The "Nice Happy" Thread

[death tribble]

Saw friends yesterday and played a few games. King of Tokyo, new version of Judge Dredd and Magnificent Flying Machines. First run out for the latter and having to master it took time. Took up log cake which was demolished. Got back to the station ok and managed a Burger King burger before the train got in before a 3 hour trip home.

[Duke Bushido]

The Leviathan is dead.

 

It came as no surprise; at 420,000 plus miles, it had made no secret of its various problems.  She's been blowing compression into one of the water jackets for nearly two years.  Most folks thoughr she was a diesel from the valve and lifter rattle.  Hydraulic lifters means no valve lash adjustment, and sludged lifters means sloppy push rods.   Yeah; I have had the heads off a xouple of times, dropped,in new lifters and push rods, but she just refuses to keep them clean no matter how frequently I changed the oil or what oil I used.  And of course, there were two hundred other problems.....

 

Parked her a few weeks ago pending a long block; figured I would give myself a couple of moths to set aside some money so it wouldnt be a big dent out of savings.  The wife pointed out the couple-hundred non-engine issues the truck also had, but frankly: she doesnt drive it, and they werent issues to me.  Is the front sear -really- "destroyed," or does it have a perfectly-sculpted butt groove?  Is the large chunk misssing from the steering wheel  an eyesore, or the ideal place to rest my hand when I am driving?  And if a good chain and a couple of bolts have held fast for nearly a decade,  do I really need a transmission mount?  

 

The sad truth is that while no engine that isnt a Chrysler 383 is perfect, the Chevy 6.0 gas burner, while strong enough for the trucks that received one, never was their most durable example of engineering. 

 

Still, she had everything I want in a truck: air conditioning and a bench seat.  There might have even been a radio in there; I dont know, since I haven't turned one on since the mid nineties.  Hand crank windows, manual locks, rubber floor cover--  look, I am not some stoic masochist. I like nice bikes and nive enough cars, but for me a truck isn't a pleasure wagon.  A truck is a tool, and the simpler that tool is, the more reliable it is.  No drills mean fewer headaches when one of those drills needs attention.  Besides, it's nive to xome home from a particularly foul job in the field, open the doors, and clean the truck out with a garden hose.  For those of you who know they exist: yes; I popped out the drain plugs first.  For those of you who are hearing of them for the first time: yes; they exist.  You have to cut the caulk away before you can pop them out.

 

And a couple of months ago, the front main started seeping.

 

Then leaking.

 

Then it turned into one of those "fill 'er up and check the gas" situations.

 

Then one day I walked up to her ans she was straddling a black pond.  "Well, she's gotta be empty now..."

 

The rear main had blown.  Seven quarts later, I got her home and parked her over a couple of buckets and made some calls into the going rate on a long block.

 

I called my brother who runs a garage; I called my brother that owns one, and my sister that runs a parts store....  No good news, but I had a dollar target to shoot at.

 

This was about six week's ago.

 

Now as I have mentioned before, I have a dozen younger siblings.  Most of them have sone better than I have, and I am very proud of that.  I would like do think I had somethinf to do with thatc seeing as how I more or less raised the ones ten and more years,younger than me.   Six of them ended up living with me when they went on to college- my insistence: you sont need loans for a form or a job dor housing.  Stay with me. I will feed you, and you can take my car or one of the bikes so you have transportation.  You don t need a job or anythinf else to pull on your study time.  Hell, four of them I paid for half of their school, too.

 

Yes, in spite of what you learned in the funeral thread, they are, even if it is in a way that doesnt show, good people.

 

 

And I am foing to have to spank every one of them.   Again.

 

A guy showed up at my job mid-day today.  "Yes, Ma'am.  I am looking for Duke Oliver."

 

"Duke?  Are you at your desk?"

 

"No, Ma'am.  I went to lunch about ten minutes ago.  I should be back inbtwenty minutes or so, but I have some counts this afternoon, so I will probably go straight into the plant, so you probably won't see me until four or so.  Sorry."

 

"So you're _not_ here?"

 

"No, Ma'am.  I think I'm downtown Lyons right about now."

 

"Okay, well, when you get back, there was a guy asking for you while you were out...."

 

So I got up to see this guy and realized that I had never seen him before.  I also realized that this was a normal and annoying part of my job (the cold-call salesman who _always_ shows up just before lunch or when you are neck-deep in fires to put out.  Ten thousand slow days?  Not a salesman in sight.  One day where you are neck deep in dead trucks, no-show employees and seven deadlines?  Thirty seven of the damned things want your time.  Never fails.  Never!

