Today I rode 130 miles north to Tandy Leather in Connecticut. Now 130 miles on the east coast/New York wise, is about 4 hours. The entire thing is road work, and traffic jams, narrow lanes, and well, yeah 4 hours. I arrived at the supposed location of the Tandy Leather store at approximately 3pm, after some detours through towns and makeshift routes. Google Maps chimed in "destination is on your left." Guess what I saw, to my chagrin...an empty store. Famished, sunburnt, and thinking "of course it's not there" I pulled over to cool my jets and call the number of the store, cause I figured they'd just re-located somewhere in town. Someone answers I put the phone up to my helmet to try to get an ear on their location. They moved to a place called Berlin, 15 miles south, down another highway, but still on the way home. And what's 15 miles when you've just come 130. I was Stoked it wasn't a complete waste of an overshot. Although I could have done without all that 84 road work/traffic.
So there I was, hungry, and keeping their doors open, drooling all over the tools and rolling in the beds of fine leather. The gal helping me find all the things I need was a real help, she gave me all sorts of advice and showed me all sorts of tools that I'd need after explaining in amateur depth what my projects were to consist of. So, after trolling the aisles and throwing everything in my basket, I'd racked up a good pile of goods/necessities up at the register. Basically I was like, "ring it all up, and I'll take the stuff off that I really don't need according to how affordable it all is and how much I can strap to the bike. The first tally was up in the 190's, so I took a couple things off, talking briefly about each item, to each item, about how I really didn't need it. Then we were down to 170's, then 160's then 150's and then when it got down to the 140's and I couldn't really do without anything I definitely needed, I was like, "let's do it."
I boxed and double bagged, and then shook that woman's hand. Then I proceeded to cleverly strap everything: large roll of leather to the back of the sissy bar, standing out proudly far above my head, much the way a flag pole would. The pack of holster patters went delicately in a backpack, and the 'how to carve leather' book and box of tools, rode right behind me strapped to the passenger seat. Then I went next door for Chinese food, at the kind of place that just had bare tables, and no service. Not the way I expected Chinese in Connecticut to be. But I was hungry, and the guys at the table next to me, owned the white SUV outside with the stenciled letters that read loudly across the back window "White Knight."
I made it out of there safely. And me and my new trade tools, rode home a new route through the ups and downs of what Connecticut probably calls mountains. It was the 15 south. Decent separated two lanes up, two lanes down. And the flow of traffic was delightful. I knew I was making good time. I left at 6:30 and I got home at 10. So I'd say I made better time for sure getting home. Navigating the city is always going to be a labor of time/traffic/and wondering why people/I, deal with this shit.
Ok, It's late, I've got a ripping headache, and neighborhood kids are underaged drinking outside. I'm going to bed. Stay tuned for photos of my leather goods, and videos of my trip back from Connecticut. I took one video. haha
Wednesday, August 26, 2015
Friday, August 14, 2015
Do the Hokey Pokey.
This is the European report on preventing violence and knife crime. In the U.S. this title would read "U.S. report on preventing violence and gun crime." So basically that's what Im saying. It doesn't matter really what tool you take away, there will be a transfer of attention onto another means as soon as you do.
Same shit, different weapon. Same shit, different island. Same shit, different shitty people. Basically, people will find lots of ways to kill and injure each other. We are a demented people. Take guns away, we'll use knives. Take knives away, we'll use forks. Take forks away, we'll use our hands...hey, hands are used to wield all of these things. Hands are the real enemy. Outlaw hands! Wait that's ridiculous, hands can't be to blame. What controls the hands? The messages that the brain sends it...Outlaw Brains! Or better yet, how about we raise healthy and responsible brains, that will use their hands for good rather than harm. Well that's impossible to do these days because we've already become such a shit race of violent humans. Everyday we are surrounded by bad examples of humanity, and bad influences. It takes quadruple the effort to reverse the years of damaging humanity. It takes calling people out on their shit when you see it. Holding folks accountable, when nobody probably ever held them accountable for anything in their entire life. When nobody probably bothered to teach them to challenge and hold themselves to a higher standard in the face of adversity, and bad peer advisory. Those of us who hold ethical high ground, are usually passive or quiet, going about our day peacefully, trying to be and worry about ourselves only, being model citizens. But we need to be the voices that the bad peers need to hear. It takes vigilance. But like bad habits are born out of repetition, good habits must be as repetitive and demanding if we are ever going to change. Telling some one to pick up their litter and throw it away.. Telling someone at the grocery to push their cart to the cart holder. Not just leave it in the empty parking stall. Calling people out on their shit! These kind of folks never developed that heightened state of awareness and cognitive ability, so now they're shitty adults lacking the discipline and leadership abilities, that a little positive peering and encouragement and the correct amount of discipline in their formative youths could have instilled.
