Okay, I don't seem to be shooting this month...

So after a fine church service and coffee with my friend, and sharing cake that I bought from the ladies of the church with him and Ralph, I hop on my Trusty Triumph to zoom off into the beautiful Sunday afternoon. Top off the tank, reset my mileage counter and head off for adventure, looking for love in all the wrong places? No, it is all about the ride, folks, the twisting roads and the deep leans, and yes, I did scrape my boot heel on Waller road before the railroad crossing - nice to go so deep and come up so well. I did stop to warm up and talk and find smiles.

Harley-Davidson has been advertising going down and getting a test ride on anything new on the floor, so I did. Yes, I know that I could have done that in Hawai'i and still done it again today, but I was sure I might never come back if I rode in Hawai'i. Today my Trusty Triumph would keep me grounded. So I really stopped there twice, the second time was after a long ride and much satisfaction, I was ready to top a perfect afternoon off and I actually talked to the salesman. It was easy, so I was looking at things I could afford if I won the Lotto (need to buy that winning ticket!), and they had an 883 in my price range (cheaper than the Trusty Triumph) but it was Spring Clearance Sales on many models, the size seemed right but the seat was only painted on - no long trips on that machine - only to the corner grocery and bar. I moved to the Dyna, pretty stripped, lots of shine and lots of engine and six speeds (slow start, faster, faster, faster, faster and fastest longer). I posed for a picture on it with the Sunshine upon the balding pate (?), but that could be a sign of God's favor? or not.



They had a copy of my license (Statewide background check? for the insurance, fool!) and I signed a waiver holding the Dealership and H-D free from my heirs and lawyers for my certain demise. They wheeled the motorcycle out, explained some things about the set up, and allowed me to circle the buildings in the parking lot and then out on the road to run up and down the gears, practice braking and leaning and rolling on that throttle - even got two exits worth of I-5 (never noticed if there were other vehicles I was so engrossed in the machine's power). Nice ride even had some twisty turns to play with and then back to the dealership, for a survey and contact points to see if they can sell me that fine beast (some days I wish I were forty years younger and single - but then I realize I have it so much better than when I was twenty-one and only a sergeant in the Army with Vietnam waiting...

A very nice ride, a bit louder than I like in the pipes (the British are so civilized about noise), but lots of potential for happiness in that machine - it sure runs and rides better than that 1948 Flathead I had in 1966 through 1971. It was heavier backing up than my Trusty Triumph (pushing with only leg power) so I rode up the sidewalk ramp to turn it in.

Thanks, Destination Harley-Davidson of Tacoma, for a very nice point in my afternoon on the motorcycles. Nice ride, very. I rode away on my Trusty Triumph, and it still made my heart sing on the way home, that was when I got deep into the curve and dragged boot heel and rolled that throttle on and came up solid. We are really made for each other, or I fit what I ride well.

I did sit on a couple of Bones with the half-ape hangers, and they aren't bad but I would look really funny wearing my work tie and such on that bad a bike. But then I do look funny any way you see me. The picture of me outside in the shade has the Trusty Triumph waiting patiently above the handle bars of the Harley, and the photographer's girl friend waiting patiently for the picture to be over... patience is so good to find.

When I was young...

I had too much money and so I purchased three rifles from Winchester of Hong Kong, didn't everyone? My father asked why my Model 70 was in 30-06 and my only answer was that I thought that was a good round (I had no real idea, but I knew that one worked for deer and Pennsylvania). Since I declared today a rest day from exercising I took the rifles out and looked at the Model 70 for scope mounting, and decided not to... cause I have no knowledge about scopes and the rifle as it stands now is pure beauty. I must be the right size, cause all my rifles fit me so well, or I fit them well, another day it is good to be me. Funny that I like all my rifles, want to really be perfect with the M1 Garand, but love the beauty and perfection of the Model 70. Maybe I could get both of them National Match sights... sure.

If you can't afford the fuel don't get off the road...

I had to go to church, being the head usher, and the motorcycle was down for legality issues until Monday, the Caravan is big and clunky and eats fuel when run, so I lifted the bicycle down and prepared to ride. I have completely forgotten all I knew about the shifting, which hand does which gears, which lever is up and which one is down. So you experiment and practice and the ride goes right along. I am passed by a few autos, Sunday mornings most are sleeping, and I am riding on the white line or beside it. In Germany they must give a cyclist a meter of clearance as they pass, in America they don't have to give you anything - luckily for me (except for some Oklahoma cowboys) most drivers will share the road and only lightly snarl about my imposition.

When we lived as a one car family I did a lot more bicycle riding to get around, I should do it more in the local area, in the better weather. I talked a bit with the Pastor about riding bicycles. It isn't a Green thing with me, but having been in Europe I do think that America really misses by not encouraging more riders. I rode home after the service and a mother out with her two bicycle riding children pointed out that I was on the edge of the road, like being thought of as a good example of something, she didn't comment on my helmet, which might not be as good an example of art - but you would notice it when I ride. Pedalling back into my development and a couple walking their dog, do a double-take and yell at me asking "Where is your motorcycle?" and I answer "At home on the hill."

