Yes it feels

kind of weird. Wallowing in my self initiated exile...
Though I find it interesting that what's being reported (yes you can gather news, real news without Facebook) is that I am not the only one that's removing myself/oneself from the "social media" world and the overload/stress that come from being addicted. Yeah I am still shaking a little as I type, withdrawal symptoms have set in...

My newly developed quest is to try and post/express positives and stay away from the oh so many negatives in our lives that we are bombarded with almost every minute/second of our waking lives. The curse of certain forms of technology.

With that semi, little itty bitty negative statement made, here is my positive statement/post for the day, or should I say; "I am turning over a new leaf"...

Colorado weather even after 44 years sometimes still surprises me.
We were @ 81 degrees yesterday:

The problem with trees is they always leave you with something...

Today we are @ 31 degrees and snow, with a lot of moisture in it, thank God, we need the moisture in a bad way. 

The Colorado snow fall to me is one of the most calming sights/experiences that a person can encounter. A quiet, and smell that you can't truly explain with words, some of you will remember...

W

Gone to ground

One thing that I have learned from this insane election cycle is that it is better to step back, accept who you are, look at your faith (seriously, or maybe lack of faith) and then shut up.
God is in control, there is nothing that we can do to change an election, OTHER THAN VOTE and pray!
Reportedly 85% of the Christians in America voted, well just look at the results.
Most of us do not believe President Trump is the best choice just the only choice in a flawed 2 party system.
The uber liberal/progressives failed miserably, sucking vast amounts of manna from George Soros, the great manipulator of our generation. I am so glad his check book has been lightened, and us poor whitetrash screwed him and the 1%'ers. take that to your bank and choke it down... Nothing worse for the rich than to be taken down by the low life working class that outsmarted you, makes you pissed doesn't it, wake up jack off...

Due to the division in our country that started with the current administration I relieve myself from the burden on being social (on Facebook). I have taken a hiatus from the addictive junk that comes from FB. I have unfriended some, changed some to acquaintances (yes family included) and well basically shut down my personal FB page.
Unfortunately I need FB for our business, otherwise I would have closed all of my accounts permanently? 

My blog allows me to speak my mind without the constant dribble of the whiners...

W

The truth inevitably offends...

I voted, am white, have no college education and guess what? all of us lowlifes changed the world, for good or bad.
All of the elitists college pukes think they can control us. They look down their educated nose at us, they laugh at us, they hire us to do the work they could not even imagine doing and now they are being the usual Liberal/Progressive/Democrat! 
Whining. 
Or sadder still, some Republicans that refused to stoop so low as to have to make an educated choice, yeah and educated choice. The lesser of two evils. 
Guess that college education isn't working out so well...

"The factory workers, the veterans, the cops, the kitchen help, people who plow the fields, make the trains run, pick up the trash and keep the country together and keep it moving — they are all now winners. As one, these cogs of our daily life rose up in a peaceful revolution, their only weapons the ballot box and their faith in the future." (Michael Goodwin NY Post)

When was the last time you were in a public bathroom and witnessed a worker (of any color) cleaning up and then took the time to look them in the eyes and say: "thank you, you are doing a great job"? Well I can honestly say that I do this every time I see some undereducated worker doing the work that over educated people take for granted and well just look down upon. If you have never cleaned public bathrooms before you have no room to talk, yes I have done this kind of work. 
My father & mother always told me that no matter what job you have, do it to your best abilities. Well let's just say I have had my fair share of jobs.

I never chose/wanted to go to college as I had an unpleasant time in high school and knew that I did not fit in. I learn by doing, not by what a teacher tells me I have to learn from a book. 
Though I love to read and have learned a lot by reading (what I choose to read), not what I am told to read. My wife the librarian taught me this simple fact. Every night before we go to sleep we are reading something...
My favorite book or books, you ask? easy, the Bible (New King James Version & Grandma Damon's King James) and Walden and Other Writings. Both I have read cover to cover numerous times and underline, circle and highlight what is significant. 

