This day and age

It was a rather slow day at work yesterday and I watched the clock more than actually work.  It also gave me a chance to catch up on some blogs I generally like to read and a few of them had accepted Toadmama's Brave Bold Blogger Challenge.

In a nutshell she was challenging bloggers to write about something everyday.  The topics varied from "words you hate" to "places you want to go" to things like today's topic.   I'm still not sure if I want to participate.  While I enjoy writing and know that "writers write" this seems more like a task to me than something truly enjoyable.   I write because writing interests me, because I get some sort of weird perverse joy of my fingers clicking on the keys of my ancient desktop computer.  Writing makes me happy, even if I don't do it every day.

Plus, I know when I write everyday I start to circle back to the same old themes of money issues, girl problems and why I'm so depressed all the time.   Not exactly Nobel Prize worthy material.

But today's topic touched a nerve with me.  "Age."

I'm turning 50 in April.

I'm beginning to realize that my mother and father may not be around much longer, and that I should spend more time with them.

That my days are dwindling down as well.  That this may be as good as it gets.

Some dreams will not come true.

That Susan will not be getting any better than she is right now.

I have to accept these things.

A mulled cider

Yesterday I left work a bit early, they don't want us to work overtime and I had managed to put in a 42 hour work week without realizing it.  So I decided to grab a drink at my favorite watering hole in Ybor City; a wonderful little bar called Cigar City Cider and Mead.  It's a great diverse crowd there and my favorite bartender, Bea, was working and yes; that is actually her real name.  I was into craft brewing well before it became popular and with ciders and meads you can do so much more with flavor than you can beer.  Plus if I see one more crappy ass "craft IPA" I'm going to scream but that's just me.

"Rob," she said, "you are going to love this....it's peach mixed with scorpion peppers!" and without even asking she placed a small glass in front of me.   At first I was not sure about it as the peppers overwhelmed my nose but then as I drank it the cooling peach taste filled my mouth.   A slight tingling sensation on my tongue came next.  The heat from the pepper was muted and soft and left more of a warming sensation than a nasty bite those peppers are famous for..

"Damn it! Bea that's good."  A friend of mine called and offered to join me.   It had the makings of a very good night.  One drink would lead to three and then I be off like some mad dharma bum.  The night always holds such promise for me when I'm in a city.

I went home instead.  I had to be responsible, I had to get up in the morning and do one of my routes I do for extra cash.  Plus I didn't want to leave Susan all alone.

I was going to act my age.

This weekend I plan to go for a ride on Kimmie and spend time with my Mom and Dad.  My father is in his 80's and has outlived one of his two sisters already.  We don't talk much, more to him and I being cut from the same introverted mold.  I see a lot of my father in me as I grow older, both physically and mentally.  My father made decisions that would help his family and as I look back on my life I don't see us wanting anything as children.

My brother and I somewhere in the 70's

My father does not remember some things that I do growing up, perhaps the stories I tell are embellished some.   Perhaps he simply does not remember or feels that he has no need to relive certain moments.  I remember him telling me that he would always pick me up if I was drunk in high school.

I got drunk in High School at a party and he came and picked me up.  No questions, nothing was said.  Just a feeling of disappointment from him because I did something wrong.  I never got drunk in high school again.  Nor have I ever drove my car "a bit toasty."

Mom was always the driving force, the motivator it seemed to me.  She was the one that always seemed to be striving for something better, something more....something other than what we have today.   I see a lot of her in me at times.

My mother was always there and we talk for hours as I was growing up.  She had a rough childhood and lived under abusive parents.  She made the decision to break that cycle with my father and with my brother and I.  I admire that strength it took her to do so.

My parents used to go out a bit when I was young.  I realize now that they were in their 30's.  When I was in college they were in their early 40's. They were young and so very full of life.

I remember my youth and it was not that long ago.  I traveled to places like Chicago, Los Vegas, New York.   I toured with the Grateful Dead for a few weeks one summer, I ended up traveling overseas for a bit and visited exotic lands.  I've been wanting to get back to Asia ever since.