 

"Good afternoon.  Duke Oliver.  What can I do for you?"

 

"I have some papers I need you to sign."

 

"A lawyer in a checkered polyesther polo shirt?"

 

"No, Sir."

 

"Good.  I rhought maybe I was foinf to be single,by surprise for a minute there."

 

"It's about your truck, Sir."

 

"You can have it; it needs an engine.  Unless you've got an engine; then y I I havevthe wrong address."  You see, it would not be out of character for my brother with the shop to have biught the engine before I had the funds, Bill it to his shop, and let me pay him later.

 

This guy looked all kinds of confused then said "I'm a driver with the Ford dealer in Meter."

 

"Then you have the wrong guy."

 

He checked his paperwork.  "You are Duke Oliver? "

 

Yes; I am.

 

"You have a brother J, D, J, K, M?  And sisters M, L, C, A--"

 

Yeah; okay.  You got the right guy.

 

"And You have a new truck, Mr. Oliver."  He pointed out the window.  "It's a 2014 F-150, 5-liter crew, 4x4 short wheelbase, with the Lariat package.  Sign here, please, and happy birthday, Sir."

 

 

It is everything I dont want in a truck:  micro bed, half ton, and so damned many fancy geejaws that I discovered it had a sunroof whike trying to figure out how to turn the heater off.  Didnt exactly turn the heater off, but it let the heat out rather quickly, so close,enough.

 

I have been on the phone the bulk od the eveninf screaming and scoldinf them that every one od them new better than to waste money, and certainly not to waste it on me.

 

If I wanted another truck, i'd find another plain-jane truck with an eight-foot box and zero features.  Look, we all have things we like, and that is how I like my trucks: no extras means no extra problems.  If I could arrange it, there would only be one windshield wiper so I wouldn't have to worry about the linkage going bad.

 

The argument I got:

 

Monday you will,be sixty-three years old.  You wont ever do the kind of heavy work you used to again (bull!) because you don't have the time and you are too old (this, by the way, is the comment that earned them all spankings.  Hadn't had to do that in a while....) .  You never buy nice stuff for yourself. (Yes I do.  We just have really different ideas of "nice."  Seriously: if I didn't genuinely prefer no-frills vehicles and a low-frills lifestyle, then motorcycles would probably not be my vehicle of choice, would they?).  We bought a four-year bumper to bumper warranty, too, that covers everything but breaks, tires, and oil changes.  You dont have to worry about anything for four years; by that time, you will be retired (joke's on them!  Given the economy we have crafted ourselves, and the fact that the only time in my life when I _could_ have saved money I was putting half of them through school, my current retirement plan is to die at work some time in my seventies).

 

Still, as a truck, it's a damned nice car.

 

And it is raining right now.

 

Supposed be raining in the morning, too.

 

Probably wont hurt to drive it once in a while.

 

(I am still seriously angry with them about this, though.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Duke Bushido]

Oh, and given the wierd oerformance issues with my phone acter installing that Microsoft keyboard, I have nwver been more certain in my life that I was being key logged, so please, everyone, let's have a round of applause for the rerurn of the ten-thousans typos brought to you by the tiny little factory droid keyboard and its preference for korean over any other language.

 

 

[death tribble]

My cousin and her wife popped up on Sunday to see Mum which was nice.

[Ternaugh]

Shopping at Zia Records after work, I found a used copy of a 2012 Intrada release of the North by Northwest remastered score, which was conducted by the composer, Bernard Herrmann. It was $12.99 used, which is about $75 less than what Amazon has it on offer for.

 

[Logan D. Hurricanes]

We got a new front door yesterday! 

 

 

Before and during

[Cancer]

Got my laptop back after the cooling fan had to be replaced.

[Ternaugh]

Best Buy ended up replacing my Xbox Series X with a current set, which included a deluxe version of Forza 5. They also didn't want the controller back from the first one, which means that I've got a spare.

 

I had a problem with a rewards code from a recent movie purchase, and after contacting customer support, they've added a bunch of extra points, enough for two free digital movies. Their apology for taking so long also included that they had about 2000 people ahead of me with the same issue.

 

I had bought some soundtrack CDs from a music label's online store, and one of the discs was the wrong one (a season 1 soundtrack instead of the ordered season 2 soundtrack). I had sent the disc back, and received another copy of the wrong one. That one didn't need to be sent back, and i've now received the correct disc.

