Adventures in Zero

Hoka Hey

2010-03-30T09:03:00.000-07:00

Hoka Hey!

though the translation is a bit off, it is commonly translated as "It is a good day to die!" though the translation and use is somewhat suspect and generally seen as wrong.

What is correct is that Sioux warrior Crazy Horse used to scream it to his men as they rode into battle.

It really means, "let's ride" and he would usually say it in conjunction with 'it is a good day to die'. But over the years the meaning of the two phrases has morphed into one, and since languages evolve, what once meant one thing now commonly means another.

So for my purposes here, 'Hoka Hey' will forever mean 'It is a good day to die!'.

And it may be. For some.

Not for me.

Hoka hey is also the name of a grueling motorcycle challenge that runs some 7000+ miles from Key West Florida to Homer Alaska.

It takes nearly two weeks to complete it and there are rules that make it even more difficult.
For instance you do not know the route from leg to leg. You are given the route for the next leg at each check point. It is ran completely on secondary roads. You have to sleep next to your motorcycle. No hotel rooms.

Entry is limited to 1000 participants who each pay $1000 to enter. The winner, defined as the one who rode the course in the least amount of time, wins $500,000.

But it is not the possibility of winning a lot of money that intrigues me.

It is the challenge.

And beyond that, it has caused me to ask myself a question:

When was the last time I was challenged?

I'm not talking about being challenged at work, or some emotional driven challenge, I am talking about a challenge of physical and mental endurance.

Some might say that the ride I did last year with a few friends would qualify. We did nearly 100 miles in two days. Others might say that rising to the challenge of my health concerns and taking action to correct them would qualify.

But not me.

That is just life.

And as we go plodding along through life, where is it that we find that we have, don't have, or no longer have, what it takes?

It all becomes a never ending quagmire of meetings, routines, and long check out lines.

And we get softer.
Not just of body, but of mind.
And worse yet, of spirit.

Yes, we get softer of spirit.

And that should be criminal.

Hoka hey!!!

Dearest Betsy...

2009-03-07T16:04:00.001-08:00

I thought of you today.

I seriously doubt you ever think of me.

I don't know how the conversation got to that point but there you were.

And next thing I know I am rambling on about you, and Tom (I really do not remember his name), and Pizza Hut and everything.

I realized one thing at the end of my rant....I am the exact guy I want my daughter to never know.

We ran it into the ground at a break-neck pace.

What were we? Eighteen? Nineteen?

That cigar box full of shake in my glove box. Rolling joints in the middle of the night on our way up North, to wake at first light in the front seat for the dawn patrol at The Inlet.

Late night drinking by whichever landmark you can think of. The airport. That gator infested lake in the middle of that empty field alongside those buildings.

I remember falling asleep while making out with you in front of my crappy apartment.

You were one of what I would grow realize to be a long string of girls, and eventually women, that wanted nothing more than to be loved, and I was that guy that took everything and left.

You were not the first one I walked on, and sadly, you would not be the last.

And maybe that is now my penance for being That Guy.

I was what is now my worst nightmare for my own daughter.

That V8 in my T-37 would rip the rubber right off the tires if I let it, and I let it do so often.

Rusty, rough, fast, reckless, I was a lot back then.

So were you.

And so was that T-37.

Long may you run, long live the warm nights, the youth that went too fast, the cars that went faster, the waves, the weed, the drinks, and the organic matter.

And may God forgive us all for our idiocy.

Weekend Update # 18

2008-11-26T13:15:00.000-08:00

So a couple of days early, but considering tomorrow's Holiday....

Let me first welcome Samuel to his first Thanksgiving.

dude...you are in for a treat!

Well...the lack of teeth this year may get in your way, however there will be more.

At the very least you can gum at that delicious turkey, succulent stuff there buddy!

Maybe develop a taste for the cranberry....

Some meat from the thigh with the gravy...

Buttery rolls.

Or my favorite...the candied yams.

Regular candied yams.

No ginger. (Fish!)

Maybe some stuffing.

Stuffing...why do we even call it "stuffing"?

We no longer stuff the bird with it.

It's a side dish.

We shouldn't even call it stuffing anymore.

Poor stuffing.

Been relegated to the roll of a side dish. And in comparison, not even as important of a side dish like say.....candied yams.

Hell, I would imagine that the buttery rolls play a bigger ...uh...role in the meal than the now-defunct and quite sad "stuffing".

No longer a main dish, just a pile of moist bread crumbs with hints of sausage and essence of celery.

It's not even that attractive to look at.

Truly, it is now the step-child of Thanksgiving. And not a cute step child either. Just a serving dish of non-descript brown and specs of light greens.

And why?

Why did we go from the glory days of stuffing to this sad existence?

There was a time where family stuffing recipes were coveted. Wars were fought over stuffing recipes I am certain!

And now...nothing but a sad expectation that it must be there.

Like fruitcake.

The answer is...we were told to not stuff the turkey any longer. It was a food safety hazard.

"They" hammered it into our heads.

Hell I think there was even a School House Rock about it.

All in the name of safety.

That is why the once proud stuffing is no longer it's own namesake.

Forget that for 200 years Americans prepared and ate turkeys prepared with stuffing.

Sometimes I am surprised that the human race survived all of these years without knowing how dangerous our world is.

I must be truly one in a million.

Not only am I the winning sperm, but as a kid I used to ride my bike all over with no helmet, played with lawn darts, swam freely in the ocean, climbed trees, and on occasion...ran with scissors.

And the scissors we had when I was a kid were the full on razor sharp kind. Not the dull safety scissors we give our children these days.

Yet I am semi-normal and intact.

Of course the same "they" that have sold us on not stuffing a turkey are the same "they" that made it a law that the label on Peanut Butter must include the words " Contains Peanuts".

So I say fight the system!

Rebel!

Allow the stuffing to recapture it's glory days!

Stuff that bird!

Run with scissors!

Rip the label off of the peanut butter and just know in your heart that it contains peanuts!

Just remember to roast your turkey to an internal temperature of 185 degrees using a calibrated meat thermometer inserted into a meaty part of leg without touching bone.

Gobble gobble.

Weekend update # 31

2008-11-21T13:27:00.000-08:00

One fish, two fish, red fish.....

So here we are....

Friday November 21st 2008.

Welcome to the weekend.

Tonight is our "Pizza and Movie" night.

