2010-The Year in Review with an Image a Month

 *Late Edit:Mike Garzon took the August picture of my sliced open foot with my eye phone.  Sorry for any misrepresentation.   

 January-The year starts off with the Ian Foyster Memorial Ride and the Great Holey Knee.  Important safety tip: When descending over land on a cross-bike, focus on the terrain 3 to 10 meters out in front of your line, not on the mad skills of the fixed geared rider ahead of you. 

February-Iran in Charlotte is where I met Nasrin and her amazing group spreading awareness about the human rights abuses being committed by the Islamic Republic of Iran. 

March-Yu Sebata from Chima Japan rolls through the Jar after leaving Los Angeles a month earlier.  Yu knew some English and did his best to translate the Japanese word for Bicycle,  Self Pedaling Car.

April-On Tax Day, The Tea Bag Party rallies on the front lawn of the old Mecklenburg County Courthouse.  Check here for the full Tea Bag pictorial.  This image is the most telling one I made during my Tea Bag Transfer.  It is quite interesting, the small nuances lead one to consider our now and the progress everyone keeps talking about. 

May-How could we forget May? It was the month that I went into the wrist irons shortly after arriving on the scene of my Rookie's 'accident'.  Less than a few hours before that while shooting the NRA Convention I was reunited with SSGT Karnes, an ole Marine buddy from Golf Company 2/4, The Magnificent Bastards.  We had not seen each other since June of 1991. For the Courtroom Verdict read here, it is a great story.  This is the only shot of the bunch(other than the one of my cut foot) that I did not take myself.  Photo Cred: James Wilamor, CLTBlog. 

June-Let the cloud emotion transfer commence. 

July-Seriously, I get side tracked easily, especially when I look up.

August-Pain is temporary, chicks dig scars and the glory remains forever.  Honestly, I am well aware that every physical pain is directly connected to an emotional imbalance.  This wound to my foot is a perfect example of that energy truth. photo taken by: Mike Garzon, aka Little Mikey and the Gracious Garzon. 

September-My favorite image of the year.  Mein Schatz's eye in natural light with the old 55mm manual lens and its beautiful macro focus. 

October-Hate He, come on Dude, you have had to of thought of that one prior to now.  Haiti in October and the learning it generated.  Thanks to all of you that a felt an internal need to share add vice and 'con' scern, I will never forget how those words and tacit innuendos helped me better understand the world around me.    

November-St. Lissa assists on her 7th birth(there have been three more since) and earns full fledged Doula Certification.  Yay, for her and the internal will she is showing to break away from the monetary attachment to the Corporate Plan of Aggression.  What she is doing is really brave, and I am happy that she has found a calling that will continue to evolve into her mobile livity source. 

December-I had the honor to spend a few hours one night at the home of Jwaye and her 3 year old Chocolate Lab, Magoo.  The photo session went well and the transfer was documented. 

Christmas Follow Up-WE DID NOT HAVE A WHITE CHRISTMAS!

On the day after Christmas, in the evening, I walked out of the house with Zoo dummy corded to my waist with a seven foot leather strap choke lead.  We were gone in the five inch plus and drift for just under three hours.  It really seemed winter for that time.  The air was cold, around freezing and the sky was trying hard to be clear of clouds. Towards the west I could see breaks in the dark overcast and the sky behind was turning not only dark blue, but as well shades of pink, red and almost turquoise.  Through the holes in the clouds only, the sky appeared on fire.  Hardly any notice of the auto viper, everyone must have been hunkered down.  Of the amazing things that I met and passed, the one that was most noticeable was the lack of folks outside.  In the picture below you will see what Christmas might look like under a Caesium(CS) explosion sky.  More candy canes, they are everywhere.  An anonymous angel left one dangling from my Answer Alumilite handle bars while I was in one of the buildings on Thursday right before Christmas Break.   Candy canes, where does such a strange shaped and minty tasting treat come from anyways?

