When the Going Gets Weird...

... the weird turn pro post re-runs (with apologies to HST). From April of 2007:

Old But Not Dead, Like Some Things

So. I put 200 miles or so on the bike yesterday, riding down to Roswell and back…the ostensible purposes being (a) to put miles on the bike; (b) have lunch in Roswell; and (c) do a little “styling and profiling” on the Main Drag in Alien-Town. Mission Accomplished.

I woke up this morning feeling old…quite old. I’ll spare you the detailed litany of complaints; suffice it to say I’m sore. My back hurts. The fleshy area of the thumb on my right hand is sore. My left thigh feels like it spent a few hours with Saddam’s rubber-hose wielding thugs. (ed: I thought you were gonna spare us? Oh, shaddup—you know there’s more.) I’m obviously out of riding shape; the corollary to that thought is “getting old really sucks.” I digress.

Not only am I not in great physical riding shape, my general riding skills need a bit of buffing, too. Not the safety-related skills…those are fine, thank you. Head on a swivel, front brake covered in traffic, situational awareness A-OK, and all that. Nope…it was in those rare moments (twice, I believe) when I had to set up for a corner that I found myself being a bit tentative… having to adjust my line once or twice while in the corner, experiencing a bit of difficulty judging the appropriate entry and exit speeds, and all that. Not that there are all that many corners in this part of the world to begin with. I need to head north on my next trip to reacclimatize myself with riding in the twisty-turnies. I’m rusty, and that’s putting it mildly. Once again, I think age may be rearing its ugly head. I’m a lot less bolder than I used to be.

But it was great fun. I’ve reached the magic 500-mile threshold; after I get the bike its 500-mile service tomorrow (hopefully. Another story, that.) I’ll be free to see what it feels like to wind that sucker out all the way to its 10,500 rpm red line. One thing I will tell you: the bike will do 100 mph, and easily, too. It was still pulling hard at a little over 7,500 rpm when I hit 100 (briefly, very briefly) on one of those lonely “you can see forever” stretches of road between P-Town and Roswell. It should go without saying the weather cooperated yesterday. It was a little breezy, but not the life-threatening sort of gales we experienced this past week.

Today’s Pics: New Mexico used to have a patch-work of wet and dry counties in the way-back. One of the fixtures from that day and age is the county-line bar…and there are numerous examples —all dead now— of that phenomenon dotting the New Mexico landscape. Here’s one such…the county-line bar about a mile over the Roosevelt-Chaves County line on US 70 south of Kenna, NM.

I’ve been by this deserted old road house at least 20 times and never stopped to take pics until yesterday. As you can see, the most prominent feature is the B – A – R mounted on a 40-foot (or so) tower over the building. That sign, which I imagine was done up in bright red neon back in the day, is visible for miles before you get to the bar. And…not to put too fine a point on it…this unnamed bar is literally in the middle of freakin’ nowhere, about 30 to 35 miles south of P-Town.

I can also imagine what it must have felt like on a summer Saturday night back in 1958 or so…cruising south from Portales in your ’55 Chevy convertible with the top down, warm breeze in your hair, laughing, telling bad jokes, anticipation building, seeing the B - A - R sign glowing in the distance and then… Pulling into the crowded parking lot…getting out of the car…walking into the bar… hearing Hank Williams (Senior, thank you) on the juke box… watching the heads turn to see who just arrived. Shouting "Hey!" to your Buds, and the odd girl or three. Dancing. Brawls. Marriages made, marriages broken. I could almost smell the beer and the Crown Royal as I walked around the sadly-broken premises. Ah…the stories…the stories!

(Didja read the caption to the bike pic? Yes, that fairing/tank combo does make you look fat. Don’t ever let anyone photograph you from that angle, ever again.)

And the comments from that post, just so's certain individuals who may drop by don't repeat themselves:

Bag Blog said...

