CHRISTMAS IN MAINE 2015

UNFUCKING BELIEVABLE

I have been delinquent this year removing the battery from my motorcycle, which I store every winter under the sink in the bathroom.  But this year has been so unusually warm that, like the grasshopper, I chose to fiddle around and ignore certain winter preparations. 

This morning the temps were forecast to be near fifty degrees, so I plugged the bike onto the charger, and after some chores slipped on my leather jacket (not cold enough for chaps) and fired it up.  

Unfucking believable.   I rode into town and passed two more bikes on the road.   Christmas day on the bike; we should be measuring snow by the foot.

Temps are supposed to drop into the freezing range Saturday night, and for the rest of the week: rain/snow/sleet mix is forecast going into Tuesday, with normal winter temperatures to follow. 

I can put it off one more day, I’ll remove the battery tomorrow.

the Ol’Buzzard

FUCKING OLD PEOPLE

"Don't fuck with old people

they don't like being old

and it doesn't take a lot to piss them off."

quote stolen from a Yellowdog Granny post

the Ol'Buzzard

AN OLD GREY BEARD BIKER SPEAKS

Nostalgia, rambling in the past is about as interesting to other people as watching someone’s home movies: ‘And here is Uncle Ralph with a lamp shade on his head….’

  

Having said this, the reason most of us blog is that we all have a need to write,  and so we troll through the attic that is our mind to possibly find something that someone else might be interested in reading. 

  

But, occasionally we write something that is meaningful to only us, knowing from the start that other people really won’t be interested:

Two weeks ago we went to Augusta (Maine) to have our Toyota serviced, and since we were near the bike shop my wife suggested (the woman must love me, I don’t know why: she is too damn good for me) we swing by so I could price the leather motorcycle jackets on sale at off season prices.

Recently the shop has become an Indian distributor and I was anxious to actually see one.   I am nostalgic about Indians because my grandfather road an Indian Chief way before I was even thought of.

The bike looked great; but I was blown away by the price.   The Chief started at $23,000,   Hell, my car cost that, and for another ten thousand you could buy a Mercedes.

Don’t get me wrong, I am very satisfied with my Honda, and owning another bike is not in my future. 

Seven thousand plus custom seats and saddlebags. 

 

I started riding when I was eighteen.   I have owned Triumphs, Hondas, Yamahas and one Second World War vintage  45 cubic inch military Harley.  I have never owned a bike more than 750 cc and I see no need for the extra displacement and weight as I don’t do long distance riding.  All the extra displacement cost more money and decreases your gas mileage drastically (The big Harleys costing about the same as the Indians get mileage in the thirties – I get sixty-five mpg and can cruise comfortably at seventy with a top end over one hundred.  

All these big expensive bikes are the must have for the generation that has been raised on cell phones, I-pads and internet.  Many of the bikers today are yuppies with good incomes and can afford new Harley and Indians.   They watch Sons of Anarchy and read Easy Rider, and act out their fantasy on the week-ends.

   

Don’t get me wrong, if you are on two wheels with and engine you’re a biker; but the image is false.

  

The original biker clubs came about after World War II when veterans got together and formed groups like the Hell’s Angles.  These guys were mostly riding Triumphs, BSAs, Nortons and Royal Infields: 650cc British bikes. 

It was Sonny Barger in the sixties that carried the Angles into the outlaw biker image that is so popular today.

I am fortunate to be in good physical shape and be able to still ride in my mid-seventies.   But, I can’t help but chuckle when I pull into a restaurant on my bike and see some young gun with a shiny new ride wearing a tea shirt that says: IF IT AIN'T HARLEY IT AIN'T SHIT.   He bought the shirt and bought the bike; but he has year to go to earn the creds.

Do not go gently into that good night.

Old age should burn and rage at close of day;

Rage, Rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas

the Ol’Buzzard

  

29 DAYS TILL SPRING

SPRING WILL COME THIS YEAR!

I don't snore.   I just dream of motorcycles.

the Ol'Buzzard

ZEN OF APATHY

A passenger aircraft shot down in the Ukraine.

There is nothing I can do about it.

800 dead in the 18 day conflict between Israel and Hamas.

There is nothing I can do about it.

Fighting continues in Iraq and Pakistan.

There is nothing I can do about it.

Fighting in Syria, atrocities in Africa.

There is nothing I can do about it.

