Text messaging

While doing a little link hopping I found this little waste of time. It annoyed the shit out of me and I was going to rant on and on about how stupid text messaging is. That would be a huge waste of time however and frankly nothing I say is going to change the "wireless industry". All I really want to say when you're at work and decide to send someone a text message so your not busted talking on the phone turn the fucking sound off so the surly guy in the nearby cubicle trying to calculate shaft fits for a Timken tapered bearing won't go absolutlely koo-koo bananas. I would rather hear you talk to your boyfriend about your goddamned hardwood floors than that incessant beep-beeping of the keys because your "texting" instead of talking. Consider this a public service message. By the way texting is not a word.

Past bikes #3 Crappy Dirt Bike edition

Well kiddies, here we are again for another exciting installment of Past Bikes. This time around we'll be taking a look at some of the crappy dirt bikes I've owned and one not so crappy one. I've had a few nice ones also but I noticed a strong showing of the crappy ones in my photo album so I thought I'd show em off a little. Come along and I'll show you around my museum. Shall we? First up is the Can-Am. This gem was a 175cc with a rotary valve Bombardier two-stroke motor. I bought this for $30.00, spent a hundred or so on it and after a year of so I gave it back to the guy I bought it from. Crazy ass death trap. I was either wheelying with legs akimbo holding on for dear life or pushing. There was no in between. The kickstarter was gone and when I found one and put it on it fell off anyhow due to bad splines. It was push start only. It had an intermittent Motoplat ignition, that is a description not a model designation. One fine day I was pushing the bike holding the sparkplug in one hand and had the other arm draped over the cool v-bars trying to shade the plug from the sun, push the bike and check for spark. The ditch (elbow pit) of my right arm came in contact with a bare spot on the bars and well....went to ground. The Can-Am tazed my dumb ass. That was very painful. Moving right along we have the 1970ish 440 Maico. Neat bike with the badass aluminum coffin tank. This one was pretty rough, if you can see the pipe only goes from the exhaust port to the bottom of the engine. The rest had rusted off. I dismantled the bike and sold it off. They say these things were unbelievably fast. They were very cool sounding too. I got this and another bike as a package. This is one of many "You gotta take em both" deals. The owner actually thought this was a Metco. Nope, I've never heard of a Metco either. The other gem I did not want but had to take but I actually got to ride one or twice. The 1975 Yamaha DT250. This thing was ug-leeee. As you can see it had sort of a fizz-can camo job. I took it home (with my new Metco) and stripped the forks off, cleaned up a lot of the camo and wet sanded the tank and I found some nice original paint underneath. It had lots of dents so I slapped a Slayer sticker on there and blasted a coat of clear over the top. Now here's the coolest part, the gas tank had about a half a coffee can of sand in it. No kidding, about three big handfuls of sand came out. Beats me. I cleaned the tank, cleaned the carb, put in a new plug and it started on the second kick. Gotta love those Japanese. The crank was bent so it shook like a bitch and the stator kept falling off so it wouldn't run for more than about 15 min. The really weird part is I can't remember what happened to this bike. Of all the bikes I've had I can remember how they were sold. Cept the Slayer bike. It was also affectionately referred to as "The Turd". The next one on the list was one of my favorite bikes and I sort of wish I still had it. A nineteen seventy something Puch. It's pronounced poook, like puke without the yuh. I never did figure out what actual model it was. I think it was a 175cc also. A friend had it in his back yard and one spring day I went over to see if he would sell it. He had removed the rear wheel to fix a flat the previous summer and left the bike sitting next to the garage (outside) in the dirt. When I got there the bike was frozen to the ground. After we found the wheel and settled on a price we gave it a good tug and I brought it home. It was missing the clutch adjuster so after a little tig work and machining a new part it was ready to get running. I cleaned the Bing and put in a new plug and bang it started. Slowest dirt bike ever. Pretty cool though in a European dirt-bike kinda way. The side panels were this big vinyl wrap deal with the number plate sewn on. Seems like a nice way to save weight until you see the airbox under it that's made out of 1/8" plate. I fixed it up and rode it around a little but wound up selling it to some dealer who probably resold it for way more than I sold it to him for. I've had a few other oddball dirt bikes but I'll save them for another day. Writing this makes me want to go hunting for another one of these gems but as you can see, I've exhausted all the reserves of crappy dirt bikes in my area. I do know where I can get a Penton Jackpiner cheap..... I had most of these while I was high-school and had nary a penny to put on them in parts but I was much more interested in bringing them back to life than making them pretty. Except the Turd, that Slayer sticker made that bike. Besides, they were all really pieces of shit anyway. There you have it folks a trip from Indiana to Canada, Germany, Austria, Japan and back again all in glorious Crap-O-Vision! Don't forget to check back for another exciting installment of Past Bikes.

