You can see the buildings are old, still the tiles held up. Amazing !
Saturday, November 26, 2005
Imagine all the tiles on just this ONE building
Just imagine how much work it took, all done by hand, to build this complex. Tiles everywhere!
Can you imagine how much time, effort, labor and money it took to build this ?
Nothing of today compares to it....... believe me !
Tile work
Imagine all the work involved in creating just this small patch of tiles.
Forming the tiles
Burning them
Applying colors.
Burning them again.
then filing down the edges
finally installing them on buildings.
HUGE buildings,
All done by hand....... a 1000 years ago !
The old phone system works in most of the former Soviet blocks. Not too well but it works.
To make a phone call means you have to be lucky.
The connection depends on this guy, if he does something wrong or has had a bad day, then....... the phone will NOT work.
Blame Him !
( I tell my my wife it's his fault that the phone did not work )
That way it's ok if I don't call home.
on to Bukhara, Uzbekistan
All day nothing but sand and trouble.
This was when the machine ran. Not for long, mind you, but I made about 100 Miles before the bike gave up it's ghost.
Break down on side of road, Uzbekistan
Trouble with a borrowed bike.
What do you do when you are on the side of the road with a bike you don't know ?
This old 350 Jawa, two stroke bike, was overhauled but still did not run.
I tried and tried, but it seized all the time, ran on one cylinder and finally died.
Only remedy was to wait until it cooled down to start it again.
Khan hats in Xiva (Karacul )
Even so it is hot in the desert the native population believed that wearing a hat keeps the body cooler.
These hats are made out of lamb fur.
The fur is taken from 'unborn' lambs to keep the curls very tight.
Yes, they slaughter the mother, then take the baby lamb. (Naturally, they eat everything they slaughter, too)
Notice: I did NOT buy a hat.
These hats are made out of lamb fur.
The fur is taken from 'unborn' lambs to keep the curls very tight.
Yes, they slaughter the mother, then take the baby lamb. (Naturally, they eat everything they slaughter, too)
Notice: I did NOT buy a hat.
Xiva, Uzbekistan
Overlooking Xiva, Uzbekistan.
The last strong hold of the Khan.
This was an empire that was ruled by tribal kings until 1924 when it was taken over by the Soviets.
It is still, very much, an oasis in the desert.
About 100 Miles Sout East of the Aral Sea.
The name, Xiva, means "Sweet Water" in the local dialect.
Sunday, April 17, 2005
Let the play begin
6.30 am and the sun shines brightly on my face. Frost covers the roof of my car and since the heat is turned off in our house the air is still chilly. It is hard to leave the warmth of the bed but after 8 hours of sleep Mother Nature calls from the bathroom. My world around me is still asleep. Today, unusual for me, I brew coffee and while it perks I check my e-mail. No news from GlobeRiders, all seems well and I should rest easy. I still have no Visa from Turkmenistan; still have no news about how I will go from Azerbaijan to Uzbekistan. I am still in limbo. I feel anxiety in the morning?
I did all I could to pack and re-pack, I thought about it for days now and I am ready to go.
Off to the shower and while the weather is that nice I might as well practice some riding in the local Nature Preserve. Wow, did I get fat! Looking into the mirror I do not really like what I see. The good life has taking hold of me. Social affairs, family functions and plain good living gave me quit a chunk of blubber.
It is time I start riding and shake off some pounds. I feel a bit nervous about riding. It’s the fear of the unknown. The reports I read about narrow minded, religious zealots, about thieves, about a so different culture creates uneasiness inside of me.
Am I smart enough to stay out of trouble? Am I savvy enough to blend in without being noticed too much? I hear the famous saying ‘you have nothing to fear but fear itself ‘inside of my head and while I can not help my feelings and still feel the anxieties I will go and I am ready. It is comparable to ‘stage fright’ before the curtain rises. All the lines are in my head, all the preparations are done. My dialog with myself seems to be on overdrive. It is really time to start. Enough of the preparation, enough of the thinking of ‘if’ and ‘when’ and ‘could’.
I am glad I have some experiences to fall back on, I am glad I know myself that much that I believe I will survive. This is not getting ready for battle; this is supposed to be an enjoyable ‘vacation’ trip. Remember, I am staying in Hotels. Not in my tent.
(Why does that bother me?). Fear of the unknown?
My mind seems to ramble without really being focused. What if I forgot something? Did I buy the right boots? How can I overcome the broken computer? Why did I eat that cookie?
I am ready, let the show get on the road.
I did all I could to pack and re-pack, I thought about it for days now and I am ready to go.
Off to the shower and while the weather is that nice I might as well practice some riding in the local Nature Preserve. Wow, did I get fat! Looking into the mirror I do not really like what I see. The good life has taking hold of me. Social affairs, family functions and plain good living gave me quit a chunk of blubber.
It is time I start riding and shake off some pounds. I feel a bit nervous about riding. It’s the fear of the unknown. The reports I read about narrow minded, religious zealots, about thieves, about a so different culture creates uneasiness inside of me.
Am I smart enough to stay out of trouble? Am I savvy enough to blend in without being noticed too much? I hear the famous saying ‘you have nothing to fear but fear itself ‘inside of my head and while I can not help my feelings and still feel the anxieties I will go and I am ready. It is comparable to ‘stage fright’ before the curtain rises. All the lines are in my head, all the preparations are done. My dialog with myself seems to be on overdrive. It is really time to start. Enough of the preparation, enough of the thinking of ‘if’ and ‘when’ and ‘could’.
I am glad I have some experiences to fall back on, I am glad I know myself that much that I believe I will survive. This is not getting ready for battle; this is supposed to be an enjoyable ‘vacation’ trip. Remember, I am staying in Hotels. Not in my tent.
(Why does that bother me?). Fear of the unknown?
My mind seems to ramble without really being focused. What if I forgot something? Did I buy the right boots? How can I overcome the broken computer? Why did I eat that cookie?
I am ready, let the show get on the road.
Sunday, April 03, 2005
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Silk Connections
The town of Krefeld in North Western Germany is known as the Silk City of Germany. For people trying to find it on the map, it’s left of Düsseldorf, North of Cologne. Silk was introduced to Krefeld by French Huguenots who looked for protection from persecutions during the 30 Year War (1618-1648), which devastated Europe. Krefeld was always a very liberal town and a good place to grow up. My family history, I have birth certificates, baptismal records, marriage licenses, etc, show us being in the weaving business for generations, always in or around Krefeld. As far back as 1724 for sure. Silk seems to be a driving force in our and my life.