 

My car's averaging around 51 MPG on the current tank of gas. Our temperatures are a bit cooler than usual for this time of year, and that means I don't have to run the air conditioner right now.

[Pariah]

Lady P has successfully completed seventeen years of a self-imposed life sentence. 😀

[Cancer]

Negative COVID test.  Still feel like crap, though.

Edited April 23, 2023 by Cancer

[Ternaugh]

There's a pair of ravens that I've seen a few times over the last few weeks at my work. One of them seems to like the fountain in front of the hotel's porte cochere. 

[Cancer]

It was announced today that they're giving me emeritus status.  As recently as a month ago I would never have believed that could happen.

[Logan D. Hurricanes]

[Bazza]

Congrats Cancer.

So which of your job titles, if any are going to be emeritus? Also your home address is listed in your CV which is online. So you’ve doxxed yourself.  
 

(takes notes before you change it)

Edited May 17, 2023 by Bazza

[Cancer]

48 minutes ago, Bazza said:

Congrats Cancer.

So which of your job titles, if any are going to be emeritus? Also your home address is listed in your CV which is online. So you’ve doxxed yourself.  
 

(takes notes before you change it)

 

I have long assumed that I'm traceable.  Heck, if you know what to look for, you can probably trace me as far back as the mid-1980s at least.

 

As for which title ... I am not actually sure yet.  That's among the questions I will be asking around here.  My official title was changed to something including the word "professor" only a year or two ago, and that (otherwise largely cosmetic) change made the emeritus tag possible.  I think the only benefit I really care about is ... faculty library privileges for life.     

[Bazza]

Being traceable to the 80s is…interesting.  

As you recently gained the title of Professor, I’m 99% certain emeritus will apply to professor.  
 

Faculty library privileges for life Is a neat perk. Way to go in spending those XP! 

 

[Logan D. Hurricanes]

Talky Tina tonight!

[Ternaugh]

One the way to lunch today, I saw a raven fly by and land across the drive. It was playing around in the decorative landscaping near the base of the hotel tower, and stopped to look at me as I passed. It is a juvenile, maybe half the size of its parents.

[tkdguy]

No major health problems on my part according to the test results.

[Ternaugh]

I've been having a few issues with my router (a Netgear Nighthawk 7000) locking up occasionally, and I finally decided to replace it with one on sale at Amazon (TP-Link AX3000). It had been reviewed well by a few tech sites, had many decent reviews on Amazon, and was discounted off about $20. After futzing around with setup, and updating the firmware, I decided to run a few tests through Speedtest.net.

 

Now, I'm on a 250 Mbps down/10 Mbps up plan from Cox, and I've been getting a fairly solid 300 down/10 up using the old router. My first test on my desktop pegged at just a hair shy of 600 down/52 up (through Ethernet). Ditto for my cell phone through the Wi-Fi. My old iPad was a little lower, at 400 down/50 up. So far, so good!

[Ternaugh]

I guessed today's Wordle on the first try.

[death tribble]

The BBC did a quiz on naming all fifteen countries that had won the Tour de France. I got all of them in the time limit.

[death tribble]

The Tour has started so if you don't see/hear from me, you'll know why

[Duke Bushido]

 

Let's see..

 

story so far....

 

Some of you know this about me already:

 

I am into motorcycles.  I have been pretty much my entire life.  Got my first one when I was nine, and I have rarely been without one (or six) since.  I have gone entire years of life in which I didn't own a car or a truck, but I had a handful of bikes.  Currently I have seven.

 

Many, many years ago, I was an MSF trainer.  I got into that as an offshoot of racing, believe it or not.  Too many amateur nights with too many people on fast bikes but with no skill to use them.  You watch a couple of young guys dump their entire savings on a slick machine and then completely total it on their first run...   eh-- you just kind of want to _help_, you know?  Maybe it's just me; maybe I figure we should help each other, particularly if it doesn't really hurt us to do so, and still makes the place safer for those around us.

 

So between drag racing and off road racing, I got certified as an MSF instructor, and eventually even offered up some racing instruction.  I spent twenty years running a web forum dedicated to small bikes, beginning riders, technique, and maintenance, and even gear selection.