Excuse me, I believe you have my stapler

This is my last opportunity to post while, hmmm.... well not on the clock because that would be just wrong to be blogging while at work wouldn't it? Of course I would never change the time to refelct a time when I was not at work. Yeah. Moving on, today is my last day at the old job. I wont be near a computer at the new job unless you consider the control of the Mori I'll be running. G code, while important, is not really the entertainment my readers seek methinks. It snowed last night and the drive here goes through some back roads with lots of trees. The last drive in was very picturesque. I've been hauling all my crap out a little at a time so there's not much left to bring home. Only my little machinist box which will go in the garagemobile and the big box goes to the new job. Yes, I get to use tools again. My desk is clean for the first time in three years. No more office, no more desk, no more fucking cubicle. I wont have to listen to everyone who comes in the office bitching about how cold/hot it is in there. I'll miss a few of the good things too like the truck driver running for Whoppers in the morning. Thanks big Dan. Ahh, nothing like a big ol' burger first thing in the A.M. Every time I've changed job I had a feeling of dread about the job "Is this the right move?" "Will I be happier over there?" Not this time. I can't wait to start the new gig. The only real hard part will getting my ass up earlier in the morning to get there on time. Tardiness in unacceptable at the new gig. Not a morning person, this guy. The drive is longer and is not the most fun route but at least it means more saddle time when I start commuting on the scooter. That's what it's all about anyhow right? I'll now have a 40 minute commute, as opposed to, a 15 minute ride. I get my own parking spot there too (everyone does). It's about 14 miles from the plant, but hey I'm the new guy I didn't expect a spot right up front. I have a few days off next week so I'm going to try to make some progress on the motorcycle front. Perhaps I'll do some work on the Honda paint. The garagemobile is an absolute mess so there will be some major cleaning action going on too. I'm gonna have to get the big stereo out there so I can crank the Clutch and get something done.
Then maybe I get back to actual motorcycle content on this thing instead of rambling on about my life. I have actually decided on a color for the Honda, and I've made progress on the Sprint so there's more to come. Wow, only eight more hours to go. I love working ten hour days.

Now I remember...

.......why I like the 550 Honda. I was cleaning up some bookmarks and I found this pic of what a nice 77' CB550 looks like. Mine would need a total resto to look this good but it could certainly look presentable with some paint and elbow grease. I'm going to save my pennies and try to get a bike built in this decade, but for now with the house and all those cumbersome adult responsibilites I'll have to settle for the Classic Honda. My bike has the same stripe on the tank but was blessed with the lovely monkey shit brown. I've got more cash into this thing than it will ever be worth but anyone with a vintage bike will tell you that worrying about how much you've spent is a losing battle. The parts for these are really not that pricey when compared to modern stuff with a few exceptions. The 750's are a little more expensive but then they command better prices for the bikes too. The 550's are actually a bargain when you look at them in the big picture. And what a nice picture it is.

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On a totally different note, I realized that the one year anniversary of Still Life with Cranston Ritchie came and went on the 5th of this month. Thanks to all of you who read this. I've learned alot and got to read some real interesting stuff from the other moto-bloggers. Thanks!

Warning Warning

I noticed the name Bill Mumy in the credits for Crossing Jordan. I was wondering if it was the same Bill Mumy as in Lost in Space. Turns out it is and he's had a pretty prolific career and hung out with the Allman brothers. Oh, to be at that meeting. Truth - stanger than fiction.

I want a new house

Yeah, yeah we all want new shit. Seriously though, after whining about wanting a new scoot my damn basement flooded again. Nothing was damaged but a box of wedding invitations and our wedding was four years ago. This gave me a good reason to clean out "the room". The Room is the room that you throw all the stuff into and close the door and everytime you do so you say "Man, I really gotta clean that room". It's also the only room in the basement that has carpet. Now I have to get everything out and pull up the carpet and put down tile or something. The up side to this is I'm going to get rid of some crap that I don't need and I set up MY drumset over at Joe's. I've been playing his kit and I much prefer my own. Mine kicks ass, even. The work around the house is starting to pile up and the garagemobile still needs a laundry list of things done to it. Today a co-worker (at the old job, I'm still there for another week) showed me his house that he will be putting up for sale. It too kicks much ass. If I made a realistic list of all the things I wanted in a piece of property, this place pretty much has em all. I wont go getting anyones hopes up about it (except the wife, she's easily excited) but it's closer to work. I have no idea if I can afford it and I'm sure the Surly compound is gonna need a new deck and a fence this summer to make it saleable. My Dad told me "you don't need any damn new motorcycle, you need to save your money so you can move closer to work". I hate it when he's right. If I was to buy a new place now, there's no way I could afford another bike. Crap. I guess I'll be thinking about all that as I'm spending my weekend with the soggy carpeting. Happy St. Patties day enjoy the picture of Irish McCalla