Well here is a list of some of the other low life, white uneducated people that have, well let's just say changed the world (a partial list that I am happy to be apart of):
Abraham Lincoln
Andrew Carnegie
Andrew Jackson
Anne Beiler
Ansel Adams
Barbara Lynch (a chef no less)
Benjamin Franklin
Carl Lindner
Charles Culpeper
Dave Thomas
David Green
David Neeleman
Frank Lloyd Wright
George Eastman
Henry Ford
...

http://elitedaily.com/news/business/100-top-entrepreneurs-succeeded-college-degree/

Do I need to go on. 

I guess maybe all of us uneducated white people are not so stupid after all? How many people of "any color" have had their lives changed in a positive way by a caucasian, white person or any other slang word you choose to call us? 
The only one any of us (any color) need to look at is, Abe. 
How 'bout you?
Maybe just maybe we (uneducated white people) operate businesses that employ people that then take care of their families, pay taxes and well let's just say get pissed off and vote their conscience. Most of us believe in God, have probably read some of the bible, maybe attended church and well are usually decent people. 

We do not go down to the street corner and protest, riot, burn businesses, loot, all because of a person that instigated a perceived problem. 

Or their candidate did not win an election.

America is made up of people, not a color, not a party, not an education level, not a job, not a home. 

We all are Americans and yes our newly elected President has pretty big shoes to fill. Do you pray for our president? God asks us to pray for our leaders, no matter their color, race, party or beliefs. 

How 'bout we give him a chance to prove that he can lead. 

Leadership is missing in our great country. 

Strong leaders (no matter the party) make strong countries, thus making happy citizens.

W

Morimoto Waikiki Beach Honolulu Oct. 2014

It all started for me many years ago...
Once while I was watching the Food Channel (my favorite), a show called "Iron Chef" was on. I had never heard of it before and well what the heah,  I decided to give it a go.
Needless to say after watching every episode, taping, yes VHS taping most of the shows I was hooked.
The show was produced in Japan by Fuji TV with voice over in English as it was broadcast in Japanese.
What the chef's were doing was mind boggling to me. Eventually Marg also became hooked.
There was a young Chef named Masaharu Morimoto who first appeared in 1998. His cooking genius became legendary.

Well yesterday October 21st 2014 Marg & I were able to eat at one of his restaurants in Honolulu.

The experience is something that is difficult to describe. You really have to be a foodie, food snob, chef to understand...
You also have to truly enjoy eating sushi, and the art of sushi itself.

What is your passion?
Mine is eating! 
To achieve the level of eating I enjoy I have spent years cooking, learning and eating. 
In the past I have attended various culinary schools. Spent numerous hours watching the finest chef's in the world via various cooking shows and movies, learning through it all.

We had made reservations as I did not know how busy the restaurant might be, and we had a very small window to attend. 
Waikiki is not just around the corner from Firestone Colorado...
I chose lunch as it would fit our budget and schedule best. 
Our almost private lunch is to date the greatest culinary experience Marg & I have ever experienced. 
Lunch at Morimoto Honolulu...

A light rain was falling as we left our hotel, with my trusty smartphone and GPS it looked as if we could walk there. Off we went on our adventure.
Even with the blasted GPS I could not find Morimoto's. I had to ask for directions from someone who was standing outside the entrance to the restaurant, DUH...
No worries, we had arrived.

Yes we had high expectations as we had followed his career for over 20 years! 

The wait staff was very helpful and patient with a couple of hillbilly's like us...

We asked our waitress & waiter for recommendations and started on our culinary extravaganza. 

No expense will be spared, as we never thought that we would be able to do this again...

Every dish was beyond our expectations. 

The Saki sampler warmed Marg's tummy and gave her a "sun settin'" glow...

Being able to eat this caliber of food is still mind boggling to me. Marg & I had lunch at Morimoto on Waikiki...

Someday we hope to experience his creations again. Though once you have climbed Everest what else is there?

W

Tending to the herd

Motoagriculture, yep that's what I am now a master of. With 50 in the herd there is always something that needs fixin', fed or corralled. Thank God I do not have to breed them!
I now have even more respect for farmers/ranchers taking care of their herd and grazing land.