During my travels today I over heard several conversations about the magic of our 'white' Christmas.  At one point someone directly asked me, "What did you think of our 'white' Christmas?"  After instantaneously considering giving the standard expected answer, I went with my instinct and shot back, "Technically, I do not think that the North American Meteorological School of Science(if there is actually one) would consider supporting the claim that Charlotte had a 'white' Christmas. Basically I explained to my questioner that I understood that the qualifying factors to be able to claim 'white' Christmas status were as follows:  The landscape has to be covered with one inch or more of snow in the entire county in which you dwell by midnight Christmas Day.  From my twelve o'clock at night perspective on Jesus' birthday out here east of town, the landscape in spots still had just a dusting, maybe a quarter inch.  I went on for a few minutes defending my stance that we did not have a 'white' Christmas at all, by explaining that from the looks of the radar that night south east Charlotte may have had even less snow than the rest of the county at that time.  When I finished pretty much proving by the books that our Christmas was far from 'white', I realized that I had lost the man who had asked the original question to begin with minutes and sentences ago.  He finally spoke, never getting up from his chair, "So, we didn't have a 'white' Christmas, did we?"  All I could do was nod in affirmation as I left the room with two more jobs than I had before walking in.

Work/School Day Off

Bright White Pastoral Transfer, all along the way while walking 5.6 miles in the snow burdened woods. Ms. Arcen and Botzie(if you haven't seen his new place on the web, be sure to click here it includes new, never viewed before video from the Himalayas far, far away) walk up the slight rise completely blown out hot in a digital test exposure with the old 55mm.   

Shortly after tasting the cake marked: EAT ME, Ms. Arcen leads Himalayan Photographer Jeff Botz through the winter woods. 

From behind I watched and moved as Rommel, the boar hunting Dane gets scent of a pig, and takes off to the front for a closer smell. 

Poor TWIT looks on with jealous dismay as the big dog enjoys his well earned freedom.  Zoo is mischievous and cannot be trusted off lead, I doubt she ever will be. 

Success, the big dog makes an on the fly pass around our guide, the Giantess. 

Rommel and Mein Schatz forge on through a dark wind blown tree top snowing section of the forest under an azure sky.

When I said, "Freeze", I stepped backwards without looking and fell over a snow covered log landing flat on my ass.  This was the looks on their faces.

Photo of Winter Daughter, with Rommel and Zoo out of frame attached to the bamboo holding Dad courtesy of Jeff Botz. 

More Christmas

Seeing that it started before Halloween, Christmas should stick around awhile after the big day.  On an evening walk with Zoo, I saw many interesting things including the bothersome and somewhat attractive candy cane lights above, snow and an owl in flight directly above my head.  The transfer from day to night was quiet, hollow and echo dense sounding, like winter cold.  Vultures.

Picture of the Week: Jwaye to The World

From left to right:  Magoo & Jwaye

To lock, or to only give the illusion one is locked: that is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to fall lazy
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take knives and asps against the streets of troubles,
And by faking, end them? To get jacked: To be robbed;
No more; and by being robbed we say end
The heart-ache and the Soma
That messengers are heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To get jacked, to be robbed;
To be robbed: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that robbery of bike what dreams may come
When we have rode off this mortal coil,
Must give us still track stand: there's the respect

That makes calamity of so long a rookie;
For who would bear the pokes of the blog and scorns of more seasoned couriers,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's insulting display,
The pangs of stolen machine, the law's delay,
The insolence of a veteran bike rider and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,

When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare Brooks Saddle(one of the 19 serviceable ones he owns)? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a heavy bag,
But that the dread of something after bicycle gone,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No messenger returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills on foot or in the car
Than ride to others that we know not of?

Thus conscience does make lazy of us all;
And thus the veteran hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And VeloCity Bicycle Couriers of great pride in what they do
With this regard their competition turn awry,
And lose the name of giving a rat's ass - Soft you now!
The fair Swazey! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my jovial jabs remember'd.