 

Do a lot of people ride motorcycles?  Well sure, but most importantly to me is that both of my parents, all of my siblings, most of my nieces and nephews, all my kids, and my wife ride them.  Because I know they are out there, I want them to be safe, and the best thing I know to do to help with that is to teach them safety, and to teach it to as many other riders as I can.  (Believe it or not, this actually kind of counter to MSF teaching, as a lot of what they teach is necessarily wrong.  I don't say that lightly, but the fact is that the beginning and intermediate classes-- even the pro clases, in some ways-- are _incomplete_, and the arbitrary definition points are reinforced with "don't do that" or "you're not ready for that" or even "that's not safe," even when the fact is that not only _can_ you brake into a corner, you are safer doing it (but you have to know _how to do it_), but someone decided that's for an advanced class, meaning the new rider will spend the next couple of years practicing to avoid something that could save his life.  There are other examples, but that's not what today was about.

 

My latest student--

 

well, this is a strange one.  I worked with her husband until just a few days ago (and hope to again, but we've got a supervisor that is going to have a pull a two-cord stick from his anus first), and I still work with her father.  The husband has told me for a couple of years that his wife has _always_ wanted to learn how to ride a motorcycle.  He doesn't want to; he just wants to help her do what she wants to do.

 

Really?  Why?

 

Well, her dad was a motorcycle cop in Mexico.  I glance over at her dad's station.  He was?!  You folks have to understand: her dad is _maybe_ 4'11".   

 

Yeah; he was.  I've seen pictures from when he was young.  He never wore his pistol because it whacked him in the knee when he was walking too fast.

 

So we made some arrangements and I secured a safe area to let her play around with some clutch work.  My daughter volunteered her bike because it has an extremely low seat height.  I was concerned about the weight of it, but my student's husband assured me his wife would have no problem with it, as in addition to her job and hobbies, she is also a wrestler, and apparently remarkably powerful.

 

We met up and she did some very basic clutch work, just to get a feel for the size of the task she has set for herself.  This is also when I discovered that she is 4'4" tall.  No; not a dwarf; just really, really short.  Fortunately, she really is a slab of muscle, so the first day didn't go as badly as it could have.  The bike she was on has a wett weight of about 680 pounds; she did dump it once, but upon being shown the technique, righted it completely be herself.  (I also decided to bring a couple of even smaller bikes if she wanted to keep learning.  I mean, steering was out of the question that day because-- well, she couldn't reach any further forward than just "to the bars."  Pushing one side forward just wasn't going happen unless she stood on the tank.

 

 

Over the next couple of weeks, we did some very minor skills work (seriously; she mostly has a million questions, and I don't do this for money anymore, so I will quite happily go at a student's pace.

 

Her biggest concerns are all related to her size: she has a fear of not being able to control the bike because of her uniquely limited reaches.  That, and she is forever hung up on the idea of "flat footing."  I explained that I don't think she could flatfoot an old 250 Rebel or even a Grom, all things considered.

 

As an aside: the "cruiser" style motorcycle crowd has done more to wreck the overall knowledge base of motorcycle skills than any other group.  For whatever reason, when you hear truly ridiculous advice, it can almost always be traced back to the cruiser crowd, and they will chant it like a mantra for decades.  "Flat footing" is one of those things.   Before my spine got crushed and I took a few surgeries to learn to walk again, I was just barely touching 6'2".  The list of bikes from my day that I could "flat foot" could be written inside a matchbook.  I don't know if I can even remember all the bikes I _did_ ride, though.  Heck, one my offroad racers I had to cowboy mount or launch it from the high stand: the seat height was so high that I couldn't even tripod it to take off without risking taking out my own leg.

 

For those who don't know: Cowboy mounting is taking the bike off the stand, standing with the left foot on the left peg, getting the bike rolling, and once it is stable, then you swing your right leg over the seat and onto the right peg.

 

For those who think Cowboy mounting is standing on the peg, swinging a leg over, then getting the bike off the stand, then going--- that's a Police mount.  It's also a pretty common way to get on any bike with over-sized luggage, particularly if you have a little age on you.

 

Anyway, the new student, her husband, and I spent several hours talking over the best possible bike for her to get to learn on.  Generally, the answer to that is always "used, and pre-beaten," but she really does have some special concerns that make size far more important.  I compiled a very short list of things that might work out of the box (mostly "Honda Grom," but hey...).  I compiled a longer list of older bikes (they don't really make "small-framed"  bikes for the US market anymore) that could, with reasonable modification, serve her well, but with the caveats that each such modification requires a sacrifice, usually in either ride comfort of capability.