There are other ingredients, but we don't want to excite the children.

We began this shortly after being married. a friend gave us a pizza stone and some other pizza related stuff and said it was one of the secrets to a happy marriage.

Who are we to argue with such things?

So we began making our own pizzas.

Now, it is no secret that my dream job is Pizza Guy.

For those who have not heard me go on and on about this dream I will offer the abridged version.

Pizza guy is the best job ever.

you must be pizza guy in a pizza joint where you hand toss the dough.

When you are back there in the kitchen throwing dough, girls think you are cute, guys think you are cool, and kids want to be you.

When the pizza is made wrong, is delivered late, it is not pizza guy's fault.

If you are pizza guy in a neighborhood and you go into the store down the street, people almost celebrate you.

"Hey Pizza Guy"...they might say.

Or..."Yo..Pizza Guy".

And if you are in the right pizza place...you can be scruffy and unkempt...and it just adds to your mystique....

Alas...I am not Pizza Guy.

I was once. But not now.

I wonder if it is like that old adage.."If you don't surf now...you never did"?

So if you are not Pizza Guy now...maybe you never were?

Something to ponder.

I don't know where I was going with this...but I really wish I was Pizza Guy today.

But I am not.

I am Fish Guy. Not to be confused with Fish.

Fish Guy is not as well received as Pizza Guy.

Mainly because Fish Guy smells....like fish. Or Fish.

Not pepperoni and semolina flour.

And let's face it...pepperoni smells better than fish. And usually better than Fish.

Well...maybe not.

But probably to most.

You ever been on a plane and someone opens up a pepperoni stick? That spicy, beefy smell takes over the whole plane.

I want to be that guy.

Pizza Guy...eating a pepperoni stick on the way to some place cool.

Weekend Update #12

2008-11-14T11:58:00.000-08:00

The wheels on the bus go around and 'round, around and 'round....

So here we are...

Friday November 14th, 2008.

I have been told many things in my life. None of which actually has helped me.

One thing that I should have been told as a kid is that one ay my Summer vacations would come to an end. Oh and that one day I would have hair growing out of my ears and that that hair would be grey.

Other than that, I pretty much had to figure things out on my own.

I think I did pretty good.

I found this on MSN this morning and decided to see how Manly I really am.

Turns out...I am even more manly than I should be.

And that is good...since I was unable to find a deer this year, I was beginning to question it.

100 Skills Every Man Should Know: 2008's Ultimate DIY List
Brains and charm are fine, but a real guy needs to know how to do real stuff. After months of debate among PMʼs expert editors, hereʼs our lineup of essential skills for the competent man.

Automotive
1. Handle a blowout - Yep. Just change your shorts, or leave them behind.
2. Drive in snow - I prefer to drive in snow. It's like grown-up bumper cars.
3. Check trouble codes - Sure...turn the key on, turn it off, turn it back, count blinking lights. Check.
4. Replace fan belt - I impressed Jen with this skill on our second date. Nothing says manly like a cell phone call "Yeah...sweetness...can you come pick me up just off the freeway downtown...."
5. Wax a car - Mr. Myagi would be proud. You should see me paint the fence.
6. Conquer an off-road obstacle - sure..but for a real challenge I like to conquer all things in the road too.
7. Use a stick welder - I was not aware you could weld sticks together...wouldn't they burn?
8. Hitch up a trailer - Oh yeah. However backing up said trailer down a boat ramp while holding a beer is a true mastery.
9. Jump-start a car - If you had ever seen the cars I used to drive, you would understand the level of expertise I have in this. Like a Ninja.

Emergencies
10. Perform the Heimlich - I know the basics. Have not ha a chance to apply it though. Any volunteers?
11. Reverse hypothermia - I don't get hypothermic.
12. Perform hands-only CPR - Now how do you perform hands-only mouth-to-mouth? Open their moth and wave your hand in their face?
13. Escape a sinking car - I have not had this test yet. Unfortunately there is no practice. It has a pretty steep learning curve.

Home
14. Carve a turkey - I can carve a Turkey. However I cannot carve a pumpkin. Go figure.
15. Use a sewing machine - Yes. But I prefer to call her honey.
16. Put out a fire - Save for that one tree on that one Fourth of July...I'm good.
17. Home-brew beer - Oh yeah! Drinking it...again... like a Ninja!
18. Remove bloodstains from fabric - I had nothing to do with it.
19. Move heavy stuff - Isn't this why we have Mexicans?
20. Grow food - When I was a bachelor. Now I have Jen to keep the fridge clean.
21. Read an electric meter - Why would I have to do that? They have a guy who comes out and does it.
22. Shovel the right way - Yes. I had Jen shoveling yard debris earlier this week. Check.
23. Solder wire - Yep. Though do not try to use your soldering gun to burn your initials into the head board.
24. Tape drywall - Yep. I have watched Rocky do it enough times to get the gist of it.
25. Split firewood - Yeah...but why would I want to? I have seen how much work that is.
26. Replace a faucet washer - What...and make it stop leaking?
27. Mix concrete - I don't like to mix my concrete. Sort of a concrete separatist myself.
28. Paint a straight line - I'm lucky if I can walk a straight line. I like my painting to be more ....interpretive.
29. Use a French knife - not sure...though I would like a bidet.
30. Prune bushes and small trees - The wind seems to take care of that all by itself.
31. Iron a shirt - Yep. Buy "wrinkle free". Done.
32. Fix a toilet tank flapper - I wish I could fix my flapper. Pretty sure Jen wishes I could too.
33. Change a single-pole switch - Yeap....it's easy. Just sit there with your dollar bills and order another beer. After three songs, they switch all by themselves.
34. Fell a tree - If it is already fallen...what is there to do? See #25.
35. Replace a broken windowpane - Plexiglass and Duct Tape.
36. Set up a ladder, safely - There is an "unsafe" way of doing it? Really?
37. Fix a faucet cartridge - I didn't even know they had cartridges.
38. Sweat copper tubing - My pores are not big enough. But I bet Chuck Norris could.
39. Change a diaper - It Depends.
40. Grill with charcoal - There is no substitute.
41. Sew a button on a shirt - Trick question. Real shirts don't have buttons.
42. Fold a flag - Learned that in the Army. I should get bonus points for that.

