Bikes have been hitting the canyon for almost a couple months now. I don’t miss a single one. I notice the bike, the helmet, the leathers…. hell, the snow suit. Been wishing for month’s they were following me down the mountain. I’d follow them. I just wish I was riding.
I’m thinking next week. This is a new climate and new terrain. Can’t wait to gas up with a fuel pump in one hand, and a hot dog in the other. Hoping the pump would hurry, so I can keep exploring. new ground. Mysteries to figure out.
Very soon. Pretty sure I was born to do this. Can’t wait to put it all my blog.
Where did music like this go? Good blues, old rock… Songs that go beyond a rave with flash colors and really shallow shock factor. I gotta think we’re ripe for a music revolution again, where whats common to all of us gets buoyed up and made popular. Right now, its shallow as fuck and doesn’t go beyond much more than a night club dance scene. We’ve all lived more than that…
The light of the matter, is this song has been in my head today. It’s really quite a good song.
it’s spring out there. Bikers are starting to pull bikes out of the garage and ride places. There’s riding to do.
You might not be feeling it on the Blues Traveller song I posted. Kinda ironic, the song might be about that… Found me some lyrics, googling John Popper. Rewatch, and read a long.
It doesn’t matter what I say
So long as I sing with inflection
That makes you feel that I’ll convey
Some inner truth of vast reflection
But I’ve said nothing so far
And I can keep it up for as long as it takes
And it don’t matter who you are
If I’m doing my job then it’s your resolve that breaks
Because the hook brings you back
I ain’t tellin’ you no lie
The hook brings you back
On that you can rely
There is something amiss
I am being insincere
In fact I don’t mean any of this
Still my confession draws you near
To confuse the issue I refer
To familiar heroes from long ago
No matter how much Peter loved her
What made the Pan refuse to grow
Was that the hook brings you back
I ain’t tellin’ you no lie
The hook brings you back
On that you can rely
Suck it in suck it in suck it in
If you’re Rin Tin Tin or Anne Boleyn
Make a desperate move or else you’ll win
And then begin
To see
What you’re doing to me this MTV is not for free
It’s so PC it’s killing me
So desperately I sing to thee
Of love
Sure but also rage and hate and pain and fear of self
And I can’t keep these feelings on the shelf
I’ve tried well no in fact I lied
Could be financial suicide but I’ve got too much pride inside
To hide or slide
I’ll do as I’ll decide and let it ride until I’ve died
And only then shall I abide this tide
Of catchy little tunes
Of hip three minute ditties
I wanna bust all your balloons
I wanna burn all of your cities
To the ground I’ve found
I will not mess around
Unless I play then hey
I will go on all day hear what I say
I have a prayer to pray
That’s really all this was
And when I’m feeling stuck and need a buck
I don’t rely on luck because…
The hook brings you back
I ain’t tellin’ you no lie
The hook…
On that you can rely
I’m throwing my taw back into the frey. With the good guys.
When I first got involved in B.A.C.A. I thought it would be so clear; a monster, vs an innocent kid, no matter what.
But it sure as hell wasn’t what I thought. Sometimes its a mom, or a family member… drunk and abandoning her kids so she can have a good time. Sometimes its an uncle, and we can’t keep him away and get them some therapy to know the uncle can’t do whatever he wants. Sometimes its a grandparent with custody, and doesn’t to help a child. Sometimes it’s a custody case; where every clue is hidden because the mother has an agenda and is living with abuse herself. . Sometimes Its every mixture in between. If you’re paying attention, a frightened kid and bruises don’t lie.
But to to the kid, its all Hell. Kids are just trying to be kids. We gotta find a way to help kids. BACA finds a way to help, wherever they can. Ever talked to kid who slept with their back against the door so they knew when the abuse was coming? That they knew it was their life, and it was their survival? I have. It breaks your heart.
Most of it, is really up to you. Call in when you see something bad happening. Man, help us out. I’m not going to tell you what is wrong or what is right, but don’t be apathetic. We’re talking about a kid.
I spent a few years in, and found out what it was. Then my life crashed, and at that point I couldn’t even support. I had to take care of my family. I had to save myself. More shit happened that I’ll ever explain. It doesn’t matter.
Yeah, well I did all that. Now maybe, its back to supporting the innocent. The only thing that’s truly innocent in the world. It ain’t your romneys, or your obamas. Its your…. it’s all kids.
I support Bikers Against Child Abuse. I got no patch now, but even so… Just gimme the chance to be that shield. It’s all worth it for some abused, scared kid who’s one fifth my age. My shit is together. If you abuse a kid, your shit is not. Chances are, you crave something that is so dirty and low that you deserve whatever happens.
To the perp: Like I said, it doesn’t matter.