 

The hardest thing to stress-- especially to people who listen to cruiser guys-- is that "flat footing" and "duck walking" and even "reversing" are all inventions of the cruiser crowd, and not actually a part of operating a motorcycle.  You see, a motorcycle has _wheels_, and the goal of operating one is to _use_ those wheels, particularly if you need to move the bike.  The goal of developing skills with the motorcycle is to be able to _not_ walk, but instead use the wheels and the engine that moves them to do your maneuvering for you.  At most, at a dead-stop, you should never be at more than tripod-- two wheels, bike leaned, one foot; the other foot on the rear brake (unless you are me, and unable to trust your left leg, in which case your right foot will be on the ground).

 

The cruiser response to tripoding, though, is always the same: "but what about a passenger?  How am I supposed to tripod with a passenger?"

 

If you can't tripod a passenger, then you aren't ready for a passenger.  It really is that simple.  Even though in recent years the majority of my bikes have been cruisers (there just aren't a lot of good Standards or muscle bikes anymore), the complete lack of skills or even knowledge that the cruiser scene is, for some reason, _proud of_ is... disheartening to me.  Cruisers are over-represented in accident statistics, and under-represented in training classes, and the first people to believe some of the most outrageous _garbage_ of motorcycle safety.  It's like there's a silent "Karen" somewhere in the word "Cruiser."  Ha!  A silent Karen!  As if!

 

(apologies to all outgoing and sensible people named Karen  who have been meme-zoned for the next twenty years, though.)

 

 

Skip ahead-- They went a bit outside my advice for her first bike--- not too terribly outside of it; after all, the bought a used bike fairly inexpensively, even though I specified it was on the extreme outside of what I thought could be adapted to her.  (for anyone curious, it's an older Suzuki Savage.  Great bike, if you like thumpers), but when you are buying used, you buy what you can afford, right?  And frankly, I haven't seen a TU250 in a couple of decades.  That, and for some reason, _no one_ wants a 250 anymore!  They are worried about "highway speed!"  Let's face it: your friends or family aren't going to run off and leave you (that would be _my_ friends and family; thank you very much), and it is going be be six to eight months before the thought of breaking 50 mph isn't absolutely terrifying to you, so why not start on a bike that will help you learn, that forgives more mistakes more readily, and really doesn't lose a lot of resale value even if you work it over with a bat?  And honestly, it takes less modification to make such a bike work for an unusually small person.  Plus, this particular person, anyway-- could simply carry it to the next gas station if something went wrong.

 

 

So Friday evening, we started measuring and assessing to see what might need to be done to the bike to make it as ideal as possible for her needs.  Saturday and yesterday we started a few light tweaks (not everything is reversible, folks, at least not without money and effort.    ).

 

Now something has come up.  Her husband just a few days ago "rage quit" the job we share (to be fair, he had reasons, but I wish he hadn't done it, because I knew something he didn't, and he didn't know it soon enough, but that's all I am going to say about that) leaving him with just his night job (who did take him in full time, so that helps a bit, I'm sure).   However, now money is a bit tighter for them.

 

Are you guys certain that you want to do this?  Give me half a day, and I can undo everything we've done so far, put it right back to factory spec, and you can sell it for exactly what you paid for it inside of three months; fifteen percent less inside of three weeks. (seriously; it's in great shape; it's just a cruiser that isn't the size of a supertanker, and cruiser guys refuse to demonstrate their lack of skill on anything that won't make it as obvious as possible, so you have to kind of wait for a person looking for a commuter or who has a need for a smaller frame size).

 

They talk about it a bit; we all talk about it a bit.  The decision is left with her, with the question "do you really think you are going to like riding motorcycles?"

 

"I think so; I would ride with my dad when I was a little kid, and I loved it!"

 

"Yeah, but you're a little adult now; how are you going to feel about it?"

 

"Kinda mad, but mostly because of the short joke."

 

"I was saving it for your husband, actually--"

 

"He's taller than me-!"

 

"So's my dog."

 

And after much poking and hitting, it comes out that she really doesn't know if she is going to enjoy it or not because she has never been on a motorcycle since a couple of spins around the block in her childhood.  "Duke."

 

"Yeah, Dude?"

 

"What have you got planned for today?"

 

"Well, I was going to put your wife on this bike, let her put it through some paces, make some notes, and start planning out the heavier mods.  If that didn't work, I was going to wait for the heat of the day and ride to Allendale and back."

 

"Where?"

 

"Allendale, South Carolina.  It's a dead little town in a dead little county just over the Savannah River that I used to love thirty-odd years ago, before it started dying."

 

"Why there?"