Toby drove Jesse to Velma (about 8 miles from here)on his bike yesterday. He said he was very careful with my baby. But he did say that when he was driving around on our property, he slid on some freshly mowed clover - scaring himself. Toby has tales of living in Hobbs, NM and driving to the Bloated Goat Bar on the TX/NM line - walking into the dark bar from the bright sunlight outside and drinking a cold beer. I asked him if he recognized the bar in your photos, but he said he did not. Then he laughed and said, "Do you think I know every bar in NM?"

4/23/2007 1:55 PM

Buck Pennington said...

Lou said: Then he laughed and said, "Do you think I know every bar in NM?" Ah...there's a goal worth having!! :-) Way, way back in the day bikers used to have a slang term: "TT bike." A TT bike in its most literal connotation means "Tourist Trophy," after the Isle of Man TT races. But in the slang vernacular "TT" meant "tavern-to-tavern." I used to own one of those, back when I was young and stupid(er). Things have changed. Thank God. Re: scaring one's self on a bike. It happens, and happens quite often, especially in the dirt. Once again, we used to have a saying back in my racing days: "If you don't crash once a day you're not riding hard enough." Unfortunately I rode more than "hard enough..." but never broke anything that couldn't heal in between races.

4/23/2007 3:04 PM

JennyE said...

Seen that bar alot! Jeff used to drive a milk truck for MTS (then CTL). It actually only closed a few years ago. Not that I have ever been in there. LOL! Roosevelt County is still a dry county, but Portales city limits is not (obviously). I guess my house is the closest thing to a bar Floyd has. LOL!

4/23/2007 8:57 PM

Buck Pennington said...

Wow...I didn't know Roosevelt County was still dry! The things I don't know about my adopted home town would fill a book, eh? (I can't BELIEVE I said/wrote that!!!) I'm just philosophically opposed to the whole concept of "dry." In a big, big way. And I'm gonna resist the temptation to rant on that...

4/24/2007 6:54 AM

Reese said...

The part about this post of yours regarding the B-A-R is very Lileksian. I'm gonna make it a point to take this route next time I have business at points SE of the (even) big(ger) city. I'm sure I drove past there in the late 70s/ early 80s-- I filled gumball machines from Farmington to Amarillo to El Paso to Silver City on the weekends as a high school job (not on one weekend, though). Wish I had taken pictures, but a 17-year-old doesn't think of such things like preserving memories. Well, they are preserved "up here."

4/25/2007 8:20 PM

Buck Pennington said...

Reese sez: The part about this post of yours regarding the B-A-R is very Lileksian. That's a high compliment in my book, Reese. James is a Hero of mine in the writing/blogging division. I aspire...but can't come close. The man is talented beyond MY wildest dreams!

4/27/2007 10:01 AM

This re-run thing is TOO easy...yanno? But when one is lacking for new experiences and/or motivation... Nuff said.

Embarrassments

It’s not unknown in hockey but this sort of thing (Canucks vs. Coyotes, last night) IS rare, not to mention embarrassing beyond belief:

The “own goal” I remember most… and with GREAT pain… is this one (from The Wiki):

Detroit Red Wings' Paul Coffey accidentally swiped the puck into the Wings' own net during Game 1 of the 1996 Western Conference Finals against the Colorado Avalanche. The goal proved costly as it forced the Wings to tie the game late to force overtime, where they would eventually lose. Colorado went on to win the series 4-2.

Yup. That one hurt. A lot. It hurt Coffey more than it hurt me (and all other Wings fans), tho. Coffey was traded to the Hartford Whalers in the off season that year after a reported falling out with Wings coach Scotty Bowman. Coffey’s “own goal” could well have been the beginning of the animosity between the two. But that one moment of ignominy shouldn’t be the basis for judging Coffey as the man had a damned fine career, all things considered. “Stuff happens,” to everyone.