I always knew about warp and weft, I always knew about how to dye yarns, how to weave, etc. Our local dialect has many words that are weaving terms, which we use daily without even thinking about that the origin or the word is a very technical Textile term. In addition, our dialect is full of French words, too.
So, Silk, French, Textile is part of me.
I even came to the U.S. in 1968 because I had this connection with Silk. I had learned to program weaving machines (yes, a French system called Verdol) and the U.S. imported me as a ‘technical expert‘. So from 1968 until 1970 I taught the little bit I knew to some folks in Paterson, NJ.
I combined my teaching with learning the English language which enabled me to meet my wife which changed everything.
Women can do that to you, you know!
After we married in 1971, had 3 children, each 16 month apart, and no money to speak off I had to make some changes in my teaching schedule.
For the next 10 years I helped a U.S. Silk Weaving mill to get off the ground using my programming skills and thru French connections I learned how to ‘design’ fabrics. This job provided a fair income and was close to home. I had time for the kids, could talk and listen to my wife. I was not the most important person in this mill but it made a living and I honed the designing skills I needed.
In 1982 all that changed. Or let’s say it bloomed. Somehow, by pure accident, I took a job in Manhattan, and within 7 years I took over this business. Yes, I was in the Silk Business. Silk for neckties! Silk from China, everything I did for years was based on Silk.
My life seems to revolve around Silk.
While designing for people like Ralph Lauren, Kenneth Cole, Armani, Tommy Hilfinger, Donna Karen, Bill Blass etc, I was busy and had no time to ride a motorcycle.
In Germany, as an apprentice I rode a moped to and from work. As a very little kid I rode on the back of my uncle’s bike and I always loved the fresh air, the freedom of being on a metal horse.
Now, in 2005, comes along the possibility to ride a motorcycle on the Silk Road.
How could I refuse? How can I not take this trip?
Sure I like Helge, sure I like riding my motorcycle, sure I have been to China many times but I have never ridden the road to China to buy silk. This is a must trip for me given all the history of my life.
I just wish I can get the visa for Turkmenistan.
I always knew about warp and weft, I always knew about how to dye yarns, how to weave, etc. Our local dialect has many words that are weaving terms, which we use daily without even thinking about that the origin or the word is a very technical Textile term. In addition, our dialect is full of French words, too.
So, Silk, French, Textile is part of me.
I even came to the U.S. in 1968 because I had this connection with Silk. I had learned to program weaving machines (yes, a French system called Verdol) and the U.S. imported me as a ‘technical expert‘. So from 1968 until 1970 I taught the little bit I knew to some folks in Paterson, NJ.
I combined my teaching with learning the English language which enabled me to meet my wife which changed everything.
Women can do that to you, you know!
After we married in 1971, had 3 children, each 16 month apart, and no money to speak off I had to make some changes in my teaching schedule.
For the next 10 years I helped a U.S. Silk Weaving mill to get off the ground using my programming skills and thru French connections I learned how to ‘design’ fabrics. This job provided a fair income and was close to home. I had time for the kids, could talk and listen to my wife. I was not the most important person in this mill but it made a living and I honed the designing skills I needed.
In 1982 all that changed. Or let’s say it bloomed. Somehow, by pure accident, I took a job in Manhattan, and within 7 years I took over this business. Yes, I was in the Silk Business. Silk for neckties! Silk from China, everything I did for years was based on Silk.
My life seems to revolve around Silk.
While designing for people like Ralph Lauren, Kenneth Cole, Armani, Tommy Hilfinger, Donna Karen, Bill Blass etc, I was busy and had no time to ride a motorcycle.
In Germany, as an apprentice I rode a moped to and from work. As a very little kid I rode on the back of my uncle’s bike and I always loved the fresh air, the freedom of being on a metal horse.
Now, in 2005, comes along the possibility to ride a motorcycle on the Silk Road.
How could I refuse? How can I not take this trip?
Sure I like Helge, sure I like riding my motorcycle, sure I have been to China many times but I have never ridden the road to China to buy silk. This is a must trip for me given all the history of my life.
I just wish I can get the visa for Turkmenistan.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Preperations for the Silk Road Trip 2005
Again I am going on an extended trip. Most of the time I travel alone, just my bike, tent and lot’s of cash.
This Silk Road Trip will be a trip with luxury since we are staying in Hotels. I don’t have to worry about food since we get at least breakfast each day. Most of the time even dinner. Besides that I have a huge layer of fat saved around my midriff so I will be ok for weeks to come.
From experience I will prep my ‘new’ bike the way I like it. For this trip I bought a used BMW 2002 GSA bike and it needs tweaking. I like wide foot pegs, just in case I have to stand on the bike for some hours. I like a louder horn; the factory installed horn is not loud enough. The previous owner had a special seat installed. I am not sure if I will like this seat, I might have to put the stock seat back since from experience I like that seat. Since I am using a different GPS then the previous owner I will need a new holder.
I will install improved Ohlins shocks set at 250 KG and hope that this is now the right setting. (I blew one set of rear shocks rated at 200 KG in Siberia). I will also remove the KAT just in case the gasoline we will find along the road is inferior. I believe I have to install Head Light Covers, Sump Guard, Oil Cooler guard, etc. Small things that could lead to real trouble along the way and preventions are better then repair.
I have discussions with myself as to what spare parts to bring. When I was in Daytona this early March I asked all the Adventure riders there as to what could possibly break or go wrong on a BWM GSA such as mine. I broke down with a real wheel bearing failure near Daytona Beach and had lots of time to talk to folks. Not that I panicked but why not ask others and rely on their experiences. I sure learned a lot from Mike Paull and Helge Pedersen during our last trip but others have other experiences, too. Besides the usual stuff like fuses, tire repair kits and spare tire tubes I will take along some ball bearings that will be hard to get in Uzbekistan. In addition I will carry small parts like “O” rings, clips, timing belt and spokes. I know for sure that if I take them I will not use them. I believe it’s called Murphy’s Law. The stuff you have is not what you need; it’s the other stuff that will break. My discussions with myself continue daily, Helge taught me not to over pack and I am working on finding the perfect balance of what to bring and what to leave behind.
Clothing is simple, bring just a few things. I usually think of the # 3. Take three shirts, three pants, three pairs of socks and so on. One set to wear, one to clean and one as spare. I will not be a fashion plate. Ralph Lauren will have to look away when he sees me.
If I forget misc. stuff, sunglasses, cameras, straps and so on I can over come. Still I am thinking, thinking, thinking. Experience helps in this regard. We all have likes and dislikes, take gloves for example.
Many good gloves out there but I will stick to the BMW GS gloves, I like them the best and will carry a spare set, just in case I lose the ones I ride with.