 

"Because we live in farm country.  All the roads here are straight.  I haven't had a decent twisty ride since I left the coast, and I don't have time to go up to the mountains.  I have a path that is mostly nearly-abandoned two-lane roads that goes through a half-dozen forgotten little picturesque towns, the roads are almost completely shaded (the only exceptions being a couple that have been four-laned within the past twenty years), carries me through the woods, across a dozen rivers-- it's just a pleasant ride."

 

"What is there to do in Allendale?"

 

"Turn around."

 

"Really?"

 

Dude, the town has been dying for thirty years.  The only restaurant is a Hardee's, and it still serves fried chicken.  There are three gas stations that are open and twelve that aren't.  The two biggest are a 76 an a Conoco; there's an Exxon that is so old the pumps have white letter dials and you can't use a credit card unless it has raised letters on it.  (that one went right over his head).

 

"So what do you do there?"

 

Eat.  Gas up.  Turn around.  All told, it's about four, four-and-a-half hour ride if I'm just relaxing.

 

Take her.

 

Pardon?

 

Go.  Take her with you.

 

You understand that I am a married man, right?

 

Yeah, and she's married to me.

 

Yeah; don't think I'm not on to your secret plan to raise a family of red heads that don't explode in the sunshine.

 

Very funny.

 

(Well, his wife thought so; she just burst out laughing and went "Oh my God!  You told me just thought Latinas were 'soooo sexy....')

 

Well, you have to admit, compared to women who are actually on fire--

 

Duke, you're not helping.

 

I am not here to help, Sir.  I am here to seize opportunity.

 

So I again reiterate, _carefully_, to my former work friend and now just normal friend:

 

You understand that you are asking me, a married man, to put your married wife on the back of a motorcycle and whisk her away for four or five hours?

 

Yes.  But I trust you.

 

Why?

 

Because you wouldn't be making a big deal out of this if I couldn't.

 

I should go into banking....

 

His wife had no idea what was going on, and asked what we were talking about, so I had to break that down:

 

Ma'am, I don't want you to take this personally, because it is not who I am.  Americans are, by and large, and probably as a result of their perception of themselves as having pious roots, the most prudish people on the planet.  When you put two people on a motorcycle, _they will often touch each other_, and Americans as a whole cannot abide that.  It is why two adult men will almost never share a motorcycle in this country; google "Dutch Doubles" for the workarounds the truly homophobic have for this.  A married man or woman will never ride with anyone who isn't either their spouse or a close relative; single people only ride with their significant others.

 

That's stupid!

 

Extremely.  It's the result of being the biggest prudes on the planet.  We can't put these two people on a machine that gets 60 mpg to do any sort of travel.  We have to separate the two of them into an SUV that gets 14 mpg, so that we can be relatively assured all chances of them touching each other are minimized.

 

My wife had come onto the porch about then and caught some of the discussion.  "What's up?"  

 

Not much.  He wants me to take his wife out on a bike for a few hours so she can decide if she really wants to learn how to ride.

 

"You know he's married, right?"

 

"Yes, Ma'am.  But don't you trust him?  I do."

 

"Of course I trust him; I just want you two to understand the neighbors are going to talk."

 

Finally my student perks up, looks at her husband, and stage-loudly states "Babe, I am going on a motorcycle ride with that big guy there, and there is some chance that I may get scared and grab him or wrap my arms around him, but we are married to other people."

 

My wife, from the porch "There's a much better chance you'll forget to pay attention in  town traffic and end up pressing your boobs into his back."

 

"Is that...  "  she was actually a bit concerned, never having met my wife before.  "Is that a problem?"

 

"Nah; I'm pretty sure that's never bothered him."

 

"It has not." I confirmed.

 

[Edit:  I just noticed how much of this straight didn't come through.  I still have the original document I typed it into (you know: so I could use a keyboard) and am going to attempt to put the missing center section in here]

 

 

(If anyone is wondering: it's helmet knocking.  Helmet knocking bugs the crap out of me, because it is so damned unnecessary)

 

 

I went on with "I just want everyone to understand: we will end up for various reasons closer together than Americans are comfortable seeing their spouses with people of the opposite gender.  For my money, I don't care, because if I wanted a different woman, I wouldn't have married that one."

 

"No; I get it.  I didn't think about it before, but I get it.  It's more about where we live."

 

Yep.  Now for passenger comfort, I recommend either the VTX or the Valk, though the Valk is a pretty good climb for someone of your stature.

 

I'll be fine.  What about that little one over there?