*Shakespeare your language blows my mind.
*Inspiration for toonday's post derived from Hamlet 3/1

And Further more, I was contacted today by a nice fellow in Indianapolis whom linked over from TEAM DICKY's world famous dot com and read the story about the Laptop Round Up for the Real.  If you haven't seen this picture of me you may get a hoot, Where the Wild Bills Are...ha, ha, ha.  Like Jerry Reed says, "Anyhoo",  Bill Williams from the great state of Indiana first let me know about one laptop he had, then within hours he discovered another one that he did not know he had bringing his donation to 2 machines.  That brings toonday's total to what appears to be 9 Laptop computers donated to the new/used computer lab at the primary school in Babancourt.  This drive still has plenty of time to exceeded the classroom goal of 15 machines.  Any amount over those 15 would be great to deliver and as well would give the 30 child class back ups.

Thanks for your support and please help spread the word and stay vigilant, you never know if someone close to you has an extra machine for the cause, all you have to do is ask...

'B' Log Sunday Brunch Post

Meet the Principal of the school in Babancourt and his wife, one of the teachers of the children who will be receiving the donation of Laptops raised during the Traffic Stop's Laptop Round Up for the Real. 

Here are the kids that will benefit from your donation entering the schoolhouse that the computers will be used in. 

They are also the proud parents of Carl, a five year old whom I met earlier in the day on the dirt track into Babancourt.  Carl also attends the school where his parents work with about 200 other children from the area.  Actually, meeting Carl on the way into Babancourt is an interesting story that helps to affirm how meeting someone in another nation not chosen with eye contact regardless of the language difference can be an education for both humans. 

Pastor Lyonel was behind the wheel of his big white Chevy king cab 4 x4, and Pastor Dupree and his wife were sitting close to each other behind me as we turned right off of the hardball road onto the dirt track that led to Babancourt.  The wide path was lined lush green with palm trees, tall grasses, thick vines and an occasional tall leafed hardwood.  Roughly a mile in I started seeing small sturdy houses set back ten to twenty meters off of the road.  There were no driveways for cars not owned leading to these little homes, just open space or a narrow foot paths cut through the green on the edge of the road.  Houses built small with design that fits the need.  Both block and wood foundations raised off of the dark earth floor in case of flooding from the close by mountains during the rainy season which comes every year.  Open windows without screen or glass, and small porches for sitting on almost every house.

All of a sudden the truck stopped quickly and unannounced in front of a modest dwelling some twenty meters off to my right.  Pastor Lyonel yelled a friendly morning greeting to the Grandmother standing and waving back to us on the elevated porch.  The way she was standing almost completely blocked my view of the open front door.  She was smiling and still waving just as someone small from around her skirt appeared making his way to the wood plank stairs that led down to the ground.  Now he was running directly for us in his little khaki and green public school uniform shouting, "Paste' Lyonel, Paste' Lyonel."

This little fellow of no more than five years old must have recognized the familiar truck of the Pastor, but the sight of me he could not place.  His run stopped quickly turning into a frozen stare at the thickly bearded white man he had never seen before in the Pastor's truck just a few feet from him.  Lyonel made the informal introductions and I leaned down sticking out my hand to shake Carl's, the primary school kid looking wide eyed back up at me.  Carl's tiny hand slowly met my mine with a gentle shake, and then he ran off on down the road in the same direction we were headed. 

A few hours later after getting an overland hiking tour of the 40 acre parcel owned by the church, Pastors Lyonel and Dupree led me down the dirt road to see the large school building supporting the village.  When we arrived all of the children and teachers were out in the sandy yard about to end a morning recess.  We watched as the bells rang and the kids assembled in an orderly fashion to reenter the schoolhouse.  While I was preoccupied taking pictures, the young Principal of the school came over and immediately started talking to Pastor Lyonel in a language that I did not understand but could hear and just as importantly feel.  Lyonel burst out into laughter, something up until that point I wasn't sure if he was capable of.  I asked him to please tell me what was so funny because now both he and the Principal were laughing in my direction.