Little things, small details, bolts, nuts, clips! Way too many to list but they could be important.
Above all for this trip and for any trip, short trip or long trip I must pack the right ATTITUDE.
The mental preparation is of the outmost importance.
Should I forget something, so be it. I need to adjust to the situation.
Should my bike fail I have to fix it.
Should I fall and get hurt, I need to heal and get over it.
Should anything happen on the way I need to carry a good ATTITUDE.
This is something that MUST be packed, must be in everybody’s luggage. The right attitude makes all the difference in the world. Panic is ok, but get over it and unpack the right attitude.
Get along with the folks you ride with. Look at the people you will meet and even if they are so different, give them respect and unpack some of your correct attitude.
Some call it respect for others but I call it more than that. My mind set must be set so that I look at others with an open mind and give them lee-way, give them room for their idiosyncrasies. It’s my ATTITUDE that will make all the difference for a good trip and I must not forget to pack that.
This Silk Road Trip will be a trip with luxury since we are staying in Hotels. I don’t have to worry about food since we get at least breakfast each day. Most of the time even dinner. Besides that I have a huge layer of fat saved around my midriff so I will be ok for weeks to come.
From experience I will prep my ‘new’ bike the way I like it. For this trip I bought a used BMW 2002 GSA bike and it needs tweaking. I like wide foot pegs, just in case I have to stand on the bike for some hours. I like a louder horn; the factory installed horn is not loud enough. The previous owner had a special seat installed. I am not sure if I will like this seat, I might have to put the stock seat back since from experience I like that seat. Since I am using a different GPS then the previous owner I will need a new holder.
I will install improved Ohlins shocks set at 250 KG and hope that this is now the right setting. (I blew one set of rear shocks rated at 200 KG in Siberia). I will also remove the KAT just in case the gasoline we will find along the road is inferior. I believe I have to install Head Light Covers, Sump Guard, Oil Cooler guard, etc. Small things that could lead to real trouble along the way and preventions are better then repair.
I have discussions with myself as to what spare parts to bring. When I was in Daytona this early March I asked all the Adventure riders there as to what could possibly break or go wrong on a BWM GSA such as mine. I broke down with a real wheel bearing failure near Daytona Beach and had lots of time to talk to folks. Not that I panicked but why not ask others and rely on their experiences. I sure learned a lot from Mike Paull and Helge Pedersen during our last trip but others have other experiences, too. Besides the usual stuff like fuses, tire repair kits and spare tire tubes I will take along some ball bearings that will be hard to get in Uzbekistan. In addition I will carry small parts like “O” rings, clips, timing belt and spokes. I know for sure that if I take them I will not use them. I believe it’s called Murphy’s Law. The stuff you have is not what you need; it’s the other stuff that will break. My discussions with myself continue daily, Helge taught me not to over pack and I am working on finding the perfect balance of what to bring and what to leave behind.
Clothing is simple, bring just a few things. I usually think of the # 3. Take three shirts, three pants, three pairs of socks and so on. One set to wear, one to clean and one as spare. I will not be a fashion plate. Ralph Lauren will have to look away when he sees me.
If I forget misc. stuff, sunglasses, cameras, straps and so on I can over come. Still I am thinking, thinking, thinking. Experience helps in this regard. We all have likes and dislikes, take gloves for example.
Many good gloves out there but I will stick to the BMW GS gloves, I like them the best and will carry a spare set, just in case I lose the ones I ride with.
Little things, small details, bolts, nuts, clips! Way too many to list but they could be important.
Above all for this trip and for any trip, short trip or long trip I must pack the right ATTITUDE.
The mental preparation is of the outmost importance.
Should I forget something, so be it. I need to adjust to the situation.
Should my bike fail I have to fix it.
Should I fall and get hurt, I need to heal and get over it.
Should anything happen on the way I need to carry a good ATTITUDE.
This is something that MUST be packed, must be in everybody’s luggage. The right attitude makes all the difference in the world. Panic is ok, but get over it and unpack the right attitude.
Get along with the folks you ride with. Look at the people you will meet and even if they are so different, give them respect and unpack some of your correct attitude.
Some call it respect for others but I call it more than that. My mind set must be set so that I look at others with an open mind and give them lee-way, give them room for their idiosyncrasies. It’s my ATTITUDE that will make all the difference for a good trip and I must not forget to pack that.
Sunday, December 26, 2004
Breakfast in America
New York is not America, nor is this little town in MN I ate my breakfast in on that morning a true representation of all Americans. Yet, I believe only in America could theses conversations have taken place.
The scene is a diner or as they call it out West a Cafe. It is late morning with only 3 customers in the place. The couple at the table in front of me needs to be described as:
He is about 60-65, severely balding, tall fellow with a beer gut and talks with a drawl. He wears a blue Hawaiian short-sleeved shirt. Over that he wears bib jeans along with brown, high-heeled cowboy boots and a trains engineers hat. He could not make a more perfect, ridiculous, Western dressed farmer picture. His speech is slow and drawn out when he talks to me. I found out he drives a truck so I call him the Truck Driver or TD for short.
She is a small woman, about 45 to 50, wears blue jeans and a denim long sleeved shirt and looks very plain. She reminds me of Ms Spiegel across the street with her glasses and kinky hair. Creases in her face add to her plainness. No make up. She is a plain Jane from the West.
She has no great physical assets. Since she seems to be his girl friend I will call her GF.
The next person in the place is:
The waiter/busboy/cashier/ do it all guy serving us. He is 36 yeas old and looks as normal as possible and would make a good FBI agent because he is non-descript and blends in anyplace.
I am the guy with the motorcycle, dressed in full riding gear, helmet and all and just passing trough town.
I only stopped in to eat something, write in my journal and move on. I never met the folks before nor will I ever meet them again. All they left me with is this slice or picture of their life.
Waiter: I just moved to Menahga two weeks ago.
Me: Really?
Waiter: Yeah, she wants a divorce!
I don’t know why but she wants a divorce.
TD: Got more coffee?
Waiter: This is my first marriage.
GF: Milk, honey! Don’t forget the milk.
Waiter: Yeah, I am married for 18 months now
Me: (just nodding at him)
Waiter: We were living together for 14 ½ years before I married her.
Me: long time
Waiter: but she did not want to get married so I married her
Me: your wife?
Waiter: no, my girl friend!
Me: Oh!
Waiter: Yeah, I have 3 kids with her.
GF: I got kids!
TD: your hog outside?
Me: Yes, Sir!
TD: I deliver hogs, for real!
GF: He picks them up at the farms.