To the kid: You’re what’s right with the world. You don’t even know it, and that’s whats so beautiful about being a kid. Man, go play. Go play, knowing that That we’ve got the perimeter. Our goal, is that the perimeter becomes your house. Then the block, the city, then the world. Kiddo, its all yours. Just like everyone else. If anyone restricts that, we’ll be there. Go play. Be a kid. We’ll ride to another house, but noones going to stop protecting yours. Hopefully, when the ride is over you’ll know that for the rest of your life. That’s when we’ve done our job.
It’s been a mild winter here by even a desert boys’ standards. Some days, I feel pretty bulletproof. Other days, I see the chinks in my armor and even that is good. Brings me back to center.
I love what I do for a living. Man, I don’t know why, but I do.
No, thats not true. I know exactly why I do. Thats another post, for another day.
But i’m starting to sense spring. Something to explore out there. A nap under a tree in a park by a saddled up bike, in a town I don’t know. I can hear the engine ping as it cools down. I’m in a whole new neck of the woods, and man, I’m ready to explore it and document it on this blog. I just need a friday night to get lost, a saturday to get even more lost, and a sunday to figure out the fastest way home.
But its different up here. The desert proves, and preserves old things. Snow, rain and altitude rots structure. Time will always take its toll, and there’s more time up here between me and this old history. The ghosts will be different; but maybe a break in the repetition is good for the soul. I know route 66 like the back of my hand through 3 states. man, I rode it a lot. There are nights I see the old road in my dreams. Up here, There’s new trails to plow, and places to know with some intent. The history up here is a little different. The desert will educate a less experienced traveler; back in the day and even these days. Air conditioners in the 50s and cars with water bags in the 40’s changed what the landscape we’d see to the average man. it’s not so much the okies up here, its the pioneers. Maybe its a deeper history. Hell, I don’t know but circumstances and pins in maps will let me explore it. Maybe I’ve avoided it.
Either way, I’m ready to re live it.
it’s not like it matters. A new road is a new road. Queue the eagles and rubberneck the roadside as it passes through old towns. Sooner or later history is gonna make make you turn around if you’re in tune, because you can’t miss what you thought you saw a mile back. Who knows if you go this way again? To me, thats why I ride. It’s the old sign, from the guy who put his shingle out to get a little of the money that was passing by his piece of land. His startup money was neon, his successors; did they try to recapture it? Either way, that old, funky neon sign means you have to ride back. Get a picture. Feel those ghosts…of another day. To me, it was a better day. Ingenuity was rewarded. Life was simpler. Honesty was part of hard work. Thats why I ride. it’s disintegrating fast. It’s gotta be drank in, so you can have a piece of it and pass it to your kids, because if you do it right it will become a part of you. A really good part of you. Reporting it on my blog, It just feels like my part of the whole deal.
Yah, life is really good.
It’s just a perspective that I can’t get enough of. It fills my whole soul. It might be gone forever, and I gotta see it.
I just need a bike to take me there. Sure as shit, I’ll find it. Man, I need a bike. One thats in my garage so I can know.
What a great song. Heard it on the radio up the canyon on the way home and been in my craw.
Wished I could say all the good crap thats happened the last couple of months. Like, life changing good.
I love my work. Its to the point I have dreams about it at night, and by 2 AM I’m in the living room on the couch eeking out plans on a sketchpad. I don’t know what it is, but shit is coming together. I’d love to tell you how much ass I’ve kicked, but thats just vain and stupid. I’ll keep it to myself, but man, my competition is pissed.
I spent some time yesterday night with my 100 year old grandma. She’s not doing well, and she’s a strong willed lady without even knowing how strong, or taking much time to care. She’s raised a family, done the right thing and lives on 1,000 dollars a month for the last 30 years.
Thats the kind of person I honor.
My wife. My father. My brothers and sister. They take care of their own, provide without any famous talents to pimp, and go to work every morning because thats what they know needs to be done.
I honor them.
Whitney houston sang some good songs, and then got hooked on drugs and was an embarrassment to herself. A tragedy for sure, but all this respect because we loved her song in 1991?
Curt Cobain. Fuck up. Michael Jackson, pedophile. Why does pop culture honor these people? What does this say about us? Why the fuck are we paying so much time for someone who did so little when it all counts?
I’m going to work tomorrow. hope it’s all over soon and we can get back to real news.
Think I’ve got me a solid in a bike. 1999 Road king, faster than the road rage. Lots to consider, and the deal ain’t done yet, but I got a pretty strong feeling by spring I’ll be on route 66 again, on a harley-davidson. I think about it every day, let alone every few hours.
Looking forward to spring. its a whole new ball game up here, so might take me some time to guage a barstow vs a rock springs spring, But i’ll figger it out. Winter is winter, and anything north of the mojave takes some calculating. Can’t wait to be back on the road, snapping pictures, figuring out mysteries and reporting from the road.
Life is only good with a safe family from home, a wife that knows why, and a signpost ahead. Hell, at least for me it is. I can’t imagine a life without riding. There’s a new vantage point here, time to see it all.