Lyonel started by asking me if I remembered that little boy Carl, whom I had met earlier.  "Of course I do", I answered.  "Well", Lyonel explained, " Carl is the son of the Principal and one of the teachers here at the school.  When Carl came to class this morning he found his mom and dad right away to report that there was a bearded white man in the village and his hands are soft, like powder."  That is pretty funny, I thought to myself as Lyonel introduced me to the smiling Principal and his wife.  I recon it is rare that the children of this village some 50km north of PAP and off the beaten path get to see someone from America, especially someone as soft as me.


Now is our chance to help those kids out by getting them the hardware that they need to start up a computer learning lab that presently does not exist in the Babancourt School.  As of today, it looks as if the Laptop Round Up for the Real has received the commitment of  7 Laptop computers being donated by five individuals in position to help.  My goal is 15 and there is still just over three weeks left in the drive, so please keep your ears and eyes open for the project.  Like Tab says, "This is an easy one to get behind."

If you have any questions or comments please feel free to get in touch with me and thanks for being part of something authentic.

Friday Laptop Round Up for the Real Report

From left to right:  Edge of the Hearst Tower, BOA Corporate Center. 

6 Laptops have been committed to the Laptop Round Up for the Real as of this morning.  That is incredible news and I appreciate these donors taking the initiative to help this on the ground project get traction.  Several other folks have come forward with good suggestions on ways to round up some more machines.  Thanks to all who have shown in interest in helping out.  For the next few weeks I will be working with a few local organizations and businesses to reach then exceed the 15 machine goal by the middle of January.  Please keep your eyes and ears open for anyone in your circle with means to help with a Laptop Donation.

Breaking News: It's COLD!

On Monday, local WBTV reporter Dedrick Russell stopped me as I stepped out of the midday CMA Meeting to ask me a few questions about dealig with the cold.  Immediately I balked and asked him not to put me on the air, but his genuine interest and promise to not make me look like an idiot won me over.  You may get a kick out of this short clip, I enter around a minute forty five with a little 'B' roll.  Dedrick, you did a good job of making sure the moron in me did not make the cut, for that and your comment about me being a smart worker I thank you. 

Laptop Round Up for the Real Count as of Today:

-I am happy to report that as of this morning at 0700hrs a total of 4 Laptops have been officially donated to this project.  3 other Laptops are verbally offered over the next few weeks.  Just counting the 4 that have been committed locally means that the Laptop Drive for the children of the primary school in Babancourt is almost a third of the way to its goal of 15 computers.  Thank you to those who have contacted me with a donation and those who have offered guidance and support.  Please donate a Laptop today by contacting me at whereonearthisbill@gmail.com.  If you cannot, please take a minute to share my link with your friends who may be able to.  You are never too far away to be able to help.  Thank you very much, you beautiful people.

Laptop Round Up for the Real-Day 1 Results Posted

Image of garden variety Laptop swiped from the Google image search by ME.

As you know from yesterday's post, the Traffic Stop is on a campaign to raise 15 Laptop computers(new, used or about to be thrown away) for the primary public school in Barbancourt that I visited in October.  All of the logistics needed to get these machines to the school are covered between Pastor Lyonel and myself.  If you have specific questions about any of the details, please feel free to contact me at: whereonearthisbill@gmail.com.

Here are the results from the first day of the Laptop Round Up:

-1 old Dell was donated by Tab
-1 used HP was tentatively donated based on the donor purchasing their new machine closer to the Holiday.
-1 Dell may be coming back from West Palm Beach after Christmas with V, the Laptop Round Up's new female director of facilitation.

Not an over whelming start, but definitely warming to the heart.  A big Traffic Stop THANKS to the three ladies mentioned above for feeling it, and being willing to participate as well as help spread the word.  Remember, my philosophy for this project stems from the idea that fixing the plight of the Haitian people may never happen, but small real answers on the ground can set into motion a life time of positive change for the ones living there.

Pastor Lyonel humbly told me that he could use 15 Laptops to start a computer lab at the school in Barbancourt.  Please help me fill that request with a real solution by donating your(or a friend's) old Laptop today.

Laptop Round Up for the Real

Barbancourt Public School as seen by me in October. 

Laptop Drive, Day 1.

