hppants
Well-known member
July 2016
Every heard somebody say “I’m about to come uncorked”? I liken that to a champagne bottle. The contents are under extreme pressure, begging to be let out. The wrapper is removed, followed by the wire tie. At this point, something has got to give. As the cork is wiggled, the contents start the path of least resistance. Finally, the cork flies and immediately thereafter is the explosion. As fast as it starts, it’s over and things return to some sense of normalcy.
It’s been one of those kind of weeks. My Assistant Director and right hand man was on vacation. Everybody deserves a vacation, but when your stable only has a few horses, everyone counts. From the word go on Monday and through the end of the week, I was running like a headless chicken, putting out proverbial fires left and right. At times, it seemed like a blur. My A/D earns his money, that much I was re-assured this week.
Of course, the usual vocational B.S. doesn’t stop either. Weekly meetings, deadlines, reports, phone calls, an endless electronic sea of emails, and just about anything else you can think of. At one relatively large gathering of colleagues, I’m struggling to keep my **** together. My phone is blowing up, I haven’t had lunch yet, and this guy is foaming at the mouth and for the love of Pete, he simply will not stop his dribbling vomit. I faked a phone call, excused myself, and by the grace of the all mighty, saved myself from going postal.
Needless to say, when the whistle blew on Friday, there was no rest for the weary. Down here on the Gulf Coast, at this time of year, the yard work will not relent. The grass needs cutting and the beds weeding. In an act of total stupidity, earlier in the week, I told SWMBO that I would help clean the house this weekend. We did a little horse trading and even a round of “rock, paper, scissors” to divvy up the chores. I got bathrooms and the floors. Could be worse, I guess.
I get home Friday and start inside, before moving out to the sauna to cut the grass and clean up the yard. Two hours later, I’m sweating like a hooker in church. No joke – I could not be more wet if I jumped in a swimming pool with my clothes on. I turn the box fan on in my shop and sit down next to the FJR with a cool glass of water. The fan is blowing against my stinky wet torso and providing a little evaporative cooling in the humid shop. I look over toward my bike and I’m thinking “Boy, I’d sure like to go for a ride tomorrow”.
About then, the skies unzipped and a heavy summer shower dumps on top of me. In 5 minutes, the temperature dropped 20 degrees and it felt like Mother Nature turned on the air conditioner. I took my shirt, socks, and shoes off, and stood in the driveway like a little country boy, cooling off in the rain.
Refreshed, I toweled off in the carport and walked into the house with one word clearly on my mind – BEER. I grabbed a cold one and mosied to the bathroom. As I reflected back on my week, I remember thinking “well, at least it’s over. I’ve got the rest of the weekend to play, to do whatever I want!!”
Not so fast, Pants.
Out of the shower, I grabbed another cold brew and moved toward the office to sit down at the computer and relax. SWMBO comes into the office and politely declares that we are double dating with my sister and her husband. We are going out to eat and then walk next door to a small bar that has team trivia. Oh joy, just what I friggin need. I’m not totally shocked. She did mention something about this earlier in the week. I just hadn’t heard much in the last day (or perhaps I wasn’t paying much attention), and I figured it fell through. I love my sis and BIL, and they are great company on a double date.
It’s just I was so looking forward to about 3 more brewskies and some snacks, followed by a simple quiet meal and maybe some **** tube. Besides – I hate trivia games. I don’t remember any of that crap.
Oh well, no point in sucking my thumb. What’s done is done. I put a shirt on and some sandals and of we go. We had a great time. Food was delicious, and I tried a couple of new beers at the trivia bar. Our team (Tequilla Mockingbird) did pretty good, even though it was obvious we were sitting in a crowd of intellectuals. I even contributed; getting two questions correct for our team the others had no clue about (German word for light beer that also means Grocery Store – Lager, Where is the rock group ABBA from – Sweden).
By the time we got home, I was pretty tired and had mostly written off the ride for tomorrow. I figured I would wake up whenever I felt rested, and whatever happens after that we will just have to see.
