The sun was still burning off the morning haze as we crossed the Mississippi River this morning.  There is something magical about crossing that old river. The power of the river, the history of its navigation and the geographical significance of separating the East from the West all add to the mystique.  Growing up in the Midwest we always got a sense of excitement crossing that river.  It meant we were going somewhere!  Today fit right in with those crossings of my youth.  The architectural structure of the bridge is imposing.  Add the natural wonder and breadth of the river beneath and crossing is an event.  Today I had the added pleasure of seeing the pair of Harleys behind me, ridden by my friends, one in each mirror.  There was also the phenomenon of the three big twin motors droning in unison.  You all, no doubt, are aware of the legendary sound of Harley Davidson's.  One thing you may not be aware of is the even more unique sound of multiple big twin motors when they become harmonically balanced.  I'm not certain, but I really think you would have to have ridden with a group of Harleys to know what I am talking about.  The best description I can give you for that sound and experience is to have you imagine an old WWII bomber plane as it effortlessly carries its confident crew and payload with the ideals of freedom engulfing the airmen's minds.

          We broke for lunch at, of all places, Alice’s Restaurant in Crawfordsville, Indiana.  I can tell you first hand that you can’t get anything you want at Alice’s Restaurant.  My buddy Rick ordered an Italian Beef sandwich from the menu but Jo Lynn, our waitress reported that they were out.  None of that diminished the quality of our stop there.  When we walked in we sat at a table next to two gentlemen who I later learned were named Alvin and Dale.  Dale was having a piece of pumpkin pie and me, well me being me, I asked him for a bite.  Dale barely missed a beat in telling me no but assuring me that I would enjoy it were I to purchase my own piece. We then started bantering with Jo Lynn about not getting anything we wanted at Alice’s restaurant and Dale and Alvin contributed.  I was just finishing up my catfish platter when a piece of pumpkin pie was delivered to our table.  It seems our new friends had decided I should have a piece and as there was only one slice left they took it upon themselves to order it for me. 

          Here was the cool thing.  I have no way of knowing anything about Alvin and Dale but if first assumptions can be trusted I would guess that these two guys work hard for every dollar they ever have and live their lives in a large way.  I was thanking them for their generosity and Dale said quietly, “People are more important than money.”  At that point I knew that it didn’t matter if Dale and Alvin were dirt poor or millionaires because they were wealthy in knowledge of what is important in life.  I savored every bite of that pie, and it was fantastic pie by the way.  But the manner in which that pie came to me made it just a little sweeter I am sure.

          The trip was going well.  We had ducked under several rain showers and never needed rain gear until we reached Richmond Indiana.  Even then we seemed to time things so that we only had to ride on wet roadways as the storm managed to stay ahead of us by ever so slight of a margin.  Coming out of Indiana after lunch I came to a stark realization.  I posted last February 18th http://redhogdiary.com/2006.02.12_arch.html a rant about mini van drivers which was inspired by a trip through Ohio.  Spending more time in the Buckeye state I must make an apology to all mini van drivers.  It is not mini van drivers who drive with their heads up their ass.  It is a condition of driving under the influence of being a native Ohioan.  My previous observation was myopic in it’s ability to see the big picture that pretty much anybody who has an Ohio license plate is clueless to the purpose of a passing lane.  So it goes.       

           A trip would not be complete with out a bit of disaster and we seem to have preempted our trip.  On the off ramp of I-70 as we completed our days journey, Rick hit an oil spot on the wet pavement.  He fought hard to regain control of his Ultra Classic but eventually gravity won out and Rick went down.  His ego is brusied and he has a little road rash but remarkably he is doing okay.  This will delay our trip a bit in the morning.  We will start our day with a trip to the local Harley shop in pursuit of a new pair of handlebars and a once over by competent mechanics.  Lets hope that is the last of that type of adventure.