Down in Haiti, in a small town called Barbancourt that I visited two months ago there is a schoolhouse with a need that I feel compelled to try and fill.  Either new or used LAPTOP Computers are in great demand at the primary and middle school level across the Haitian Nation.  While traveling with Pastor Lyonel, I listened as he expressed to me the specific needs at the primary school in Barbancourt of which he is responsible for. One thing stood out, the school has no computers for the children to learn with.  Without even realizing it, through me he is asking for a donation of 15 Laptops for a new computer class that will be taught to the children you see above in groups of 30.  These computers will not be used to surf the Internet, so they do not have to be the latest, greatest or fastest new machines available.

The idea is that the computers will be loaded with education software that will help teach the children language skills, mathematics and science.  Plus, as an added bonus this new mobile computer lab will help the children acquire basic computer skills often taken for granted in the modern western world.  Pastor Lyonel explained how the addition of 15 Laptops creating this new computer lab in Barbancourt would change the future of each child that participates in the class.  "Getting an equal start is very important to the lives of these children", Lyonel told me.

With that said, I know that the problems in Haiti will not be solved by me or anyone else for a long time to come.  But, I have been taught by some smart folks that for the Crisis Caravan to succeed, real solutions must take place.  We cannot get caught up in meetings, over planning and the creep of the corporate agenda designed to fear people into worrying about liability so much that nothing gets done.  There is no need to try and solve the greater problems on the large scale if some of the smaller basic needs cannot be taken care of.

My approach with this idea is to provide a small, on the ground, nuts and bolts answer to one problem facing the beautiful people of Barbancourt.  If you have the resources, I ask that you donate a new or used Laptop Computer to the school in Barbancourt through Pastor Lyonel's Haiti Mission in Port Au Prince.

No nay saying, here's how this will work:

-I will be running this Laptop Round Up for the Real for the next month.  The closing day for this computer drive will be infinitely forward into the future.

-Contact me immediately at whereonearthisbill@gmail.com with any donations you may have and I will explain all of the logistical details at that time.

- Pastor Lyonel is the man, he is very connected and he services his fellow Haitians with assurance and truth.  The Pastor is the Vice President of the Haiti Mission, a non-profit headquartered in PAP.  That means your donation can be written off for tax purposes. Merry Christmas!

-Trust

Details Uncovered

Stuckey's revealing rolling rainy day self portrait with me warm and dry in my Montero over his left shoulder. 

The other day I was trying to transfer the synchro of the above image to all y'all.  In that post I wrote something rather important based on the knowledge of the image that I had at the time.  'To tell the truth, I never remember seeing him and he swears that he never saw me.'  Then I go on with all of the justifications and rationalizations as to why I am driving my truck on this day for Stuckey to capture in full snychro style.

Well, after I wrote and posted the story I talked to Stuckey on the gas grill and he corrected my assumption that the shot was made from the bike lane on Central Avenue.  He was actually on Hickory Grove Road which would clearly explain why I openly admitted that I never saw him.  I never did see him on Central, but I do have a clear memory of passing a rainy day wet cyclist in the bike lane on Hickory Grove that day.  Of course, it was just an anonymous rider to me at the time that I was passing on my way to get Ms. Arcen from school.  That brings me back to the original point, I was there that day in my car for all of the reasons previously listed in the original post, plus I had solo parenting responsibilities after work causing me to drive.

There you have it, a complete waste of your time today here at the Traffic Stop.  I just did not want any readers to think that I did not see a cyclist that I passed while driving my car, when in fact I did not and did at the same time.  Does that make any sense?  Assumptions can be so damning, thanks a lot Stuckey for helping me clarify that I actually did see you, it's just that it was not on Central.

My Dreams Project a Real Connection

They always have.  The more I let go and fall into my dreams with understanding and recall technique, the more I can feel the power force sparking them.  I feel like I am at the start of understanding the cause driving my dreams.  There is a long way to go and that is just the beginning. 

