Looking Good

On a recent ride, my partner Fearless Charlie Nash took a turn on my old Sherco. Looks good, huh?

Fish Story

Fishing has been pretty good around here, at least for those that have time to go. I find I'm wasting way too much time at work. On the other hand, the boy is not as encumbered. He's spending a lot of time on the river and has reported some impressive catches. The photo above is from a couple of weeks ago and I asked him why he didn't bring it home for the old man to eat. He looked at me kind of funny and said it’d be like eating your Labrador Retriever. Hell, I was just kidding anyway and I'm not that hungry. Reminds me of the story of the guy up in Alaska who got caught by the game warden, hunting loons. The rabbit sheriff asks him why he was shooting birds that had endangered status and were supposed to be protected. The guy explained that he and his family were just plain hungry and the loons were the only game he could find at this time in his part of the frozen north. The warden thought about it for a minute or two, and then decided that he couldn't bring himself to prosecute the guy. He told him this, but said he should refrain from any further loon extermination. The guy was happy to be out of trouble and not looking at jail time or a fine and thanked the lawman. As he was about to return to his warm truck and drive away, the game warden turned to the guy and said he was curious, just what does loon taste like, anyway? The guy thought about it and finally replied, "Ah,'bout like Bald Eagle"

Hungry is hungry, I guess. It was a nice fish at 7.2lbs, but would probally taste like Catfish.

National Pride

Dustin up amoung the big rocks



The Guru taking a tight turn over some slick roots


I made a quick run down to the Trials Training Center for the second round of the NATC at the site this weekend. My camera is a piece of crap, but I managed to get a couple of shots of the Guru and Hockey Boy representing ITSA as they battled the really tough terrain and the other riders. They did us proud.

PWA Unplugged

Caught my good buddy Peewee picking on the back porch on a recent visit to the post office. It was a nice way to start the day, for both of us.

Sea Legs

Me and Mennonite Mike just returned from a 3-day tour of the most twisted pieces of the asphalt jungle we could find in a 3-state radius of home. Here’s a shot that was taken on the Dragons Tail of the two of us (just before Malcolm dipped a knee to the pavement). We had a great time (of course) and saw some fine roads along the way. As I sit here in my recliner writing this, I feel the chair leaning left and then right under me.

"Buy Me Some Peanuts and Cracker Jack......"

On June 12, 1976, my brother Joe stood beside me as I took the hand of the love of my life. The ceremony was over at around 2:00 and that was good, because I was coaching a little league team (of kids not that much younger than my new wife) that had a game beginning at 4. Well, we had that game and many more over the course of the next 33 years. Some of them were close and some were near misses, but overall I’ve managed to stay on top of the most important of them. Not surprising when you consider that I led off with the biggest homerun of my life. I love you Tammy

The Fresh Mennonite of No Hair

Big weekend, this past. Great time was had by all at LEOR and the first two rounds of the ITSA North American championship series. Here you see Mennonite Mike warming up before the rider’s meeting for the Sunday round. Looks like the practice was doing some good, huh?

More Than Just A Trace of Fun

Here’s my hero Sam, giving life lessons to Peewee and Mennonite Mike in front of Malcolm’s beautiful blue SV.

This past Saturday I made my way to the Loveless Café, for breakfast and a motorbike ride with three of my favorite folks. There’s access to the Natchez Trace Parkway right outside the front door of that place, so we hit that thing like there was free watermelon waiting at the end. It was an interesting day and at one point even stumbled upon a small community car/tractor show. The folks there were apparently only expecting local patronage, because they literally ran down to meet us as we were climbing off our scooters. What a friendly place that was. There were some pretty good looking cars there, along with some pretty strange little tractors. Good food too, and at least one pissing frog that Mennonite Mike irritated into reacting with poor social behavior. I think it was something of a Hate Crime, but I can’t be sure because the frog croaked soon after. Maybe more later, but suffice it to say that it was a pretty good adventure. We had a good time.

How Does Your Garden Grow?

Believe it or not, the current drought has not had a negative effect on my little garden. It’s amazing, but dust hasn’t been a big problem either. HA

Actually (as anyone living in this part of the world knows) there’s hardly been a day in the last six weeks that it hasn’t rained. I guess I was lucky to get the garden planted at all and in fact, did so after dark in one long marathon session, wearing a head lamp. Until Saturday evening, I haven’t been able to get back into it because my hip waders have a hole in them just above the knee. I did manage to get the tomatoes staked and the ground dressed a little between the squash and peppers before it rained for another 12 hours. I guess I’ll be wishing for return of the rain before long, but right now? I’m sick of it.