 

The Spyder?  That's more about pilot comfort.

 

How so?

 

The pillion is fake; there is no rear seat.  Sexy muscular passengers must sit in the pilot's lap.

 

Okay, which one is the..   the safest?

 

The Valkyrie is the most luxurious for passenger accommodations.  It is also the quietest and the smoothest.  However, it has my wife's seat on it while I am getting mine recovered.  I am a bit worried with the elevation added to her pillion and your markedly-limited inseam that you'll be standing up most of the trip.

 

No; I should be okay, I think.

 

All right then....

 

I tossed a few rudimentary tools, a tire repair kit, a jump pack, a first aid kit, and a few bottles of water into one of the bags.

 

What's all that for?

 

Those are props to make you feel more prepared for this trip.

 

Really?

 

Yeah; it's a Honda.  The tools are for show.   Now here's the rundown:  I have to stop at the next opportunity: tap my left thigh.  I have to stop _now_; tap my right thigh.  Slow down / I have a question, tap either shoulder.  Panic braking-- squeeze your thighs tight into the seat (it doesn't do anything, but it makes them feel more secure and keeps them from freaking out); if you need to grab me, do it below the shoulders; I need them to steer.  If you need to brace or push against me, again-- below the shoulders or on the hip bones, but never on the spine-- I can't feel which way your moving if you touch me dead center.  Hard drifts or quick turns, keep your shoulders more-or less lined up with mine, and rock at the hips.  Hard acceleration is damned rare when I have a passenger, but if you feel it, turn your head and press it against me (minimizes that irritating helmet knock) and grab around me.  You will feel it ease off, and you can relax as soon as you're comfortable.  Bumps in the road do not feel at all like they do in your car.  I cannot explain it better than that, but you will be scared the first few times it happens.  Just think about it afterward and realize that you did not actually fly off the motorcycle; you will relax a little bit more with each one.

 

Let's go!

 

 

And off we went.

 

 

The trip was largely uneventful-- as I promised, it was just a sedate ride though some pretty scenery.  I mean _sedate_.  Sedate to the point that I don't think she even noticed the shifting.

 

A few times we rolled up a few miles over the limit and I would lay down over the tank so she could get the full wind-in-the-face experience.  Your passengers aren't aware of this, but you can, without looking, _feel_ the moment they stick their arms out and wing around like imaginary gliders.  It changes the wind envelope.  You know when they are doing it, but you can't ever tell them.  If you do, they will never do it again. 

 

 

So we get to Allendale, we fuel up at the Exxon (because the card reader is down at the 76 and the machines at the Conoco station are pre-magnetic stripe technology), turn around, stop at Hardees.  I nab a couple pieces of that 90's fried chicken recipe and she gets a kid's meal featuring a paper bag advertising Kung Fu Panda II.  I hope the contents are more current.  We hydrate, talk about her experience, what she'd like to see or experience on the ride back, and hit the road again.

 

 

Now, I'm an old man.  I am sixty-three, and I have been riding since I was nine.  Of all the things I have learned or figured out about motorcycles, there is one thing that I absolutely have never really gotten my head around.

 

My sisters, my lady cousins, my girlfriends, my daughter, my wife---

 

There is something about women and motorcycles.  No matter what they think; no matter what they claim-- a nice summer day with a fresh forest or river breeze keeping the air temperature in check and some just-a-bit-warmer-than-perfect sunshine on their backs-- particularly in the afternoon, when the temperature starts to cool off--

 

 and they _drop_.  I mean they can espouse absolute terror of being on a motorcycle, but you give them that combination, and they will fall _instantly_ to sleep.

 

Every single time.

 

 

Remember that part where I said I was once 6'2"?  Even today, after losing nearly two dull inches from my spinal column, I am just a bit over 5'12."  My passenger today was 4'4".

 

My wife's seat on the Valk pushes me further forward than I really enjoy being in a perfect world, and drops me down closer to the foot controls than I want to be, but it does all that to allow swapping out the back seat for a rather spacious deck, suitable to two chairs and table of its own.  That is why this is her seat: it positions her better when she's the pilot, and it generously assigns her almost all of the cockpit real estate when she's the passenger.

 

The upshot of all this is that my shoulder, even after these seat mods, is too high up for my very short passenger to rest her head on.  It doesn't seem like much, but if they can't lean forward when they sleep, they lean back, and if they lean back, I can't feel where they are or what they are doing-- not the situation I want an unconscious passenger to be in.  Worse, I can't really drop any lower because the seat is already sculpted extra-low to give a more typically-sized passenger as much view over the shoulder as is possible.