A few weeks ago we made a surprise visit to the Haywood County North Carolina homestead of St. Lissa's biological daddy, whom I had only met twice prior.  As we turned into the drive on Rich Cove Mountain, Johnny was sweeping the leaves off of the front porch of the house that he was born in and as he openly confesses, will one day die in.  As soon as he saw his daughter, he leaned the old fashioned broom against a rocking chair and embraced her like only a father could.  We were welcomed into his mountain home as if he had known all of us for a lifetime.

Dream, the ultimate voyage of a resting brain perhaps infinitely more powerful than when it is awake trying to keep all cognitive systems going on this spinning chunk of rock.  They keep coming and now the dimension of time is making its presence seen visual and felt along with all of the other sensory receptors.  This morning in dream I looked at the clock that is next to my bed, it read 0615hrs in bright red linear numerals.  Thinking came to me as I dream slept and slept a dream.  It is later than 0615hrs Boot, wake up, you are about to be late and out in the 18F without warm breakfast.  Was there a sound, I could not be sure, but from sleep dream sleeping to the actual and the same clock in front of me clearly showed that it was 0715hrs.  Moving translates to an active half pint of oats, honey and a rotten banana on the outside only.  Then the cold reality of feet hurting under prepared for the 19mph wind chill constant off of the 18F drained the process of getting in on commute. Moving through it created a heat rip away that tries hard to slow my continual forward pedaling.  Maybe shins exposed under an insulated covered knee was a bad idea, however half way in is a serious commitment as far as my work schedule goes.  Ignore the cold dead wood like feeling of the skin under your left toes and foot, your exposure only has fifteen minutes left and that will surely not cause damage that wouldn't be fixed with a warm cup of coffee after you drop the mails. 

Even though I ran around and backtracked a bit, my day brought a slower result at work than the average. We all know that a pattern is hard to predict in this industry.  Early in the afternoon I wound up in a comfy chair across from Swazey who was desperately trying to get me to drink the rest of his java poison so that I could go get 'us' a refill.  There wasn't much to talk about, I was warm and he was distracted by the trials of running the business that he proudly owns.  My head started bobbing, my eyelids closed and fluttered.  It was easy, I gave in by leaning back into the chair with my photochromic lenses slightly veiling my eyes.

Gone.  Truly right away into another dream unidentified dimensional tap in of me arriving by bicycle to the rural Maynard Hill that I grew up on.  This place holds tons of magic in my mind and I have not really lived there for over 23 years.  I came over the hill and down on my white Zurich with a front bag on filled with little warm ham sandwiches wrapped individually in aluminum foil.  It was day light and the grass was Nikon green under a blue cloudless sky.  People that I did not recognize were standing in the road at the driveway as I slowed to a crawl and turned in as if ever was this my home.  Were they Tifosi, I mean I had just finished a ride that covered over 700 miles, maybe they were there to receive me even though I never told anyone I was coming. 

Looking up into the garage I knew that something was night right, it was not what I remembered as truth at all.  The rest of the dream is a blur, a fast paced walk through of a physical place that had changed so many times and so dramatically that it was unrecognizable as actually connected to me on the real level.  People that I did not know were spending cozy time by their fireplace on a country road in Brooklyn.  They were not mean to me, however they were annoyingly curious as to where I came from and what was I doing there. In dream land there feels no desire, want, need, hunger or thirst for that matter as I walked through on down the hall towards my old bedroom.  The unfamiliar occupants of the shell of my childhood home started asking me redundant questions about nothing.  I tried to ignore their watered down intellect all the while paying attention to the new wood work carpentry details on the inside that I had never seen before.  Just as I felt my pajama bottomed feet slipping the way they used to, I was jolted awake into the conscious now by a firm tug on my left sleeve.

It was Swazey's voice that I heard as I left the entrance to my old room from my bonding years, "Excuse me, Mr. Homeless person, there is no sleeping allowed in here."  Bastard.  Only several minutes had passed before I started to lightly snore which compelled Swazey to take charge.  There is something missing though, something that I did not see while trying to tap one of those other unknown dimensions of a conscious but not conscious state.  That was the second time that I have dream rode to my old home, the house I remember in the past two weeks.  Synchronicity is at work in my cortex but it has not yet manifested the physical connection.  Does that make any sense?  Prolly not, so don't worry about it because it is all mine to feel and be able to express as if I knew what I were talking about.