Medical
43. Treat frostbite - Drink the beer faster.
44. Treat a burn - See # 43
45. Help a seizure victim - Depends on what they are being seized for.
46. Treat a snakebite - Bite it back.
47. Remove a tick - Don't light your genitals on fire with a burning stick from a campfire...that's for sure.

Military Know-How
48. Shine shoes - How do you shine flip flops?
49. Make a drum-tight bed - Again...bonus points for learning that in the Army.
50. Drop and give the perfect pushup - Inverted Ranger Push Ups girly boys....

Outdoors
51. Run rapids in a canoe - Even more impressive is being able to run them outside of the canoe.
52. Hang food in the wild - Duh....with rope....
53. Skipper a boat - Though my navigation skills in the fog may be suspect, I have not sunk one yet!
54. Shoot straight - Jen would say that I don't...
55. Tackle steep drops on a mountain bike - Don't touch the front brake. Really....don't.
56. Escape a rip current - With and across. Like being married. Do not fight against it.

Survival
57. Build a fire in the wilderness - Anything is possible with gas.
58. Build a shelter - Yes. But not erect a tent with more than two poles.
59. Find potable water - In the soda and chip aisle.

Surviving Extremes
60. Floods - Stay in the boat.
61. Tornados - Stop drop and roll. No wait....duck and cover.
62. Cold - Bring her flowers.
63. Heat - Turn the A/C on.
64. Lightning - Eat more fried chicken parts.

Teach Your Kids
65. Cast a line - When she was younger she could cast 10 yards...behind her.
66. Lend a hand - And charge interest.
67. Change a tire - Realize it us that changes.
68. Throw a spiral - She hit me with one of her notebooks last week.
69. Fly a stunt kite - I am using her for human kite experiments.
70. Drive a stick shift - ESSENTIAL knowledge!
71. Parallel park - We will be lucky if she can Singallel park.
72. Tie a bowline - A what?
73. Tie a necktie - Trick question. They come tied.
74. Whittle - As soon as we get her past butter knives and forks with corks on them.
75. Ride a bike - Done.

Technology
76. Install a graphics card - Call the Geek Squad.
77. Take the perfect portrait - Turns out they don't allow cameras in those kinds of bars.
78. Calibrate HDTV settings - Call the cable guy.
79. Shoot a home movie - Jen won't let me.
80. Ditch your hard drive - They make nice Coasters.

Master These Key Workshop Tools (Let me just say that everything is better when you use tools)
81. Drill driver - Yep.
82. Grease gun - I use this to apply butter to my pancakes.
83. Coolant hydrometer - Works great in testing the specific gravity of beer.
84. Socket wrench - Two handed even.
85. Test light - I like to hook up my timing light to my truck, turn the truck on. Turn the garage lights off. And then crank Blue Oyster Cult "Don't Fear the Reaper".
86. Brick trowel - Oh yeah. I use these to apply jelly to my sandwiches.
87. Framing hammer - Why would I want to frame it?
88. Wood chisel - These are great for cleaning stains from the linoleum.
89. Spade bit - I prefer Club bits.
90. Circular saw - What...like there is a triangular saw?
91. Sledge hammer - Peter Gabriel never answers his phone.
92. Hacksaw - I like a Gene Hackmansaw. Every third rotation it squeaks.
93. Torque wrench - More torque is not always good.
94. Air wrench - My air guitar is even better!
95. Infrared thermometer - A what?
96. Sand blaster - Tip: Do not use to correct hang nails.
97. Crosscut saw - Self explanatory.
98. Hand plane - Yes. But the neighbors look at me weird when I spin in circles making engine noises.
99. Multimeter - If it can be metered...I meter it.
100. Feeler gauges - The signs always say "Do not touch the dancers!".

I think my manliness is in order.

What about yours?

There's salt in that oil...I swear....

2008-06-04T20:33:00.001-07:00

The reality of economic times has begun to sink in at work.

Losing money.

Hemmoraging actually.

Like someone cut the jugular with a fillet knife.

With friends of mine going down and my own future uncertain, stress has begun to take it's toll.

Now...don't get all worried....I do not believe I am going anywhere....but there are no guarantees...and I am very aware of that.

In the history of my life there has always been one place I could go to get a grip, to see things from a healthy perspective, to be reminded of what I really care about, of what is important to me.

Now at the risk of upsetting my lovikins.....I must admit....it has never been a place of accompaniment, but of one of solitude.

The ocean has fed my hunger, quenched my thirst, and given to my soul more than any place I have ever known.

Sitting upon the warm waters, the cold waters, sun on my bare back, rain on my neoprene'd shoulders, salt on my lips, mist in my ...well...I have no hair....

The incredible peacefulness provided by some simple physics and timing. The glide across the water. The brutal punishment of being our of sync. The burning of tired shoulders and sun burned retinas.

The incredible release of laying a weary, salt/sun drenched body down to only dream about another day...one more wave....

One more.

I can remember mom standing on the beach growing impatient wanting to leave the beach and get on with more important things. My friends beckoning me. Girlfriends, and later, women, glaring at me as I looked away and with one finger in the air proclaimed..."one more!". As if they could hear me, audibly, or in any other way.

I always spoke a different language. The syntax was the same, the words correctly pronounced, but for some reason, nobody ever understood.

Times are different these days.

I live 90 minutes form the beach. Burning a bad day off in the water with the setting sun is a lot more involved than it once was.

So much has to go into this act of self indulged penance that it is often more than I can muster on a weekend let alone in the throws of a stress filled afternoon.

However, there is still one place I can go.

It ain't quiet.

But somehow it manages to provide a piece of that wonderment, of solitude, of self indulgence.

Simply put, there is not much that wrapping your self around 88 cubic inches of flat black and chrome will not put to rest.

Especially when you run up into the triple digits.

So here is to this life.

Here is to those moments that give to each of us in our time.

Here is to the remembering, the clarity, the sight, of what should truly matter to each of us...or not....after all...it is your life...not mine.

Going back. Again.

2008-06-02T20:17:00.000-07:00

This love/hate.
This on again/off again.
The longest standing love affair of my life.

When will I get it right?

Every damn love song could be applied here.

Well, maybe not Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go.

Then again....

I seriously doubt I am the only one who has struggled with this over and over and over again.

It drives me nuts.

I wish I could walk away.

I wish I could dive in head first.

Anywhere but in the middle.

This limbo...my purgatory.

A handful of outings in the last year.

Then one outing in crappy conditions, and I am all in.

