Sunday, July 30, 2006

is to fun

Trail Riding is fun, sometimes. Click here to see some foreigners enjoying the hobby.

Thursday, July 27, 2006

From the Cradle to the Grave

Sunday, July 23, 2006

Apparently I aint alone


Friday, July 21, 2006


Date rape drug, take the drug forget your crime, pass the polygraph. The perfect crime...I tried this half a dozen times but I cannot remember if it worked or not, I do know I was robbed half a dozen times and it sure hurt to go number two afterwards.
I remember talking to an old drunk named Roy years ago and he told me about the time he blacked out at the corner of Washington and Belmont outside the Blue Mule Tavern. (Real name, I swear to beer) He told me the next thing he remembered was regaining wits in Tijuana Mexico where he landed a job riding around in a plumber’s truck. He said it was the best job he ever had. I believed him and still do. Good ole Roy.

Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Good Solid Advice

I've been working on a new advice column for off-road cyclists. My approach is to some unorthodox but who am I to judge. I was asked a question about vomit and snot and this saqe wisom was all I had to offer. Trust me advising aint easy...JW

‘Twas a cool spring morning and the shadow cast by the sun made my silhouette while riding look short and dumpy. I stood straight on my pegs and looked down to see if I really was fat, when I confirmed that I was still svelte I looked up, just in time to swerve and miss a man standing in the trail in a bear suit! I lost control while plunging downward off the side of the mountain. Soon (seconds, minutes, hours?) my rear wheel hit the ground and I was to regain control of my bike just before I plunged through what appeared to be a razor wire fence, I looked down to see if I was cut into a million pieces and looked up just in time to see I was about to plunged into a huge pool of what appeared to be human vomit! I stopped chin deep standing on my pegs, engine at a slow idle, still running thanks to my “Brand Z” air cleaner. I stood balanced in the vile pool and carefully surveyed my predicament. A man in a hasmat suit approached me with a bucket and threw the contents at me, I heard him chuckle when he said “snot”, I leapt onto my seat and pulled my “Brand X” riding jersey over my helmet which blocked the viscous mess from hitting in my face. I then dropped the shirt, reached down with my super gripper “Brand Z” riding boots and blipped the throttle on my “Brand Z” auto clutch motorcycle. I was soon out of the pool thanks to the super traction my “Brand Z” tires afforded. I took a quick spin around the military like compound and realized I had stumbled upon a the top secret research center maintained by the NSA who I had heard tell from “Source Z” was used to develop ways to deliver and decipher secret codes in human vomit, very covert, very dangerous! I high tailed it through the hole in the fence and caught my squid riding mates in no time. They all laughed at the story and my vile stench. Well let me assure you dear readers the truth is sometimes just plain gross, the truth ain’t always roses. I hope you found this helpful and ride on. JW

Friday, July 14, 2006

I Busy

Lemme tell you something, I aint just sitting around smoking watching the world fly by... I been busy! I'm working on a few book reviews , maintaing an advice column for off-road motorcyclists (nothing mechanical, just touchy feely stuff) and working my regular job 24/7 so I been busy! More later but for now I busy! Kind Regards JW

Monday, July 10, 2006

I heard about this...


A couple of years ago I read about this sport in a magazine, I had no idea Indianapolis was so progressive. Cool...