Bring a Friend to Work Day & SYNCHRO MORE...

One early morning a few years back from this on an inbound stay alive, a crazy Bastard whom I had never met before accelerated passed me in his Ford Range Her at the start of the Albermarlean Traverse, and then a hundred meters ahead he turned right into some sort of breakfast fast food place.  He whipped the truck around, jumped out of the cab and flagged me down.  What the?  Turns out this crazy Bastard with the birth given street name Stuckey had been seeing me traverse the corridor over the past few years and for whatever reason on this morning he decided to introduce himself and ask me what the hell am I doing for the seven thousandth time with a few years gap.  Strange the thought of how my presence on perpetual bike commute affects the minds of those thinking and paying attention.   I've often wondered just how many of those whizzing by car bound in the active pursuit of whatever actually see me.

In this case Stuckey was most definitely paying attention and he let me know both verbally and tacitly.  We chatted for a few minutes that morning with promises of contacting each other for a trail ride and then both of us went back on our individual ways.  Over time we never got that trail ride in, but I did see Stuckey often enough to know that he saw me as well.  It was kind of one of those things where you are alone on a bike, you project a thought and then it manifests. You've heard it before and you will hear it again maybe even in this post, how's the synchro?  I would be riding along after a week or two without seeing the Range Her wondering to myself where the hell it was and then all of a sudden it would appear with an audible toot from nowhere.  A few times I even picked my way through traffic stopped at a light to have a passenger window side chat with this fellow rider and all around decent human.  Stuckey.

Fast forward over the ages to a week and a half ago when Stuckey contacted me to let me know that he would be no longer employed after the 30th of November and that he would like to have some fun by following me on a work day from start to finish.  Well, well, I dare say that is an interesting proposal to have a civilian I have never ridden with fly my wing for a day.  So it was done and set for Thursday December 2.  Stuckey showed up with his big geared freewheel SS urban road rig before 0800hrs just as I was finishing this post and my delicious toast and jam.  We rolled out for the standard east side approach very close to my normal departure time.

Here, still in Dooleyville Stuckey approaches a slight rise in full pro level style.

Before we got into the nasty urban transfer his wife called to make sure that he was okay.  I heard him say, "Yeah honey everything is fine except he has on shoes.  I thought he said that he wears sandals with wool socks all the way down to below freezing temperatures.  What a bastard, his feet look warmer than mine feel." 

I did not make any images during the rest of the Stay Alive or our day at work.  My camera was away from me because of the Courthouse and I was never really motivated to document all of the intricate details of my daily livity experience.

Thoughts, Observations & Stats:

-Stuckey was amazing, only slowed me down three times out of many.
-We did 16 jobs(solid average goal style) in between 0845hrs and 1303hrs.
-Lunch was a 6.25$ three bean burrito splurge for me and a chicken version for him at PHAT.
-Not one of the 16 tags were outside of the beltway. Normally I go out(far) a few times in that same amount of time.  Providence Road or at least Moorehead deep come up often enough that I am familiar.
-Beer call was before 1600hrs.
-By the time we returned home on this solid average day minus leaving the belt, Stuckey's Computer read, 32.7miles.

Here he is back in Dooleyville after a day in the life of me.  If you look closely you will see the 24hrs of Booty is sort of spiritually represented on Stuckey's left calf.  Spencer saw the ink recently and was motivated to inquire about the human wearing it. 

Stop, full on.

Me and Stuckey from left to right in case you are confused. Shot provided by: Stuckey.

*** "How's the synchro", asked the brown white tailed rabbit standing in the dew covered grass along side the road.  It is constant and just fine, thanks for asking.

Now that Stuckey and I are friends we've also become Faceliftbook "friends".  Yesterday I noticed that he posted a few images for all of his other '"friends" to see.  One that struck me deep is the one below of him riding home for an evening commute a week before he lost his job and the week after I returned from Haiti. 