This morning, I’m woken up about 5:30 am rested and hearing a different kind of bird peeping on the back patio in the daybreak light. The nest of 3 cardinal eggs have hatched during the night and the momma is peeping at her triplets. I made some coffee and watched them in the low light for a few minutes. I walked out the front door to get the newspaper and was pleasantly surprised to feel the temperature just a little bit cooler than it normally is. That frog strangler rain yesterday evening did a nice job of cooling things off.
Inspired, I decided to gear up and go for a ride. As I taxi out of the neighborhood, Green Onions by B.B. King comes into my ear buds. The catchy organ rip gets me moving and excited about the ride. I turn onto the highway and twist the wrist. I have NO idea where I’m going. I decide to play a little game of “left/right/left/right”. I ride the road I’m on until I either get to the end of the road, a stop sign, or a signal light, whichever comes first. Then I turn left. At the end of that road, next stop sign, or next signal, whichever comes first, I turn right. Then left. Then right, and so on….
The game takes me well out to the west of the city in the sticks. The summer crops are in full swing now in the deep south. The milo is headed out on top of the plant, and from what I can tell, no cow is going to go hungry this winter. Soybeans are set on the plant, and harvesting for these is only a couple weeks away. The sugar cane is tall, perhaps 6 feet or higher now. But the stalks are thin and it will be a few months before the sweet juice inside them is ready for processing. The rice fields are dry, having been drained for a couple of weeks. The rice is ready to be cut now. The nutty aroma emitted by the dried rice plants is very nice, coming up through my helmet.
I quit playing my game and started riding more familiar and desirable pavement. It’s still very early in the morning, and the roads are basically desolate. The temperature is slowly rising, but so far it’s not too bad under my mesh jacket. Yesterday’s rain has cleaned up the roads very well – plenty of grip all around today on my worn, but not worn out Michelin PR2s. I run through several small towns: Ridge, Rayne, Crowley, Eunice, and Mamou. Each town is basically quiet, except at the convenience stores where people are buying supplies and fuel for either their work day, or as in my case, play day.
Just outside Mamou, I roll up on the intersection of State Hwy 1161. What an unbelievable blessing!!!! This is one of my favorite roads in the entire region. Basically a freshly paved farm road, Hwy 1161 has some very high speed banked sweepers that are wide open with great visibility. Just off the intersection, I pull off and stop to drink some water.
A couple of farm hands are hacking on an old rice combine across the way. On my side of the road, a dried rice field is swaying in the light breeze. Down the road in another field, I can see a handful of cows having breakfast on some tall grass.
Refreshed, I gear back up and hit play on my MP3 player: AC/DC – Thunderstruck. Oh yeah, that’s the right song and the right road, baby. I’ve had a hell of a week. It’s time to uncork this bike right here, right now!!!
I crank the volume up and run the big girl up the gears aggressively, shifting at about 7,000 rpm. By the time I get to the first curve, posted 40, I’m running 65-ish and my crotch is up against the tank. I lean the bike over in 3rd gear and the suspension plants beautifully. The road is clean and wide open. No cars coming, no dogs, no nothing. Past the apex, I twist the throttle hard as Brian Johnson starts verse #1. I get a rush of adrenaline as the bike is pulling hard. For the next 4 miles, I hit the high speed sweeper with the precision of a Moto GP racer. My lines are absolutely perfect and it’s like somehow the bike knows what I am thinking. At times, I add a smidge of counter steer to the bars and she flops over with huge confidence. For 2 or 3 curves, I’m treated to Angus’ solo and it fuels me like some kind of high octane race gas. At one point as I’m accelerating out of a very fast left hander, I glance down to the speedo. I lifted my eyes back up to look through the next curve before I could accurately read my speed. All I remember is that the first digit was a “1”. Enough said…..
Too soon, the curves end. I pull up and back off the throttle. The bike slows down well below “going to jail” speed and after about 1 mile of straight pavement, Hwy 1161 dead ends at the intersection of Hwy 29. The boys are wrapping up their song and quite appropriately, I’m feeling pretty electric. I’ve got a little tingle in my fingers and my heartbeat is elevated. I turn the music volume down and immediately start to calm. I turn right on Hwy 29 and set the GPS for home. Of course I know how to get there, but I like gadgets as much as the next guy. It was a very nice and easy 50 miles to the house.
The cork is out now. All pressures are back to normal.
