To became Away.

This might be a "Vaguebook" type post but it is a thought that hit me today and it was all I could do not to stop and cry.

How did "to" become "away".

In the last 4 months or so my life went from being all about the moments and journeys to time management and destinations. There are stretches of my travels via bicycle that I have all but come to hate. The reason is they have changed in their purpose and or meaning. One of these routes is about 1.5 miles long, if that.

I won't bore you with points A and B because you might be able to pick up on it if you pay attention. Plus, like I said this is a vaguebook style post; pointing out the obvious would make that statement null and void. So on with what I was talking about before I saw shiny and digressed like a man that has used way too many mind altering substances.

This segment that I was speaking of used to be the route I rode to get "to" a weekly moment of fun. I would ride it daily and certain markers along the way made me happy because they were tick marks and obstacles that marked how long until I was at the place I would have a "moment" of fun. When they were tackled in reverse they were even better because they meant my return to the origin of my trip and peace and relaxation, love and cuddles, breakfast burritos and laughs. I didn't realize that until today.

Today I realized why that section of road traveled aggravated me lately. Now I ride "to" what used to be the point of origin. I have a set amount of time to get it done and what I came to do daily. It bums me out. What used to be a flight to fun and a return to happiness is now a trip to regret and painful departure from what once was. It will change one day hopefully. Now it just sucks the life out of my legs and ways heavy on my heart. It is really hard to pedal when you hold back lakes of tears and just want to sit down and give up.

Remember the Face of your Father, young gunslinger!

So I'm going to try and put into words what Fathers' Day means to me. It is a hard subject to realize for me and has over the years been a point of contention/aggravation in my mind. So here goes.

As a young boy my Father was not really in my life. There are many reasons for this but I won't bore you with the details of kid-knapping, craziness, and constant moving. Let's just say that some of it could be in a Chuck Palahniuk novel. Other parts not so much. I would see him, during the early years, twice a year if I was lucky. Before you all go dead beat dad on him, understand part of it is my mom's fault. But that is not the point of this.

I grew up knowing a couple of things about my Dad.

A) He was very talented with his hands. He was an airplane Mechanic, a Master Carpenter, and could fix anything. Example of this is when he and my mom got married he decided no store bought bed would do. So he crafted an entire water bed minus the bladder and heating element out of wood. I think a really nice oak. It was carved and burnt and sculpted. Everyone of my Mom's friends that saw it, wanted one and would ask where to get one. Her response was usually "Marry my ex Pete, and he'll make you one."
B) He is actually a damn genius. He got into trouble while attending College before he went into the Military. He was thrown out of a physics class, for arguing over future uses of lasers in society. His teacher said they were too powerful to be used in day to day life. Pops said they would be used to let you know when someone was entering or exiting a building, reading product info, and transmitting information over distance. He also told me back when I lived with him in Guam 90-91(another time another story) that I was an idiot for buying CD's, Tapes, Records. His exact words were "Jesse you're an idiot wasting your money on that crap. In a few years you will be able to store your music digitally on a device that is about as long and wide as a credit card, and about as thick as six of them." See what I mean. Genius.
C) He is crazy. Not crazy like "hey I shot my wife while fucking my dog" crazy. But not afraid of anything crazy. He never has been. He is not afraid to pack up and move to a country he has never been and try and start a company. He's not afraid, at the young age of 64, to get back on a bull and compete. He is awesome.
D) He is very talented. I have seen him play guitar and sing. He is awesome. He used to sing "Sad Songs and Waltz" to me as a child to put me to sleep. Sure he is all about Country and Western (the real stuff not your pop crap) But man can he do it well. When he and my mom first met he was a Rodeo junkie, my whole family is involved in that. But he used to play with the likes of Chris Ledoux R.I.P.. Chris and my Dad were really good friends, mom tells stories of Chris crashing on our couch when I was a youngin.

Knowing those things combined with the fact that I never really got to grow up seeing him, made my opinion of Father's Day confusing. On a day like that I would see my friends hang out with their lame, boring, ho-hum nothing exciting, white collar Dad's and wonder why I couldn't hang out with my freaking awesome Dad. Why did I have to learn how to play football from another Dad who just needed a spot filled on his team. Not from my Pops who was a bad-ass? Why did I have to learn to shave at 11 on my own with my Mom's razor and lava soap. Not like the scene from Lethal Weapon with the guiding hand of my father. Why did my friends get to build their first car with their Dads who didn't know a spanner from a cresent wrench when my Dad could fix a bent flywheel on the way home from Golden to Albuquerque, in his El Camino, with a hand file and floor jacks. Why?