TD: (nodding his head and pointing to GF) And She comes with me and sits on my stick shift.
Waiter: She left me and now lives with my best friend.
Me: your wife?
Waiter: No, my girl friend!
Me: Oh!
TD: For real, she sits on my stick; sometimes she even shifts like that.
GF: (smiling) without pants on.
Waiter: One is 16, one is 13 and the other is 9 now.
Me: (smiling at the GF) Really?
Waiter: She wants a divorce, just like that. No warning, just like that.
Me: And the wife?
Waiter: (looking puzzled about my question) she wants a divorce and I don’t know why.
We bought this house and I put over $ 30,000 improvements into it.
Me: lot of money!
TD: last night was my turn
Me: What?
TD: I got her real good.
GF: (nodding)
Waiter: Just like that! We are still married, we are married for 1-½ years now and she wants a divorce. I
Don’t understand why she wants one.
I am a house framer but I insured my shoulder, I can’t do this any more.
TD: Tonight is her turn
Me: her turn?
Waiter: I want to go into the trash business
Sure see a lot of trash around
GF: yes! He will get it tonight, get it real good, I’m ready.
Me: Ready?
TD: She is always ready!
Waiter: Already got a ¾ ton truck!
But I can haul over 3 tons with it.
This job here is only in the morning.
GF: he sure was good last night.
TD: (grinning) I am a man!
Waiter: My friend Tom and I are putting in a new motor.
Heavy duty.
Me: Heavy Duty?
Waiter: Everything is Heavy Duty!
GF: we live in the truck
Me: is this your husband?
GF: NO! But he is good!
TD: Tonight is her turn, we take turns, one night she gets it, then I get it.
Me: could I have some more coffee, please?
Waiter: I don’t know why she wants a divorce.
She wants me to come back to the city but still wants a divorce.
Me: Why?
Waiter: don’t know why she wants a divorce.
I have no idea why she wants a divorce. This is my first marriage.
TD: she gets mad sometimes
GF: and he gets silly.
Waiter: I will never marry again.
Me: Why not?
Waiter: I am not good at it.
TD: the madder she gets the sillier I get!
Waiter: Once I fail that is it. I will never marry again.
I want my money back.
I went back to the city twice and Tom was there. He is my best friend.
He was working on the house now, but I want my money back.
I put over $ 30,000 into the house.
GF: I do everything
Waiter: Everything is in her name but the house is half mine on paper.
Me: half?
TD: (getting up to leave) She does!
GF: We met at a single dance
When he is not around I do it, too.
Waiter: Never again will I marry. I don’t know why she wants a divorce.
Me: How much is it for breakfast?
TD: Enjoyed talking to you, buddy.
How much is the hog rider’s bill?
Waiter: 4.98
GF: put it on our bill, see you all tomorrow.
TD: yeah, it’s your turn tonight, girl.
(Both left)
Waiter: Well, nutty folks around here. Maybe I will move back to the city.
Me: Thank you very much for breakfast! (Leaving the tip on the table top)
Waiter: They’ll pay me next week when he gets paid.
Me: Good-bye!
Waiter: I had a bike once!
The scene is a diner or as they call it out West a Cafe. It is late morning with only 3 customers in the place. The couple at the table in front of me needs to be described as:
He is about 60-65, severely balding, tall fellow with a beer gut and talks with a drawl. He wears a blue Hawaiian short-sleeved shirt. Over that he wears bib jeans along with brown, high-heeled cowboy boots and a trains engineers hat. He could not make a more perfect, ridiculous, Western dressed farmer picture. His speech is slow and drawn out when he talks to me. I found out he drives a truck so I call him the Truck Driver or TD for short.
She is a small woman, about 45 to 50, wears blue jeans and a denim long sleeved shirt and looks very plain. She reminds me of Ms Spiegel across the street with her glasses and kinky hair. Creases in her face add to her plainness. No make up. She is a plain Jane from the West.
She has no great physical assets. Since she seems to be his girl friend I will call her GF.
The next person in the place is:
The waiter/busboy/cashier/ do it all guy serving us. He is 36 yeas old and looks as normal as possible and would make a good FBI agent because he is non-descript and blends in anyplace.
I am the guy with the motorcycle, dressed in full riding gear, helmet and all and just passing trough town.
I only stopped in to eat something, write in my journal and move on. I never met the folks before nor will I ever meet them again. All they left me with is this slice or picture of their life.
Waiter: I just moved to Menahga two weeks ago.
Me: Really?
Waiter: Yeah, she wants a divorce!
I don’t know why but she wants a divorce.
TD: Got more coffee?
Waiter: This is my first marriage.
GF: Milk, honey! Don’t forget the milk.
Waiter: Yeah, I am married for 18 months now
Me: (just nodding at him)
Waiter: We were living together for 14 ½ years before I married her.
Me: long time
Waiter: but she did not want to get married so I married her
Me: your wife?
Waiter: no, my girl friend!
Me: Oh!
Waiter: Yeah, I have 3 kids with her.
GF: I got kids!
TD: your hog outside?
Me: Yes, Sir!
TD: I deliver hogs, for real!
GF: He picks them up at the farms.
TD: (nodding his head and pointing to GF) And She comes with me and sits on my stick shift.
Waiter: She left me and now lives with my best friend.
Me: your wife?
Waiter: No, my girl friend!
Me: Oh!
TD: For real, she sits on my stick; sometimes she even shifts like that.
GF: (smiling) without pants on.
Waiter: One is 16, one is 13 and the other is 9 now.
Me: (smiling at the GF) Really?
Waiter: She wants a divorce, just like that. No warning, just like that.
Me: And the wife?
Waiter: (looking puzzled about my question) she wants a divorce and I don’t know why.
We bought this house and I put over $ 30,000 improvements into it.
Me: lot of money!
TD: last night was my turn
Me: What?
TD: I got her real good.
GF: (nodding)
Waiter: Just like that! We are still married, we are married for 1-½ years now and she wants a divorce. I
Don’t understand why she wants one.
I am a house framer but I insured my shoulder, I can’t do this any more.
TD: Tonight is her turn
Me: her turn?
Waiter: I want to go into the trash business
Sure see a lot of trash around
GF: yes! He will get it tonight, get it real good, I’m ready.
Me: Ready?
TD: She is always ready!
Waiter: Already got a ¾ ton truck!
But I can haul over 3 tons with it.
This job here is only in the morning.
GF: he sure was good last night.
TD: (grinning) I am a man!
Waiter: My friend Tom and I are putting in a new motor.
Heavy duty.
Me: Heavy Duty?
Waiter: Everything is Heavy Duty!