As a motoagriculturist extraordinaire I spent this amazingly hot end of October day, trying to finish up herd maintenance before winter sets in.

Replace a clutch cable
Replace a front tire
Replace a fork seal
Diagnose a no starty fucky problem, then fix it
Air up them hooves
Diagnose/fix a slipping clutch
Fix The Mule (Junior) belching problem (exhaust pipe just about ready to blow off, loose studs).

Rotate the stock from one container to another
Test ride the shit out of each of the animals I worked on (got to ride 'em like a student, ya' know).

All work done in a fenced in corral around our two 40' steel barns for our trusty herds storage.
No bloody knuckles! 
Only (yes only) a few expletives verbalized, we had a class going on near the corral. 

Couple of days before I had to do maintenance on our "grazing field" (parking lot). There was a massive divot that showed up, engineers said it was ground water problem. A few of my most trusted instructors/cowpokes and I felt that a meteor had hit the west end of our field and bounced/skipped at least another 1/2 dozen times down the parking lot/grazing land leaving smaller divots. 

Anyway we were able to repair our field damage (painting a lot of lines and dots) after the massive asphalt repair trucks came in and tore the shit out of our lovely field.
Ah life of the motoagriculturist.

Distinguished Gentleman's 2016 Ride

Wow it has been a year and Bryce & I are ready for round two.
Last year (see previous posts) was hectic just getting The Mule road worthy. Since then we have put over 4000 miles on her!
This yearly event is truly amazing, on one day throughout cities all over the world people ride motorcycles to raise funds for this wonderful charity.
Here are some of our pictures from last years event with my pillion Bryce.

Now some pictures of The Mule since last years ride, yes she won 1st place in class at a show, really I have witnesses...

Stay tuned!

Ever the entrepreneur...

Well normally I would not share my brilliant entrepreneurial expertise with everyone, but...

Iron Buffalo is moving in a new direction. Thus we are looking for ground floor investors.
First we secured the much sought after GO 4 (Meter Maid Mayhem Machine, aka 4M) contract with the city of Denver.

Now we are moving onto a bigger/better, truly unique (OK brilliant) business model. 

OK here it is, the "Money Ball".

Our first stop will be the mafia, "Need concrete boots"? Give us a call. 

Easy Quickcrete money, Boom Batta Bing.

Right?
Come on I can tell you are starting to see it aren't ya! 
Wish you had thought of this first don't you. Hah!

Need to send something to the bottom of the river, lake, ocean, bog, give us a call.
Ya' need concrete work quick? 
Iron Buffalo has got your back (or is that feet?) no job to small, size 4's are fine! No job to big, size 14 & 15's are common in this clan...
The Russian mafia will be all over this (or is that under). Heck the Ural is made in Russia! National pride angle, right? 
They really care about their comrades, "How many bags ya' need Vlad?"

Next comes the hard part, marketing. 
What should we call her? Come on get those creative juices flowing, I can't handle all of this brilliance myself.
We already have The Mule, 4M (3M was already taken) and now? 
Every machine has to have a name to effectively market to a specific demographic.

Let'r rip, this could be huge! Don't hold back tell me what you think. Yes I'll share our massive fortunes with you for the honor of naming the next beast, really!

If you are interested in investing, just send me a check.

Your budding financial adviser,
Bottom of The Bog Bill 

Maybe I should run this by Marg first, nah.

Limo Science (re-post - orig. 2009)

This is a story from 2009 that I thought was lost... A good friend reminded me of the story and said they still had the original email that I had sent out. 
She was telling the story to one her students, a police officer no less, when he looks over at me and says: "that would be an interesting ticket to write"...

I just wish I had not lost the engineering drawings (thanks bro). They vanished when my computer crashed.


Well as you know, I am driving limo's.  Sometimes you kind of get bored even when driving.  My science project last night was the proper "disposal" of helium filled balloons left over from a wedding.
Okay so I bet you are already thinking of things you can do with them. 

I had dropped off the bride and groom and on the way back to the garage I was trying to figure out what to do with the ten balloons in the back of my 31' stretch Lincoln.
As I figured it, I had some options...