―:☺:―

"Spuck Bennett, left, owns two Harley-Davidson dealerships, one in Delaware and another in Maryland. "I haven't seen anything like this in the 33 years I've owned a dealership," he says. "We're just trying to survive." At Mr. Bennett's dealership in Seaford, Del., Terry Willey Jr., center with hat, Terry Willey and Justin Chambers, right, were checking out the bikes."

Photo: Daniel Rosenbaum for The New York Times

Hard times in Milwaukee… and elsewhere (NYT: “Harley, You’re Not Getting Any Younger”):

SPUCK BENNETT’S dealership just outside Ocean City, Md., is cluttered with 65 shiny Harley-Davidson motorcycles, including the chrome Sportster and the sleek V-Rod. Last year, Mr. Bennett, 79, sold 200 bikes, down from 280 the year before. This year, sales have slowed to a crawl.

“I haven’t seen anything like this in the 33 years I’ve owned a dealership,” he says. “We’re just trying to survive.” He has cut expenses by trimming hours and overtime, and laid off 7 of his 49 employees.

After riding high for two decades, the company that makes the hulky bikes that devoted riders affectionately call Hogs is sputtering. Harley’s core customers are graying baby boomers, whose savings, in many cases, have gone up in smoke in the market downturn. Few are in the mood to shell out up to $20,000 or more for something that is basically a big toy, and the company, in turn, has not captured much of the younger market.

Well… all that is interesting and more than a little predictable. We are in a recession — toys are usually the first things to go in times like these — and a mo’sickle ain’t nothing but a toy in these United States. But what caught my attention is Harley’s very own sub-prime crisis:

As much as one-fourth of the $2.8 billion in loans issued by Harley-Davidson Financial Services last year were subprime, with interest rates as high as 18 percent. As the downturn took hold, some borrowers started defaulting on loans and investors stopped buying the securities, forcing Harley to write down $80 million of debt last year, analysts said. Although it recently tightened lending standards, the company is still chasing buyers by offering credit.

“It’s an unsustainable strategy to continue financing this way,” says Robin Farley, an analyst with UBS. “In the last few months, they’ve been running into a liquidity wall.”

Tom Bergmann, Harley-Davidson’s chief financial officer, defends the company’s lending practices. “It’s not easy in this environment,” he said. “We have to give loans to customers, but only to those worthy, and we’ve been disciplined and prudent in granting credit to our customers.”

In large part because of loan problems, though, profits at Harley fell 30 percent last year, to $654.7 million on revenue of $5.6 billion. Operating income of the financial subsidiary fell 61 percent, to $83 million.

Interesting, eh? It ain’t just subprime real estate loans… it’s bikes, too. I’m betting there are similar situations in the boat and RV markets as well, or any other industry requiring the significant financing of a purchase. This, of course, tempts me to drag out my soap box and talk about things such as self-restraint and financial responsibility in the sense of “we have met the enemy and he is us.” And to re-post the famous Walt Kelly cartoon which I will do, yet again.

The cartoon is as far as I’ll go down this path, other than to say the collective “we” brought a LOT of the current economic crisis upon ourselves through our instant-gratification culture. The sales, marketing, and finance asshats who encourage and exploit that attitude ain’t helping things, either. I really don’t know which is worse…the clue-free consumers who really DO believe they deserve every damned thing in life… NOW! … or the aforementioned blackguards who make mindless acquisition possible at exorbitant cost to everyone involved (bike loans at 18-frickin’ percent?), including those who hold more reasonable and prudent values.

One is tempted to think we might deserve to reap this economic whirlwind… but I keep reminding myself there ARE responsible people left in America. Somewhere…

Well, now. I should remind you that the Harley article isn’t about values and financial peccadilloes… it’s mostly about the bike bid’niz and its product. And the article IS a good read, regardless of the fact most of us bikers have seen this movie before… like back in the early-80s when Harley was on the brink and cajoled temporary tariffs out of President Reagan and the Congress on imported bikes over 700 cc displacement while management saved the firm. Forgive me my massive digression and pontification, Gentle Reader.

