Confessions of a Commuter

[CNF2002]

Tuesday
Miles: 9,365
Mood:

Confession #53- I finally changed my oil.

As I was riding up to work today I noticed a kid, must have been around 12, with a TV in the parking lot. Being that this is a private parking lot, I didn't recognize the kid, and it was early in the morning and no one was there but me, this scenario struck me as odd.

I parked and took off my helmet and headed towards him. I thought, maybe he is trying to carry the TV somewhere? But then why would he enter into a closed off parking lot? Then, as I am walking, he picks up the TV as well as his little muscles can muster and slams it into the pavement. Then he grabs the cord and starts dragging it across the lot, leaving broken glass everywhere. A quick survey of the situation reveals glass scattered around the entire lot!

This kid was in the middle of a parking lot, early in the morning, smashing up an old TV. I wonder why he's not in school! I wonder why he's still doing his destructive deed when I'm standing right there! So I start to yell at him. I walk up to him. He's finally stopped, and I ask him just what he thinks he's doing. I fully expect him to start ranting on about his anger that Team Knight Rider is no longer on the air, a fully acceptable reason to take his frustration out on his television, but he doesn't answer. He just stands there with a bratty smirk on his face.

Kids these days!

I half wanted to call the cops, but that would mean I would be late getting my coffee, so I just told him to leave while I secured the area. Busted TV, glass everywhere. What a brat.

Would I have done such a thing when I was a young kid? Well, let's not discuss it.

Well it's official, I finally changed my oil and transmission fluid. It only took 2 months from the day I bought the fluid with an intention to change it out, and the actual act of me changing it out.

It's also official, all transmission oils are better than what you put in the last time around. I had regular oil in it when I bought it. When I switched to synthetic, it shifted smoother. Now I switched back to regular Harley oil, and again its shifting smoother.

Let this be a lesson. Next time someone says that some oil they put in made their car run or shift better, realize its probably not only just in their head, but the very act of changing the fluid improves the vehicle's performance.

For my next change I am just going to put water in it. I may not even bother to filter it. I'm sure it will run just fine.

[CNF2002]

Thursday
Miles: 9,384
Mood:

Confession #54- They called me 'four eyes' in school.

It was a gloomy morning. Not raining, but dark clouds filled the skies. I saw not one accident, but two! Both rear-end collisions. I also saw two motorcycles.

So in summary: gloomy sky, 2 accidents, 2 bikes.

It has been a while since I have seen an accident on my commute. A week, maybe two at least. There's nothing like a good accident to keep you on your toes. Well, as long as you aren't in it. Then I suppose it's not so great. As I passed by these accidents with their crumpled fenders I asked myself Whatever happened to those cars that were supposed to fix themselves?

Did you ever read Popular Mechanics? This magazine is filled with all kinds of new technologies that are supposedly already built but that sadly we will probably never see. There was one issue with a new kind of plastic that actually reformed itself when it was distorted. I don't recall how it works, but if you get in an accident the plastic repairs itself.

I was excited. Now I could drive around smashing into things while my car repaired itself every time. Attach a laser to my right eye and head to bars to assimilate the ladies. I bet no woman could resist a random guy approaching them and saying:

"We will join us, to service us, resistance is futile."

Yes, all of them will come flocking, thanks to my regenerating car.

They called me four-eyes in school. It might have been funny if I wore glasses.

You literally need four eyes on the road. Merging cars with yuppy drivers yapping on their cellphones is usually at least within your periferal vision. But the drivers behind you? That takes a conscious glance into the mirror, all the while taking your eyes momentarily away from what is in front of you. Rear end collisions are probably the most dangerous accidents you can experience on the freeway. Not because they may cause more damage, or injure you, but because there's so much less you can do about it.

Especially in a car. You're stopped, the guy behind you doesn't. SLAM. What can you do? Four-eyes...I wish!

[jeffsen]

What a great blog! I stumbled upon it the day I bought my first bike (2004 Buell Blast). Not only am I not the only one with a Blast, but I'm not the only one using it as a commuter.

Read the entire blog in one sitting. Funny and informative. I will be asking plenty of questions about the Blast.

BTW: the thought of being rear-ended freaks me out.

[CNF2002]

Thursday
Miles: 9,384
Mood:

Confession #55- I like paying $3.00 for a gallon of gas.

I know what you are going to say: Two confessions in one day? This is madness!

Hear me out. I recently read an article about the rapid decline in the price of gasoline. The article interested me so much that I scoured the Internet for more articles regarding the topic. I found many. Many. Many. Just about every local newspaper has a story about cheap gas and the joy-joy feelings that it is bringing.

Polls were taken, interviews were made, opinions were voiced. Everyone likes cheaper gas. Well, everyone except for those who recently bought a Toyota Prius to save money to discover that their tax credit is about to bite the dust.

Many of you have responded to the lowering gas prices by loosening their purse strings and driving, driving, driving. One individual told reporters he had planned an impromptu weekend drive into the country! What a great way to reap the benefits of his new savings.

Want my advice? Stop it!

Don't take advantage of $2.00 a gallon gas. In fact, keep paying $3.00 a gallon. Surely by now you think I've gone mad, but think about this for a minute. We have all seen how quickly gas prices can rise. An earthquake in California can double the price of gas in Kentucky.

So before your 'budget' adjusts to lower prices, and it will, make a committment to pay $3.00 a gallon. Calculate your gas spending of your prior months and subtract it from your next months spending. The number you have left over, sock it into a savings account. Stuff it under your mattress.

You have been warned. You know what will happen next hurricane season, next disaster, next summer driving season, next Christmas bonus time for the CEO of Exxon. It's going to come in the form of higher gas prices.

Me? I'm happy paying $3.00 a gallon. I'll keep paying it. And when gas prices soar again, I won't be one of the unlucky souls pawning their Rolex to get to work.