It's In His Blood

Last weekend, after the trials event at Trent Parks place, my good buddy Mennonite Mike hosted a little hoe-down. He has a passel of friends who are really great musicians and several of them came over to entertain the rest of us. The little video clip was sent to me by the grandfather of the best of them to play there Saturday night. Check this guy out: Ladies and gentleman, This is JP Mason

Taking It Easy

"There's a girl, my Lord

In a flat bed Ford,

Slowing down to take a look at me"

A View From the Top

SO we're in Arizona and want to see the Grand Canyon. Tammy gets the notion that it would be awesome to see it for the first time from a helicopter and sets it up with the outfit that has the most ad space on the website dedicated to touring the big ditch. By the time we get there, I’ve worked up a good deal of excitement about the whole thing myself. I mean the “terminal” is first class, the ground crew and pilots are wearing airline-like uniforms, the choppers are colored up real pretty and they had a bunch of ‘em. Cool.

There were about 25 people there waiting to ride and every one of them was from some other county. Asians and Scotsmen and Indians (far eastern), all jappering like magpies as they waited their turn in climbing aboard to fly off toward an unparalleled view of one of the Seven Wonders of the World.

After what seemed to be hours, they called us up to hand out our seat assignments. These were decided in deference to weigh distribution and Tammy’s little card said “SEAT-1”, while mine said “SEAT-5”. Uh? Seat Five? Wait a minute here, the damn things weren’t big enough for more than 4 seats and one of them had to be the pilot. Right? How could I have seat FIVE?

Turns out there weren’t five seats, there were Seven! Tammy crawls up in the front seat next to the pilot and I climb in the back (which has the floor space of a bath tub) with four fat Germans. They were fat because they had just enjoyed a big meal. And how do I know they had just eaten a big meal? Because 4 minutes into the 45 minute trip, I had the misfortune to see that meal as it made its way back out the way it had gone in.

There’s no ventilation in the back and the sun steaming in the window is baking the chunks of Fahrvergnügen to their collective chins. Did I mention that I was sitting backwards, directly across from two of these air-sick Tourist? I try not to look at ‘em, but the only other place I can look is toward the outside, which you’d think was manifest in a big window. WRONG. My seat was adjacent to a support post and the only way I could see out was to crane my neck into an unnatural “S” shape that (I can tell you) is hard to maintain for 45 minutes, WHILE HOLDING YOUR BREATH!

By twisting my head around 180 degrees (think Linda Blair in The Exorcist), I can see Tammy lounging in her quarter of the cabin. Is she suffering the truly unholy odor of regurgitated sauerkraut? NO! Turns out she has her very own fresh air vent, which the snotty little pilot regulated to her every whim. Yeah, there she was with her hair blown back as she gazed in awe at the panoramic view of what we’d BOTH traveled a couple of thousand miles to see.

Ah hell, I was happy for her.

Change in the weather

What the hell are these guys looking at?

Turned off cold again today. What a bitch. Payment (I reckon) for the great weather this past weekend, which I spent in Paris at my very good buddy Fearless Charlie Nash's family farm. It was second and third ITSA event of the year and it came just in the nic of time. I appreciate the promoters at each event I attend, large or small they all do a great job. Having said that, I'll have to say that no one trys any harder than Charlie does to make it a positive experience. Food, fishing, great give aways, and an atention to detail that has to be seen to believe. Thanks Charlie, for the effort. What ever you hoped this past weekend would be, it was (and more). You could have tried half as hard and it would have still been great.

Oh yeah, the sections were good too.

First ride

I love motorcycles. I’ve been riding them for over 40 (plus) years and never met one I didn’t like (a little bit). I’ve had a Harley of some kind for the last 30 years and never thought I want anything else to ride the roads with. Then about year ago while working with my good buddy Bob Ginder on a trials bike project, I needed to make a quick trip back to my house to pick up some parts I’d forgotten to bring with me when I drove up that morning. Bob was kind enough to make the trip more interesting by offering to let me pilot his BMW F650GS instead of my old ratty pickup.

I’m not a brand-name snob and the thing looked like it’d be a fun (at least a different) ride. Long story short, it ruined me. I liked it and the feeling grew as time past by. I’ve been watching for one ever since and last week a hot prospect popped up on the old EBay. An offer accepted and a 950 mile trip later and I’m in the saddle.

That was last Thursday, and today my sweetie and I took advantage of a break in the storms to air it out a little. We made about 110 miles, most of it on the curviest roads in Humphreys County. We got caught in the rain once, but still had a blast.

I guess I need to pour a little gas stabilizer in the Harley……….

Supercamp

Me and Mennonite Mike have been talking about the American Supercamp for some time. Supercamp is a dirt track racing-type school that moves about the country and hit Du Quion IL this past weekend. Long story short, we decided we’d likely not have a better chance, so we went for it. What ensued was two days of unmercifully hammering on some Yamaha TTR 125s, as well a good deal of the same on a couple of middle-aged bodies. Was it worth the pain and expense? Well, hell yes it was! We had a blast and I recommend it to anyone who ever wanted a little taste of that sort of motorcycling. The clip here was taken with my little digital camera. Poor quality and at that, some that doesn’t include us (we were always up at the same time). Still, it’s slice of the experience.