 

Song Credit: Arlo Guthrie Alice's Restaurant

          Have you ever found it hard to focus on your work before a vacation?  Add to that the fact that, at work, I just finished up with a couple of significant projects, it was a 74 degree sunny day and my Harley was in the parking ramp.  It was just darn near impossible to keep my mind on task today.  I would be the first to admit that I am of limited mental capacity in the first place.  I graduated at the 70^th percentile of my high school class.  Hey, that wasn’t easy.  I had to work at it!  My problem was that with the exception of football practice and hanging out in the hallways I didn’t want to be there.  Somehow I never heard my parents when they said, “Do your best.”  I’m sure they said it many times.  I just couldn’t hear them.

          In my early years of college I didn’t fare much better.  By the time I entered my seventh year of college as a first semester sophomore I finally had an academic awakening.  I cranked out 78 credit hours in four semesters and a summer session and managed to make Dean’s list every term.  I never met dean but by God I was on his list!  So my credentials of 70^th percentile of my high school class of 1978 and then earning only a BS by 1988 don’t demonstrate the natural proclivity for the academic arts that you might assume from reading my daily posts.  I know, I know, thank you.

          So anyway, about this vacation.  I’m hitting the road early Friday morning and it is pretty much all that is on my mind as of late.  I am anxiously awaiting the opportunity to dip my front tire into the Atlantic Ocean.  I am fairly certain most people I know are also anxious to see me on my way.  I am telling everybody who will listen of my plans for this upcoming East Coast Tour.  I’m telling the other smokers of the building as we gather around the entry way forming a carcinogen gauntlet for all non-smokers entering or exiting the building.  I’m telling people about my vacation plans in the parking ramp, the sky walk and the elevators.  My co-workers just kind of grin through gritted teeth and say, “Yean, sounds great, you have a nice trip.” while frantically trying to look busy in the hopes that I will move on.  I had to send an attached executive report to all branch and senior managers today and I put my itinerary on the accompanying email.  I even made mention of my trip to the help desk call center of our data processing vendor. 

          As I offer hope to my captive audiences that I am nearly finished gloating I start up with, “and then in July I am heading west to dip a tire of my Harley in the Pacific Ocean!”  I then briefly outline my trip to Sacramento, the redwood forest and wine country, San Francisco, then up Coastal HWY 1 into Washington State before heading home via a brief stop at Sturgis. 

          I’ve learned some things in the past that will come in handy on this trip.  Like for instance.  Even though it is “biker cool” to make such a trip with only the pair of jeans you are wearing it is not a good idea.  The first time I tried that I wasn’t more than two hours from home when, at a stop, I bent over to pick up a dropped cigarette and ripped the seat wide open.  Thankfully I had a roll of duct tape.  That was a stylin’ adventure.  You would have thought that incident would have taught me a lesson but it was not nearly as dramatic as the next.  A couple of buddies and I went to an ABATE State Line Rally in Southern Iowa and in the very wee, still not really daylight hours of the morning I felt a need to get to the nearest Port-A-Potty as quickly as possible.  NO!  I did not crap my pants!  …it was worse than that. 

           In the darkness of the Port-A-Potty I had not noticed that some degenerate-good-for-nothing-low-life-two-bit-rotten-good-for-nothing scumbag had been there before me and missed the hole completely.  I didn’t notice it until I sat down and felt my shoe sliding across the plastic floor.  This prompted me to itemize a hierarchy of poop that hopefully you can appreciate without having need to verify all elements yourself.  Baby poop, heck, ya love the little rascals so it ain’t so bad.  Doggie poop, well they are loyal and accidents happen but it is on the verge of disgusting.  Third would be your own poop.  I’m no fan and that is why I am fully willing to pay extra for heavy duty two-ply Charmin, always.  But somebody else’s poop!  That is just plain freekin’ unbearable!  Nowadays I carry enough laundry to verge on the need for a trailer to pull behind my bike.  I may be a slow learner but eventually I do catch on.