Same shit, different weapon. Same shit, different island. Same shit, different shitty people. Basically, people will find lots of ways to kill and injure each other. We are a demented people. Take guns away, we'll use knives. Take knives away, we'll use forks. Take forks away, we'll use our hands...hey, hands are used to wield all of these things. Hands are the real enemy. Outlaw hands! Wait that's ridiculous, hands can't be to blame. What controls the hands? The messages that the brain sends it...Outlaw Brains! Or better yet, how about we raise healthy and responsible brains, that will use their hands for good rather than harm. Well that's impossible to do these days because we've already become such a shit race of violent humans. Everyday we are surrounded by bad examples of humanity, and bad influences. It takes quadruple the effort to reverse the years of damaging humanity. It takes calling people out on their shit when you see it. Holding folks accountable, when nobody probably ever held them accountable for anything in their entire life. When nobody probably bothered to teach them to challenge and hold themselves to a higher standard in the face of adversity, and bad peer advisory. Those of us who hold ethical high ground, are usually passive or quiet, going about our day peacefully, trying to be and worry about ourselves only, being model citizens. But we need to be the voices that the bad peers need to hear. It takes vigilance. But like bad habits are born out of repetition, good habits must be as repetitive and demanding if we are ever going to change. Telling some one to pick up their litter and throw it away.. Telling someone at the grocery to push their cart to the cart holder. Not just leave it in the empty parking stall. Calling people out on their shit! These kind of folks never developed that heightened state of awareness and cognitive ability, so now they're shitty adults lacking the discipline and leadership abilities, that a little positive peering and encouragement and the correct amount of discipline in their formative youths could have instilled.
Tuesday, August 11, 2015
New necklaces up for sale.
These are leather letters that I stamp and cut and then make whatever name you want made put on a really great stock of flattened cable chain.
Wednesday, July 29, 2015
Strange Days 2015
Guess who went to Strange Days this year!!!! Me! As a first timer, I had no idea what to expect other than the flier said it was a hippie biker thing. I was all down with the description. I thought, hell, even thought David Alan Coe is playing at Lowbrow Getdown, I'd still kinda promised my lady that we would do some biker shit that weekend, and by the time Friday was rolling around, I knew we wouldn't make the Friday night show all the way out in Ohio for Davids set, also my lady on the back of my shady splitting tire for 400 miles? I didn't think so. So instead I figured we'd shoot for a close campout. It worked out perfectly because Friday night my lady and I attended her friends birthday party, and then Saturday morning we had a nice easy take off for the Strange Days thing. Now I'm not used to the East Coast New Yorker/New Jersey crowd yet, but it was sure a lot of fun, and the folks were really nice. We rode about 60+ miles from Brooklyn to the property in Vernon NJ. We had excellent weather. Sunny, and just perfect. I really love the countryside rides around these northern eastern woods: Peaceful, green, isolation. With my lady on the back we sunk into the center of each New Jersey country curve winding up to the property. We passed a couple small towns on the way in, stopped for gas, a handle of whiskey for the night, and to use a bathroom. Then there it was. Off to the right, and approaching I could see the gathering of cars, campers, and bikes atop this open hilltop. Then up the gravely broken half-dirt half paved road. We pulled right up to the booth, where when they saw me they came out with wrist bands, and said "20$ for you and Bitches on the back, are free." I love that!!! I was like "Bitches on the back! hahaha" So yea that ruled. Then we rolled in and around the fire pit, and found a nice spot on the lawn about 50 yards from the stage. A ripping band was jamming some psychedelic rock, and it was such the vibe I thought it was gonna have.
Sunday, June 21, 2015
EDR or Bust 2015!! Currently Under Construction (writing it now)
Loaded up with my guitar, fresh oil, and brimming with all the goodies I could pack into my old Marine Corps seabag, I left home, headed south down the switch bakery of the gorgeous old 49er highway. I was working with the 2 last hours of a setting Sierra Nevada foothill evening trying to make the little town of BootJack. Now, it's only a stones throw as the crow flies, but as the bike rides, it's a good slow ride, especially in a setting sun. My Aunt Linda and Uncle Chuck, live in BootJack, so I usually try stop there on my way in and out of town. I made it to their place just moments after the last inch of light was anywhere to be seen, and as soon as I walked in, Aunt Linda was giving me a big hug, and Uncle Chuck was handing me a beer. Cheers!
