Day 93 - Scramblers

How do I love thee, let me count the ways …

Or

How do I love bikes, let me count them all …

I just moved into a new storage space that finally lets me keep them all together and frees up my garage for working on one without tripping over all the others. Best of all, it has doors at both ends so it's drive-in, drive-out. No fuss, No muss!

Best of all, there is room for more! Notice that only one of Beth's bikes has moved in. The rest of hers will double the count.

The ratty one on the right plus the last two in line (not counting the orphan with the rusty tank and no engine) are all Honda 250 Scramblers from the '60s. The one minus the engine has been owned by me or one of my friends since my days at Fun Bike Center in San Diego. That is to say, a very long time!

This engine has been a living room sculpture for the last year waiting to be installed in that bike. It was rebuilt by none other than my friend Bill Silver. He is probably the most knowledgeable person on vintage Hondas outside of Japan and has written several books on the subject. I like to think I know a lot about them but Bill puts me to shame.

The plan is to take the three bikes plus the parts I've accumulated over the past few years to restore my original bike and make one more complete bike for a daily rider. The goal is to do it this summer and ride it down to Baja.

This is the 50^th anniversary of On Any Sunday and it only seems proper to ride the same bike that started the very first Baja 1000 down to Mexico.

Stay tuned!

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Day 92 - Hero

I suppose that kids nowadays think of Transformers, or comic book super heroes, or Harry Potter characters as the ideals they want to pattern their lives after. When I was a kid it was John Wayne or Steve McQueen. Manly men who could do anything, win any fight, and always get the girl in the end.

I, of course, was different. I wanted to be like James Garner. He was always cast as a lovable scamp who had a trick up his sleeve to foil his enemies rather than a mighty fist that could punch his opponent into next week. That appealed to to me because I was an awkward, skinny kid who couldn't fight his way out of a paper bag.

What I did have was a brain and a knack for seeing through people. I could figure out what they wanted and find ways to convince them that punching me was not it. A smart mouth got me into trouble but just as often got me back out of trouble.

Garner always got the girl, but I'd have to wait awhile for that. In the mean time I'd just do the “Aw Shucks” routine and tell them that hitting me would be more embarrassing for them than painful for me. Mostly, it worked.

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Day 91 - Shop

What is old is new again. In my case what is old may still be hanging around.

These are my old tool boxes. The little one on the ground is the first one I bought use when I got my first mechanic job at Weymouth Honda. The picture is from 22 June 1977 in San Diego.

Same toolbox 44 years later filled with the original Snap-On tools I bought back when I started. Close inspection reveals the same decals plus many years of grease and grime.

These are the new tool boxes I bought to replace the big ones in the previous picture. The originals went to my brother who was starting out as a diesel mechanic and needed some  tools work with. I kept my original wrenches and all the motorcycle special tools but gave him the rest. What are brothers for?

This is the workbench my dad made for me when I was 10 or 11. He kept it while I wandered the world. I was happy to find that he had saved it and brought it home in the back of my truck.

A Honda Interceptor 750 on my lift. Once you have a lift you will never go back! For you readers in California and Arizona, that weird red and black mechanism to the left is a snow blower. No reason for you to know that!

This is Beth's half of the garage. Her own tool boxes, her own workbench, and her own lift. She does most of her own work with some help from me on occasion. She just replaced the brake lines on the Hawk GT with braided stainless steel lines. I was allowed to pump the lever while she bled the brakes. That's one of her two Ducatis in the background, a 900 SS LE. She has 9 bikes in all if you count the race bikes and Bonneville LSR bike.

You know those t-shirts that say, “If you can read this, the bitch fell off!”? Beth has one that says, “If you can read this, the bitch just passed you!”

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Day 90 - Dates

In high school I was beyond shy. I was frightened to death of girls and never went on a date or to any of the dances. I didn't have many guy friends either but I was straight A's in my engineering classes. A nerd's nerd even before anyone knew what a nerd was.

I was a big fan of movies like To Catch A Thief where Cary Grant was always so confident and sophisticated. I also liked all the Doris Day / Rock Hudson movies for the same reason. This led to one big problem, I knew how they acted right up to that moment where things started to get intimate and the camera panned up into the sky. Wait! What?

I finally started dating and was very popular. I did all the things I had seen in the movies. I took girls to fancy places and treated them like movie stars. The only problem was that none of the relationships ever lasted more than 3 or 4 dates. I was the perfect gentleman. Which is to say, BORING!

There was that problem, I didn't know what to do next. I'd take them home and they'd want to be kissed. I didn't know anything about that and just shook their hands. Queue the death knell.