GF: we live in the truck
Me: is this your husband?
GF: NO! But he is good!
TD: Tonight is her turn, we take turns, one night she gets it, then I get it.
Me: could I have some more coffee, please?
Waiter: I don’t know why she wants a divorce.
She wants me to come back to the city but still wants a divorce.
Me: Why?
Waiter: don’t know why she wants a divorce.
I have no idea why she wants a divorce. This is my first marriage.
TD: she gets mad sometimes
GF: and he gets silly.
Waiter: I will never marry again.
Me: Why not?
Waiter: I am not good at it.
TD: the madder she gets the sillier I get!
Waiter: Once I fail that is it. I will never marry again.
I want my money back.
I went back to the city twice and Tom was there. He is my best friend.
He was working on the house now, but I want my money back.
I put over $ 30,000 into the house.
GF: I do everything
Waiter: Everything is in her name but the house is half mine on paper.
Me: half?
TD: (getting up to leave) She does!
GF: We met at a single dance
When he is not around I do it, too.
Waiter: Never again will I marry. I don’t know why she wants a divorce.
Me: How much is it for breakfast?
TD: Enjoyed talking to you, buddy.
How much is the hog rider’s bill?
Waiter: 4.98
GF: put it on our bill, see you all tomorrow.
TD: yeah, it’s your turn tonight, girl.
(Both left)
Waiter: Well, nutty folks around here. Maybe I will move back to the city.
Me: Thank you very much for breakfast! (Leaving the tip on the table top)
Waiter: They’ll pay me next week when he gets paid.
Me: Good-bye!
Waiter: I had a bike once!
Thursday, December 23, 2004
Middlegate, NV
“The loneliest highway in America” it is called. Route 50 crosses Nevada East to West and has very few ‘towns’ along the way. Yes, you feel very alone especially when you travel it at night, like I did. Very few trucks or cars and the temperature at night; even in the summer; is near freezing. Desert living. The day Temp can hit way over 100 Degrees Fahrenheit.
I left Tahoe with a perfect temp of 64 degrees and hit Reno at 94 degrees. I said ‘hit’ because it feels like a heat wave hits you when you climb down the mountains. Finding Rt 50 is easy enough and after Reno, which is busy, you get to be alone. My goal for the day was the town of “ Middlegate.” The map showed it as a small dot and I almost missed it because it turned out to be not a town but just a Country Store, Bar, Filling Station. Historically it must have been a stop on the Pony Express and seems romantic but now it’s butt ugly. Dirty, Filthy! There is nothing around this place for 50 miles in either direction. Only desert greets you; which means heat, shrubs and no water. It is better to be dirty than to be thirsty. Since I did not sleep well last night I called it quits for the day at about 4.30 pm and asked the lady behind the bar for a tent site, thinking to myself, never mind ‘ugly’. She just pointed to the back of the house and said;” anyplace out back is fine” and took my money. I filled up ‘Emil’ with gas and drove around back and saw …a dump! Wow, hard to believe people can live like that. An old guy in a woolen red plaid shirt, broken but taped together glasses, yes wearing a necktie, too was playing a chess game with himself. I asked him if it would be ok to set up my tent under the few and sparse cottonwood trees and he turned out to be very verbal and polite. Something is wrong with him, however.
I set up my tent next to a 3-man construction crew working on putting in big fence posts into the ground. I made sure to be under a tree so that I get some shade. The workers did not mind. In fact they totally disregarded me as if I did not exist. All of the workers wore huge hats, jeans and boots, showing off their big belt buckles. Good old boys of the American West and the way they work showed they knew how to put in fences. I asked the old guy if they would work all night long when they started cutting limps off the trees using chain saws. At one time they were that close to my tent that I actually moved it so falling branches would not hit it. The racket of noise was unbelievable. He calmly replied: “only until it gets dark, then they will quit.” “Is this a peaceful afternoon in the desert” I thought to myself. How bad can it get? The noise level is tremendous. I believe the chain saw is without any kind of muffler and the way the guys handled the saw showed they had no clue on how to cut tree limps. A butcher would have done better. Why cut perfectly good tree limps of trees? Especially here in the desert; where shade is of prime importance. I asked this out loud and the old man asked me calmly if I would want to play a game of chess. He just sat there and was calm as anything, looking at me thru his broken/fixed glasses that sat crooked on his nose. I felt sorry for him and agreed to just one game. To make it more interesting I asked him if we could play for a glass of cold water or a can of soda for the winner. He reluctantly agreed. It has been years since I played chess and I just knew he played all the time, either against himself or with whomever he could play with. I tried my best and of course, lost the game. The noise level of the crew did not help with my concentration. Imagine sitting under a tree playing chess when 3 guys around you are trimming branches and you hear falling timber all around you. Ok, maybe that is an excuse and maybe this old man was better in chess. He sure was better in being calm and collected. We moved into the Bar/Restaurant out front and I ordered a Burger for each of us. Big as wagon wheels with French Fries and a cold drink made for a good start and we talked, this old man and I. He was from Upstate NY and his car broke down right here in the backyard of the only place within 50 miles. I was careful not to ask questions since I sensed he would clam up. His shirt was torn; he was dirty and needed a bath real bad; I could smell him across the table. He was 75 years old his mind was sharp and his outlook on life was quit different than mine. He liked Hitler and thought he was a good man but things went wrong for him. He liked many of Hitler’s ideas but of course did not like the things Hitler is known for. Look at the world with your eyes he said to me, forget what the media feeds you. Think for yourself. Take a look at issues in the press with open eyes. Live in the desert and think. Don’t let little things bother you. Believe in your self, in your own judgments. You know what is right instinctively and you know what feels wrong. Listen to yourself.
I found he had a good memory, very sharp and could remember Numbers especially well.
He could not finish his burger and packed it up in his napkins and took it with him to his car. He slept in his car. The car was full of ‘stuff’ much of which looked like junk.
The chain saw had ceased and it was now near 9 pm. Tired from the day I crawled into my tent and noticed immediately that when I moved the tent, I moved it next to the outhouse. The smell intensified somehow at night and to top it off, the bar now had the generator running.
The lights were on and the generator must have kicked in and of course ran without stop. Outhouse smell and Diesel noise, Great !
Don’t let little things bother you…. kept ringing in my ear.
I tried and actually slept for a few hours but then at 3 am I had had it.
I packed in the pitch dark of a moonless night and in temperatures of 43 degrees and rode out of ‘town.’ At night Rt 50 is really ‘lonely’. Just a very few trucks are on the road and the temperature dropped to 39 degrees. With the driving speed of 70 miles an hour the temperature is even colder. Heated grips, heated seats or not, it is cold. Pitch dark and eerie. Make one mistake while riding and you are history.