Now as an adult I see things differently. I get to look back and cherish the times we did spend together and the ones we will get to. I get to look back at the time I rode from Tucson Az to Florida on top of a steamer trunk not being able to stand or sit in the back of my Dad's Might Max with a camper shell on it, listening to Dion and wrapping embroidery yarn on numbered cards for my step mom and realize that was freaking awesome. No kid has that story with their dad just me.
 I get think about the time when I sliced my big toe almost completely off on clam shells in the Black Snake River and my Dad yelling at me "Stop crying, you weren't crying before you saw the blood, so don't start now." How my step-mom sewed it back on, we wrapped it up with gauze and duct-tape and went to Disney World that week. Where I hobbled around stubbornly, while Dad tried not to let on that he was concerned/scared about me.
I get to look back at when I lived in Guam and went scuba diving with him, or when we got stuck in our apartment during a Typhoon and we used 3/4 plexi to board up the windows so we could watch the craziness, and we passed the time by throwing stuff out the balcony into the crazy fast winds, giggling like school girls. We even threw out a broken crappy 11" T.V. and were amazed by how it took off and up like a bat out of hell.
I get to look back at when I had my nose almost severed off, sitting in the hospital while they were stitching my nose back on, trying to make jokes to keep my bad-ass of father from crying. I got those no one else does.

See this is where my Dad was a badass Dad. I really don't have those memories of Dad being a drunken jerk. or Dad beating me to a pulp, or Dad grounding me. Sure when I lived with him we got into arguments and one poor attempt at a fist fight on my behalf, but for the most part I got to have a Dad, who unknowingly taught me so much about how to live life. I'm am so freaking thankful for that, that I now, at an older age, tend to forget all the negative of growing up without a Dad constantly around.

So with all that being said, in a very long-winded manner I apologize for, Dad Happy Father's Day! I love you.

She be bombing!

So I have kept quiet about this topic for the past few days, but no longer. Asshole damn is broken. There is a story of a young African American girl who was expelled from school for a "science experiment" going around and everyone is saying this is a race related event, or gender related event. No this is a stupidity related event.
The school is saying she made a bomb, which by the very definition of bomb "a container filled with explosive or incendiary material, designed to explode" is exactly what she made.
She is claiming she didn't know what would happen. I don't believe that at all. She was an A student in her sophomore year and in chemistry classes. My 7th grade year in basic science it was explained to me acids and aluminum were like modern day democrats and republicans they don't play nice with each other and if you lock them in a tight space there is going to be an explosion.
Now let us see what is the primary active ingredient in most liquid drain cleaners; Water? Nope! Bacon? Nope! Oh yeah it's Sulfuric Acid. See that last word ACID. It says it on the bottle usually in big letters. What happens when you put aluminum and acid together is a very strong and quick chemical reaction comes about releasing gases. Now if the reaction is taking place in an open environment you just get some rotten egg smelling gases, might make you a little sick. If you lock it up or seal it in a bottle you are going to get a pressurized device that if not made of a strong material will fail with violence, as it tries to escape. I know this because I used to do this with 2 liter soda bottles, a half liter of Muriatic Acid (Hydrocloric Acid HCL) and moms aluminum foil. Used to set them off on my street when I was about 13-14 years old and run like hell. They would set off car alarms and bleach the pavement. Usually only took about 30-45 secs. I knew not to do it at school because it would be considered a bomb. At 13 I understood this concept. Somehow she did not. Even though she is 2 years older than I was at the time, a Sophomore, an A student and in chemistry class.
Now why did I bring up the race thing. I have yet to see any proof that her school district, school, administrators, teachers or whoever else let non African American students get away with the exact same thing. I have yet to see that they didn't expel another student for setting off fireworks, which when I was in high school a buddy of mine got expelled for lighting off the little black cats, which are mini little bombs, even though he set them off no where near other students and didn't even cause any damage to the parking lot. No suspension just straight expulsion on to continuation school. I have yet to see that they did not expel any other student for similar acts of stupidity.
As for gender once again I have yet to see any reports that they let a male get away with this exact same thing.
Bring me the info showing it was race or gender biased and I'm 100% on board and will scream to the heavens inequality, unfair, and fuck Florida once again.
Now with all that being said do I think the punishment was harsh, maybe a tad over board. But if this was lets say the class jack ass male or female there wouldn't have been an article about it. It would of just been local gossip "Did you hear So'n'So made a bomb at school" No national attention, just everyday life. Part of life, especially in high school, is learning that actions have consequences. Think about your high school jack ass. No one batted a god damn eye when I got suspended or sent home, it was just Jesse being Jesse.