The guys all thought I was really hitting home runs because I had so many different girls and I was certainly not going to disagree with them. When they asked about this one or that one, I replied that a gentleman didn't kiss and tell. In my case they didn't even kiss!

Cary Grant couldn't have put on a better act. I went to parties, took dates to clubs, and was seen at all the best places. Only I knew what a façade it was. 

Then it happened, there was this girl that everyone wanted and nobody came close to getting. I was at a party having a reasonably good time when she came over and started talking to me. I was a little shocked but went into my routine of being suave and above it all.

After a few minutes she said, “You are totally full of shit and are coming home with me tonight!” 

OK!!

And this is where the camera pans up into the sky and the music swells in romantic interludes …    

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Day 89 - Cars

My first car was an old Ford that didn't have a motor. Or a transmission. I bought it with the money I had saved from my allowance. I had it towed to a place a block from my home. My father found out about it and hit the roof. What was I thinking? What was I going to do with it? HAD I ASKED PERMISSION? I don't know, I don't know, No …

My second car was a '53 Chevy Bel Air convertible. This one was in great shape with the exception of the transmission which was blown. I bought it for $50 of my paper route money. My sister's boyfriend was eager to make points so he helped me find a replacement transmission in a junk yard and helped me install it. I kept it parked down the block and only drove it when nobody was looking.

When my father found out about it he hit the roof. What was I thinking? What was I going to do with it? HAD I ASKED PERMISSION? I don't know, I don't know, No …  Experience told me that he wasn't going to say yes under any circumstances so it was up to me to go pirate if I wanted a car.

Did I mention that I didn't have a license? My father thought that if he withheld the license it would keep me from driving. Just the opposite, it made me want to drive all the more. Needless to say the Chevy was quickly sold to the first person that answered the newspaper ad.

Arnold Mendoza lived with his parents next door to us. He had just gotten out of the Marines and drove a red Triumph TR-3. He also had a girlfriend named Mary who rode a BMW R69S motorcycle. She wore fitted sealskin leathers and looked better than Marilyn Monroe. Arnie felt sorry for me and taught me how to drive. Mary smiled at me and said I was a nice kid. When he moved out into his own apartment he let me hang out with him. He went to college during the day and worked as a janitor at night to pay for it. I used to “borrow” the Triumph while he was working, it was easy to hot wire, and go riding around the city just happy to cruise with the top down. He knew but didn't seem to mind as long as the car came back with gas in the tank.

My next, almost, car was an International Harvester Scout. Other kids wanted T-Birds or hot rods but the ugly duckling with 4-wheel drive called to me. I went down to the dealer and a sympathetic salesman sent me home with brochures and a sales agreement to be signed by my parents.

When I asked my father he hit the roof. What was I thinking? What was I going to do with it? HAD I ASKED PERMISSION? Wait! I was asking permission. I was a straight A student and he said that if I worked hard I could have anything I wanted. That stopped him, but only for a second. He was not going to sign for a vehicle because “We do not buy things on credit!”

My mother must have talked to him because a few days later he brought up the subject and suggested that something a bit more practical might be possible. I think he was thinking of a second hand sedan but I had found the new love of my life. A bug eyed Sprite!

This was a car that only the British could make. No interior door panels, to open the door you reached in through the sliding Plexiglas window if the top was up and pulled on a wire to release the catch. The was no hood, the whole front end came off, and no trunk lid, you flipped the seat forward and stowed things behind you. However, it had one feature above all that made it attractive to me. It was affordable!

I took the brochure to my dad and made my pitch. He was stuck, he had said that if I had a solid plan he would give permission. In the end it didn't matter. I had turned 18 and had to register for the draft. The Vietnam war was going full blast and I had a choice of volunteering or being sent to the Army Infantry. I joined the Air Force because I didn't like people shooting at me. But that's a story for another day!

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Day 88 - HoSD

In 1976 I was working as a mechanic at Fun Bike Center in San Diego. The owner and I had a contentious relationship. He needed a good mechanic and I needed a good paycheck. He thought he could tell me what to do and I was sure that nobody could tell me what to do.

I got fired on a regular basis. At first I would load up my tool boxes and take them home. A few days later I would find an excuse to drop by the shop and the service manager would tell me to get back to work. Later it became such a ritual that I would merely push my tool boxes into a back corner so I didn't have to take them home.

On one occasion I actually got fired and rehired in the same sentence.

"You're a pain in the ass and you're fired, now get back to work!”

Mark, our fearless leader in the middle

That went on for a while until I got tired of the game and went to work at Honda of San Diego. Our service manager was an young guy who drank too much. If he hadn't come into the shop by 10am we would send the lot boy in the shop truck to pick him up. More than once he returned with the manager passed out in the back of the truck.