[CNF2002]

Monday
Miles: 9,409
Mood:

Confession #56- I think Darwin was a total loon.

Here's how I imagine the scene went this morning.

A small group of squirrels, probably around 16 or 17 in squirrel years, were standing around under a tree next to the road eating some acorns. Since no one had said anything for a good 3 minutes, one squirrel points to the road, looks at his buddy and says, "Hey, I dare you to stand out in the middle of the road while you eat that nut."

Well, it was a dare, and the cute squirrel with the big eyelashes on the other side of the road was watching, so what choice did he have? So he mustered up his courage and hopped out into the middle of the road, sat down, and continued eating. His friends pointed, laughed, and they all had a good time.

That's when I came along.

Here I am, riding along to work, and there's a squirrel sitting in the middle of the road eating a nut. At first he's oblivious, but then I catch his eye and he drops his nut. For a moment he's frozen, then suddenly he darts to one side. His friends must have been chanting "chicken! chicken!" because he changed his mind and stood his ground.

I slow a bit, keeping steady, reading to swerve. Something in him clicked because when I got a little too close for comfort, he dashed to one side. Then he dashed back. Then he ran away from me for a moment, then ran back and picked up his acorn, did a somersault cartwheel backflip through the spokes of my tire (at least I assume, since at this point I couldn't see him) and scurried off back to his tree, while I wobbled precariously trying to 1) not kill the squirrel and 2) not crash. Success! I hope his friends were amused.

That said, Darwin was an idiot. No doubt did that squirrel not only impress the cute on across the road, but any female squirrel within eyesight probably threw themselves at him, too. Darwin theorized that any animal will be more likely to survive when it is better suited to its environment than the other animals. Natural selection, he called it.

What a bunch of bull!

The way I see it, the one who is fruitful multiplies is the one who gets the girls. Whether or not he survives after the fact is immaterial. Being 'environmentally fit' may have worked for a bunch of turtles on some island, or humans on a distant prairie in 25,000 b.c., but it doesn't work that way in an urban setting.

Somehow the 'ideal mate' went from a guy who could kill a tiger with his bare hands and roast it over a fire in a cave while protecting his tribe from a T-Rex using only a stick, to a bunch of guys who lay down in the middle of the road and decide to let cars run over them.

The key to being fruitful and multiplying, I have discovered, is stupidity. You know next year I'm going to meet all that squirrel's offspring, and they're all going to be standing in the middle of the road eating nuts.

[roscowgo]

Speaking of nuts, you are one. But horribly funny

heh awesome spin on that one. keep em comin.


*reminds self to ship road dwelling wildlife to CNF's area.

[CNF2002]

Tuesday
Miles: 9,431
Mood:

Confession #57- My stapler is perpendicular to the back edge of my desk.

Little kids are getting on my nerves. At first it was cute, them waving as I rode by on the way to work. But now they are waving, screaming, and hopping up and down like little monkeys. That's not cute. Ghost Rider has the right idea. Carry a long chain with you. Then I can wack the little terrors in the head with it as I ride by. That'll teach them to be so friendly.

Think they are being friendly? I know kids better. Kids aren't friendly. Well, 1 or 2 kids is friendly, 10 kids are not friendly. It's like a little closed ecosystem ripe for study, the topic of choice of course being stupidity in numbers. A person is smart, people are stupid, they always say. Add that to young kids with tummies full of sugar-filled Cheerios (which they then topped with 3 more spoonfuls of sugar - don't lie, you know you did) and the collective IQ that I have to ride by in the morning doesn't add up to 15.

I'm freaking obsessive. I'm airing up my tires this morning and I couldn't get it just right. For some reason I had an irresistible urge to get the pressure exactly to specification. Having a digital tire pressure gauge probably doesn't help. I filled, checked, let a little out, checked. It would never get to exactly 29.0. What idiot thought of making a tire gauge that calculates to a decimal point anyway? It's not practical or necessary and just drives people like me crazy.

Well, that and everything else. My stapler is perpendicular to the back end of my desk. Every supply has a specific position and angle that not only looks organized and tidy, but minimizes total repeated reach-time throughout the day. Most used note pads and phone closest, least used stapler and tape dispenser furthest away. Books all lines up properly with the edge of the shelf. I dread people asking to borrow a phone book; they never line it up correctly when they put it back despite the fact that all the other books are obviously lined up and in descending order by height. One day I walked into my office and discovered the phone book shoved in and half-toppled over into the back of the case by some inconsiderate coworker. So I made a sign with an attached illustration of the proper bookshelf arrangement.

Someone tore down my sign. I found it in the trash. The trash can was also out of alignment with the side of the desk, but I am uncertain if the two incidents are related.

Most laugh at these little quirks. If you are my wife, you will get a thrill out of toppling over my slices of smoked sausage placed upright and in 2 to 3 neat rows along one side outer rim of the dinner plate, or squashing my perfectly shaped ball of rice (hello, do you really think I want it squashed after I just used a ladle to shape it into a half-sphere?).

So laugh. But you know what? I spent 10 minutes perfectly aligning my new fancy bike accessory (a battery operated white-faced analog clock the size of a nickel) on my turn signal box on my handlebar and you know what? The thing alters the freaking space time continuum. So there. The bottom line is; you are just jealous because your clock is crooked.

I need a hug.

[blues2cruise]

[NorthernPete]

food must not touch other food on the plate.....

[t_bonee]

food must not touch other food on the plate.....

My 4 year old son is obsessive-compulsive about this. It drives him "procreating" crazy if his peas mix in with his mac & cheese. If one little peice of corn happens to be in with a bite of mashed potatos the world might as well be ending.

Don't know where he gets it from, both me and his mom are food mixers on our plates.