Now, I spend the evening catching up, and planning my route and hours for the next day, cause I had only two days between me and Thursday morning when I would be rolling out with the group to Mexico. I got a good start Tuesday morning headed for LA. Now that leg of the trip's pretty basic, the ride out of the foothills is gorgeous, but then it's all 99 freeway and Highway 5 all the way down. I made excellent time to LA, and stopped for a quick visit in Simi Valley to see a friend I'd not seen in years. And then I headed to Burbank Moto where I always stop and hang out for a bit when i get to town. This time I saw Steve and Jerry and Tracy and a few others, with whom I had a good time catching up with. Getting lost in the conversations over a few beers, it's one of my favorite ways to relax once I reach LA. Now, like always I'd started out with some lofty goals of visitation and seeing everyone in LA, but then this time I wanted to to see Mad Maxx, and so my evening quickly turned into me leaving Burbank Moto, and meeting up with an old friend, and running to an old theater to see it. So there I was for the next few hours yeehawwing over a huge popcorn, soda, and hotdog at all that big screen sensation. It was midnight 30 when I got out of the theater, and being a school night, I respectfully declined to harass anyone who might still have their eyes barely open, so I headed down to my sisters place in Redondo Beach, and crashed there for the night. Once again leaving LA feeling like my time was too short, and most of my objectives were incomplete, and well?, that's the stuff that keeps me coming back, the fact that I miss everyone so gosh darn much.
There I was waking up Wednesday morning in Redondo Beach, with the goal to set out to reach San Diego, and finish my camping gear list, as well as buy some more GoPro batteries, since I'd bought one the week before and still hadn't purchased an SD card, or backup batteries for it. I figured I'd need all that for the ride to Mexico the next morning.
So, on my way down, I ended up getting wind that one of my old Portland friends had just moved to Carlsbad. And off I rode, right on down toward her place. I spent the next few hours in Carlsbad visiting and catching up on life changes, moves, the present, and future dreams and aspirations. We had an awesome lunch at a little burger dive overlooking a serene little estuary.
Before I left for San Diego, I fixed her radiator issues in her car, took some photos next to banana plants, and had some very deep zenful conversations.
By this point it was about 4pm, and San Diego was still an hour or two away-ish, especially by after-work So-Cal traffic, and some more errands I was planning to run. half way there I made a gas stop, and spotted an REI where I bought some fuel bottles and some 550 cord. Then it was Destination Adria and Randy's. Now I know we were heading to Mexico, and part of the plan was to stock up on Pesos at the bank before they closed, but guess what? that never happened, and so Operation Wing It went into effect, aka "I'll get them tomorrow wherever I can." That afternoon was rad. I got a chimichanga from a damn fine mexican eatery and got to hang out with two of my favorite people, Adria and Randy. I think we had cocktails and then I repacked and rid my bag of some of the stuff I wasn't gonna need in Mexico and made sure my pack was tidier and more purposeful for the trip. So there I was, less stuff, still too much crap, and ready for bed. But right before bed, I made sure I purchased some emergency "what if" 5 days of Mexican Insurance.
That evening was awash with texts between friends who we were all trying to meet up with in the morning from our spot. Who was gonna ride where, and meet up with who, and what times. Nothing like a little pre-party planning, whozits and whatzits.
The next morning with everything bungeed, and bungled, and boggled and banged, we were gathered up and rolling down the San Diego 8: Randy, Matt, Matteo, and Me, destination San Felipe, Mexico.
The morning weather was perfect, my sunblock was within zipper reach, and my camel bag was full of fresh water. The mountains out of San Diego are fun, up and down, canyons and crests, and then the decline through those last windy channels down to the dry California desert. Now it had gotten good and hot as soon as we hit that desert terrain, and we didn't make our first stop until we reached Mexicali/Calexico. When we reached the town border, we made use of some roadside shade to lather up the sunblock, and where I hustled off behind a tree, and peed unknowingly on an anthill, which then meant I was doing the "ants get hell off me" dance. (Me and ant hills, it's a never ending story).
(going to bed, continuing the saga in morning.)
The end.
EDR 2015
Now, I spend the evening catching up, and planning my route and hours for the next day, cause I had only two days between me and Thursday morning when I would be rolling out with the group to Mexico. I got a good start Tuesday morning headed for LA. Now that leg of the trip's pretty basic, the ride out of the foothills is gorgeous, but then it's all 99 freeway and Highway 5 all the way down. I made excellent time to LA, and stopped for a quick visit in Simi Valley to see a friend I'd not seen in years. And then I headed to Burbank Moto where I always stop and hang out for a bit when i get to town. This time I saw Steve and Jerry and Tracy and a few others, with whom I had a good time catching up with. Getting lost in the conversations over a few beers, it's one of my favorite ways to relax once I reach LA. Now, like always I'd started out with some lofty goals of visitation and seeing everyone in LA, but then this time I wanted to to see Mad Maxx, and so my evening quickly turned into me leaving Burbank Moto, and meeting up with an old friend, and running to an old theater to see it. So there I was for the next few hours yeehawwing over a huge popcorn, soda, and hotdog at all that big screen sensation. It was midnight 30 when I got out of the theater, and being a school night, I respectfully declined to harass anyone who might still have their eyes barely open, so I headed down to my sisters place in Redondo Beach, and crashed there for the night. Once again leaving LA feeling like my time was too short, and most of my objectives were incomplete, and well?, that's the stuff that keeps me coming back, the fact that I miss everyone so gosh darn much.