His most memorable moment was when he got into an argument with a customer on the phone. Suddenly he yelled, “Did you see that, that asshole hung up on me!” He immediately called the customer back and yelled, “Did you just hang up on me?!?! You don't hang up on me!! I hang up on you!!” And with that slammed the phone down on the receiver so hard we all thought he broke it. Needless to say we were all in uncontrollable hysterics.

I still have the small toolbox by my feet

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Day 87 - Stanyon St.

There is so much to be afraid of, this growing old thing. This morning I saw a picture of a friend from many years ago. She looked old, the same brilliant smile, now in faded pastels. I wonder what she would think if she saw my picture, what we would say if we met.

It is not the memories that matter, it is what is not remembered and lost. At random moments, a quiet clue will prompt some connection to a bygone event. A previous adventure or former lover will rush to the foreground to claim moments of my time with moments past, only to fade again into the dark.

Mortality does not scare me, from dust to dust. Losing all the photos I've carefully kept would be a disappointment. What scares me most is losing the way to new friends and adventures. Maybe looking back gets in the way of looking forward.

Still, it is pleasant to remember the streets I've lived on and the wonderful things that happened there.

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Day 86 - Risk

I was discussing arrows and their meanings. Let me try to pull it all together. The arrow is a vector in mathematical terms. It's length is the vector's magnitude. The center (origin) of these vectors is you. Call it your being, or your soul, or whatever you want, it's the summation of you. It's different from the origin of everyone else. The surface of all these vectors (the lumpy potato) is the locus of your personality. I said that every vector can be positive or negative, reflecting your likes (+) or dislikes (-), hopes (+) and fears (-).

Now I suggest that the magnitude of each vector can represent your tolerance for risk. You can not extend any vector in a positive direction further than you are willing to accept the same amount of negative response. Casinos always say, “You can't win if you don't play!” So it is with life. You can't enjoy a reward greater than you're willing to risk a loss.

If every activity has risk, how much is a person willing to wager in search of the reward? It is my axiom that the positive magnitude of any vector can not exceed the possible negative value. Is the thrill of skydiving worth the risk of death? Some say yes, most say no. Is the possibility of large returns on the stock market worth the risk of being penniless?

In school we had the first hint of this bargain. Some of the kids seemed to live large while most kept their heads down and stayed below the radar. Go over and ask that girl for a date? Maybe next time, too risky now. Later, it would be trips to exotic places or the safety of a package tour. Nobody has ever died of embarrassment but you would think it was an everyday occurrence.

In an economics class one lecture was on satisficing. That is the decision to accept what satisfies the minimum requirement while sacrificing the goal of perfection. That reflects the decision of how much to risk. A bank deposit at minimal return will satisfice because it is safe and insured. Keep the risk small and accept the minimal reward.

We make decisions every day in which we weigh the risk and reward. Some want more reward, some want less risk. Each person has to decide for themselves. The little gray people live on the ground, but some reach for the stars and accept the bumps and bruises along the way.

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Day 00 - Reset

I haven't been online because I did a factory reset on my computer and lost everything that I though I had carefully saved. See you tomorrow.

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Day 85 - Vectors II

If you stand outdoors on a clear starry night with a compass and a protractor you can identify any star. [Polar angle] How far do you have to turn clockwise from North to see the star directly in front of you? [Azimuthal angle] How far above the horizon do you have to lift your head to see it head on. [Radial distance] How far away is it? Wikipedia will show you a lot of Greek symbols and calculus equations but what I just said says the same thing in ordinary language.

Remembering what I said yesterday that qualities can be measured in the same way. Which direction is it and how much of it? Take a baseball and cut it in half. Glue one piece to a thin piece of glass and the other piece on the other side of the glass directly adjacent to the first piece. 360 degrees marked on the glass around the baseball. The angle above or below the class on a protractor. The magnitude measured with a ruler.

Any point on that baseball becomes an object of interest. Chocolate ice cream. If you like it there will be an arrow shooting out from the center of the baseball in the chocolate ice cream direction with a magnitude directly proportional to the amount you like or dislike it. Vanilla ice cream might be right next to it. If you like vanilla it will be longer or shorter than chocolate by the amount you prefer it. If, on the other hand, you don't like vanilla the arrow will shoot out of the baseball on the other side of the glass.

Why does this matter? By the time all the likes and dislikes are aggregated the surface of all the arrow points will appear as a lumpy potato rather than a smooth baseball. That lumpiness defines us in more ways than a simple statistical summation.