Dear President Bush,

           CNN reported today, “The Dow has posted losses in six of the past eight sessions, while the tech-fueled Nasdaq has declined for nine of the past 10 sessions and lost more than 3 percent since the start of the year.”  Could you see what you could do about a tax credit to offset any losses I might experience in my 401K? 

          Louisiana Democrat Rep. William Jefferson denies allegations that he has accepted bribes in exchange for political favors.  Of course he claims he is innocent and that it is all an FBI witch hunt.  An NPR report this morning claimed there is a video tape of Jefferson accepting a bribe.  Dumb Ass!  The Democratic leadership has to be dying.  First it was Patrick Kennedy doing his Rush Limbaugh impersonation by apologizing for his prescription drug addiction while taking all the proper steps to align himself for a slap on the wrist and now we have Jefferson acting like a Tom Delay wanna-be.  I found it humorous that Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist jumped right to the defense of Jefferson by expressing concern about the FBI search of a capital hill office.  Yeah, it would be bad policy to expect our elected officials to live within the law of the land.  Where are the cries so rampantly used in defending domestic spying operations?  If the congressmen don’t have anything to hide they should welcome the FBI into their office’s. 

          I see the movie The Da Vinci Code earned $77 million in it’s premiere weekend in spite of boycott attempts by religious leaders.  The reviews are horrible.  When you combine the idea that critics hate it with an organized attempt to discredit the movie I think I really, really want to see this movie!  I don’t have problems with the reality that it is fiction and nor do I have concerns that the premise of the book is blasphemous.  I have to think that the blasphemy thing is an issue between God and Dan Brown.  Concerning whether you or I choose to see the movie, I think God has more important things to worry about in the big picture of things.

          Funny how bearable a Monday at work could be when for all practical purposes I am working a three day work week this week followed by a week of vacation on my Harley.  I don’t want to rub it in or anything but, “Neener, neener, neener!”

Song Credit: Herb Albert & The Tijuana Brass, The Girl From Ipanema

 

I received these tidbits in emails this week.  Good lessons for a Sunday.

 

At the Seattle Special Olympics, nine contestants, all physically or mentally disabled, assembled at the starting line for the 100-yard dash.

 

At the gun, they all started out, not exactly in a dash, but with a relish to run the race to the finish and win. All, that is, except one little boy who stumbled on the asphalt, tumbled over a couple of times, and began to cry. The other eight heard the boy cry. They slowed down and looked back. Then they all turned around and went back......every one of them. One girl with bent down and kissed him and said, "This will make it better." Then all nine linked arms and walked together to the finish line.

 

Everyone in the stadium stood, the cheering went on for several minutes. People who were there are still telling the story... Why? Because deep down we know this one thing: What matters in this life is more than winning for ourselves. What matters in this life is helping others win, even if it means slowing down and changing your course.

 

 

 

I N S T R U C T I O N S   F O R   L I F E

1.  Take into account that great love and great achievements involve great risk.

2.  When you lose, don’t lose the lesson.

3.  Follow the three R’s:

• Respect for self,
• Respect for others and       
• Responsibility for all your actions.

4. Remember that not getting what you want is sometimes a wonderful stroke of luck.

5. Learn the rules so you know how to break them properly

6. Don’t let a little dispute injure a great relationship.

7. When you realize you’ve made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.

8. Spend some time alone every day.

9. Open your arms to change, but don’t let go of your values.

10. Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.

11. Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and think back, you’ll be able to     enjoy it a second time.

12. A loving atmosphere in your home is the foundation for your life.

13. In disagreements with loved ones, deal only with the current situation. Don’t bring up the past.

14. Share your knowledge. It is a way to achieve immortality

15. Be gentle with the earth.

16. Once a year, go someplace you’ve never been before.

17. Remember that the best relationship is one in which your love for each other exceeds your need for each other.

18. Judge your success by what you had to give up in order to get it.

19. Approach love and cooking with reckless abandon.

Song Credit: New Radicals You Get What You Give