 

The solution-- believe it or not-- is _not_ to wake them up unless there just isn't another option.  They become very skittish and nervous and remain too tense for the rest of the trip, or try to move back and hide their sleepiness, putting themselves in the worst possible position on purpose.  Once they wake up and realize they can sleep back there (under certain condition-- unconscious people do tend to take a pretty good hold around you, and don't sleep so deeply as to lose that), the problem just evaporates.

 

The problem is the difference in our height is great enough that I thought I _would_ have to wake her up.  Finally I resolved it, but I was.... well, I wasn't really miserable, but I have been more comfortable.  In order to slide down low enough for her to prop on, I had to move my but up onto the fuel tank, hang my feet on the engine guards, and drape back off the handle bars like I was doing some sort of upside-down push-up, but we were on a highway stretch with no traffic (other than that one turtle crossing to the river), she had dropped her helmet onto my shoulder, and the instant it found a perch she instinctively wrapped her arms around my ribs and grabbed enough jacket, shirt, and chest hair that if she had fallen off anyway, I would have jumped with her in self-defense.  I did have the boobs on the back, though, so that kind of balanced things out.   

 

(I kid: I mean, yes; they were there, but it really isn't a sexual thing in that situation.  Funny, in light of the bit my wife and I had done in the yard, but not sexual)

 

Twenty minutes later we were pulling up to the next town, and I very gently geared the bike down.  The change in lighting (we were out of the shade again) and speed roused her slowly, and I was glad of it, having just about had all of the fuel-tank / tailbone interaction I cared to have for one day.  She raised up, I slid back and raised up, dropping my feet onto the controls in preparation for possible traffic, and a local cop came around the corner and threw the blue lights on and came back after us.

 

I checked the speedometer (relieved that I no longer had to stare past my crotch to do it) and knew that we hadn't been speeding, and eased to the side of the road.  For the record, getting pulled over didn't really put my passenger at ease, particularly when the "Afternoon, Officer; what can I do for you" was answered with "I just watched you wake up!"

 

Come again?

 

I don't know how the Hell you were doing it, but you two were asleep!  I watched you wake up!  I watched you two just sit up from sleeping.

 

She was asleep; yes.

 

You were, too!

 

I didn't say anything, as it was starting to click with him just how impossible that was, and he did the "nice bike" and asked just the right questions that I knew that he knew pretty much nothing about any bikes, then admonished my passenger for sleeping.  I took offense (gently) and pointed out -- to her, but in front of him-- that it isn't ideal, but it isn't illegal, either, and on a properly-equipped bike with an experienced rider, following some rudimentary common sense monitoring and positioning techniques, she was just as safe as she had been before she nodded off, and that the danger really would have been being awakened during an emergency maneuver, and having no idea what was going on.  Even then, though, pains were taken to make certain we were nowhere near any other vehicle, etc.

 

Finally he gave us "have a nice day" (because he picked the absolute hottest stretch of road in his jurisdiction to keep us tied up, but the bottles of water I had packed seemed to improve his humor).

 

An hour or so later, and we were pulling up at her house, her husband pulling in right behind us with their kids.

 

Well?  What do you think?  Worth doing?

 

 

Baby, we have got to keep that bike.  We just have to.  That is something that I just totally need in my life.

 

 

 

 

 

That, folks, was the part I liked best.  Even better than the boobs against  the back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Edited July 3, 2023 by Duke Bushido
For some,reason, the center third was missing. It is now complete.

[Ternaugh]

Friday, I decided to buy a Nintendo Switch OLED in the Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom livery, which has a vaguely Lovecraftian vibe to the graphics on the dock.

 

Amazon delivered a micro-SD card before I got up on Saturday. I set it up to work with my TV, and then struggled with the awkward and small controller design (Joycons + grip adapter), and located a Nintendo Switch Controller Pro for sale at a local Wal-Mart (Gamestop apparently only had a used controller on the other side of town--probably why I've only spent about $50 total at Gamestops since 2020). 

 

I'm now about 15 hours into Octopath Traveler II*, and I've played a smattering of emulated games from older systems as part of a Nintendo subscription. I'm really enjoying the system. I need to do some adulting for a while, though, or I won't have anything to wear to work tomorrow.

 

 

 

*I had really enjoyed the first one when it was on XBox Game Pass, but this one has some new mechanics that are interesting.