Again.

There should be a 12 step program.

Here we go.

For the last time.

Again.

Magnetic orbs and change.

2008-05-28T12:09:00.000-07:00

We had to get away for a weekend.

It has been a while since my brother could no longer be contained in this world.

A year of change from the get go.

Every week, sometimes daily, we are reminded of the change that surrounds us.

Selling a house.
Buying a house.
Planning a wedding.
Friends coming and going.
Friends being challenged by change.
My daughter...our girl....being challenged by change.
Loved ones checking out.

We had to get away for a weekend.

The funny thing is, the getting away, will likely result in more change....at some point.

J and I in the sun.

Hmm...the sun does not change, but it brings change.

Powerful orb.

Some winters kill

2008-03-24T17:44:00.000-07:00

When the sun is bright, and the nights are long, we can all breathe easy.

Music rings about our every move, every smile, every dream.

But when the sun sinks to the South, and the nights become longer, we pull in close to one another.

The weight of the world comes down, washing our sins away, or blanketing us in slowness.

Where there was once warmth, there is now frost, snow, and ice.

During these long nights we long for the levity of Summer, the birth of Spring.

Fall has always been my favorite time. The change into the long sleep of winter.

But this coming Fall I will feel it differently, now that I understand that some winters kill.

Comfortably numb.

2008-03-23T20:29:00.000-07:00

I promised you I would sing for you, and I did.

Sorry it started off so rocky, however I think I finished it up real well.

I felt you there as my voice filled in.

I am sorry I could not sing earlier, however when it mattered, the opening lines of Amazing Grace crushed me under your weight.

Crushed me in your love and the greatness of who you are.

Your brother.

See you later Pilgrim.

2008-03-17T11:20:00.001-07:00

I am just a pilgrim on this road, boys
I am just a pilgrim on this road,
I am just a pilgrim on this road,
But this ain't never been my home.

Sometimes the road was rocky ‘long the way, boys
Sometimes the road was rocky ‘long the way,
Sometimes the road was rocky ‘long the way,
But I was never travelin' it alone .

We'll meet again on some bright highway
Songs to sing and tales to tell
But I am just a pilgrim on this road, boys
Until I see you fare thee well

Ain't no need to cry for me, boys
There ain't no need to cry for me,
There ain't no need to cry for me,
Somewhere down the road you'll understand.

‘Cause I expect to touch his hand, boys
For I expect to touch his hand,
‘Cause I expect to touch his hand,
Put a word in for you if I can.

We'll meet again on some bright highway
Songs to sing and tales to tell
But I am just a pilgrim on this road, boys
Until I see you fare thee well

(words by Steve Earle - "Pilgrim")

Click To Play

Kindred

2008-02-25T19:31:00.000-08:00

We had an unexpected break in weather.

Sunny and pretty warm.

Got out on the bikes for a bit.

Passed an SUV on my left.

A whiskery mongrel with his whiskers in the wind.

He looked at me.

I looked at him.

I swear we both smiled.

Dogs would ride v-twins if they only had thumbs.

Testing

2008-02-23T08:53:00.000-08:00

Test one, test one.

Is there a future for me? In a place where I can drift?

Weightless.

Test two. Roger that. All systems go.

Hold that. Hold that. Test three. Inconclusive. We may have a problem here.

Mission aborted. Launch error detected.

Heather

2008-02-20T14:51:00.000-08:00

I remembered her last night.

I do not think about her very often, which is odd since there is a living breathing reminder of her before me almost every day.

She was younger. In a time where she was still pretty.

And she was. Very pretty.

At times I miss her.

Sadly, I am not the only one who does.

Long December

2008-01-07T19:03:00.000-08:00

It's been a long December, but like all of them, it moved faster than I could even imagine.

With most of the surf reports being lies, most of the surfers in Oregon getting skunked more than scoring, and others simply leaving the state in desperation, I think it almost seemed longer.

Santa came, left, and was seen laid out in a neighbor's yard New Year's Day.

I always cry on Christmas.

This year we came together as a family before the world.

There was meals and dinners, friends, family, and melding of all in one great savory soup.

All good things seem to be frosted with bad news, and bad news is usually not as bad as it seems.

It's hard to fathom the day our heroes need us. Maybe they always have needed us.

And then it's over.

Another year is behind us, and we all feel a little bit older.

I think we all die young anyway. We do. There is this point where one ceases to be this, and becomes that. And we are dead. Our youth is dead. No matter how childish we remain.

We all sit with same sense of hope for the next year. However insanity could truly be repeating the same actions and expecting a different result.

I look forward to the coming events of the next year. There is a lot going on in there, and that is just what I know about.

However, if there is anything I know for certain at the end of a long December is that our heroes always need us,

and I always cry at Christmas.

Guilt

2007-12-30T08:12:00.000-08:00

I feel guilty.

Like somehow I have betrayed a friend or a lover.

I am reminded of a Bread song. Now...c'mon...we all know you groove to Bread when no one is looking.

The lyrics are something like " Is there someone you know, you're loving them so, but taking them all for granted. They may leave you one day, someone takes them away, and you they don;t hear the words you long to say."

That friend that has been there for me for so many years. Through all of my triumphs and my defeats. My smiles, and my tears. Always there, no matter how much I ignored them, or bitched when their form of help or refuge did not meet my ever-increasing high standards.

So here I am, months without visiting my friend. My lover. My refuge.

And damn do I feel guilty about it.

But what am I supposed to do?

In light of the coldness, the wild mood swings, the increasingly rough nature of it all?

Defeated and guilty. That is how I feel about it.

Guilty, because I find refuge, smiles, and support in others now.

My weekend could have existed of going to see her, however I could see her tempestuousness from miles away and was driven in the exact opposite direction.

And as anyone of any experience knows, not only does the grass appear to be greener, it quite often is.

I was awarded with an adventure and a wonderful time. Crossing the snow covered mountains in the truck. surprised by the way her tires gripped the packed snow, crunchy ice, and soft ruts, despite not having any chains or studs on her.

A wonderful dry cold.

Mellow snow flurries in the evening as we strolled about with a hand-warming mocha.

The charismatic feel of another one of these brother's places. A room so fit and cozy, like a ski lodge.

Wonderful food, divine beverages in a cozy Fireside pub, and even better company.

The grass is indeed greener, though mostly covered in a light white frosting of snow.