I stopped by for a look...

McCann Industries makes a Puffin Magnum, that fine looking knife in the picture, and I saw that they were just down the road from me and I went looking for them. Look, McCann Guns is right beside the church I frequent. This is cool, and tells me that for fourteen years I just don't pay attention.

I go inside and get to handle and examine at three fine knives, and prove I am neither an expert, impressive nor more than the old man with a tie that I see in the mirror. Words that stuck with me were "That is cutlery not a pry bar.""I cut down the traffic by only working on NRA members." "Made in America costs, but the quality." "If you are worried about slippery handles put skateboarding tape on it." The last made me laugh, my son and his grip tape from his skateboarding would love to know that it is recommended for improving knife retention in wet sticky situations.

Well, I left promising to visit another day, I have a fighting carry knife I would like made - don't need one but gosh the economy is going to crash if I don't buy something American that is really worthy. I liked the above knife for general purpose camp and kitchen - but I do lust after the Fighter. The truth about me is that I can lust after long legged redheads but never do more than wish I were braver and would talk to them - I know I am over my limit on fighting knives now. But if I were a younger person that needed a fighting knife this is the place I would check into first. I was amazed that he doesn't get more work from Fort Lewis, but if I didn't know he was there for fourteen years who else would either. And contrary to some thoughts, I don't use knives as pry bars, ever.

Sunday Sharpening

Fighting knives today, with my current carry boot knife on the far right for a size comparison. The one next to it is a NATO fighting knife, which when most NATO rifles are issued with a bayonet, makes me wonder who gets issued the fighting knife? The officers with their 9mm pistols won't wear a knife, so who gets the fighting knife? Maybe machine gunners and medics? I don't know, it is a lower carbon blade and gets sharpened with a file like a bayonet and can't be used to shave. It will cut in a slash and loves to be a stabbing weapon.

Next to it is the Gerber, with the angle so the handle would stay away from the body and sheath. It was one of the surprise great things that came out of Portland, Oregon. It came with a sharpening steel, and the serrated wasp waist edges in both directions - a great design but not necessary, a bit artsy for the true cutter and gutter - but one has to have soul. Gerber doesn't get made there anymore (Gerber isn't really Gerber any longer either). I picked it up during the Vietnam years, but it didn't go there with me, the Army and mail order got me many other blades, all left in country.

The famous Fairbairn from Britain, mine is marked England, but without the British Armory marks so it is only a great copy. A fully functional, if I had one worry it would be that the blade might snap near the point under pressure of the moment and a bone or hard joint in the way. Simple design, sharp edges in both directions and a point picked for ease of entry - slides into meat well.

Last is my prized possession from Fort Bennings School for Boys (Infantry OCS), a real Randall, from Orlando, Florida. My first "made for me" knife. I ordered it in 1967 and waited, went to Korea, and waited and finally got it in 1969, before Nam. I didn't take it to any wars, it with the Rosewood handle is waiting for that maple inlaid library desk, to sit posing as a large letter opener for the day some fool thinks I am under-armed. Nice knife, but an inch too long, I didn't know as much as I thought did then and I ate more ice cream, too. Eyes bigger than my stomach or any good sense. Still a lovely weapon, utility is important but I will never love an electric carving knife nor vaporal blade as much as my Randall.

Boy's Night In...

Ah, my wife is gone, off to middle of the week church, so what am I to do with the time -- I read a blog from Iraq about boredom, leave a promising comment but I don't want to suffer that. So I take the motorcycle out for a spin to see if any gun shops stay open after six, or is it only Big Kmart and Walleyed World if one wants to be seen on camera buying a gun... I have enough guns, but why do they close so early? The ride is nice, I will go to work on the motorcycle tomorrow, smiling.

Back home I drag out the pistols and stuff, I wanted a shoulder holster, and will likely still get one, one day, but I need to check what I have for utility. NRA sent me a 5.11 vest that can be used for concealed carry - with an embroidered NRA on it (I hate wearing advertising) but the stuff has a velcro holster that fits my short pistol well and only I and everyone that is really looking would know I was armed. I also have an inside the pants with belt clip that works and I try it out - better lose those fifteen pounds to make it fit best. I am happier about my preparedness for wearing a pistol concealed - heavy dark trench coat and wide brimmed hat and shadows in my future life as the anti-super hero. Okay, just kidding.

I start cleaning pistols and love the oil and the clean and the functioning after reassembly - where can I shoot this late at night? No where around here for the now and the darkness. The weekend is only a couple days away and I have miles to go and promises to keep.

Need something to desire but never really achieve?

I like to look, I like to think I am more than I really am and that brings desires like this one, way more than I need (own two .45's now) but doesn't that picture just set my heart to thumping, 46 bpm instead of the normal 45... yep, and a nice name.

HUNTER

What more could a gentle old library guy want to play with? that his wife would approve of?