July 10, 2006
Run, chug, run
Central Indiana residents are discovering hashing, a game that marries exercise with beer-swilling
By Cordell Eddings
July 10, 2006
Exercise can be a drag, unless you're a "hasher," in which case pulling on your sweats includes a good measure of socializing and beer-drinking while getting your heart rate up.
Indianapolis has become a playground of sorts for a small number of adults, members of a group called Hash House Harriers, who pant for miles around the city, following a trail as much for camaraderie as for a workout.
But don't call them a running club. They're not a swim club. Really, they're not an exercise club at all -- not in the strictest sense, anyway.
But these people do walk, run and occasionally swim, often through arduous -- and bizarre -- 3- to 5-mile courses. They may pass through gushing rivers, across uneven terrain (sharp rocks are a favorite) or through abandoned buildings, manure-covered fields and construction sites.
The game begins when two members of the group head out ahead of the others with flour and mark a trail the rest are supposed to follow to find them.
Call it adult hide-and-seek.
There's a beer (and water) break halfway through the trail as a reward and, at the end, everyone gets together for traditional (often bawdy) hasher songs. Some also may be punished for "hash crimes," which could include coming in first or last or making the trail too hard to follow.
The punishment? Drinking more beer.
Competition is frowned upon. The only rule to hashing: There are no rules.
Some hashers participate while slightly inebriated, any risks to their health notwithstanding.
"People think it's childish or immature, but we would be sitting on our (duffs) drinking beer anyway, so we might as well get some exercise," said hasher Cari Crowe, Indianapolis.
"It's a frat party for adults and a great way to get exercise," said Dorothy Kenckel, an Indianapolis resident who founded the local IndyScent chapter in 1999 and has seen it grow to around 30 regular members.
"Everyone who comes has a great time. There are people from all different backgrounds. It's an instant social club," she said.
Indeed, hash clubs have introduced husbands to wives, who have gone on to have kids who have become hashers.
Kenckel said hashing also has allowed the group to see parts of Indianapolis they never would have seen otherwise.
"You would never believe all of the neat things that are in and around Indianapolis," Kenckel said.
Hashing came to Indiana relatively late. The game is believed to have started in Malaysia in 1938 before spreading around the world. Groups have formed throughout the Americas, Africa, Europe, the Middle East and the Pacific Islands. There are now nine clubs in Indiana. Word of mouth and the Internet allow members from each club to meet up wherever they go, creating a global social network.
At the "Freedom Hash" here July 3, participants included hashers from Tokyo and Burma. Participants had taken part in hashes in Thailand, Scotland, Nigeria and across the United States.
"You can show up anywhere in the world, spend 10 minutes online and find a group of people to hang out with," said Chris Kallner, a medical technician.
The Indianapolis club includes teachers, doctors, bankers, lawyers, even rocket scientists ranging in age from their early 20s to mid-60.
While athleticism is not necessary, endurance is crucial to complete a hash. It's not for everyone.
"I didn't know what to expect," said Erin Hannan, a graduate student at Indiana University-Purdue University Indianapolis who was invited to a hash by her roommate. She brought her boyfriend, and now both are hooked.
"I tell people, just come out once," she said. "Give it a chance, and you will love it."

Sunday, July 09, 2006

Broken Bicycles

I am at a loss so I just thought I'd let Mr. Waits do the talkin'.

Broken Bicycles

Broken bicycles,
Old busted chains,
With busted handle bars
Out in the rain.
Somebody must
Have an orphanage for
All these things that nobody
Wants any more
September's reminding July
It's time to be saying good-bye.

Summer is gone,
Our love will remain.
Like old broken bicycles
Out in the rain.

Broken Bicycles,
Don't tell my folks;
There's all those playing cards
Pinned to the spokes,
Laid down like skeletons
out on the lawn.
The wheels won't turn
When the other has gone.
The seasons can turn on a dime,
Somehow I forget every time;
For all the things that you've given me
Will always stay
Broken, but I'll never throw them away

Sunday, July 02, 2006

Damn Fool Neighbors

Looking out my window over my computer screen I saw this scene one day, I quickly looked back at my screen , real life can be so unnerving.
My back yard is not that large but I have pondered tearing down the fence separating my yard from the neighbors yard and it would appear that I had a much larger yard, although my landscaping philosophy is a little different than theirs. I prefer the abandoned estate look while they are all about forcing balance in a wild world, aint gonna happen… Much to their chagrin their picture window overlooks my yard so they have only to look out the window to be reminded of everything they do not believe in, have these people not read “Requiem for a Lawnmower” ? My backyard neighbors are a couple of damn fools!