The next town, Austin, is 50 miles away and at 4.30 am nothing is open. No coffee shop, nothing. The town is not big so on I go to Eureka and here I find, at an unholy early hour an open coffee shop.
While resting up, warming up and tanking up the gas tank, too I am thinking back to this old man, now still sleeping in his car, I guess.
Think for yourself, live your own life. Disregard what others tell you to do. Stay calm. Listen to yourself. Believe in yourself. All that is still chiming in my ears and mind.I am going east, towards Utah.
I left Tahoe with a perfect temp of 64 degrees and hit Reno at 94 degrees. I said ‘hit’ because it feels like a heat wave hits you when you climb down the mountains. Finding Rt 50 is easy enough and after Reno, which is busy, you get to be alone. My goal for the day was the town of “ Middlegate.” The map showed it as a small dot and I almost missed it because it turned out to be not a town but just a Country Store, Bar, Filling Station. Historically it must have been a stop on the Pony Express and seems romantic but now it’s butt ugly. Dirty, Filthy! There is nothing around this place for 50 miles in either direction. Only desert greets you; which means heat, shrubs and no water. It is better to be dirty than to be thirsty. Since I did not sleep well last night I called it quits for the day at about 4.30 pm and asked the lady behind the bar for a tent site, thinking to myself, never mind ‘ugly’. She just pointed to the back of the house and said;” anyplace out back is fine” and took my money. I filled up ‘Emil’ with gas and drove around back and saw …a dump! Wow, hard to believe people can live like that. An old guy in a woolen red plaid shirt, broken but taped together glasses, yes wearing a necktie, too was playing a chess game with himself. I asked him if it would be ok to set up my tent under the few and sparse cottonwood trees and he turned out to be very verbal and polite. Something is wrong with him, however.
I set up my tent next to a 3-man construction crew working on putting in big fence posts into the ground. I made sure to be under a tree so that I get some shade. The workers did not mind. In fact they totally disregarded me as if I did not exist. All of the workers wore huge hats, jeans and boots, showing off their big belt buckles. Good old boys of the American West and the way they work showed they knew how to put in fences. I asked the old guy if they would work all night long when they started cutting limps off the trees using chain saws. At one time they were that close to my tent that I actually moved it so falling branches would not hit it. The racket of noise was unbelievable. He calmly replied: “only until it gets dark, then they will quit.” “Is this a peaceful afternoon in the desert” I thought to myself. How bad can it get? The noise level is tremendous. I believe the chain saw is without any kind of muffler and the way the guys handled the saw showed they had no clue on how to cut tree limps. A butcher would have done better. Why cut perfectly good tree limps of trees? Especially here in the desert; where shade is of prime importance. I asked this out loud and the old man asked me calmly if I would want to play a game of chess. He just sat there and was calm as anything, looking at me thru his broken/fixed glasses that sat crooked on his nose. I felt sorry for him and agreed to just one game. To make it more interesting I asked him if we could play for a glass of cold water or a can of soda for the winner. He reluctantly agreed. It has been years since I played chess and I just knew he played all the time, either against himself or with whomever he could play with. I tried my best and of course, lost the game. The noise level of the crew did not help with my concentration. Imagine sitting under a tree playing chess when 3 guys around you are trimming branches and you hear falling timber all around you. Ok, maybe that is an excuse and maybe this old man was better in chess. He sure was better in being calm and collected. We moved into the Bar/Restaurant out front and I ordered a Burger for each of us. Big as wagon wheels with French Fries and a cold drink made for a good start and we talked, this old man and I. He was from Upstate NY and his car broke down right here in the backyard of the only place within 50 miles. I was careful not to ask questions since I sensed he would clam up. His shirt was torn; he was dirty and needed a bath real bad; I could smell him across the table. He was 75 years old his mind was sharp and his outlook on life was quit different than mine. He liked Hitler and thought he was a good man but things went wrong for him. He liked many of Hitler’s ideas but of course did not like the things Hitler is known for. Look at the world with your eyes he said to me, forget what the media feeds you. Think for yourself. Take a look at issues in the press with open eyes. Live in the desert and think. Don’t let little things bother you. Believe in your self, in your own judgments. You know what is right instinctively and you know what feels wrong. Listen to yourself.
I found he had a good memory, very sharp and could remember Numbers especially well.
He could not finish his burger and packed it up in his napkins and took it with him to his car. He slept in his car. The car was full of ‘stuff’ much of which looked like junk.
The chain saw had ceased and it was now near 9 pm. Tired from the day I crawled into my tent and noticed immediately that when I moved the tent, I moved it next to the outhouse. The smell intensified somehow at night and to top it off, the bar now had the generator running.
The lights were on and the generator must have kicked in and of course ran without stop. Outhouse smell and Diesel noise, Great !
Don’t let little things bother you…. kept ringing in my ear.
I tried and actually slept for a few hours but then at 3 am I had had it.
I packed in the pitch dark of a moonless night and in temperatures of 43 degrees and rode out of ‘town.’ At night Rt 50 is really ‘lonely’. Just a very few trucks are on the road and the temperature dropped to 39 degrees. With the driving speed of 70 miles an hour the temperature is even colder. Heated grips, heated seats or not, it is cold. Pitch dark and eerie. Make one mistake while riding and you are history.
The next town, Austin, is 50 miles away and at 4.30 am nothing is open. No coffee shop, nothing. The town is not big so on I go to Eureka and here I find, at an unholy early hour an open coffee shop.
While resting up, warming up and tanking up the gas tank, too I am thinking back to this old man, now still sleeping in his car, I guess.
Think for yourself, live your own life. Disregard what others tell you to do. Stay calm. Listen to yourself. Believe in yourself. All that is still chiming in my ears and mind.I am going east, towards Utah.
Friday, December 17, 2004
Emergency
For Dentist in Fargo, ND, call 701-237-4331
Sleep fails me. Cold drinks make me cringe. Hot food is a torture. Riding is not fun anymore.
I have a toothache! Throbbing toothache! I can feel the blood pulse thru my tooth!
Easy you say? Go see a dentist?
Friend, let me tell you my story!
Despite my regular brushing, seeing the dentist 8 weeks ago and getting an all clear I am now in the not so populated State of North Dakota. I did not know that the West has a shortage of Dentists but I found out. I walked into the offices of a dentist in Menahga, MN but found a no mercy receptionist. “ We are booked out for weeks and without an appointment we just can not help you” is what she said.
Next appointment was in 3 weeks.