And my guilt....my feeling of defeat....well...it seems to get lost in the translation somewhere.

Getting it there.

2007-12-05T13:09:00.000-08:00

What are the odds? You are two motorcycles amidst a gathering of over 2000. Someone you know is taking photos of the spectacle and is not aware that you are in the group....somewhere. And in his series of photos, in the distance, you see you and your partner cornering slightly. Certainly throttling up of course. You blow the photo up, and in the blurr can easily discern the markings that identify the two of you from the rest.

One of the most noticeable things is that you are both wearing jeans. Normally this would not stand out, however on a morning where there is a threat of snow, and in fact the pavement is wet from some flakes, a lack of proper leg protection kind of stands out.

We left early in the morning from the warmth of J's NE Portland home. If the shock of the bikes firing up at 7:20 AM, booming exhaust sounds from an echoing garage did not disturb the neighbors, the the sight of us riding off in the 31 degree air may not have even been noticed.

We did not even get the kindness of a reprieve in the form of a red light. Non-stop from the house to the restaurant several miles away where we would meet some other friends.

After a warm and filling breakfast we once again gathered into our coats and gloves, our face-masks or fleece gators, and rode (now as a group) to the gathering of other motorcyclists.

At the gathering place, a bus yard, there were already several hundred other bikes there with toys strapped to them, a bus full of toys, and the inevitable Santa or two. I am certain they had to discuss why there would be two of them.

Over the next 2 hours of standing around in the cold, several hundred more bikes showed up. HOG chapters, STAR chapters, and of course, Outsiders, Gypsy Jokers, and Brother Speed.

When it came time to ride to the hospital everyone fired up their bikes and waited for the procession.

At one point everyone revved their motors. The sound was overwhelming. J's bobber that is recognizably loud was not discernible from the wall of noise even though I was only 12" from it.

Soon, one by one, two, by hundreds, we moved onto the street and made our way down Powell, through downtown, and up the hill to the hospital.

The cold got to me on that ride. Distracting as it was to watch the bystanders gawk, or wave, or just look puzzled at what they were seeing, as distracting as all of that noise was reverberating off the downtown buildings and corridors, the fact was...it was mighty cold.

I cannot tell you how impressed I was/am with J's riding. with the idea that this "princess" would put herself through this cold torture, just to get a ride in..and more importantly, to show her support for the cause.

I hear a lot of stuff about saving this or saving that....maybe...just maybe...we helped a child that is scared, alone, hurting, just maybe we made one ill child....better....if only for a moment.

We were part of a delivery of thousands of toys from the stuffed animals to the electronic games, along with over $40,000 in cash donated to the hospital for equipment and other needs.

I know it is not much, however....if all of our efforts eased the suffering of just one child...then it was worth the numb fingers, frozen toes, and frost bit cheeks to be part of getting it there.

How Not to Drive

2007-12-03T12:50:00.001-08:00

It is not often that I find myself in the position of bad driving on my part, however when I do, I do it very well.

We started our new family tradition of “hunting” our Christmas Tree this year.

We obtained our $5 permit from the ranger station and we headed to an area I am familiar with from chasing the wily Black Tail Deer.

Snow was the norm here this day and we saw lots of folks out playing, sledding, ATV-ing, and of course others out hunting their own tree.

We had visions of finding the perfect tree in some 5 or 6-year-old growth areas. A Noble Fir was our target, however if we were to find the nefarious Blue Spruce, we would certainly do whatever it took to obtain it.

Now when I say “a lot of folks” it is quite subjective. “A lot” in this case is really a few here and there.

One group we found was three assorted four-wheel drive trucks coming in the opposite direction of the single lane-logging road we were traveling.

Being the nice guy I am, I pulled over to let them by.

Ditch. They place those things in the weirdest places.

Of course the snow was covering the precipice of the ditch as well as it’s depth.

With effete “shwump” we slipped to our right and planted the truck into the deep ditch and the bank on the other side of it.

Certain I could get us out, I began a series of maneuvers usually not seen in public.

Once I exhausted these tricks, I placed the truck into 4-Low and dug it in real well.

It was nice of the trucks passing me to stop, strap up, and yank us out of the ditch.

Of course all of this took place about ten minutes after I assured Jen she had nothing to worry about.

And after showing her the worst case first hand, she finally accepted that idea.

We finally found our tree.

A bit Charlie Brown-ish, maybe 5 feet taller than we thought it was. However it is perfect.

Not unlike the home it is being placed in, or the love that shall surround it in this new family.

Family. They place those things in the weirdest places.

From this family, in the ditch, to yours in yours, much blessings and love this season and every day.

The Fat Haole goes to Mecca

2007-10-24T20:58:00.000-07:00

There is this place that resides in our hearts. No surfer is immune. And some point, we have to decide if we will seek it out, or forever let it live in infamy and fantasy.

I chose to go see it.

We flew in on a Saturday with 300 of our closest friends.

My fiancé’, my bro and his wife, and me, the only surfer in the group.

The plans of each of us, our own agendas, varied. There was a lot of shopping to be done. There was a lot of beach time in the sun to be had, and of course drinks in the evening on some tropical deck. There were tours to be booked and busses to be boarded. But for me…there was only one thing to be done.

Surf.

More than that.

Pay homage to the birthplace.

If a catholic goes to the Vatican, does he not pray?

So it is for me. I must pray. And pray I did.

The names lay out before me in books and maps. They are spoken of in familiar tones with those that I brush against.

The maps are purely a formality, as I already know where each of these spots rest, or not rest, depending. I have known them intimately for many years.

However, now, it is time to pray.

I should ask your forgiveness for the noticeable lack of photos. There are the usual playful pics, and I shall post some. However, for the most part, the photos one would want to have from such a journey….well…..in the moment…all is internal, if not eternal.

On the afternoon of day 1 I found myself standing in the parking lot of the Naval commissary. A connection hooked up us with cheap eats for the condo. A rain came upon me. Big fat raindrops that warmed my entire being. I fought the urge to get naked and stand amidst the deluge as some kind of soul cleansing act.

Forgive me, for I have sinned and all.

Later J and I made our way to the other side of Ewa. I paddled into warm water for the first time in 15 years. A small crowd worked the shifty peaks. I guess this spot really turns on under a bigger swell, with an outside section that wraps to the inside a few hundred yards down the line.

Today it is waist to chest, and fun as hell.