Option 1: When I get back to the garage I can pop them all in the car and dispose of the carcasses. As any self respecting black car limo driver should do. Boring!
Shit man, helium floats! 

Or...
Option 2: This "light bulb coming on" moment happened doing 65 mph at midnight.  Being the prudent scientist I am... I reach through the divider to capture the first unit for my experimental launch, gotta test a theory right?  
Kind of awkward when driving, but doable. 
I open the drivers side window and let 'er rip.  OK that worked but kind of distracting. Got to keep both hands on the wheel and eyes on the road, safety 1st!  
Damn balloons are big as my head, yes my head is that big. All them brains ya know!

I drive a few more boring lonesome miles.

Or...
Option 3: Low and behold another light bulb comes on. Nightlight wattage I might add.  What if I open one window at opposite ends of my 31' custom designed $100K balloon launcher ?  Sounds good to me. The air flow should suck them out.
Right?  

Well you might say I did not take the time for due diligence testing this, this, can you say "brilliant" theory.  Initially I surmised that since I was going forward at 65 mph the airflow would exit the right rear window in a glorious show of balloon freedom!

OK my plan is made and thoroughly thought through or about 1/2 mile/30 seconds worth.  I need to deploy when there is no one around. Not a big problem at this time of night with the highway I am on.  
Aha!  Up ahead I can see about a 1/4 mile stretch of highway that the street lights are all out. No one behind and no one ahead on the other side of the highway. 
Kind of exciting, isn't it! 
So with great anticipation I start my latest adventure.  
I slowly let down the right rear window, everything seems fine. The balloons are just bouncing around, giddy with anticipation of their upcoming freedom. 
And then I lower the drivers side front window...

So my question to you is, which way do you think the balloons decided to go on their maiden voyage?  
Take your time to ponder this.
Again a 31' limo traveling at 65 mph, midnight, 30 degrees outside, 67 degrees inside, helium, black & white balloons, and a dumb ass behind the wheel.....

You got to understand how a limo is made. The back is cool, lots of room, fancy LED lights, a bar and this little 2'X2' "privacy" window hole thingy that allows you to see what is going on, or allows you not to see what is going on in the back. 

Anyway, the drivers compartment is rather small.  Considering me being behind the wheel of the beast and taking up half the space. Okay maybe a little more...
Now add 9 helium filled balloons into the drivers compartment (in less than 2 seconds) traveling at 65 mph, at midnight in a 31' limo. 
Damn that window went down fast...
The first thought that entered my mind was; I would be the lead story on 9 News at 6 am. Heck I bet even FOX would pick it up.
Balloon Boy my ass, that was a wussies attempt at fame!  

Anyway, with my superior driving skills (driving blind, distracted, 65 mph at midnight) I was able to casually?
watch as all 9 balloons exited the drivers front window in an orderly fashion. Black, white, black, white, black, white...
Once my visibility returned. I was able to determine I was still on the road travelling in the right direction still at 65 mph, damn cruise control.  
Next was to check my mirrors (or was it my shorts).  
Did any one witness this wonderful sight? Thank God no one was there to share this wonderful adventure with me, especially a lonely police officer, or my boss....

Remember! What happens in the limo stays in the limo.  Wonder if that applies to what happens when something exits the limo???  Guess I will ponder this for many miles to come...

W

Chauffeur "extraordinaire"

Beer your say...(previous post from 2014)

I read a news bulletin that domestic beer sales are down... Kind of goes hand in hand with the fact that I quit drinking beer three months ago.

This Bud is for me!