On to the bike and next stop, I am sure they have a dentist, is Fargo, ND. Sure Fargo has a dentist. The first Dentist I found is booked for weeks in advance and no, they do not know of any other dentist that can help either. A friendly smile and I am out the door again. Pain is throbbing and I am getting desperate. What do I do?
Phone book will help, I thought. Well, with everybody having cell phones it is not easy finding phone books anymore. Even the Post Office did not have one. I asked the postal clerk if she knows of a dentist and by just looking at her I knew the answer. She had not seen a dentist in years and it showed in her smile. Back in the street I just talked to a passing woman and she pointed me to a dentist she knows.
How relieved I felt. What luck I have!
Finding the Street and the office was an adventure but I found it. Walked in and “ we are so sorry, but we are booked out. We can make an appointment for you and you can come back in about 2 weeks. Would you like an appointment?” The blood is throbbing in my tooth and I just smile. “ No thank you, madam!” I need a dentist NOW is all I can think of. What do I do? I never heard of going to the emergency room with a toothache but I thought about it. Just one more try before I seek out the next town. Back I march into the dentist office with a pleading face. I understand, madam, you cannot take me but I have a toothache, severe toothache. Can you refer me to anybody that could help? How can I get rid of the pain? Her face turns very indignant, I wear motorcycle cloths and the dirt from being 6 weeks on the road, and living in a tent must show itself. I just smile! She must think of me as ‘undesirable.” Or maybe even, God forbid, a rough rider? A hoodlum? But I keep on smiling and as luck has it; the dentist, who just walked in, interrupts the receptionist by saying: “There is a new Dr in town”.
The new Dr. just graduated from Dental School and is trying to establish himself in Fargo. For anybody going to Fargo, Nicholas C. Dorsher, DDS is a good dentist. Without much to do he had me in his office. Performed root canal work and even so I had to come back the next day, I was rid of the pain. Good thing is he takes Visa Card payments, too.
With all the planning and precautions one takes to go on a long trip, Emergencies happen.And even so there are plenty of folks around one needs to find one that can and is willing to help. I wish you all a good trip and don’t get a toothache on the road.
Sleep fails me. Cold drinks make me cringe. Hot food is a torture. Riding is not fun anymore.
I have a toothache! Throbbing toothache! I can feel the blood pulse thru my tooth!
Easy you say? Go see a dentist?
Friend, let me tell you my story!
Despite my regular brushing, seeing the dentist 8 weeks ago and getting an all clear I am now in the not so populated State of North Dakota. I did not know that the West has a shortage of Dentists but I found out. I walked into the offices of a dentist in Menahga, MN but found a no mercy receptionist. “ We are booked out for weeks and without an appointment we just can not help you” is what she said.
Next appointment was in 3 weeks.
On to the bike and next stop, I am sure they have a dentist, is Fargo, ND. Sure Fargo has a dentist. The first Dentist I found is booked for weeks in advance and no, they do not know of any other dentist that can help either. A friendly smile and I am out the door again. Pain is throbbing and I am getting desperate. What do I do?
Phone book will help, I thought. Well, with everybody having cell phones it is not easy finding phone books anymore. Even the Post Office did not have one. I asked the postal clerk if she knows of a dentist and by just looking at her I knew the answer. She had not seen a dentist in years and it showed in her smile. Back in the street I just talked to a passing woman and she pointed me to a dentist she knows.
How relieved I felt. What luck I have!
Finding the Street and the office was an adventure but I found it. Walked in and “ we are so sorry, but we are booked out. We can make an appointment for you and you can come back in about 2 weeks. Would you like an appointment?” The blood is throbbing in my tooth and I just smile. “ No thank you, madam!” I need a dentist NOW is all I can think of. What do I do? I never heard of going to the emergency room with a toothache but I thought about it. Just one more try before I seek out the next town. Back I march into the dentist office with a pleading face. I understand, madam, you cannot take me but I have a toothache, severe toothache. Can you refer me to anybody that could help? How can I get rid of the pain? Her face turns very indignant, I wear motorcycle cloths and the dirt from being 6 weeks on the road, and living in a tent must show itself. I just smile! She must think of me as ‘undesirable.” Or maybe even, God forbid, a rough rider? A hoodlum? But I keep on smiling and as luck has it; the dentist, who just walked in, interrupts the receptionist by saying: “There is a new Dr in town”.
The new Dr. just graduated from Dental School and is trying to establish himself in Fargo. For anybody going to Fargo, Nicholas C. Dorsher, DDS is a good dentist. Without much to do he had me in his office. Performed root canal work and even so I had to come back the next day, I was rid of the pain. Good thing is he takes Visa Card payments, too.
With all the planning and precautions one takes to go on a long trip, Emergencies happen.And even so there are plenty of folks around one needs to find one that can and is willing to help. I wish you all a good trip and don’t get a toothache on the road.
Monday, December 13, 2004
Going Postal
‘Everybody should take a walk to the Post Office’ is what I thought this Monday morning while delivering the books I sold on Amazon. The weather was cold and fresh and I was overdressed and I actually steamed a little walking the 4o minutes it takes to walk to town. I did not have my ears in which made it very peaceful and quiet. I actually like not being able to hear the high pitches the world creates. Yes, I can hear but not the high frequencies. Job related? Environmentally damaged? No matter, I believe it’s a God send.
Walking along the road, we have no sidewalks; I could not help but see the ‘modern’ society in full bloom.
Drivers are whooshing past me. The cars are passing way too close for comfort. Many drivers are on the phone. Some drink their coffee and eat breakfast while driving. No time! Putting on make up for the gals while driving? Yes, I’ve seen that this morning, too. No time to do this at home, right? I was glad it was a clear day and I wore an orange jacket. It is dangerous walking in rural, small town NJ. Walking along the roads in towns without sidewalks is worse then riding my motorcycle. I felt safer yesterday, while riding the same road; than I felt today while walking. Is walking along “non-side walked”
roads more dangerous then riding a motorcycle? Would the insurance company insure me if they found out I actually walked on the side of the road? All that is now part of life, the modern life. I believe it is typical American now. No time! Time is a precious commodity. Multitasking is in! Doing 3 things at once is expected! Cover your ass, literally!
What did irk me is the trash along the way. The health conscious throw the plastic water bottles out the window. Damn the person who has to pick it up. She gets paid, right? The not so conscious, the smokers, throw cigarette butts and packs to join the bottles. An assortment of coke cans, papers, straws, coffee cups, fast food containers and plastic shopping bags make up the not so pretty picture. Mind you, our town residents employ a lot of landscapers or gardeners, but even so these folks get paid to make the grounds beautiful, it looks like hell. The house owner has no time to even walk around his property. He hires people to care for the lawn, to clean up while he makes money to pay for it all. He has to hurry up and make those dates. He might miss something important.