We return to this spot in the morning and it is again waist to chest. Itching to get to Hali’ewa I cut my session at 3 hours and suggest a drive up to Makaha and maybe a plate lunch.

J and I loaded up the rental and drove up the west side.

Incredible dry terrain bordered by a pristine beach leading to some of the most amazing electric blues and reef heads I have ever seen.

It was also littered with homeless camps, twitchy residents, and barking dogs.

From Ewa to Kaena Point it was vibed out, and I never got out of the car. Hell, I did not want to stop it in most places.

Seriously. At one point J exclaims something and I turn to see one guy literally kicking the hell out of another guy on the ground.

We see a woman nearly get plowed by a speeding vehicle in a crosswalk.

We turn to each other and start snapping on each other.

Obviously there was some weird Brady-tiki shit going on here.

We come back from Kaena (lacking the clearance in the rental to drive up and around it) and grab the Kam Highway north.

A touristy stop at the Healing Stones was made to at least attempt to rid us of the weird juju from the west side.

It would not be until a few nights later that we would hear from a street vendor in town why the west is so messed up.

For all intense and practical purposes, the North was flat the entire time I was there. Missed pipe breaking (small) by a few hours, scratched a few at Chun’s before I felt the idea that I might be pressing my luck, but that was the extent of my water time on the North Shore.

What I will say is that Waimea is way smaller than I ever imagined.

We drove through the interior, along pineapple fields ( are they fields?) and let the sweet humid air whisk away all the westy bitterness.

In Hale’iwa I am overwhelmed by the simplicity of it all. I stand in front of places, businesses, and surf spots that I have known for 26 years.

Surreal is what it was. Still is. Sunset, Waimea, Pipe, all of it…passes us by and people go about their usual business.

We go back to town.

Town was breaking every day. I surfed the rest of my days here amongst several known breaks. Breaks I have known the names, and contours of, for over half of my life.

A friend told me that the paddle out at most of these places was 5-10 minutes. In some cases, it was much longer.

I will say that I did not encounter one heavy vibe anywhere I surfed over here.

It was there. I am certain others were affected by it, but I slinked in and out of breaks with out flash, without brash or bold ideas. Respect was a given, and was given.

The breaks around the Ala Moana area seemed to be the place that I would get vibed as the breaks closer to the omnipresent Duke statue were usually full of tourists.

Again that surreal feeling overcame me as I paddled out…way out…to these breaks.

Over the next several days I surfed mornings from Bowls, Rockpile, and Kaisers. The afternoons were spent in other means. Evening glass offs were spent at Canoes, Populars, queens, and Publics. Some evenings were spent at Canoes long after the sun had gone down.

I will not bore you with the tourist stuff we did, and the humor we got out of it. However two of the highlights were the visit to the USS Arizona Memorial and an evening of barefoot sailing on a catamaran right off the beach. Complete with a devouring sunset, tropical drinks, and lots of drunken idiocy after reaching land.

With so many details, it is hard to discern, hard to keep it straight.

Every morning someone would come by the statue of the Duke and place fresh leis upon him.

On another visit to Hale’iwa I found myself in a sporty surf shop. Riding giants was playing on a screen over my head. My favorite segment (Mavericks) was on. I stopped and watched. An old Japanese-Hawaiian lady engaged me in conversation. She asked if I knew who Greg Noll was. She produces a large photo album from under her counter and begins to take me on a journey that predated those prison print shorts of his.

Turns out, she hand made all of his shorts in his early days here. And continued to make shorts for him until her hands gave out in more recent years.

That’s the way it is there.

It is a living, breathing, museum of surf culture and lore.

Not a day went by that I was not overcome with it all. I still lay in bed at night and think of it.

On that Wednesday a swell came up. Short lived but a nice bump to the waist to chest.

I thought about where I wanted to surf that swell. I chose my spot and watched it.

Paddling out the channel I could watch the break to the left of me, and the one to the right, and the one to the right of that about 300 yards farther out.

The scene at this spot was different.

Having surfed in Oregon, where when I paddle out, 90% of those in the water are clueless or total kooks, I was now paddling into a break where 90% was as good as me, and the other 10% way better. And they had it wired.

I watched and waited, and kooked it out scratching for the horizon or the channel, or both, on the heavier sets.

I knew paddling out, no…I knew months ago, it would come to a place like this.

After all of these years, do I have what I feel it takes to not only surf amongst this level of talent, but to actually scratch into one of the bombing sets?

I have passed on a lot of swells over the last few years. Getting old. Lazy. Fat. Scared.

I sat there for a while and watched, scratched, and kooked.

Finally, it was time to get in the game.

It was not my Noll Moment, or anything even close, however it was poignant. I was very conscious of it all.

I worked the crowd for a while and got the rhythm of who is who and where is what down a bit better.

When my first set came, I turned and dropped into the rampy peak that was at least a few feet over head. Made the turn at the bottom, and worked it all the way into the channel.

Big fans? Deep tubes? No. but I went, and I paddled back out for more.

I got two more waves that session.

Two hours. Three waves. All of them set waves. All of them larger than I have surfed in two years. Did not bail on any of them.

I went in and J asked me how it was. What it was. It would not be until late that night, in bed, that I would offer her exactly what it all was.

After 26 years, I think it is okay to say it….

I am a surfer. I always will be.

I came to the motherland. I prayed. I knelt before all of it. I was anointed.

And no, there is no Aloha or turtle sticker on my car.

Twitches

2007-10-03T13:38:00.000-07:00

Surprisingly there was not a lot of nerve twitches.A lot going on for certain. There are so many things to be concerned with in a moment like this.

Sit at the bar? Yeah, no. Crap, look at that tall table. Watch how we get seated at that. Nothing like looking up 4 ft to your beloved from bended knee. Why is this place so loud tonight? Do you hear that? How much did she drink when she was out with the girls earlier? Wow, it’s hot in here. What’s that love? Yeah…sure…sounds good.

But at least I was not nervous.

I settled right in, after being seated at the one tall table in this quaint eatery.

Over a drink and some Queso Fondido we discussed what treats we would obtain from the menu.

What’s that special again?

I turned the conversation towards the direction I needed it to go. This may be all about her, but it is going to be done in my way. Right?

I asked of her what the one lesson is that she has derived from her 40-ish years of existence. At this point, there has to be one that stands out before all others.