Stay thirsty, my friends……
Every heard somebody say “I’m about to come uncorked”? I liken that to a champagne bottle. The contents are under extreme pressure, begging to be let out. The wrapper is removed, followed by the wire tie. At this point, something has got to give. As the cork is wiggled, the contents start the path of least resistance. Finally, the cork flies and immediately thereafter is the explosion. As fast as it starts, it’s over and things return to some sense of normalcy.
It’s been one of those kind of weeks. My Assistant Director and right hand man was on vacation. Everybody deserves a vacation, but when your stable only has a few horses, everyone counts. From the word go on Monday and through the end of the week, I was running like a headless chicken, putting out proverbial fires left and right. At times, it seemed like a blur. My A/D earns his money, that much I was re-assured this week.
Of course, the usual vocational B.S. doesn’t stop either. Weekly meetings, deadlines, reports, phone calls, an endless electronic sea of emails, and just about anything else you can think of. At one relatively large gathering of colleagues, I’m struggling to keep my **** together. My phone is blowing up, I haven’t had lunch yet, and this guy is foaming at the mouth and for the love of Pete, he simply will not stop his dribbling vomit. I faked a phone call, excused myself, and by the grace of the all mighty, saved myself from going postal.
Needless to say, when the whistle blew on Friday, there was no rest for the weary. Down here on the Gulf Coast, at this time of year, the yard work will not relent. The grass needs cutting and the beds weeding. In an act of total stupidity, earlier in the week, I told SWMBO that I would help clean the house this weekend. We did a little horse trading and even a round of “rock, paper, scissors” to divvy up the chores. I got bathrooms and the floors. Could be worse, I guess.
I get home Friday and start inside, before moving out to the sauna to cut the grass and clean up the yard. Two hours later, I’m sweating like a hooker in church. No joke – I could not be more wet if I jumped in a swimming pool with my clothes on. I turn the box fan on in my shop and sit down next to the FJR with a cool glass of water. The fan is blowing against my stinky wet torso and providing a little evaporative cooling in the humid shop. I look over toward my bike and I’m thinking “Boy, I’d sure like to go for a ride tomorrow”.
About then, the skies unzipped and a heavy summer shower dumps on top of me. In 5 minutes, the temperature dropped 20 degrees and it felt like Mother Nature turned on the air conditioner. I took my shirt, socks, and shoes off, and stood in the driveway like a little country boy, cooling off in the rain.
Refreshed, I toweled off in the carport and walked into the house with one word clearly on my mind – BEER. I grabbed a cold one and mosied to the bathroom. As I reflected back on my week, I remember thinking “well, at least it’s over. I’ve got the rest of the weekend to play, to do whatever I want!!”
Not so fast, Pants.
Out of the shower, I grabbed another cold brew and moved toward the office to sit down at the computer and relax. SWMBO comes into the office and politely declares that we are double dating with my sister and her husband. We are going out to eat and then walk next door to a small bar that has team trivia. Oh joy, just what I friggin need. I’m not totally shocked. She did mention something about this earlier in the week. I just hadn’t heard much in the last day (or perhaps I wasn’t paying much attention), and I figured it fell through. I love my sis and BIL, and they are great company on a double date.
It’s just I was so looking forward to about 3 more brewskies and some snacks, followed by a simple quiet meal and maybe some **** tube. Besides – I hate trivia games. I don’t remember any of that crap.
Oh well, no point in sucking my thumb. What’s done is done. I put a shirt on and some sandals and of we go. We had a great time. Food was delicious, and I tried a couple of new beers at the trivia bar. Our team (Tequilla Mockingbird) did pretty good, even though it was obvious we were sitting in a crowd of intellectuals. I even contributed; getting two questions correct for our team the others had no clue about (German word for light beer that also means Grocery Store – Lager, Where is the rock group ABBA from – Sweden).
By the time we got home, I was pretty tired and had mostly written off the ride for tomorrow. I figured I would wake up whenever I felt rested, and whatever happens after that we will just have to see.