I sort of feel guilty, all of those brewery workers relying on me to suck the suds daily that they work hard to produce. What a job, I would really like to be the "taster" of the brew.
Yes I sucked some suds in my day. Always domestic blue collar workin' mans beer. None of that she-man micro brew crap (so sue me if you don't like my PC).
The micro crap always gave me a massive headache and no buzz.  And I can tell you a simple fact, I do not normally get headaches. Thank God, never could understand when people I knew told me they were getting a migraine.
The micro crap is also at least 30-50% more expensive than your true blue American Bud.
So if you are drawing down 3-500 bucks a week (workin' mans pay), have a family to feed, rent to pay and so on. Are you going to spend $8-10 a six pack or $3-5? Simple math, you are not drinking it for the "taste"!
Every time I hear that I want slap them. If you are a man you are slammin' for the buzz, not the taste. Period.
Your life is shit, you struggle day to day to make ends meet. Why would you worry about the taste of what you "guzzle"?
Most men (afraid to tell the truth) tell you that they drink beer, well let me tell you if you drink beer you are livin' in la la land!
Real men do not drink, they guzzle.
Why you ask? To make the madness go away. Their lives are not a "happy, happy, happy" bunch of stuff. Their lives are a "crappy, crappy, crappy" bowl of shit.
A bowl that they now have to stir with a shovel, forget the spoon...
I am writing this maybe because I was used to slammin' 6-8 workin' man beers at a time. For me, to slam that many micro brews is not going to happen. Well I guess that is the problem, quantity/money...

Recently I got into a Facebook conversation with my nephew about beer, as the day progressed I came back to a very strong memory that I had.

I met a woman who treated me as a person no matter what I looked like. She then introduced me to her family after a road trip to her parents home in a Dodge Colt wagon (yeah Google that one!) thanks mom & dad, really.
Well we made it to her parents house with only one major break down on the way. The alternator bracket took a shit in the middle of a small town in Iowa. Great time in a small in the middle of nowhere town. We got a hotel room in a beautiful old hotel on main street and sleep the night away.
In the morning the person at the desk directed us to a garage that could help us out. The guy on duty was what was once called a mechanic, they could fix anything.

Today they are called technicians or in other words they replace broken parts, they have no idea in how to repair a broken part. I lived through this societal/engineering transformation and it was eye opening (maybe another story here someday).
Anyway the mechanic made us a new alternator bracket out of scrap steel, installed it and off we went. We never had a problem with that part again.
We arrived at her parents house in due time and they made me feel at home immediately.
He was a WWII vet (stationed in the Philippines), had worked at a local radio station and drove a "packer" (bet not many if any of you know what a packer is...). Blue collar worker takin' care of his family. Get a job, earn a paycheck bring it home and drink some PBR's along the way.

Her father asked me (maybe because I was not scared or judgmental of him when he asked) if I wanted to go with him to his "club" for a beer. Sign me up. Off we went to his private club.
The club was a basic as you see in the movies bar. It was owned and run by Chris and Mary ("Mary Christmas" they would say). Great people. As we sat suckin' down PBR's at a rate of 2 bits a draft life took on a new glow...
He introduced me to his friends. They accepted me. He taught me some pool shots, bought me some rounds and we had a wonderful afternoon just being people...
This is the life of the working man. Who just wants some suds to dull the pain of the day. Then off they go on home to be with the family.
The taste of the PBR on tap in his private club can never be topped. Because it was a memory of family, new friends, and beer!
This was the man that I asked if I could marry his daughter, yeah the way it should be done.
Well he approved the deal and 33 years later we are still together.
So what is this story all about, hum, I guess it is really about appearances. What do we see and how do we react/respond, and then judge?
When you are confronted with a homeless person, mentally challenged person or someone with a weird hair-do, (or maybe a micro brew drinker) how do you react?
Do you treat them as a person, shy away, go the other way, avoid contact, or do you just jump in and find out who they are?
Maybe sit down and just have a beer with them.

W

The Mule, The Kentucky Derby, & The Wasp...

Honestly this is one of the most demanding endeavors I have ever taken on, yeah really!

As some of you have been reading, I have had a lot going on for the last 2-3 months. Truth is, this story actually begins about 18 months ago.

The Mule

To train people to ride you need machines for them to ride on or known as "trainers", thus "The Herd". 

Motorcycles are easy to find, a dime a dozen, but on the other side of the coin you have sidecars & trikes. Well let's just say that unless you have a fair amount of disposable profit/income they can be hard to find.

In the process of the hunt I had a feeling there was a mule out there just waiting for me at the end of one of those dried up, washed out arroyos you always see in the movies. The ones with the cowboy heading into the unknown, constantly lookin' over his shoulder just knowing that the enemy is not far behind. Sure enough the wash stops at a cliff wall with no way out, but there stands your golden chalice, or should I say your rusty bucket... 