The lovely Sue

As for me....I'm turning 50.  Buying Kimmie may have been a mid life crisis.  I don't have a mortgage on my home.  I have two car payments, growing medical bills and a sense that the system is rigged against me and the knowledge that Susan is not going to get better.

Her medical issues are varied and scary.  The biggest scare, her possible multiple myeloma cancer, has faded into the background but we are faced with multiple issues that may end up taking her from me sooner than later.  Or worse, leaving her a shell of the strong independent woman I fell in love with all those years ago.

I frankly don't know if I have that strength to face what is to come.

Then I think how that woman stuck with me through the worse things that have happened in my life, how I was encased in ice unable to move emotionally and she saw me out of that darkness.  That love she has for me can not be denied.

I've been married twice now.  One I regret, the other I do not.  Terri is a good woman and if things would have been different I would still be living with her.  Still married to her and possibly with a kid or two.  Dogs running about in the yard.

My parents on their 50th.

I have no children and when I was a younger man I didn't think I wanted any.   Now that I'm older I regret that.   I also regret that I don't have more friends, part of being an introvert I suppose.  I've also lost friends to time, fights that were/are over stupid things, and disease and accidents.

Love changes over time.   My parents have been married for over 50 years and they have both told me at times they have not loved each other.   You find a way to fall back into love.  I don't know if Sue and I will make it that far.   One can only hope we do.

  Turning 50 I suppose makes me officially "over the hill."  This one hurts, much more that it probably should.  I suppose it's all just part of growing up and growing older.  You have to accept the limitations that age brings, and acknowledge that time marches on.

First ride of the new year

I had a couple of options Saturday, I had the chance to do a group ride.  A chance to meet up with an old friend for lunch.

Instead I decided to spend Saturday working on the house first, taking care of some business second and "taking a ride" was actually fifth on my to-do list.   One nice thing about waking up really freaking early on a Saturday is getting 1 - 4 done pretty early.

I left about 11:00 AM.  It's finally starting to feel like fall/winter in Florida as the sky's were overcast with a 15% chance of rain.  The temperature was about 62 degrees F (16.7 C) when I took off.  I did have a destination in mind...but was not really concerned about getting there.

Every Saturday Ybor City has a farmers market.  It's small and really not that interesting but would serve as a good excuse to point Kimmie's tires in that direction.  I have recently acquired a taste for hard cider from Cigar City Cider and Mead as well as being turned on to a little coffee shop called Joffrey's.  You can thank one of my work mates for that newest addiction.

I was also thinking about riding along Bayshore Boulevard, which would provide some wonderful views of both the waterfront and the city of Tampa itself.  I had my camera with me, and one of the goals I have for this year is to take more pictures when I am out and about.  There are just to many interesting pole barns and lonesome cows out there that need a little photographic love.

However I love Ybor.  I found myself wondering about on foot and finding some interesting little stores.  I ran into a friend from work and chatted with him for a bit.  A phone call from my brother meant that I soaked up the new warm winter sun for a half hour or so as we talked about my mother and his daughter.  I meandered over to the Ride Factory which I've been told has the best mechanics in the city.  Like nearly all dealerships they had mostly low milage Harleys in stock, but their bay was as big, or bigger, than their showroom floor.   There was a early 70's Honda on one of the racks looking like it was off the showroom floor.  Another bike, which the mechanic guessed was an early 1940's BSA, was being lovingly restored.  Frankly I could not take my eyes off it.


Sadly I had let time slip away.  I had to turn back, so I pointed Kimmie's wheel back north towards home.

That's okay though, it was a warm day now, the sun was at my back and I started back taking the long way.  I've been thinking about Ybor a lot lately because I've been kicking around a business venture in the area.  It's an up and coming area and their are parts of the city that can be had for a song.  If I and my partners do this right that is.  That however is another project, another song.

I pointed my wheels north and thought about how the New Year was full of promise...and what I would have to do to make those promises become fulfilled.

Riding Kimmie today was a good start, sadly starting Monday there was a damn good chance I would be off her for two weeks.   Ah, business..