This morning, I’m woken up about 5:30 am rested and hearing a different kind of bird peeping on the back patio in the daybreak light. The nest of 3 cardinal eggs have hatched during the night and the momma is peeping at her triplets. I made some coffee and watched them in the low light for a few minutes. I walked out the front door to get the newspaper and was pleasantly surprised to feel the temperature just a little bit cooler than it normally is. That frog strangler rain yesterday evening did a nice job of cooling things off.
Inspired, I decided to gear up and go for a ride. As I taxi out of the neighborhood, Green Onions by B.B. King comes into my ear buds. The catchy organ rip gets me moving and excited about the ride. I turn onto the highway and twist the wrist. I have NO idea where I’m going. I decide to play a little game of “left/right/left/right”. I ride the road I’m on until I either get to the end of the road, a stop sign, or a signal light, whichever comes first. Then I turn left. At the end of that road, next stop sign, or next signal, whichever comes first, I turn right. Then left. Then right, and so on….
The game takes me well out to the west of the city in the sticks. The summer crops are in full swing now in the deep south. The milo is headed out on top of the plant, and from what I can tell, no cow is going to go hungry this winter. Soybeans are set on the plant, and harvesting for these is only a couple weeks away. The sugar cane is tall, perhaps 6 feet or higher now. But the stalks are thin and it will be a few months before the sweet juice inside them is ready for processing. The rice fields are dry, having been drained for a couple of weeks. The rice is ready to be cut now. The nutty aroma emitted by the dried rice plants is very nice, coming up through my helmet.
I quit playing my game and started riding more familiar and desirable pavement. It’s still very early in the morning, and the roads are basically desolate. The temperature is slowly rising, but so far it’s not too bad under my mesh jacket. Yesterday’s rain has cleaned up the roads very well – plenty of grip all around today on my worn, but not worn out Michelin PR2s. I run through several small towns: Ridge, Rayne, Crowley, Eunice, and Mamou. Each town is basically quiet, except at the convenience stores where people are buying supplies and fuel for either their work day, or as in my case, play day.
Just outside Mamou, I roll up on the intersection of State Hwy 1161. What an unbelievable blessing!!!! This is one of my favorite roads in the entire region. Basically a freshly paved farm road, Hwy 1161 has some very high speed banked sweepers that are wide open with great visibility. Just off the intersection, I pull off and stop to drink some water.
A couple of farm hands are hacking on an old rice combine across the way. On my side of the road, a dried rice field is swaying in the light breeze. Down the road in another field, I can see a handful of cows having breakfast on some tall grass.
Refreshed, I gear back up and hit play on my MP3 player: AC/DC – Thunderstruck. Oh yeah, that’s the right song and the right road, baby. I’ve had a hell of a week. It’s time to uncork this bike right here, right now!!!
I crank the volume up and run the big girl up the gears aggressively, shifting at about 7,000 rpm. By the time I get to the first curve, posted 40, I’m running 65-ish and my crotch is up against the tank. I lean the bike over in 3rd gear and the suspension plants beautifully. The road is clean and wide open. No cars coming, no dogs, no nothing. Past the apex, I twist the throttle hard as Brian Johnson starts verse #1. I get a rush of adrenaline as the bike is pulling hard. For the next 4 miles, I hit the high speed sweeper with the precision of a Moto GP racer. My lines are absolutely perfect and it’s like somehow the bike knows what I am thinking. At times, I add a smidge of counter steer to the bars and she flops over with huge confidence. For 2 or 3 curves, I’m treated to Angus’ solo and it fuels me like some kind of high octane race gas. At one point as I’m accelerating out of a very fast left hander, I glance down to the speedo. I lifted my eyes back up to look through the next curve before I could accurately read my speed. All I remember is that the first digit was a “1”. Enough said…..
Too soon, the curves end. I pull up and back off the throttle. The bike slows down well below “going to jail” speed and after about 1 mile of straight pavement, Hwy 1161 dead ends at the intersection of Hwy 29. The boys are wrapping up their song and quite appropriately, I’m feeling pretty electric. I’ve got a little tingle in my fingers and my heartbeat is elevated. I turn the music volume down and immediately start to calm. I turn right on Hwy 29 and set the GPS for home. Of course I know how to get there, but I like gadgets as much as the next guy. It was a very nice and easy 50 miles to the house.
The cork is out now. All pressures are back to normal.
Stay thirsty, my friends……
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