How I found the Mule

The Mule is hesitant, looking at you like, "Yeah you think you're man enough to tame me, climb on ya dumb ass"... She allows you on, you ride around the arroyo walls knowing there is only one way out. 
She realizes this also, kind of like that first bonding moment. Yeah I'm all warm and fuzzy now... 

You know you will have to back track, fighting all the way, dodging bullets, and praying your newly captured steed will survive the journey back home. You have no concept of your own life, just the thought, "If I can just get'r home". Yeah, then all will be well in your universe... NOT!

The Kentucky Derby

I found out about the Distinguished Gentleman's Ride a couple years ago and started to follow what they were doing. For me it was amazing to realize that on a single day a group of riders would take part in a charity ride worldwide! 

This year over 36,000 riders participated in different cities around the globe on the same day. The proceeds of this event will go to prostate cancer research. There is no "enrollment cost", just donations from family, friends, and co-workers who sponsor your ride. Easy enough. Again, I want to thank all of you that sponsored us for your support!

The event is not intended to be a "race", 
but if you think about it, the event still has a start and a finish. It is inevitable that the human ego will always get in the way to produce a race...The Derby! In the starting block there was a large mix of breeds and I might also add "inbreeding" of the participants. Right next to a full bred Vincent Black Shadow, there would be a cool rat bike. 

"Rat Bike"

As I looked along the starting gate I could see many a thoroughbred prancing their true genetics, waiting patiently next to the cafe racer or that special cafe that has morphed into a rat bike.

The Cafe/Rat bike in the middle has a naval search light retro fitted to the bike. Morphed cafe/rat...Cool!

The beauty of the rat bike is that the owners express themselves through their trusty steed. They do not give a shit what anyone else thinks, the steed becomes the rider. The rat bike is the "minds eye" of the rider/builder coming out as an artist. A true DaVinci in the motorcycle world.

Further down the line there sits a Morgan 3 Wheeler, new but coming from an extreme race lineage. 

Few in the field can touch the lineage of the Vincent, Morgan, Triumph (originals), Japanese (2 Stroke RD400), naked Goldwings, Urals, and the ever present Harley. The mix of Harley's and Triumphs was amazing. Running from vintage to new customs, then onto brand new rat customs.

Talking with one rider about his Kawasaki 175, I experienced a story unlike anyone else's present. When he was growing up (late 1970's) his father taught him how to ride and always told him his dream bike was the Kawasaki 175 (same bike that this Gentlemen was riding in the event). He was almost finished restoring it so he could give it to his father on his next birthday. A remarkable labor of love... This poignant story almost brought a tear to my eye because his bike was shunned as was the Honda Trail 90 by most of the other riders. For these two riders to participate in a ride like this, with this degree of difficulty, took an incredible amount of courage. Both bikes finished with their riders smiling ear to ear, bravo!

Intermixed in the group was the brand that holds its head high, the BMW, which justifiably stands for "bring my wallet". BMW has produced an amazing history of motorcycles. Their breeding has continually produced some of the best machines out there. 

In a way I consider my Mule a rat bike. It is a projection of myself. I had envisioned a steed that I could use in multiple ways, and she exceeded my expectations. 

As we head out of the gate you can see some jockeying for position in line, usually it is a Gentlemen's move ahead with a friendly nod to the other rider.

There are a grand total of 5 sidecars in the Denver event. 

Size does matter! We (sidecars) just kind of head out parting the water as we go, banding together as a group. A Ural Patrol out front with his dog as the pillion, next comes another Ural, then a nice BMW with a custom side car rig, then the other Ural and brinin' up the rear, the Mule.

As Bryce & I head out my nervousness starts to flee as I get in my zone. 

Focus weedlopper! My trusty steed is as ready as she will ever be, ready to tackle anything I throw at her, at least I pray so...

The coming path up the side of Lookout Mountain is still the ever present reflection in my mind. I mean like, I have driven sooooooo mannnnnny vehicles but I have never, no never, taken on an adventure like this. 