There I was waking up Wednesday morning in Redondo Beach, with the goal to set out to reach San Diego, and finish my camping gear list, as well as buy some more GoPro batteries, since I'd bought one the week before and still hadn't purchased an SD card, or backup batteries for it. I figured I'd need all that for the ride to Mexico the next morning.
So, on my way down, I ended up getting wind that one of my old Portland friends had just moved to Carlsbad. And off I rode, right on down toward her place. I spent the next few hours in Carlsbad visiting and catching up on life changes, moves, the present, and future dreams and aspirations. We had an awesome lunch at a little burger dive overlooking a serene little estuary.
Before I left for San Diego, I fixed her radiator issues in her car, took some photos next to banana plants, and had some very deep zenful conversations.
By this point it was about 4pm, and San Diego was still an hour or two away-ish, especially by after-work So-Cal traffic, and some more errands I was planning to run. half way there I made a gas stop, and spotted an REI where I bought some fuel bottles and some 550 cord. Then it was Destination Adria and Randy's. Now I know we were heading to Mexico, and part of the plan was to stock up on Pesos at the bank before they closed, but guess what? that never happened, and so Operation Wing It went into effect, aka "I'll get them tomorrow wherever I can." That afternoon was rad. I got a chimichanga from a damn fine mexican eatery and got to hang out with two of my favorite people, Adria and Randy. I think we had cocktails and then I repacked and rid my bag of some of the stuff I wasn't gonna need in Mexico and made sure my pack was tidier and more purposeful for the trip. So there I was, less stuff, still too much crap, and ready for bed. But right before bed, I made sure I purchased some emergency "what if" 5 days of Mexican Insurance.
That evening was awash with texts between friends who we were all trying to meet up with in the morning from our spot. Who was gonna ride where, and meet up with who, and what times. Nothing like a little pre-party planning, whozits and whatzits.
The next morning with everything bungeed, and bungled, and boggled and banged, we were gathered up and rolling down the San Diego 8: Randy, Matt, Matteo, and Me, destination San Felipe, Mexico.
The morning weather was perfect, my sunblock was within zipper reach, and my camel bag was full of fresh water. The mountains out of San Diego are fun, up and down, canyons and crests, and then the decline through those last windy channels down to the dry California desert. Now it had gotten good and hot as soon as we hit that desert terrain, and we didn't make our first stop until we reached Mexicali/Calexico. When we reached the town border, we made use of some roadside shade to lather up the sunblock, and where I hustled off behind a tree, and peed unknowingly on an anthill, which then meant I was doing the "ants get hell off me" dance. (Me and ant hills, it's a never ending story).
(going to bed, continuing the saga in morning.)
The end.
EDR 2015
Sunday, June 14, 2015
Day 8
We were hot on the heels and almost completely in a dumping storm, rolling through central Pennsylvania. We were thirsty for early afternoon beers and aiming for a historic country bar, but we were sidelined for an hour or two, and that crispy blonde beer turned into Roy Rogers French fries and a tall coffee, while we charged our dying phones. But the road and our end all game plan for the day was losing hours of daylight, and I really wanted for Matteo to get to see the countryside and little quaint towns through whatever light we could squeeze out of the sun. We were charged up and we charged out, as soon as that storm was a good bit away from us. Jim Thorpe was as cute and adorable and magical looking as ever. And Matteo's eyes were wild and in love with its first sight. A similar reaction that everyone has with their first encounter of this beautiful little town. We made friends with a fella who followed up with a phone call relinquishing his parking spot to us. Mick ran out and welcomed me with a glorious hug in the middle of the street. We promptly were shown inside, and the festivus of new OITNB episodes, pizzas, beers, and saging of the souls, we spent the evening warm with friends and explorative conversation.
Friday, June 12, 2015
Day 7/8
We spent the night in a rusty old place, complete with ash trays and the smell of piss if we dared to turn the air conditioner off. It was a real period piece. The morning sun proved more promising to our location, a beautiful full view of the Ohio River, running the length of our leftward view to the north and south, and to our right, we looked on an historic brick factory, littered with old single pane windows, crumbling bricks, and failing paint. Proudly displayed overhead the building was a large sign that you could tell used to be traced with working bulbs, like a circus freak show sign. It read "MARSH Wheeling STOGIES." On a little 15 mile sliver of West Virginia, splitting Ohio and Pennsylvania, surrounded by what feels extremely wild, and looks extremely beautiful, we wheeled in and we wheeled out. Thanks for the hospitality, Wheeling, West Virginia.
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