I will follow up tomorrow with an interesting algorithm about lumpy potatoes and human personalities.

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Day 84 - Vectors

Visualize a knob that you could turn to indicate how you felt. Zero = apathy. 10 = engagement. Better, imagine that you could turn it in the opposite direction from 0 to -10 to show repugnance. 10 for like, 0 for don't care, -10 dislike.

Expand the scale to 100. 100 = love, 0 = couldn't care less, -100 = hate. Not romantic love but attraction or interest. Positive is interest, negative is detest.

Think of the vast domain of things that this scale could be applied to: people, places, things, …

BBQ ribs = 89, cauliflower = -20.
Bruno Mars = 27, Eazy-E = -74.

Consider a sphere. At the origin there is an infinity of directions an arrow could point. For every direction from the origin there is an opposite direction. For the north pole, there is the south pole opposite it.

Let us postulate that the length of the arrow is analogous to our -100 < 0 < +100 scale. Zero is the origin of the sphere. Thus, anything can be represented by an arrow and a set of coordinates. For taste, BBQ ribs is a long arrow in one direction, while cauliflower is a short arrow in the opposite direction. Perhaps, squash is an arrow of zero length in the same direction.

This arrow can be described in a 3-dimensional model by stating values for x, y, and z coordinates. Another way to describe it would be to state the radial distance (length of the arrow) plus the polar angle and the azimuthal angle (direction of the arrow). In math terms: r, θ, φ.

More on this tomorrow!

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Day 83 - Options

Life is filled with infinite possibilities. What a wonderful fantasy.

From the moment of conception our lives are framed. Not preordained, but bounded by circumstances and the decisions we make.

Only a couple of miles separate Beacon Hill from Fields Corner in Dorchester, yet the spectrum of opportunities offered by each are worlds apart. Infinity is filtered by our origins and our actions.

A decision is to cut off other options. What is decided for us and by us filters future states. Like a map, at each junction a choice is made: north, south, east, or west. Unlike a map, we can not go back in time and undecide. Once made the range of choices is constrained for the next step.

Good choices come from experience,
Experience comes from bad choices.

Good choices can also come from the random luck of coincidence or a serendipitous observation. Entropy can play both for us and against us. The Butterfly Effect suggests that no action is too insignificant to play a role in determining our future.

Plan for the future,
    Live for today,
        Make the best deal you can get!

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Day 82 - Stream

It's easy to float down a stream, a buoy traveling lightly, letting the current take you where it will. No cares, no responsibilities, maybe a bruise or two along the way as you collide with a rock. Nothing to worry about.

It's hard to build a house on the shore. Make decisions about what and where. Lay the foundation, build the structure, put up the roof to protect you from the elements.

Sitting alongside the stream on a sunny day watching the carefree others float by, you wonder whether commitment was the right choice. Sitting inside, watching the storm, the decision seems moot. This is the house, this is the place, no turning back.

Memory of the past is a sly phantasm that tricks you into believing what it wants you to. It's a sucker's game because you want to believe it too. When the going gets tough and the meandering stream beckons, it's hard to stand firm. Yet the words were said, the commitment was made.

That's how a house becomes a home.

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Day 81 - Birthday

Beth's birthday yesterday – totally focused on her. +1 on the end of the challenge. 

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Day 80 - Fail

A whole lot going on yesterday and I went to bed without writing my "100 words"

Not fatal but disappointing - Now it will be 101 day of 100 words. 

Let's see what today brings.

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Day 79 - Contacts

I found an old printout of my contacts dated 5 Aug 1996, a little over 25 years ago.

I married one of them.

I am still in active contact with 15 of them.

I am friends with 12 of them but not actively.

I am not on speaking terms with 3 of them.

I have no idea who 13 of them were.

21 of them have drifted away, probably never to be seen again.

Sadly, 8 of the best of them are dead.

My current contact list has 796 entries.

23 are in my A-List category

55 get Christmas cards.

41 are Motorcycle People

9 are in New York City, 11 in San Diego, 5 in Boston, and 1 in Hong Kong. The rest are scattered around the world.

14 are under the general heading of California.

It's been a slow day obviously. The high point was doing tax preparations. Maybe tomorrow will be more exciting

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Day 78 - Hello

The hardest word in the English language to pronounce is oftentimes “Hello”

Harsh words to a friend, a separated sibling, someone from the past you've lost touch with, all can make saying that word very hard. I've been in that position, I'd moved away and lost contact with a family that befriended when I was young and irresponsible. I wanted to reach out and say Thank You but I didn't know where to start.