I give my pillion a thumbs up, he responds in like kind with a huge smile. Good to go!

The Wasp...

As I approached the climb out of Golden, my heart starts to race as I feel a strange confidence growing. My Mule has performed as expected though I am getting concerned over its tendency to push the 300 degree mark on my oil temp gauge... 

Bryce, "my pillion", in his training was told to keep an eye on the gauge and inform me of what he sees. At one point he says, "Poppy it is at 300, will the engine blow up?". I am focused and no more time to sugar coat the facts, "Yeah it could blow, and there is only one way to find out". Onward we go. His smile kind of goes away at this point. At the next few stop lights I could see a little apprehension in his wonderful face. Heck, he is my partner, I ain't gonna lie to him. He is a man and can handle the facts of life. We are in this together, prepared, practiced, and having a blast!

We have arrived at the last stop light before we head the Mule up my nemesis... Lookout Mountain. Temp is gettin' high and there is heavy pinging once I am in second. And here we are about to go vertical. 

At first the twisty's are not bad as I get comfortable with the Mule beneath me under extreme conditions. Some of the corners are so severe I am using both hands on the right hand grip to accelerate and turn; interesting technique, although I do not remember this from my two classes...

I find that I am having to shift my body weight dramatically to be able to control the mule even with the excellent work of my pillion. Together we get in a grove, spankin' the Mule up the side of the mountain. Can you say, "Giddy Up!"?

Bryce is doing awesome leaning into the corners, helping me immensely to maintain our speed as we take on a couple dozen switchbacks and multiple severe corners. Man this road would be a blast on two wheels! All I can say is, "Thank God I was going on training rides everyday for 2 weeks prior to this event"... this is by far the most technical ride I have ever done, period. 

As we approach the last corner I can see the sign to Buffalo Bill's Grave, "UREKA". 

We have conquered the mountain! 

We find a spot in front of Nanna's car (our follow/sweep vehicle for our adventure) and shut the Mule down for a much needed rest.  

Remember in the westerns how a horse looks after a real long hard ride, all covered with white foamy sweat, this is how I envisioned my Mule. 

If I had an apple with me, I would have knelt in front of her and offered up my humble gift... At no point did the Mule complain. We earned her trust and she gratefully accepted the care given her ahead of the ride with appreciation. She now knows someone cares for her again...

Bryce & I are jubilant, excited and kind of spent (couple of high 5's were in order). 

The mental concentration is what takes it out of you. Well okay, so does throwing around a 900 lb Mule. A song materializes in my worn out brain "He ain't heavy he's my brother"...

So you are probably starting to ask, "Where's the wasp?". Hang on we're gettin' there!

As the Mule cools down we head into the shade to hydrate, and chow down on some snacks. Bryce and I hit the Gatorade and water. As I snack on a granola bar, Bryce & Nanna head to the gift shop for a couple of candy bars. This is actually a nice rest stop, great view plenty of shade and a good area to see the stragglers coming in. 

There is the Kawa 175 coming in now, and a little later the Honda Trail 90 shows up. WOW, great for them, I even search out the Kawa rider to shake his hand. I can see the same sense of accomplishment on his face as he smiles, "cool"! Brothers in our own shared conquest of our private fears... 

It's all down hill from here!

After about 1/2 hour the group starts to reassemble and gear up. 

It was refreshing to see that in a state that has a no helmet law at least 80% of the riders were wearing a helmet. Bravo! Statistically this is about twice the norm for Colorado.

Bryce & I try and find the other sidecars but to no avail as we join the pack and wait our turn to get "on the road again". I can feel a new excitement as I realize we are going to be riding another technical though faster section with lots of high speed curves (35-50 mph). Another area to test the Mule out on. Again I find that with a dramatic weight shift I can get the Mule to track very well through the corners at speed. I look over and see that once again that wonderful smile is showing on my pillion's face. We are kickin' ass and takin' names!