Like Old Times

I got started riding trials many moons ago and I’ve had some excellent riding partners over the years. Never (ever) such a great collection as I have now, although I have to say I probably miss my two favorites the most. My Brother Joe has faded in and out of it, over the entire length of my experience (I’m very confident he will again). I know I’ll bring him out if Speck or Trent gets too big for their britches. SO keep that in mind if you get to pushing me too hard, with all your new high tech ways, shifting your weight right and left, making new lines on tricked out scooters that look like they belong to Judge Dread........

Well I felt the need to ride some on the first sunny Sunday we'd seen in weeks, so I approached a shady bunch I know up the road. Man, I needed that. I'll put it like this; I'd lost my youth back there in the hills (or down in the creek) and I needed time to explore, maybe even find it back there somewhere.

Skeptical they were, but agree to allow me and my number 1 partner and join in the adventure. Numero uno is none other than the Kid himself. He (who hadn’t saddled up in two years), up and accepted my invitation and we rode for hours. I had a great time and I think he did too. He’s rusty and held back some, but he’s got that old Wallace-on-wheels thing going for him. Think he gets it from Joe.

It was really great having him there and I think I found what I was looking for. Happy Trails ahead

Christmas Visit

If you've checked this blog more than once and found nothing new, I apologize. I'll try to do better.

Well, the holidays have come and gone. Basically, thiat time of year is pure maddness and I'm glad things are back to normal. I think the holidays get a bad rap becuase they happen to occur during winter. Upside, my little girl came home for a few days. She's a doll, huh? We miss her everyday around here and it was good to be the old family unit again. That said and now that she's hopped the big silver bird back to Florida, I'm ready for summer time again.

Merry Christmas Everybody

This time of year is one mad rush, huh? Oh well, what you gonna do.

Guitars and Golf

When I was a kid, my life had its own sound track. There were tunes that played in my head (and in my 8-track) that reflected and affected my state of mind and it didn’t matter whether I was alone or in a crowd, I’d sing along. I sounded great singing along. So good in fact that I developed a notion that it would be cool to learn how to accompany myself on a guitar. One truism in the world; Chicks did the guitar player. Go solo, so to speak. The idea of making my own music appealed to me and how hard could it be?

I know, you’re way ahead of me. Yes it was always very hard for me, so hard that I gave it up after about five years of trying. Maybe it came much easier to George Harrison, Eric Clapton or Peewee Adcock. I felt like it was just getting worse for me, to the point that where I once sang out loud anywhere I happened to be, now I’d lock myself away when playing. I learned just enough to know it’s very hard and that I’m more or less tone-deaf and (surprise) I don’t sing all that well afterall. Then after a little accident with my hand, I quit playing cold turkey.

Leaping forward 20 years and my exposure to the campfire crowd of ITSA. The music there was infectious and I soon found myself singing out loud again. It got back in my head, so I bought a couple guitars to go with the old flattop I’d had from before and gave it another shot. Let me tell you something, I don't play or sing well anytime and not hardly at all if anyone is around. When forced to by circumstance and peer pressure, I play very tentively and sing as weak as possible. Most everyone is supportive and I don’t want to let anyone down, so I keep at it (mostly).

I practice and practice and it mostly sounds bad. If alone, I can actually open up a little and that helps. Sometimes I stubble onto an arrangement for a song I like, only to have it die like the dog it is when I play it. It’s a lot like my golf game. I play that poorly as well. I’ve tried to buy a golf game with countless new clubs. and it’s still no good. Shank em right, hook em left, top the ball and watch it dribble off the front of the Tee Box.

But you know how you’re up on the tee and no one seems to be watching and you suddenly turn into Tiger and smack it clean and long, right down the middle? The club feels like you just barely touched the tee and struck the ball dead on its sweet, soft spot, which resulted in one of those long, tall, slow motion drives that change your whole day and keep you coming back to play because it convinces you that there’s a golfer in there somewhere, after all.

Tonight with the house asleep, I sneaked into the next room with my guitar and I began playing my regular smelly junk. GOOD GRIEF. Then I turn to an old gem and I play it real slow (because it has an F in it and that’s slow or no go for me) and playing it seemed to work a little. It was in my range to sing along and for just that one song, it lifted straight and true and drove right down the middle. It’s them that keep me coming back to the music. Just don't ask me to play it for you.....

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you

Jesco

I hate the Winter

Man, I get bored this time of year. Threre's nothing to do on weekends but sit around watching TV and wait for Monday.

Tammy and I watched some random TV show over the weekend, in which the sound track included that old hit from the 80s, “Can’t stop this feeling”. We sang right along with it. Pretty lame, uh? Well maybe so, but right or wrong it's a part of our past and maybe yours too.

Trivia time. In the early 1900’s Oldsmobile began manufacturing a heavy-duty flatbed truck that they dubbed the Speedwagon. It was the brainchild of the company’s fonder, Ransom Eli Olds. It was this vehicle that inspired the name of the band who made the song famous 80 years later. Cool