I want a new bike

When I bought the Honda the choice was made based on price, reliability, ability to ride two-up, and be somewhat sporty on the weekends. Somewhat sporty is a fucking stretch with a stock 550 Honda but you get the idea. The poor thing needs some TLC and I do like her. I don't love this bike, however. It's practical and you can still get parts blah, blah, blah. She needs a paint job and the top end has to come apart again to fix a neglected cam chain issue. The carbs could use a good synching. I'll get to all this in good time but in the mean time, I'd like to just go for a ride. I'm a firm believer in multiple motorcycles. You have a new bike that you can just push the button and go and then the moldy oldy with all the character and oil leaks in the corner. I currently own three bikes; the 550 Honda, the Sprint, and an XR70. Smidsy left a comment about the Puta de Oro down there about how that does nothing for him. I get that, but I tend to enjoy motorcycles within their particular context. By this I mean, the gold chopper is a neat looking bike that would be fun to blast around town on and air out the armpits. A bar-hopper if you will. I don't do much bar hopping these days, but I digress. I would certainly not have that as my only bike. I'd like something that will go, stop, turn, and not pound my kidneys to mush. Smidsy's comment got me thinking about what scoot I'd actually drop some hard-earned cash on if I was to do so. Awhile back, after being at the new bike show I mentioned what I would buy if I had a bushel basket full of c-notes. Like all 30 something working stiffs, I do not have a huge pile of cash laying around. My point here is cost would be a big factor in buying a new bike. I decided to take a look around at the options available from the big four. They all have something in the 600cc-ish range for a bit more than a thousand bucks per 100cc. Sort of the modern equivalent of my POS Honda. Honda has the 599 which looks just like the 919, and it comes in a stunning array of one color. Grey. (Yes, I spell grey with an E. If you don't like it write your own damn blog). Kawasaki has the new critically acclaimed 650 Ninja. It's a 650 parallel twin with the ugliest damn splash of red on the frame and fork legs. I've seen the bikes up close and if I bought one of these I'd have to paint the frame and polish the fork legs before it ever made it out of the garage. Sort of reminds me of the BSA's with the grey frame that the dealers would paint black so they could actually sell them. The sportiest of the four is the FZ6 from Yamaha. I like this one a lot. It has nice looks, reasonably priced and if it's anything like it's big brothers I'll bet it goes like stink. Going like stink notwithstanding, it's not really one of my purchase criteria (but it helps). Rounding out the four is Suzuki with the SV650. They have a SV650S which is a little sportier and looks a lot like the Yamaha. Call me old-fashioned but I'll save the 500 bucks and go with the round headlight and taller bars, thank you. This one also comes in a beautiful, wait did I say beautiful? Its a horrendous teal green color. It looks like the color of your moms bedazzled sweatshirt. Imagine this bike wearing high-waisted, acid-washed, elastic waistband jeans. With pleats. Don't get me wrong, I actually like this bike a lot and the color is really not that bad. Ok, it's that bad. It also comes in red. The Suzuki is a V-twin and I would imagine it's not unlike Lucky's VX800 with a different style and a little smaller. BMW has a 650 single for a little more money but I don't think I could own it knowing that I could not have the R1200S. I came up with these bikes by doing a cursory search and chose the models based on price and looks. I have not ridden any of these, but the more I think about it the more I really want a new bike. Which one would I buy, you might ask? The Suzuki. I think mainly because of the price ($5,949 MSRP) and it kind of resembles by old SRX6 if you go with the round headlight. I'd guess the Yam would be a close second and then Honda. That red Testors model paint that they spilled on the forks just looks too bad to consider buying the Kawasaki. Talking the wife into the purchase of a new bike might be a tough one. If I sold both my Hondas I could make a pretty good dent in the purchase price of the 'Zuk and I'd still have the Sprint to tinker with.
One interesting aside, blogger's spellcheck prompts you to replace Kawasaki with sausage.