He eats his breakfast in the car. She puts on her make up. No time! Throw out the stuff not needed. Just open the car window and hive it. No time! Walking? Are you kidding?
I need to go to the health spa to work off the holiday fat and I am overdue paying my dues. Let me go! Don’t talk to me! I am in a hurry! Need to make money. Watch out! What is this stupid guy doing walking along the side of the road? Would you believe that? He is actually walking to the post office. From far way, in pictures, or driving past it at whooshing speed all seems ok. I suggest everybody should take a walk to the post office, maybe then they would go Postal, too
Walking along the road, we have no sidewalks; I could not help but see the ‘modern’ society in full bloom.
Drivers are whooshing past me. The cars are passing way too close for comfort. Many drivers are on the phone. Some drink their coffee and eat breakfast while driving. No time! Putting on make up for the gals while driving? Yes, I’ve seen that this morning, too. No time to do this at home, right? I was glad it was a clear day and I wore an orange jacket. It is dangerous walking in rural, small town NJ. Walking along the roads in towns without sidewalks is worse then riding my motorcycle. I felt safer yesterday, while riding the same road; than I felt today while walking. Is walking along “non-side walked”
roads more dangerous then riding a motorcycle? Would the insurance company insure me if they found out I actually walked on the side of the road? All that is now part of life, the modern life. I believe it is typical American now. No time! Time is a precious commodity. Multitasking is in! Doing 3 things at once is expected! Cover your ass, literally!
What did irk me is the trash along the way. The health conscious throw the plastic water bottles out the window. Damn the person who has to pick it up. She gets paid, right? The not so conscious, the smokers, throw cigarette butts and packs to join the bottles. An assortment of coke cans, papers, straws, coffee cups, fast food containers and plastic shopping bags make up the not so pretty picture. Mind you, our town residents employ a lot of landscapers or gardeners, but even so these folks get paid to make the grounds beautiful, it looks like hell. The house owner has no time to even walk around his property. He hires people to care for the lawn, to clean up while he makes money to pay for it all. He has to hurry up and make those dates. He might miss something important.
He eats his breakfast in the car. She puts on her make up. No time! Throw out the stuff not needed. Just open the car window and hive it. No time! Walking? Are you kidding?
I need to go to the health spa to work off the holiday fat and I am overdue paying my dues. Let me go! Don’t talk to me! I am in a hurry! Need to make money. Watch out! What is this stupid guy doing walking along the side of the road? Would you believe that? He is actually walking to the post office. From far way, in pictures, or driving past it at whooshing speed all seems ok. I suggest everybody should take a walk to the post office, maybe then they would go Postal, too
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
Traffic Tickets
Travel Report from my Road.
Over the years I did my share of traveling and many people ask if I have my experiences written down.
I sat down many a time to share what I saw, what I felt or how I thought about certain things, issues or situations. I keep a journal when I go on trips and write down the daily events however small they are.
Yes, I even go back once in a while and read over my notes to refresh my memory and it certainly helps because I do forget details. But writing it, as a report, is different. Small feelings must be explained to the reader that seem obvious to me. Writing seems to me like a Zen exercise, very focused and detail oriented. Writing is laborious.
I walk into Barnes and Nobles and cannot believe the many words that have been printed and put into books. Everybody has an opinion and everybody seems to be talking about something or somebody. Do the writers know their stuff? Not really! It is always just one man’s point of view. It is the road report of the road he travels on. The best way I can look at his writing is to use the words as ‘Road Signs’.
I often wondered what happens on the road parallel to the one I am taking. While my road seems boring sometimes there might be something exiting or new just around the corner. But how would I know? How could I find out? By going to the other road I wonder what would have happened had I stuck to the original road? Life seems always better or different from far away, or just around the corner. It is an art to live life as it is and enjoy and accept what is in the ‘now’. Each of us travels his own road no matter what. No matter how we try to live somebody else’s life or try to be on two roads at once, we are stuck in the ‘now’.
So while I will try to write some of my experiences down on paper I will warn you that most of it is benign. The most exiting things seem to happen on the road around the corner from me. The road you are riding on is as exiting or as benign as mine. Take my words only as ‘Street Signs’. Words you may or may not follow. The words you read are the street signs I left behind on my road through life.
Enjoy reading what I have to say. Remember these are just my road signs along my way of travel. You do not have to follow any of my signs. They could prove useful if you travel along a similar path but have no real meaning to you since your road is very different. It is your choice to obey my road signs or not.
I do not give out traffic tickets. Life, your life, will give you all the violation tickets you need.
Over the years I did my share of traveling and many people ask if I have my experiences written down.
I sat down many a time to share what I saw, what I felt or how I thought about certain things, issues or situations. I keep a journal when I go on trips and write down the daily events however small they are.
Yes, I even go back once in a while and read over my notes to refresh my memory and it certainly helps because I do forget details. But writing it, as a report, is different. Small feelings must be explained to the reader that seem obvious to me. Writing seems to me like a Zen exercise, very focused and detail oriented. Writing is laborious.
I walk into Barnes and Nobles and cannot believe the many words that have been printed and put into books. Everybody has an opinion and everybody seems to be talking about something or somebody. Do the writers know their stuff? Not really! It is always just one man’s point of view. It is the road report of the road he travels on. The best way I can look at his writing is to use the words as ‘Road Signs’.
I often wondered what happens on the road parallel to the one I am taking. While my road seems boring sometimes there might be something exiting or new just around the corner. But how would I know? How could I find out? By going to the other road I wonder what would have happened had I stuck to the original road? Life seems always better or different from far away, or just around the corner. It is an art to live life as it is and enjoy and accept what is in the ‘now’. Each of us travels his own road no matter what. No matter how we try to live somebody else’s life or try to be on two roads at once, we are stuck in the ‘now’.
So while I will try to write some of my experiences down on paper I will warn you that most of it is benign. The most exiting things seem to happen on the road around the corner from me. The road you are riding on is as exiting or as benign as mine. Take my words only as ‘Street Signs’. Words you may or may not follow. The words you read are the street signs I left behind on my road through life.
Enjoy reading what I have to say. Remember these are just my road signs along my way of travel. You do not have to follow any of my signs. They could prove useful if you travel along a similar path but have no real meaning to you since your road is very different. It is your choice to obey my road signs or not.
I do not give out traffic tickets. Life, your life, will give you all the violation tickets you need.
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