the answer.  But with each interaction I gain a little more awareness, a slightly better grasp of the rewards there for the taking.  I hope I never meet anyone that I see as having nothing to offer.  That would indeed be a sad day for me.
     But what of my "good" friends?  Wow.  They are my reason for living!  I am so fortunate to have my friends, friends like the one who thanked me for being his friend.  I must admit that there are more women then men in this category.  Sad.  I think there is an unspoken-of wall that seems to inhibit men from really sharing with each other.  Could it be competition?  I don't think so.  I really feel no need to compete with anyone anymore.  I find it difficult enough to live up to my own expectations of me, let alone give energy to how I might compare with another.  But those few men that I consider friends, they are remarkable.  Don't ask me why, I really haven't a clue.  The women in my life are a totally different story.  I cherish each and every one so much.  I do love them all in their own unique ways.  And oh how they can read me, direct my inward sight in ways I can never imagine.  I find each and every one a wonderful and unique mirror into my soul.  I really do not know how I would ever get along without them.  Their friendship has taught me a valuable lesson.  When I hug them, I give of me totally.  I want them to know how precious they are to me.  And they are all so different!  I can say I never fail to be so pleasantly surprised at their energy, their purity, their beauty.  I am so blessed to be able to see this, to be able to appreciate the gift of their friendship.  I once was lamenting the realization that it took me so long, so many years to realize this.  Now I know that it has happened at the perfect time.  So, to all my friends, those close and those fleeting, I say thank you!  Without you, there would be no me.  And I am grateful.