I agonized over what to do. What would I say? What would they say? Would they be mad I hadn't been more grateful? I felt guilty for doing nothing.

Finally, I drove to their house and knocked on the door. When they answered I managed “Hello” and waited for the hammer to drop. Instead, they welcomed me into their home as if time had never passed. We sipped coffee and talked about things as if I was there only a week ago.

We make up things in our minds about how it will play out. Too often we borrow trouble before it even happens. It will not turn out well every time but at least that would be closure.

It's an easy thing to put off but imagine if they weren't there when you finally made the call? What if they were no longer there when you tried to say “Hello”?

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Day 77 - Dragons

On the map it says, “Beyond This Place There Be Dragons”. Some would say, “Dragons mean trouble. Best to stay home.” Others would say, “What place is that to stay away from?” A few will wonder, “What kind of dragons might there be?”

A traveler comes by and tells all that over the far ridge the grass is purple. One person replies that he's a damn fool, everyone knows that grass is green. Another remarks that since the traveler has been there and the rest of them haven't, they should take him at his word. That the grass on the other side is different and purple, and since they aren't going there, what difference does it make?

A couple of people venture out and travel over the ridge to see the purple grass. One of them sets up Purple Grass Tours to take people to see the odd colored vegetation. Only a few bob, all meals included.

There is one person that, seeing the purple grass, strikes out to find out what color the grass is beyond the next ridge.

Which person are you?

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Day 76 - Oxymoron

When I read about an “Adventure Tour” I have to wonder what that means. The two words are totally opposed to one another. A “Tour” is a planned route with defined stops and predictable Kodak Moments. Stand here, point your camera there, go home and tell everyone what an adventure you had!

If this is a motorcycle tour then it means that there will be a leader who will tell you what to do and how to do it. Probably a chase vehicle to carry your gear and have the campsite set up with dinner waiting. All very deluxe.

Except where is the adventure? It might be challenging and will likely take you to places you've never been to before but there is no risk involved. It's all handed to you on a platter with all the worry removed.

With no risk there is no adventure! If you are not making decisions for yourself there is no risk. You are paying someone to make sure you have a good time without worrying about how it will all come out.

I had stopped at a gas station to get gas when a bunch of riders on matching BNWs pulled in. They said they were part of an XYZ Tour of the Southwest. One of the riders had gone down and cracked a valve cover or something and was bleeding oil. Not a problem! A van pulled up with XYZ Tours painted on the side. Two guys jumped out and replaced the cover from spares they carried with them. By the time I was gassed up they were ready to roll again.

Great service I thought as I pulled away. That's what they pay the big bucks for. And it's totally worth it for somebody who has limited time and the money to spare. I have no quarrel with it BUT it's not an adventure!

An adventure involves decision making, risk taking, problem solving, and discovery about yourself and the world around you. Sometimes it will be wonderful and sometimes it will go sideways, but it will always be yours to take credit and responsibility for. Pride of accomplishment and confidence in yourself are the rewards.

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Day 75 - Campfire

What makes you go down one road instead of another? What makes you choose an innocuous looking side road? What makes you go a little further than the others?

We left the ranger and with intentions of going to Panamint Springs. However, there was this scenic point that looked like a good place to park on something level and solid, a place to stretch our legs. All well and good except that there was a dirt road running out to the end of the overlook. Nothing you couldn't do in a Camry if you wanted but nobody did. Not the ones in the huge overlander rigs, not the ones in the tricked out jeeps, just the ones in the little red truck who wanted to see what was on the other side of the ridge.

My sister thinks she can see an alligator in the far canyon wall

Back on our way to Panamint Springs I spotted a side road with no markings that seemed to call out to me. Back up, turn right, follow the yellow dust road. We had found a snow storm in Death Valley. Why not a 30' waterfall?

The trail at the end of the road required some scrambling over rocks and boulders but we were rewarded with Darwin Falls. As we were thinking that this was a bit odd in the middle of a desert a group of young (20-something) women joined us. We chatted for a bit and I asked them where they were from. A couple of them answered “San Diego”. When I asked them where in San Diego they mentioned towns in San Diego county. I replied, “I used to live in O.B. And P.B.” and silently added “before you were ever born.” I took their group picture and we parted friends, never to see one another again.

We finally reached Panamint Springs which is a tiny airstrip, a general store, a gas pump, and the ubiquitous RV park. $15 for a tent site, $55 for a tent cabin with cots, or $200 for a real cabin with a bed. We chose the middle ground and found our place for the night. The canvas tent walls flapped in the wind, the cots were lumpy and uneven, BUT were able to stretch out in our sleeping bags and get a pretty good night's rest. And we finally had our campfire!

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