Jax again...cold beer, bad food and a surprise in the middle of nowhere

The problem with business travel is that, for someone like me that likes to explore and eat and drink from the local establishments, your not always able to do that.

When I was in Jax, as the locals call it, last time I was working from 4 PM to midnight or so.  I was able to get out to the beaches, the museums, listen to live jazz music while sipping wine because I didn't have to show up to work till later.  This time I was mostly working days with small groups of two or three people teaching them the in's and out's of our difficult but important job.  This shift was really not conducive to getting out and exploring the city.  Which was a shame because I like what I've seen of Jacksonville.  I like the ocean and the history in nearby St Augustine.  I like that Jacksonville seems to be a city just on the edge of defining itself.

I like that I found a pretty cool place called King street that had some funky little restaurants and shops on it.  One place, called the Silver Cow, impressed me so much that I know I would be mentioning it to all my beer loving friends.  Beer and wine tasting has always been a passion of mine.

What is it about small hole in the wall places that attract me so? The Silver Cow had nice semi-modern art on the wall, tin type on the ceilings and an old wood bar and about 25 to 30 craft beers on tap.  Including such oddities as Barleywine.  Sadly their menu selection left a lot to be desired and by the time I reached them the kitchen appeared to have been closed.  I missed the live jam session they had the previous night with local musicians that apparently spilled into the street causing an impromptu dance party on the sidewalks.  Yea, my kind of dive.

The next night it was recommended that I try a place nearby called Kickbacks Gastropub.  I'm always up for an adventure and was told that they had a very good beer selection and  a nice menu.  I should have guessed by the hipsters hanging outside this wasn't the place for me.  I've been friends with musicians and artists for most of my life.  You develop an eye for "posers", they are generally the ones that develop a certain look but either don't have the talent or the desire to put in the hard work needed to actually develop a talent.  This place seemed to attract them like a moth to a flame.

I ordered the french dip and...do you know how hard it is to screw up a french dip?  Somehow this place did that.  At least the beer, in this case a nice 22 oz (65 cl German Hefeweizen) beer was cold.  Yet the beer list left a lot to be desired.  I was expecting some unusual brews, not the same stuff I find in any restaurant anywhere.

At least the night was warm and I managed to find a nice little tree filled park with a bird island in the center of it.  I meandered past some good street art and gardens, past old southern homes built in the 1950's that the locals still took pride in and some interesting people.

A long time ago on  Back Road Motorcycling Riding, I read about the Yearling Restaurant located in Cross Keys, Florida.  It seems that this odd little place was influenced by Pulitzer Prize winning writer Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings, who made her fortune from the novel; The Yearling, and whose home was nearby.  The menu features local game such as venison, quail, gator, turtle and duck.  I've had all these dishes before and have been wanting to stop every since reading the original blog post.  Sadly the lunch menu only offered venison so I simply had to settle for the best blackened shrimp that I've ever had.  

Although I have to admit that the outside is a bit....daunting.  Getting there can be an adventure because frankly it's in the middle of nowhere and just to the left of bumf*ck.  However it was on my way home so stopping was never in question.

When I walked in I heard the rich baritone of an elderly blues singer that reminded me that art and a woman's love are worth selling your soul to the devil for.

Old books and antiques covered the walls and created a warm welcoming atmosphere.  Pencil art and aged yellowing photographs covered the wall.  I considered ordering a glass of wine from across the way and spending some time there and at the nearby homestead of Ms Rawlings, but time was fleeting as I had to return the company's rental car.

So I add another spot to the list, another place that I have to return to some day.  That list keeps getting longer and longer but the days keep dwindling down.  It's all part of growing up I suppose.

Book Store or Library?  No, the Yearling

Inside the Yearling

I can't help but wonder who plays here normally.

Here's to you Jack Kerouac

Yesterday I had some personal business to do in Clearwater and St Petersburg, Florida.  My plan was to originally take the Bergi down, get some good shots of it framed against the deep blue of the Gulf of Mexico waters and then have dinner at the Flamingo, the bar where Jack Kerouac supposedly had his last drink.