Failure is Always an Option!

Over the past few years and especially over the past few months I have gotten the question or statement or whatever you want to call it "Why?" "Why do you/they do __________(insert activity) that causes you bodily harm?"

See 8 years ago I got back on a bicycle after getting off one in 1993. I started riding cyclocross, mtb, fixed, and road. I loved it. My first day on the Fullerton Loop I was riding a friends single speed cyclocross bike, at mile 1.5 out of 11.5 I wrecked. I superman'd over the bars (OTB might be used again in this post) into a bank on the other side of a little ditch I was riding through. I had not laughed so hard or been more freaked out at the same time, in 12 years. I knew right then I missed being on a bicycle. Since then I don't think a month has gone by that I haven't hit the deck. I never think I shouldn't do that again. Is that wrong?

Now go back 9 months ago and I got my 24" freestyle MTB frame, a Black Market Bicycle Co. Contraband. Since I have gotten that I have injured myself weekly. I have gone OTB, looped out, snapped a chain and drove my knee into a 45 degree bank, and just last weekend I tried a feeble pedal grind for the first time ever (front wheel on the grind box along with pedal and crank arm trying to control slide) the bike shot out from under me and I landed straight on my ass, back, and head (wearing a helmet before you preachers come after me). I got up said "God Damn that hurt!" then proceeded to laugh hysterically and the giggle fits ensued for the next 2 hours.

When I tell other people of my wrecks, their response is usually one of two different ones;
A) "OOOH, Ouch that sounds bad" or
B) "Why would you do something that you obviously are not good at?"

My reason and the only reason I need. Fear!

Fear of what you ask. Simple.......the future.

Most people look at the future as a good thing, retiring, traveling the world, luxury vacations, guided tours, 2 week cruises, growing old, becoming a grandparent, advisor, bbq's with the family. You know the standard bullshit. The average maximum age in the US is 78. I'm 1.5 years away from the half way point. From here on out I'm the old guy ( in age not mentality). The future of my life scares the shit out of me. I usually don't think about it. I am now for your enjoyment and thanks alot assholes. Now I'm all angst-y.

Here is the thing, most people I have met who are 60+ are dying. Not dying like we are all doing right now, but suffering from some ailment. Wether it be something insignificant like minor arthritis or something severe like cancer. They are all suffering. Sure they go on tours but it is guided and planned or touristy. I don't want to wake up one day and be like so many elderly people I have met that most of their ailments are work related i,e.; bad back, hyper tension from work related stress , bad joints due to standing all day, poor circulation due to sitting all day, carpal tunnel syndrome due to typing all day. I want my injuries and ailments, when I get old to have bitchin stories to go with them. I want someone to ask why I can't extend my left arm fully and I respond with "Well let me tell two different awesome accidents that caused that......."

The other part of that fear of the future is the fear of regret. I don't want to get to an old age and think "Man I wished I would of tried that feeble pedal grind when I was younger." or "Man I wish I would of done ________." I already do that now and it scares the crap out of me that I do that. I try not to because "the past is in the past and I'm moving on!" should be everyones motto, but I catch myself doing it and it un-nerves me.

Well yeah so there you have it. The ramblings from an almost middle aged, peter-pan syndrome, 15 year old in a man's body, idiot, that in all actuality probably make no sense, as I really don't care about editing. If you get this, than awesome. If not, sorry! I don't speak english all that well.

Another day, another 50 cent piece?

Doesn't roll off the tongue quite as nice does it, but that is the true reality of life these days, nothing ever comes easy anymore. As I sit here at work trying to figure out how to help the company, I'm bored. I can't think of a great... anything. Trying to think of ways of attracting attention to the company, and lets face it the only way I know how to get attention is by getting really drunk, getting naked and then urinating on someone's pillow case. I don't think that is a great social image for the old business.

In bicycle related stuff I'm trying to come up with a simple paint scheme for a limited edition frame and fork. The only color that runs through my dome is HOT PINK!!! I love that color. I'm thinking of masking it to make pink ovals all over the frame set. Not sure yet.

NOt sure yet brings up another idea, who the fuck do I vote for this year. Holy shit the pickings are slim. Not much that I want to associate myself with. I think I would be better off if Jesse Custer told me to go fuck myself.