"The Money Shot"

After one of the stops another rider comes up to us and says, " I was following you two and wished I had my Go Pro on to film you both leaning through the corners. Awesome!" We had practiced, talked about it, and then went out and used the proper techniques to achieve nirvana! Nothing is better than the feel of nailing a corner. Of course nothing will scare you more than doing it wrong and surviving.

The next leg of our journey will take us to the City of Denver Civic Center building directly west of the Capitol. All the riders are to meet here for the group picture. 

Bryce & I are riding in traffic about 10 blocks from our destination when Bryce taps my arm and says, "Is something stinging me?" as he pulls his right collar down. Well all I can do at speed is a couple of quick glances and yes there is something small and brown sticking out of his neck, though no signs of the perp. I have to yell to him, "Are you allergic to bee stings?". He says no, thank God. Another squishy pants moment passes. He tells me it really hurts and stings. I can see our stop point coming up and ask him to hang in there about 5 more minutes max. What a trooper! No screaming or tears, only the usual signs of severe discomfort associated with a insect sting. 

We've finally arrived at our destination. In we go to the parking area, backing the Mule in quickly and shut her down. Bryce jumps out of the sidecar with the stinger stuck in his neck and the little bastard on his right shoulder still alive!  I flip the wasp on the pavement and stomp on it. Then onto the stinger in his neck. After I get it out I again ask him if he is allergic to stings. Again he says no, but that it really hurts. What a stud! 

I carefully watch the wound to see how bad the swelling is. In the process we crack the first aid kit and get out the antiseptic and 

burn spray (only other thing I can think of). We gently clean the wound and I notice the swelling is about the size of a dime, flat, and not growing. We discuss his breathing and how his throat feels. All is okay. Looks like my resilient grandson will be fine, though a little sore...I get the burn spray (has Novocain) out and nothing, bupkiss it will not spray... shit. I thought I could numb the sting with the spray. I apologize to Bryce and tell him that he will have to suffer through the pain for a little while longer. As we are talking I notice the little bastard is still alive on the pavement. I point and Bryce administers the coup de grace, see ya sucker! I am so proud of how my pillion took a wasp sting under his shirt collar at 45 mph, toughed out the discomfort and pain so we could land safely before 

administering first aid. 

My partner, my hero, my sidecar pillion...

Our final destination was a MC dealer about 10 minutes away from our photo op.

It was kind of cool to see 160 bikes and about 200 riders standing on the steps of the City building facing the Capitol. What are those two mounted cops doing here... Dang bikers, nothin' but trouble...

 Bryce & I are far right side (white tails)

Trying to stay current with gadgets they had a guy riding in the event that was also the official drone videographer. It was a highlight of the group when he crashed his "toy" into the side of the City building, many a cheers arose as the pieces started to tumble down... If any videos surface in the future I will be sure to share them.

This has been the telling of vision, perseverance, practice, pain, joy and a vast sense of accomplishment. Helping to 

share with an 11-year old that so much is possible if you put your mind & body to work... to reach for the stars!

One of the Distinguished Gentlemen was nice enough to share with Bryce his story. He had the only electric bike in the group. The great thing about the bike was that it was his personal creation. He had envisioned the concept, designed the power plant, bought a donor GSXR frame, and built his vision. When I asked if he was an engineer he humbly said, "No". I could feel the honest, hard-earned pride that he had for his machine. His genuine smile could not be faked. This man was living his dream. A kind of bonding again, oh yeah I heard that somewhere before... "This is kind of like what we do", I told Bryce. "Remember the red grocery cart? If you can envision it, you can create it". The gentlemen came over and rested his hand on Bryce's shoulder and said, "You can do anything, even if someone tells you that it's not possible. What do you want to do in your life? Always believe in yourself and follow your heart." 

Yes, this was a long story... 

If you are still reading I thank you for taking the time from your busy/boring day to read my dribble...

Would I do it again? Yeah.

Would Bryce do it again? Yeah (with mom & dads permission of course).

Would I take my trusty steed?

On the same route, no. I am not 25 years old any more...

After the official ride my right arm & wrist hurt so bad I had trouble getting through the last 30 miles home after Bryce had left. 

Maybe once I have the new bars on the Mule I will give her a' go again...

Only time will tell.

W