The Potato Man and Me

I love this picture

Take a walk in my head

I'm sitting here watching Beretta, he's dressup in a white leisure suit with a big wide brimmed hat.
An ascot like multi-colored scarf around his neck. He's got a huge, brown, patchwork, leather shoulder bag and a big ass white French poodle. He's posing as a gay coke-head to bust a dealer who appears gay as well for some reason. They engage in some feminine street slang and he (Beretta as gay dog walker) offers the dealer $20.00. The dealer who's wearing a smart salmon colored ensamble complete with knit hat produces a baggie full of blow. Beretta says "I'm the heat, kid". When the dealer starts to run Beretta wrestles him to the ground. Imagine Robert Blake dressed as a gay dog walking coke head riding around on this gold and white hard tail with the luchador mask for a seat.
What the fuck? Bike's clean, no?

Secrets revealed

I wrote this a while back and I was torn about whether or not to post it. Seeing as how I like to read frequent posts on blogs that I enjoy, I'll post it. Some of this is redundant information from the last post. The big secret is I got a new job. I interviewed at this place for two different jobs and they liked me for the first one, but they hired a guy with way more experience. I went back and interviewed for the other job and they called me back in. Friday morning I put in my two-weeks notice. The new gig is a machine shop (duh) and I've wanted to work there since high school. I'll be back running machines again. I've taken the physical and peed in the cup and all that. It's a done deal. And now, on with the show......

Phase one of “My Evil Plan”-Back to the Future
As responsible adults, we need to be cautious of what we say. Certain things should not be said out of context, in the wrong situation, or arguably to specific people. You don’t tell your Grandma to do something about the flappy skin below her arms. You don’t discuss the new Carcass album at the funeral of a car-crash victim, and you don’t talk about the new job you are trying to get on your blog that your boss is aware of, but you aren’t quite sure if he reads or not. I’m writing this to be used in a future blog entry because while I’m not a genius, I do know better than posting this where when it may incriminate me.
For the some background on the job, let’s go back a few jobs, shall we? I used to work at a place as a machinist that made silicone rubber medical products. I worked there for eight years, roughly. About year six or so I became surly. About six months later, I became Surly. I know you’re not supposed to give yourself a nickname but everyone was calling me “that fucking asshole in the shop” and that just won’t fit on a name patch. I needed to move on. After another year or so went by, a job opening sort of fell into my lap. I interviewed for the job and they offered it to me. I declined. The job is in the steel industry and the steel business can be rough. Having been down that road before, I had previously sworn “never again”. They asked me to come back in. We talked about it and they persuaded me to take the job as a draftsman (engineering tech). This turned out to be a good thing, as I probably would have gotten fired from the other gig anyway (I really was surly). Three years later, I still work there. Not a bad gig but it was never where I saw myself working for the rest of my days as an employee. I’ve been keeping my ear to the ground for interesting things and lo and behold a new opportunity has arisen. I interviewed twice, and they offered it to me contingent upon blah, blah…you get the picture. I will be a machinist again. I think this warrants another post altogether.
This brings me around to “My Evil Plan”. My Evil Plan is not evil at all. It just sounds cooler than “the things I need to do to get my adult life in shape and improve the quality of life for my family”, so “My Evil Plan” it is. The plan is not some brilliant masterwork devised over countless ruminations in some dark study or library. The plan is this: 1) My job is a job, not a career. Fix that. 2) My house is the size of a Ford Excursion, while that is too big for a vehicle it sucks for two adults and a toddler. Fix that. 3) If I move out of the little house, how far will I be from work and where will Potato Man go to school? See numbers one and two. This is the over-simplified version and there are many things that go along with all that. Phase one is in the works.

More on the gas leak

The people who know me know that when I'm happy I get goofy as hell. So much so, that I might randomly post a picture of the Thin White Duke and the lyrics to Moonage Daydream. I make no apologies for this. I was in a good mood yesterday and I still am. This has much to do with my secret. I've been on an emotional roller coaster the last few weeks and I'm enjoying one of the peaks. If you come here strictly for motorcycle content I will do my best to indulge you but man does not live on bikes alone. By the by, if any of you happen to be readers of My Crazy Uncle I hipped him to the fact that he wasn't letting the comments show and he's got it fixed. He wasn't ignoring ya'll-don't forget I'm the Surly one. This brings me to an interesting tie in. I realize that you aren't supposed to give yourself a nickname but I named myself Surly. I was working in a job a few years ago and I got to the point where I was dis-fucking-gruntled. My loathing for the company turned into self-loathing and I just became a general prick. In hindsight the comany was never really that bad, I just let the stupid things that all jobs contain get to me. That's a hard thing not to do for anyone. With the exception of a few hubris hobbyists over there, the people that work there are quite nice and are just trying to earn a living. While I was there I was wanting uniforms to wear (I'm a machinist) and the company would not spring for them. I decided just to order my own damn clothes. While I was on the phone with the uniform folks they asked about getting a name embroidered on the shirts. That little light bulb went on and I had em' put Surly on a week's worth of shirts. Since then I've tried not to be the crab-ass of my past and the Surly name helps put things in perspective. Of course people who know me know that the truth is a little closer to squirrely than Surly. Enjoy some other internet surlyness.
http://www.goats.com/store/item/tshirt_surly-1.html
http://www.surlybikes.com/ I've got one of these, of course.
http://www.surlybrewing.com/index.php
http://dictionary.reference.com/wordoftheday/archive/2001/12/02.html
http://www.surlygirlstudios.com/
http://surlysomethin.blogspot.com/
http://www.surlygirlsaloon.com/ This place looks cool. Eat. Drink. Rock. Raise Hell.