Russia, Cuba, China;

I am powerless.

A dysfunctional U.S. Congress

Prisoners inhumanely put to death in Oklahoma, Ohio and Arizona.

Obama Care is being challenged in court.

Bigotry, Racism, Sexism, Homophobia…

I vote but my vote is canceled by the Tea Party.

Beyond  my control.

In my mid-seventies, my days are limited, the grim reaper rides bitch on my bike.

It is what it is.

Today I am going to prepare the west side of my house for painting.    I painted the front (south side) first of the week.   I have one more cord of wood to order and stack for winter fuel; and I plan to replace the front storm door before winter sets in.   I haven’t meditated in a long time.   I need to take a few minutes this morning for Zen time.  It is suppose to be a beautiful day today – sunny with temps in the low seventies. 

Change what you can and accept what you can’t change: live in the moment: appreciate this day.

The Ol’Buzzard

VERN, VERN, VERN WHEN WILL YOU LEARN?

In the Native American communities elders are venerated.   They are looked up to as being wise because of their years.  

I have always disagreed with this premise; believing that if you were stupid when you were young and stupid when you were middle age you are probably a stupid old person.  

I am the absolute proof of the proposition.   You would think after seventy plus years I would have learned from my mistakes.  

During my lifetime I have sheered bolts in oil pans, engine heads, carburetors, mufflers, and plumbing fixtures, and just about everything that has threads.  

Last year I decided to set the valves in my motorcycle.   My wife suggested I take it to the dealership and have it done.  I informed her that I had set the valves and timing in bunches of bikes and I was not going to pay someone to do what I was capable of doing.  

The black one is mine.  My wife in the jean jacket talking to the secretary of United Bikers of Maine

The job turned out to be bigger than I thought: I had to remove the seats, the tank some of the wiring and vacuum hoses just to get access to the heads.   I soldiered on removing the heads from a space barely big enough to admit a wrench.  I set the valves and remounted the heads; but on my last head bolt I gave it just one more turn.  

Yeah – I sheered off the bolt in the jug.  I ended up renting a trailer and transporting the bike forty miles to a dealer where they were able to remove the bolt, reset the timing and put the bike back together.   It was a hundred dollar fiasco, not counting the rental of the trailer.

Today I decided to change the oil in the bike.  My wife suggested I take it down to the local bike shop and have it done.   But, I am not going to pay someone to do what I can do. 

The drain plug is located at a position that you have to lift the front end just to get a wrench on the bolt.  After cursing Honda engineers I got the front end elevated on some 8x8 lumber and was able to drain the oil and change the filter.  I gave the drain plug just one more snug turn and felt it give…fearing I may have stripped the threads in the oil pan I backed it off and snugged it just close, checking there were no oil leaks.  Needing to check the oil level in the rear differential (the bike is direct drive) I unscrewed the nut – the oil was fine – and I replaced the filler bolt.   Just one more twist to make sure it is tight… and then swore: Shit, Fire and Molasses – God Damn Flatheaded Bastard…

The new bolt is costing me $25.00 with the O-ring, plus $10.00 shipping.  

Provided there are no leaks this season; next year I will have the local bike shop change the oil and act surprised when they have to retap the threads on the oil pan. 

Meanwhile, I have found that the brake light switch on the foot brake is not working and needs replacing.   And I am not going to pay someone to do what I can easily do. 

the Ol’Buzzard 

IT IS STILL WINTER IN MAINE

We have about two feet of standing snow left after a week of above freezing temperatures; however, not to fear – winter is still playing catch-me-fuck-me here in northwestern Maine.  We have fourteen to seventeen inches of snow predicted for the storm coming through tonight and tomorrow.  

Up here it is all a normal part of winter and those of us that love Maine accept it as part of the charm – a place where nature reminds us regularly that we are all tenants in her world.

My concern is that I only have about one cord of firewood left and then I have to switch to burning expensive oil.   So I am looking for – and hoping for an early spring…which also means biking weather.  

and we know it is coming.

The black bike is mine, and my wife is in the jean jacket talking to the secretary of the United Bikers of Maine

I was out in the shed this morning looking at the motorcycle – I have a kind of a sexual thing going with the bike.   I want to touch it and stroke it and mount it and ride the hell out of it.  

I know that we are on the down side of winter when I find I am running a mild bike fever. 

the Ol’Buzzard

IS IT SPRING YET?