Stimulating

It looks like SN1 is doing his bit to stimulate the economy, what with sending several thousand Yankee Dollars to those wonderful folks in Milwaukee who assemble Hardly-Ablesons. This photo is all I have to go on at the moment... sent via Sprint Picture Mail not five minutes ago. That would be Grandson Sean in the picture. I'm wondering why he has his fingers in his ears... I'm promised that all will be revealed this weekend via voice call.

I'm also wondering if SN1 kept the Kowalski (the red mo'sickle at the link) or traded it off to acquire the Monster Bike. You'd be correct if you think I look upon Milwaukee Vibrators with something of a jaundiced eye, Gentle Reader. "Taste is all in the mouth"... as it's said. But a Big-Ass cruiser is probably fitting for a 40-something guy, right? (insert smiley-face thingie here)

My Latest Wet Dream

The mo'sickle above is a replica of the bike Steve McQueen used to race in the way-back. A blurb:

Steve McQueen was well known as a motorcyclist and, as anyone who has seen him in the film ‘On Any Sunday’ will know, a capable dirt bike racer too. What is perhaps less well known was that he had a great deal of personal input into the bikes he rode and raced. One such bike, and allegedly his favorite was a Métisse Mark III Desert Racer imported from the UK in kit form.

The Métisse brand, originally established by the Rickman brothers, Derek and Don who were famous for their road racing frames, is now owned by Gerry Lisi who has gained approval from McQueen’s son Chad to produce a limited edition run of replicas of the bike his father rode.

Oh, My. Talk about Lottery Fantasy Number Frickin' ONE... Well, maybe Number Frickin' Three. There would have to be a suitable garage to put the Métisse in. And a suitable house attached to said suitable garage. Dang. I sense we're going down a rat-hole here, and quickly at that. More detail on this exquisite machine, if'n you're interested, here.
Update, later that same day: Speaking of moto-dreams and such... The bike pictured above, a 1953 Vincent Black Shadow, is currently being auctioned off on eBay. Only three bids have been received so far (current: $45,200.00, reserve not met) and the bidding is open until February 2, 2009. Apropos of nothing... I had the opportunity to pick up this Vincent's little brother (a 1950's vintage 500cc single) when I was stationed in England in the '80s and passed on the offer. I STILL kick myself for that move... or non-move, as the case may be.

Anyhoo. I hope the Vincent above finds a good home. Hopefully with someone who thinks "red hair and black leather" is his favorite color scheme.

This, That, and the Other

One of the more interesting things about g-mail is the lil snippets you get at the top of your in-box… things like a “quote of the day,” abbreviated news headlines, links to magazine articles, and not a lil bit of weirdness. Today’s quote-of-the-day led me to “Brainy Quote,” a site I sometimes frequent when I’m looking for a quote from someone. There’s quite an interesting collection of stuff from one Robert Orben, not a few of which made me smile. Examples:

To err is human - and to blame it on a computer is even more so. (Facebook, anyone?)

Every speaker has a mouth; An arrangement rather neat. Sometimes it's filled with wisdom. Sometimes it's filled with feet.

And so on. Folksy humorous stuff. Right up my alley.

―:☺:―

Lotsa folks read blogs through an RSS feed; I don’t. I like to visit my Daily Reads personally, which may or may not be due to my not-so-well-suppressed Luddite tendencies. That said, I DO use Google Reader to keep up with Kukla’s Korner, my favorite hockey blog. KK is a collective blog and the folks there write a LOT about hockey, oftentimes about teams I couldn’t care less about (like the Coyotes. and nearly EVERY team in the Eastern Conference). So it makes sense to use a reader in this case… I can skip the stuff that’s essentially meaningless and read what really matters, i.e., things about the Beloved Wings.

All the foregoing is a long-winded introduction to a minor shock I received before I was fully caffeinated this morning. I was absent-mindedly scrolling down through the KK feed while the coffee was brewing when I came across an item that surprised the living HELL out of me: a link to a post written by a Certain Someone I used to know. THIS was a serious “WTF?” moment! KK is linking to this Certain Someone? KK… the hockey blog? Linking to someone who doesn’t give two hoots in Hell about hockey and never did? I didn’t believe my eyes.