As it so happened I ended up having to take my car down since I had no way to properly strap the GPS to the Bergi (Note to self:  get a GPS mount) so no pictures of the bike on the Bay.

October 21, 1969 was the day that Jack Kerouac died at the age of 47, and American Literature lost a unique and original voice.   Kerouac, for those of you that may not know, wrote the seminal novel On the Road.  Although personally I don't consider this to be his best work, preferring his next work - The Dharma Bums, to be the height of his work as a writer..

I read On the Road years ago, I was influenced by it like thousands of others before me, not so much to leave home and travel about the country...as it did for a few people I know...but to go ahead and experience different things and sensations.  To break out of my shell...to explore and fall in love with life.

On the wall of the Flamingo

As a young and hopeful writer at the time I fell in love with his "spontaneous prose" which at times seemed sporadic and musical, crazed and insane and oh so wonderful.

I read more of his work, and that opened me up to other writers and ideas and ways to live.  Where as Jack's work influenced me to live with a sense of adventure and wanderlust, in the end his work has always struck me as sad and lacking.  He was always traveling, looking, searching for something that always seemed just out of reach.

Sitting at the bar, a bottle of beer in front of me, I reflected on all of this.  The journey that lead me to sit alone in a bar on a Tuesday night, perhaps on the very seat one of my icons sat on forty years ago.  I paid for the beer, walking out of the bar feeling a little down...knowing that a great talent died way to young.

I looked up, two people on a cruiser pulled up her arms wrapped around his and they smiled...then pulled away and went off on their next adventure somewhere down the road.

I smiled, looked up at the sky and gave a silent "thank you" and went home.

Oh the Rowdies are....a kick in the Grass!

I'm a big fan of soccer, so when I realized that I would be able to attend the next FC Tampa Bay (better known as the Rowdies) football game I knew I was going.
(WARNING - the theme song from the late 70's is very catchy)

The problem is, of course, how to get there.   I want to take the Burgie down for several reasons.  It's a hell of a lot easier to park, better on gas, and besides...it be the longest ride (120 miles roughly round trip) I've taken yet on my new machine and that thrill of adventure is tempting.

It would involve me riding on busy freeways, at night, and I knew there would be beer involved.   Not that I would ever drink and ride, but I know damn well I would have a few at the game (soccer fans by definition enjoy beer).  Plus, it's still freaking hot in Tampa.  I know it's late September but the temperature still hovers in the mid 90's.  All these things would have to be addressed in one way or another.  Plus there is a solid chance of rain, which, logic would dictate I should take my car.

But to hell with logic!  I want to ride my scooter to the game!

The ride itself would only take a little over an hour as it's about 55 to 60 miles from here to there which truthfully is not that bad even through I suffer from Numb Butt on my 35 mile commute every day.  My girlfriend has some sort of frozen ice pack thing that fits around her neck and shoulders that keeps the wearer very cool and would fit perfectly under my riding jacket.  So I got a route and a way to stay cool.  At night on the ride back I would not need the pack.

Beer...easily to take care of.  One or two or three at the tailgate before the game then hydrate with lots of water.  No drinking in the 2nd half at all.  There is a old saying.  "There are drunk riders. There are old riders. There are NO old, drunk riders."  I plan on being an old rider.

Sadly I can't do anything about the weather, other than hope it really doesn't rain but it it must that the storm abates quickly and I can put the rain in the rear view mirror as quickly as possible.  I really do need to invest in good rain gear.  I am however in no hurry to get home either.  I would rather be safe than sorry.

Some retro reflective tape added to the bike and helmet recently will help with the visibility at night. Safety most of the time is just good planning.  


A little bit of planning and I'm all set to take the Burgie down to the game. I can just see my Ralph's Mob scarf blowing in the wind behind me as I eat up the miles to the game.




Sing it with me now, you know the words! OH THE ROWDIES RUN HERE, THE ROWDIES RUN THERE.....