I am sure her answer was meaningful and insightful, however did you notice how loud this place is? Why are we at this tall table? What is that droning sub-bass beat I keep feeling in my ears?

Thank God I am not nervous, that would have sucked!

So she finishes her answer and asks me to reveal mine.

I do.

I explain the tale about the wonderful canopy ride and what it means to understand a bird’s song, but how to have that, you must first let go of the plane.

Tears welled up in her beautiful eyes and she gasped how much she needed to hear that.

I asked her if she was ready to let go of the plane. If she wanted to let go.

She said she did, however, I do not think she knew just which plane she was going to be deciding to let go of.

I mentioned to her how I know how much she likes to have a plan, to have something to look forward to.

I stood, which was easy from this 8ft high table in this incredibly loud, but suddenly silent restaurant.

I retrieved the circa 1940 vintage ring from my pocket. And there is was, sitting snuggly in it’s green velvet case as I bent one knee and caught her incredulous look above me.

I uttered, through my own watery eyes, how I would like to offer her a lifetime of looking forward. A lifetime full of looking forward to another plan, without ever having to know the sadness of it ending, for it will never end.

And just to seal the deal, Jen….will you do me the incredible honor of becoming my wife and joining me in the incredible journey?

She said yes, I think. This place is loud, somewhere. I rose and we held each other.

Being of a somewhat business mind, I needed to verify. Yep…it was a yes.

The ruby champagne from the proprietor of the restaurant was a nice touch.

We awoke early the next day and went deer hunting.

Thank God I was not nervous.

2007-09-19T21:17:00.000-07:00

Someone recently asked us to review our Summers. This is my review of my 40th summer here.

Though not as eloquent as my compadres, I too had a Summer.... Did i surf? Or more pointedly, did I go surfing, since though one may surf, the act of going surfing can easily eclipse the result.

Yes, I did go surfing. A couple of those times were in the ocean as well.

When we think of surfing in the traditional sense, well, I have not had this much consecutive dry time since that stint I did in the Turkish prison. However when looked at from the "one world" perspective, a broader sense of what "going surfing" can mean, explorations relationship development, both internal, and external, I surfed my @ss off.

There was the the cool mornings and crisp evenings spent hiking about in the arid canyons and ponderosa treelines. Delving deeply into solitude or not.

There were evenings of late sunsets, running around in my truck with pizzas almost as tempting as the stale aroma it would leave waiting for me the next morning on my way to my real job.

There was a few thousand miles of rubber slowly removed in a brash display "up yours". Beer would flow (nearby anyway since we all know I hardly drink), grass would be blown, and oil burned.

My daughter was living a near jet-set life, always on the move. Hardly spending a day or two between destinations of great promise.

Plans were made and some came to pass. Including the morning we awoke with damp tents and as predicted, 3 out of 4 swore off camping forever.

The two times I made it to the ocean, she did not disappoint me, nor i her. We would dance, and though there was not much swooning, we both flirted knowing it really meant more than what it appeared.

The future was a huge idea. the present was spent on re-hashing what my future would look like. The shape it would take. The rekindling of old dreams once sold out and when found affable, dismissed along with the bitterness that I carried.

There was music, glorious music. sitting in awe of the raw talent of others, enjoy my forays into their world, and hardly ever being laughed into submission.

I said "so long" to some friends, one of which truly mattered. And I pray that I will have a long life of returning there.

Laughter, there was a lot of laughter.

And now Fall is upon us, or soon will be. I cannot help it. In my adult life, the giddiness of the approaching summer, the last day of school, has been replaced with the joy of falling leaves, early sunsets, and damp woods.

It seems fitting to embrace this natural change, since my Summer was spent in the idea of newness and wonder, so should the rest of my life.

Bring it.

Awash

2007-09-17T16:20:00.000-07:00

I want to be awash in the crystal blue and warm waters of my memories.

I want to breathe with clean lungs.

I want to run, just run....

At times I wonder if these things are just things I will not know again.

Like some junkie trying to regain the high of his yesterdays.

I want to have the warm water cascade over my tanned back.

Stand beneath the cool shower and feel the water remove the taste of salt from my lips.

I want to run.Just run.

Sandy feet

2007-09-14T16:54:00.000-07:00

For the first time in 14 years, I bought a pair of baggies.

For those of you that are maladjusted, baggies are boardshorts...or...the baggy shorts one would wear while surfing.

They are soft, black, and well....baggy.

On my way home from Gorge Performance I found myself drifting.

Where I live, where I surf, the baggies I bought are about completely useless. However they immediately reminded me of warm waters.

For a moment or two, I forgot where I was.

I dismissed the gray clouds and cooler temperatures, I even got excited about surfing tomorrow, until I remembered the 4 mil wetsuit hanging in my shower.

No, there will be no need for these until I depart.

I have not surfed warm water in 14 years.

That crystal blue warmth.

The sun on my bare back.

I know that my white ass is going to get fried where I am going, and I look forward to it.

I wonder what it will be like to come home after that week.

I wonder what it will be like to have my toes in that warm sand again.

The child in me screams for it.

The man inside me screams for it.

I wonder if I am leaving home, or leaving to go home.

I am not a biker

2007-09-09T12:03:00.001-07:00

I am not a biker.I ride a motorcycle, yet I am not a biker.I am not core.I have never been in a bar brawl, but have taken my beatings just the same.I ride a Harley, and I ride it like I stole it. And when I get home, I polish every inch of it.I do not have an old lady. I have a girlfriend.She does not ride on the back of my FXDBI, she rides her own BMC bobber 88.I do not wear denim shirts with the sleeves torn off, However I do live my life in my 501's.I feel at home in my steel toe boots, but love running around in my flip flops.I have ink, but there are no skulls or other insignia you would recognize.I have friends that ride, but I wear no patches.I would not mind going to Sturgis, if it was not for the long ass ride to get there.I have no problems with trailering our bikes.I do not ride my bike to work. There is no place to put my Starbucks cup.I like going to biker bars, as long as they serve good beer. The kind of beer you could never buy in a can.My girlfriend could suck start my Dyna, but is way too much of a lady to ever let you know that in public.See, I am so very many things that I do not have the time to prove to you, or anyone else, how I am more core than others. Quite honestly, I am not nearly as core as you would think if you met me.Surfing, hunting, writing, playing music...these are things that take up my time.I could not honestly tell you the difference between a pan head and a shovelhead. However I do know a basket case when I see one.No, I am not a biker. but then again, I don;t have to be one either.