And well I shouldn’t have. This Certain Someone created a blog about two years ago (or so) but never posted anything. I put the blog link in my RSS feed… just in case. Certain Someone began writing recently and I just noticed that today. The fact Certain Someone’s blog is in my RSS reader didn’t occur to me until I was well into KK’s second page, thinking… “where the Hell is that post?” Then I remembered I’d added Certain Someone’s link to my RSS reader. And felt really stupid. Doh!

Today’s lesson: NEVER try to do anything… no matter how mundane it may be… until your caffeine levels are stabilized and restored to normal.

―:☺:―

Today’s public link to stuff I’m putting up at Facebook: Mo'Sickles Past and Present. A collection of 23 photos of motorcycles I’ve known and loved over the years… just as the title would indicate, strangely enough. Literal ‘R’ Us. If you think I’m using Facebook like other people use Flickr… you’re right. Facebook doesn’t give you the option to view photos in other than the one size you’re given, and that’s a drawback. Sorta like what Ol’ Henry said about the Model T: “You can have any color you want, as long as it’s black.” I know: get a Flickr account. But remember: Luddite tendencies.

―:☺:―

Have you noticed? I’ve been off politics of late. I’m just sick to death of it, generally speaking. My Tribe isn’t doing anything significant these days and really doesn’t have much of an opportunity to do anything significant anyway, what with Dubya on his way out the door and the GOP being in the minority in Congress. That said… I enjoyed Dubya’s Farewell Speech last evening.

There is legitimate debate about many of these decisions. But there can be little debate about the results. America has gone more than seven years without another terrorist attack on our soil. This is a tribute to those who toil night and day to keep us safe -- law enforcement officers, intelligence analysts, homeland security and diplomatic personnel, and the men and women of the United States Armed Forces.

Our nation is blessed to have citizens who volunteer to defend us in this time of danger. I have cherished meeting these selfless patriots and their families. And America owes you a debt of gratitude. And to all our men and women in uniform listening tonight: There has been no higher honor than serving as your Commander-in-Chief.

[…]

Like all who have held this office before me, I have experienced setbacks. There are things I would do differently if given the chance. Yet I've always acted with the best interests of our country in mind. I have followed my conscience and done what I thought was right. You may not agree with some of the tough decisions I have made. But I hope you can agree that I was willing to make the tough decisions.

Agreed, Mr. President. I hope your successor has but half the conscientiousness and dedication to principles you’ve displayed during your time in office. It takes a BIG man to disregard the folks who “go with the flow” and do the right thing, in spite of what other people might think. And that’s the main reason I worry about your successor. It remains an open question: “Will he do the right thing?” I don't get warm and fuzzy feelings when I mull that question over in my mind...
I'll miss ya, Mr. President. Godspeed.

Facebook

Some of you Gentle Readers already know I bit the bullet, swallowed my Luddite tendencies whole, and created a Facebook account. My initial impressions? It's fun... BUT. The interface is about as clunky as it gets. The Help files... such as they are... are more opaque than the writings of any 18th century philosopher you'd care to name. But I'm surprised at the number of folks I know that are on Facebook: literally tons of 'em.

And it's addictive, which is synomonous with fun. I just pulled an unintended all-nighter... the finishing touch of which was putting up a photo album of 20 (selected) pics I took in Arches National Park towards the end of 2007's Great Mid-Life Crisis Mo'sickle Trip (which was chronicled in these pages in May and June of 2007). Stuff like this:

All y'all who've been along for the ride since Spring of 2007 have already seen this stuff, or most of it, anyhoo. There may be some new-to-you shots at the link. And those of you who've stumbled upon EIP in the past year or so probably haven't seen any of it.

I'm rambling now. Must sleep...