April 24, 2005
The Going is Getting
(Un)sanity has oozed back into my mind, inspired by endorphines, poetry, tea, and wine. I spent the earlier part of the week in training...40k bike rides and 8k runs on alternating days, culminating in a 32k ride (in 1 hour, 5 minutes) and 5k run (25 minutes) back-to-back, triathlon style, at the end of the week. A new friend balked at the reasoning for doing it. I guess I want to do mountains this summer.
Latter parts involved the Odd Poetess giving an impromptu reading in my kitchen, followed by the hecticness that is my life. For all the criticisms I dish out about other people being "too busy," I seem to have stumbled into a block of extreme doing myself. Mornings are generally phone call awakenings for appointments to get equipment, give hands to friends, give rides, etc. It feels somehow like a life I used to live way back in high school...being the willing errand-boy. Things are much nicer this time around, either I'm not getting screwed or at least I don't mind it.
Dustin has been a regular partner in crime. I went to his house again, this time bringing my camera and having the time to hang out for a longer period of time. I also brought my motorcycle. Dustin and his dad went to work on my valves, which were way out of whack (the valve clearance free play was on the order of 8 times greater than it should have been). Dustin's dad also made the suggestion of letting the bike run for a while...apparently the intake valve sticking open is, in his opinion, happening due to carbon deposits on intake side of the valve. I hit the front brake caliper with emory cloth, compressed air, new seals, new bleed nipple, a new piston, new pads, and even got it back together. Unfortunately after bleeding it still won't brake right...air must be getting into the system somewhere up higher now.
Motorcycle maintenance and a zen attitude aside, we took Dustin's Jeep out for a drive around his "yard," a ranch that would put Ted Turner to shame. Okay, not quite...but it is a fantastic piece of land, with ponds, streams, rolling hills, and enough room to live off of.
Dustin's parents could be summarized as the classic all-american folks. It seems that every time I go there, a home-cooked meal, hugs, firm handshakes, hunting and motorcycle stories abound. Combine it with a raucous sense of humor that flies in the face of the normal backwoods monster-truck type, and you might begin to get an idea. The last time I met folks at all like them was in Austria.
Best of all? They live a 15 minute drive from my new work. And the peasants rejoice.







by reid
on October 01, 2007
by reid
on July 17, 2005