If you haven't read this comic I suggest that you do. It is awesome. You'll get my go fuck yourself hint. As comics go this is the one that started me into the comic world and it is in my eyes one of the best things ever written. Other ones that I suggest are Transmetropolitan, Y- The Last Man ( make you cry at the end),

and "The Boys". I shouldn't have to mention the "Watchmen" you should of read that already, and if you haven't I hope you get raped by a bunch or free roaming silverbacks. Why Silverbacks you ask because it's what you need for turning your back on a literary work of genius because it was a comic. READ IT!!! 

Well I got to go return some VHS tapes. 

This is not my home, How did I get here?

It's been awhile since I posted. I haven't been able to find the passion, or I get all worked up about what people will say. Well a bullet and a shovel will solve everything as I always say.

First things first I got a new gig going on. I am working for the Torelli Bicycle company and let me just say it has been fun and stressful all in one. Somedays it is just as easy as punching a stranger in the face, other days it is more stressful than taking the keys away from your drunk friends at a house party.

 "I'm good man see I can balance a beer in one hand while I talk to you." Actually had a friend say that to me. Back to work; I work on frames and I'm helping develop new products as well as talking to customers all day. It is pretty much a dream job.

Speaking of dream jobs there is a group out there called Thought You Knew Pinups that is putting together a rad female cyclist centric pin-up calendar. I'm not sure how I feel about this. I like the idea of more women feeling comfortable in the cycling world considering there is more sausage in this industry than a Oktoberfest celebration, but doesn't seem kind of sad that women have to flaunt what they have to get some attention, or treated equally. To me it seems like it takes a step backwards. Don't get me wrong combining my two favorite things bicycles and women is a great thing and I'm all for women being proud of their bodies, but it seems hypocritical. Maybe I'm just a dumb male that does not fully grasp the strange dichotomy that is a modern day american women.

Speaking of american women, check out this video.

Take away that person's license and that girl with crutches is bad juju. Do not stand next to her, you might die.

Well I got shit to get done and I hope that I at least start making this a weekly habit, much like my other love interest.

Really is it that bad?

So I had my bicycle, the Jake the Snake, stolen last Thursday as I sat in my accounting class. I came out to find nothing. My bike was locked up in a way that prevented pedaling of the bicycle. The first thing that ran through my head was anger. I know what a shocker. I went on an hour walk around Fullerton and I believe I just scared some homeless guys into moving to another city.

The next thing that went through my head was sadness. That bike was my first geared bike that I bought when I got back into bikes. I rode it at least twice a week on the Fullerton Loop. I used to do back to back loops and the only time I did four loops in a row was on the Jake. That bike was raced on by me, and Beatriz Rodriguez. She actually won races on it. When I stopped riding it as much, my girl, Jenna used it as a commuter to get to school and work. With me going back to school I rode it everyday. It brought back memories of friends that I met while on that bike and ones I made because people were in awe of the bright safety cone orange bicycle. The sadness came from the fact I felt like I was reacquainting with a long lost friend. I jammed through downtown Fullerton once again and felt safe because I had my trusted steed under me. When it was take from me, all those feelings seemed ripped apart, just one more time I would have to hold on to the memories and not the physical item. One more time that something that was important to me was taken and I am left with just my mind.

But really is it that bad? It was a possession, a physical item, that can be replaced. I still have my Girl, my dog, my house, food, all my limbs, a family that loves me and friends to hang out with and talk to. I have friend that within hours of me posting the loss, let me borrow my old fixed gear bike, that I sold to him, to run around town on. I have two other bikes to still go on rides with. I feel bad for making a big deal out of it considering that others have had their bikes/cars stolen and that was their only form of transportation. I still have other forms.  I feel like it is wrong for me to be upset considering all that I still have.

But then I think fuck that. Fuck that. I am pissed who is/are these assholes that feel that it is okay to take something that I worked for. I didn't get paid in cash at the bike shop when I purchased that bike. I was paid in parts and the first few months were all dedicated to that bicycle. I watched as others rolled their bikes out everyday, while my bike sat in the window and couldn't go home with me for weeks. I would have to test ride every other bike and build them and fix them, while my bike just sat there. I worked my ass off for that and some chump just walked up and took it. I want to hurt them. I want to break their legs, put them on the bicycle, find a really long hill, put a rope around their neck, and attach it to a car going 12-15 mph. Start going up the hill so they have to pedal with broken legs or die by a drag hanging.  I want to make them work all the hours I did to get that bike, then give them nothing in return for it. I know I know I'm a vindictive asshole. Stop saying it, it is becoming way too cliche.