The Creek in January

2007-09-06T16:27:00.000-07:00

The creek had puked enough in recent history to set up the sand bar. depositing that fine granular wonder in such a precise way that when the swell wrapped into it, it was right of near Malibu quality and about head high.

We staved off the cold morning with a double helping of pancakes and eggs, sloshed some horribly strong coffee into our near frosted mugs and drove to the confluence of the big blue and this magical set up.

There were 4 guys in the water when we got there and three came in while we were suiting up. A couple Surfrider guys we had been running into lately and a retired surf shop owner.
We chatted as we readied and they unreadied.

Another guy pulled up and made haste to get in the water. I would later find out he was a crab fisherman and this would be his first session since the opening of the season in early December.
By the time we made it into the line up this made four guys in the water.

The paddle out was easy. One lunge off the rocks and a head dip followed by a few hundred yards of dry hair/hood paddling.

There was frost on the sand still, in spite of the sun being in full bloom by this later hour of the morning.

The waves would wrap in and there was a narrow take off area centered around a crab buoy that was certainly attached to a pot that had gone astray.

If you were a yard too deep, you would not make it around the lip, but even in the right spot it had the feel of instant closeout. One of those leaps of faith situations on each wave.

Once down the face and turning from the bottom you could see the right line up for hundreds of yards.

This lasted for many waves, but relatively short.

Tide fluctuations here are exaggerated and all the breaks change more rapidly than most places I have known.

What was a wonderful long and nearly flawless right, was soon a cacophony of mostly closed out sections and beat downs across the rocks inside.

But for that short hour and a half, it was pure bliss.

Nothing but smiles.

Trap

2007-09-05T22:13:00.001-07:00

allurement, ambuscade, ambush, artifice, bait, booby trap, come-on, conspiracy, deadfall, deception, decoy, device, dragnet, enticement, feint, gambit, gin, hook, intrigue, inveiglement, lasso, lure, machination, maneuver, net, noose, pit, pitfall, plot, ploy, prank, quagmire, quicksand, ruse, seducement, snag, snare, stratagem, subterfuge, temptation, wile

God damn it!

As if it could be any more damned that it already is.

Since I was 14 when I first laid my eyes upon it, I have never lived any further from the Ocean than I do now.

Twenty six years.

My relationships, my jobs, my disposition, my goals and aspirations, my dreams, all of them...every damn thing in my life, affected by this one thing.

We kid ourselves about being free.

We are not free.

I am not free.

I could be living in a wooded wonderland, carving out a simple and rich existence, playing bass in my brother's blue grass/folkabilly scene, hunting moose, deer, and elk.

But I cannot.

I could be riding fee across the open land upon a growling machine, sleeping under stars, and delving into my ideas of social studies, documenting it all for whomever would give a crap to know it.

But I cannot.

I passed on a job that would have almost doubled my income.

Why? Because it was in Utah.

I hardly even surf. when I do, I do, however the frequency is not as fiery as it once was, but we all know it will come back.

Yet there are boards on my wall, in my bedroom, leaning against the wall off the kitchen. There is a wet suit hanging over my bedroom door. There is sand in my truck carpets.

When I close my eyes I can see many things and I enjoy the beauty, the love, the absurdity in each of the images that I replay to myself. But when I lie in the darkness and night is clutching at me, it is those waves that haunt me and make my heart skip.

Freedom? Please, we have no idea what that is.

Marriage holds no candle to the bounds we already know.

If you are one of us, you know what I am saying, if you doubt it, you will never be one of us.

Good for you. Save yourself, your future, your children, your relationships, your mind....your soul.

Run.

Be free.

I cannot.

The Trap has got me.

And there is no methadone.

Baited Sweetness

2007-08-29T11:34:00.000-07:00

A razor’s edge through sand
tailing into a fold behind me.

Perfect trim is not a state
known by the physical

But made of the physical
and transient memories.

The sweet breath scattered
muses over her supple back

Demure shoulders where
life, it seemed, would slow.

But one cannot wait
forever.

Returning to her power,
her gift, Her.

Bowing to my lover
to let her anoint my head with her sweetness.

And the sun warmed my body.
but not again this day

All aplogies (posted elsewhere a long time ago)

2007-08-29T11:31:00.000-07:00

If I have ever made you feel like you were not good enough,
If my arrogance has ever hurt you, or pushed you away,
If my condescending tone has left you with a poor taste of yourself,
My own weakness shines.

If I made you feel unworthy,
know it is me that does not fit.

If I cheated you, or slept around,
know it is my own unworthiness that I spoke to.

To have never fit in, unless amongst those that no longer fit.

If I beat you, it was not my strength that bloodied you.
If I yelled, it was not you I was yelling at.
If I ran you away,know that it is me that I am scared of.

If I hid inside of you, held you too close, wanted for the security of you,
Know it is my own unworthiness that hungered for you.

There is no hiding it any longer.
There is nowhere to run to now.
These wounds bleed.
There are no scars.

And you have all of my apologies.

Go figure

2007-08-28T21:15:00.000-07:00

I no longer give a fuck.

Really.

See, the more I let go, the more I gain.

It's an interesting equation. I persoanlly think it defies logic completely...laughs in it's face really.

So I guess I kind of like it.

But I really truly no longer care.

Except for the things I do.

Which is most things.

But if I no longer care I get even more to care for and about.

and somehow she sees me as an incredible man.

Not a wonderful person, but specifically an incredible man.

Go figure.

Gypsy

2007-03-17T09:53:00.000-07:00

in 5 years I will return to the world and know the things I have longed to know since I was a kid. I will hire on as a deckhand to get from one place to another. I will vagabond through Mexico. The next 5 years will not be of success but of quitting. Quitting all of the ties that keep me a citizen to a system that I have never been able to conform with. quitting of the habits and ideas that have tied me down. I will quit to succeed.

Missing

2007-03-16T22:57:00.000-07:00

I think that I have missed something all of these years. Got too wrapped up in being radical in my youth. Got too wrapped up in being settled in my near middle age. Not sure. But others seem to have grasped something about this that I have yet to know. Maybe it is in my approach. Analyzing constantly. Never truly flowing. Always questioning the whys and what not. Can it not simply be? What is it that I have missed or am missing?