The most amazing thing about this Stuckey self portrait is that it is unrehearsed, unplanned and not coordinated by either of us.  To tell the truth, I never remember seeing him and he swears that he never saw me.  I am in my Montero driving the commute that I always ride because I had just returned from Hell, it was raining and I am a pussy. Yes, the UN Montero with the Connecticut flag over the right wheel well is one of the only things I own and in this slice of time, about 125th of a second I am dry, driving it on by Stuckey who is wet. 

Sunday Mountain Ride Report

Well, it was going to be a detailed ride report from yesterday's 3.5hrs in the woods of the Uwharrie National Forest with Blair, but I overslept so you are only getting a brief version of the epic events that took place.

-US Army Special Forces Trainees Jumped in close by eight days earlier and have been in the field since practicing map only land nav.  The Major gave me the scoop.
-Dude(the fellow in the present header image making a high cut on my former shag bark maple tree) was there and left a beer on my car, so we left one on his friend's.
-I took a wrong turn, or missed the right one.  Go figure.
-Blair is brave.
-The warm up jacket that Boots gave me a few years ago is very comfortable, practically functional for riding and makes complete fashion sense.
-Uwharrie is a great forest to have so close by, a third of the time in the car away than the big mountains. 

Burley Trailer Follow Up

Earlier in the week I highlighted the new Burley Trailer that Swazey(street name) purchased with a cash trade from the fine folks at Bicycle Sport.  Roughly three hours after that post went up, the Burley voice picked up on my reference to its product by using the super top secret industry Internet radar system.  Then the voice behind the cloud commented:

Anonymous burley_trailers said...

Nice Burley Flatbed trailer!

A good choice to go with a two-wheel trailer which balances its load on the trailer wheels rather than making you balance the weight on your bike. You'd really notice that difference in cornering and in standing up on the pedals. You'll also get better maneuverability around town with the shorter wheel-base of the Burley because the wheels are centered on the cargo area.

Check out the Burley Travoy if you are looking for an even smaller towing footprint at www.burley.com . Keep on rolling!

November 30, 2010 9:10 AM

Delete

All good points from a marketing aspect.  I would have to say that I am not being paid by anyone in the industry so my opinion really does not matter, it's just that I have had my BOB for a long time and it works well for me when ever I pull it down. 

Swazey's Burley is now a few days old and the aura it creates is just as tantalizing as it was the first day we saw it.  Let's check in with him and see how this new Burley product is working for him.


What's this?  A half assed Tupperware solution to the problem of urban ick spraying the load on the bed of the trailer. 

Swazey says, "If you're gonna do something, do it with pride."

Nothing says pride like, Tupperware. Or is it Rubbermaid?

This is good problem solving by one of the CMA's most intellectual members.  Swazey's priority negotiating skills are pro level. 

Thought Bubble:  Hmmm, that trailer is heavy, I'm tired and one of my far away clients has an ASAP coming back to town.  Maybe I should just lock my Burley to the bike rack, do the job and get the trailer later, that way I do not have to pull the extra weight around for nothing.  What great ideas I have all of the time.

One of the nicest city employees in Charlotte inquires as to why Swazey is locking his trailer rather then riding away with it.

Here Swazey is seen explaining how hard it is to ride with the extra weight behind him. 

The man in the Nathan Vest was over heard saying, "Burley's trailer is really nice looking, but I am not sure why there is Tupperware in the back of it."

Swazey points out the only deficiency in the Burley system that he has discovered thus far.  "It jiggles and rattles and drives my nuts(at least it won't be a far drive)", he repined.   Then he went on, "Use your stupid blog and get Burley to do something about this."

Closer inspection shows another half assed effort to solve a problem.  This time black electrical tape is loosely wrapped around what he thought was the cause of the irritating rattle.  Looks like something to be proud of to me. 

Dicky steps in and adds his opinion on the manner in which Swazey locked his trailer. 

Coincidence, highly unlikely. 

Rolling away towards Union County for that ASAP special request without the Burley.