Nightmares

A few nights back I awoke in a cold sweat. I'd had a nightmare that Juancho had kidnapped Big Jim Slade, Lil' Ronnie, and Cliffy, and forced them to join his boy band. My fears were allayed as I realized it was only a dream, and then I found this...



If I find out that Wrecking Ball is managing those guys, he may be stripped of his BC jersey!

Observations

Shralping from jake garrett on Vimeo.

Not sure what the hell schralping is, but best I can tell, it has something to do with a leprechaun, dressed as a fairy, chasing a lumber jack. Being that they are on bikes, though, I'm cool with that. Trail looks fun, but probably not passable for an old guy like me. Then again, that's probably why I'm clueless on schralping.



Palm trees! That's what they went with, palm trees?! Awhile back, I walked down memory lane, regarding an old Kmart, turned Albertson's, that was demolished to make way for a new Publix. They uprooted all of the oaks that had stood for years, and are repaving the lot to fit Publix standards. Today I roll up and see great big, giant palm trees. That's what they brought back?! What the hell? Are we to think of Publix as a relaxing island oasis, filled with cat litter, grape soda, and the latest in microwaveable, frozen, gourmet diet food? Or, did one more super brilliant VP of Parking Lots, over at Publix headquarters, decide that since we live in Florida, and since the entire state is a giant beach, and palm trees are the state bird, that clearly, palm trees will make the locals feel more at home? After all, isn't Publix just an extended member of the family?

Enough mockery, I'm moving the furniture around a little. Since WB had a mid-blog crisis, and erased all of the links I used on a 50 times daily basis, I had to add some more links up in here. Then I found that it was kinda nice seeing the titles, so I could tell who was talking, who was sleeping, and who was dead. Unfortunately, that's making things a little visually busy, and I'm not sure it will last. Whoever posted most recently will rise to the top, like sweet cream. The dead guys will sink to the bottom. Let me know what ya think. Or don't.

Failure

So my girl gets home last night, and looks completely aggravated. I ask what was up, expecting the usual hassles we all see when dealing with people at work. Not tonight, she'd escaped the confines of the office with only minor battle wounds, only to be completely let down by the foolish actions of people at large.

As she drove home along Old Bainbridge Road, just south of Fred George Road, she notices a couple of baseball caps lying in the road. Shortly after that, a small boy pushing his bmx bike against traffic, a bag split open on his back, with its contents overflowing. Now, this is a sketchy piece of canopy road, even for an experienced cyclist! Minimal shoulder, no sidewalk, and no streetlights make for minimal options. She makes a u-turn, picks up his caps, and catches back up to him, and pulls over with her flashers on. She asks if he needs help or a ride.

"Yes ma'am."

"Where are you headed?"

"I have to go to my Auntie's."

"Can you show me how to get there from here?"

"Yes ma'am"

She loads the scared kid, looking like he's about to cry, and his bike, and drives him to his destination; the corner of High Road and Hartsfield Road. This is what, about 2 miles from where she picks him up? She pulls in the driveway indicated by the boy, and sees a woman and a man standing in the yard. They stare her down as she gets out and tells them that she has picked up the nephew on Old Bainbridge, because she was concerned for his safety. They continued to stare, said not a word to the boy or her, and eventually went back to talking with a neighbor.

WHAT IN THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE??!!!

There was what appeared to be a perfectly functional, newer car in the driveway! Why would you send your middle school aged boy out on that route, at 6:30 in the evening, without the skills to navigate such passage. Why would you not at least ask questions when a stranger shows up on your doorstep, to deliver your nephew?

My first thought was to go back to the Auntie's house and slap somebody so hard that maybe the ringing in their ears would wake them from their fog! But the reality is, if I go up there and call them out, it will likely only make things worse for the boy. So what is the perfect answer? I'm still stewing over this. Do you call the law? Child Services? Or do you just leave it be? My heart goes out to this kid. He may be a royal pain in the ass, and have issues I can't fathom, but sending a kid into harm's way like that, definitely, is not the answer.

Envy

Local trails ala cx from Andy Wardman on Vimeo.

This made me smile. And with that, I'll likely be on the cross bike tomorrow. I may not have skills as polished as this guy, but then again why should I? After all, he has a video. I haven't been on tv since 1990 something, when I told people to bend there back legs. If you were there, you know what I'm talking about. If you weren't you don't need to know.

I'm Still Here

Been MIA for awhile. So what? Like you've never gone on hiatus or just got distracted by life or some pretty butterfly.

Speaking of butterflies, chatter about the 2010 Bump-n-Grind has popped up on the radar. Imagine my surprise to see that Spanish Mackerel is on the bubble in regards to attendance. No shiite! That boy spends half his life on the bubble. He's like a bubble on the bubble. One of those anomaly bubbles that comes out when your bubble blower is all jacked up or your bubble production fluid has some sort of stagnant flaw in its chemistry. No offense though. The Mackerel has much less self induced stress by remaining a bubble tumor, so be it.

When I'm not wracked by some form of lunger cough, I've found my bike again. Our trip to N. Georgia and North Carolina, via North Tallahassee and North Thomasville, North Macon, etc, was a blast until such time as the hack returned, cutting the trip short. I can't tell you how crappy I felt that my crew elected to return early, 'cause I was sick. I argued to get them to stay. After all, sick in a hotel bed, or sick in my bed, what's the difference? We're 8 hours from home! They need to be riding! Again, so be it. I enjoyed the rides I got, in any case.

After another week and a half off with the croup, I'm riding....again. As usual, the ability to lay heat, is only luke warm at best. Last night's ride had Little Ball heckling me every 30 seconds, about my glacial pace. I rose to the bait, and eventually blew myself sky high, ala The Buthcherous Red Boot Camp Butterfly Dragon. I realize the error in my ways. Next time the youngun gets all arrogant on me, 20 years of experience says he gets gut checked to the poison ivy seats, despite his apparent immunity to the devil weed!

My legs are stiff and spent, thanks to the crew's insistent beat downs on Saturday, and again last night. Regardless, it's good to be back.

(BTW, if you ever do travel with the crew, be wary of Big Jim Slade's sumo prowess. Wrecking Ball says it's a might stingy.)