I think there's a gas leak in the office.

Todays coolest picture ever. Cooler than Ziggy Stardust. Of course this was eight years earlier. Don't fake it baby, lay the real thing on me.

I'm an alligator

I'm a mama-papa coming for you
I'm the space invader, I'll be a rock 'n' rollin' bitch for you
Keep your mouth shut, you're squawking like a pink monkey bird
And I'm busting up my brains for the words

Keep your 'lectric eye on me babe
Put your ray gun to my head
Press your space face close to mine, love
Freak out in a moonage daydream oh yeah!

Don't fake it baby, lay the real thing on me
The church of man, love, is such a holy place to be
Make me baby, make me know you really care
Make me jump into the air

Keep your 'lectric eye on me babe
Put your ray gun to my head
Press your space face close to mine, love
Freak out in a moonage daydream oh yeah! (repeat x3)
Freak out, far out, in out

Yeah, I know....but it's my blog and I can put up whatever I want.

testing

just a test

I've got a secret

Due to the nature of secrets if I blab it to you, my dear readers, it will no longer be a secret. Until the veil of secrecy can be lifted I will blog about some other crap. Don't worry, it won't be long now. Not much going on on the motorcyle front. As usual, I've been dividing my time equally between very busy and very lazy. We have sort of put the band back together so I've got that going for me. There are four of us and we all have different musical tastes. We've been playing together for about 5 years or so in this configuration. It's really an odd deal because all of us would probably do something totally different given the opportunity. The whole point is just to get together and play. We suck, but we have fun sucking and we have no aspirations to ever get out of Joe's garage (basement, actually). Before this spins totally out of control into another post just for the sake of posting I'll make some attempt at a point. I dig playing the drums and I dig really good drummers. People talk about who the best drummer is or was and most real musicians know that's crap. You can't say that Neil Peart is the best drummer ever. Well, you can say it but it's like saying Babe Ruth was the best baseball player. Yes, he was great but one only in the specific context of the Bambino's era and could he catch? What kind of curve ball did he have? He could smack the hell out of the ball but Carlton Fisk would kick his ass behind home plate. Smelling what I'm stepping in here? So as far as drummers go I've got a few idols.
Ginger Baker was the drummer for Cream as well as many other bands that no one has ever heard of. Starting out as a jazz guy Ginger Baker was a fan of Baby Dodds and Max Roach.
Max Roach is the man. If you put a gun to my head and made me pick the best of all time, I'd pick Max. He was every bit as technically proficient as that show-off Buddy Rich and didn't have to show off. Besides, Buddy was a dick.
John Henry Bonham-another rock guy who had jazz in his blood. Bonham and Jones were Led Zeppelin. Apparently there was a singer and guitar player in that band as well.
Phil Collins-before he was a crappy singer doing soundtracks for Disney, Phil could play the shit out of some drums.
Shelley Manne-this guy's brush playing could make you cry. I've never heard anyone with a brush technique like Shelley.
Jean-Paul Gaster-the drummer from Clutch. Channeling Bonham without copying him. Fresh, original and rib-crushing. I love this guy.
Herb- while my musical tastes have veered away from the super technical Yngvie kind of drumming, I'll always dig Tim Alexander. Seen Primus 4 times.
There are alot more but these are my faves. There are flashy players and there are guys like Phil Rudd from AC/DC who are just laying it down. Nothing wrong with that. Oh, I almost forgot to mention Steve White. I'm a big Paul Weller fan and if I could say my drumming style is similar to anyone elses it would be Whitey.
Rock on.

Cambo compendium shade for sale

Vermeer would be proud.

Knobs in nice shape, tabs all intact.

Collapsed

Bellows up close, dirty but sound. I'll clean it before I ship it.