Rattlecan

Ride bikes, drink beer, eat, sleep, wash, rinse, repeat.

92.6%. Barely a pass. Gonna have to try harder.

Well, now he can spend the next 20 years or so using Chuck Norris toilet paper. You know, rough and tough and don't take shit off anybody.

About 25 years ago, my then (now ex) wife and I made the acquaintance of another couple. We met while attending classes for prospective foster parents. We were a one child couple with diminishing prospects of adding to our family, and the other couple was childless, unable to conceive. We began seeing the other couple socially, and struck up a friendship. He was a salesman for a large prefabricated home company, but you only had to spend five minutes with him to realize his ambitions were on a much grander scale. He talked endlessly about the world of finance, and how the world was his oyster, and anyone who followed him would become rich beyond their wildest dreams. Not long after that, he formed a financial services company and began perusing the dream. I became a client, purchased a life insurance policy and some safe investments, but he was always angling for me to buy into his scheme that he was convinced would make us all vastly wealthy. I wasn't too sophisticated in my understanding of finances, but that little inner voice, or gut feeling if you like, told me to stay the hell clear. Well, to cut a long story short, a number of years ago, he was arrested and charged with a long list of serious fraud charges. The trial process was very long and drawn out, resulting in a guilty verdict,and finally wrapped up this past week with his sentencing. Sure glad I listened to that little voice and didn't become another victim. Here's the story. https://www.therecord.com/news-story/8690008-the-two-faces-of-daniel-p-reeve/

So, eggsit, stage left.

Good morning. First customer already come and gone, picking up a wheel. Another guy coming some time between 9 and 11 for a quick repair. Graveside funeral service in the rain this afternoon.

After more than 4 million miles and 4 decades roaming the highways of the continent, I had a more than a few occasions to interact with the law, almost always with a positive outcome. This story is one I posted on a trucker's forum. Copied and pasted cause I'm too lazy to type it all out again. This tale goes back about 40 years I guess. I was north bound on US 15 north of Williamsport Pa in the daylight hours. There used to be a truck stop called either the Mountain top, or Summit Diner, I don't recall which now, but it was a short distance north of Williamsport at the top of a hill on the east side of the road. The place is long gone now. No loss really, the one or two times I stopped there, it struck me as a bit of a dump. Anyway, on this fine bright day, I was rolling along in my 165" wheelbase tractor pulling a 45' exterior post van thinking all was right with the world until I passed Smokey the Bear sitting in the parking lot of the aforementioned establishment watching the traffic go by. No worries, I thought, I'm well within the speed limit, but wait, why is Smokey pulling out of the lot and following me. Jeez, there he was, just sitting there behind me for the longest time, and finally, he pulled out and flipped on the light. So, over to the side we go. Fortunately, I had all my paperwork, what there was of it, close at hand, so I was able to keep an eye on Smokey as he extricated his considerable bulk from the cruiser, screwed on his hat, shrugged into his jacket, and came waddling up to my truck with a 100' tape measure tucked under his arm. From the end of the tape dangled a large treble fishing hook which he hooked to the back of the trailer, and kept walking, unrolling the tape as he went. Now if you've done the math, and your memory goes back to the 70s, you will realize by now what's coming next. He got to the 55' mark on the tape when he was just about even with where I was sitting, with a bit over 2 feet of truck left. Now, being over length was the least of the crimes he could have had me for. I was pretty sure I was running somewhat afoul of the 73,280# weight limit, running on a lease that almost certainly would not have withstood close scrutiny, and I was still trying to figure out what I was going to say if he asked for my log book. Just as I was contemplating spending an unpleasant weekend in a Pennsylvania jail cell, he gazed up at me through those Kenny Price "you in a heap o' trouble boy" reflective aviator sunglasses, then looked back down at the tape and said,"looks like yer a little long there, fella" "Uh huh"was all I could manage. Then he said," well, I heard tell the boys are workin' the Blossburg scale today, so you might want to check it out before you get there." With that he said "good day" and headed back to his car and was gone, leaving me in a daze, wondering if I was dreaming. But I wasn't. This is a 100% true story, believe it or not.

Funeral tomorrow for my son in law's mom. She passed a couple of weeks ago at the age of 96. Just got a whole stack of rims and hubs dumped on me, so any time I might otherwise not know what to do with will be occupied building bike wheels.

Happy birthday! Keep having them. Once a year is enough though.

Willie Nelson, Tommy Chong. What more do they need?

Thursday is the day I ride with a couple of friends. One of them is away this week, so it's just two of us. Perfect day for it.

That you are about to be trampled in a walrus stampede. My dreams are weird too.

With one hand too.

Yeah, we have the giant hogweed here. I've seen them, but always managed to steer clear.