doodledee

Check it! Isn't she awesome and silver and stuff? Totally she is. I think I'm naming her Katie, though I'm giving a few weeks before I settle on anything. She's a Yamaha 650 Special from the year 1981. Mtv was still showing videos then. And Yamaha was working with Triumph engineers to refine their frames and look how great they did. I know!

I bought her off craigslist. Duh. The dude who sold her to me lives in Forest Lake. I went up there last Friday after work to see it and give it a test drive and act like I knew what I was talking about. It was a long ass drive. Also: 35W is torn up. So yeah, like 90 minutes. But it was worth it. The dude lived on a hobby farm or something. It was a little spooky driving up his looooong driveway, what with it being out in the country and isolated and I'm alone and then there's the fact that like 1 in 5 craigslist sales ends up with someone dead, right? So yeah, I had Huna on the cellphone as I pulled in, just in case. But the guy comes out and he seems harmless enough in his golf shirt and jeans, so I exhaled and hung up and shook hands and crossed my fingers that the bike looked as good in person as it did in the one blurry picture he posted with his ad. We walked out to one of his barns and he throws open the door and there are like 5 motorcycles in there. One completely torn down. I'm in way over my head. He's one of Those Guys.

"So, it runs?" I say, exhausting my list of questions.

"Yep," he says.

"Mind if I start it?"

"Nope."

And he shows me the choke and it idles a little fast with the choke on - naturally - and I push the choke back in after like 10 seconds and the engine dies and suddenly the guy is all "Oh, come on now, don't embarrass me in front of the buyer!" And I pull the choke out and start it again and it's raging along and the guy says "She's a little cold blooded." And he's saying it in a way that makes it seem like he's making excuses. Here's the part where on the outside I'm giving it my "Huh" face but on the inside I'm jumping up and down screaming "She has a personality!!"

I take it out for a little spin and it's right on. I banter some more about oil changes and rust in the gas tank and the carbs and stuff. He saw thru me, but he humored me and that was cool. I ask if he can deliver it and he says sure so I just give him what he's asking no bargaining or nothin'. Not really my style, but delivery included? I'm all over that.

I'm gonna take it over to Midwest Cycle to have them look at it. I called and asked the guy about having them give it a quick inspection. He kind of flipped out and said no. From looking over their website it looks like they prefer to work on bikes from 2000 or newer. My neighbor - who drives a 1985 Honda - insists these guys are great, so I still think I'm gonna take it over there. If anyone has other suggestions, I'm all ears. I have the shop manual, but I'm not ready to tackle everything on my own just yet. Eventually? Count on it.

It's been 3 days. A couple of trips around the neighborhood. A few laps around Harriet. Today I drove it the 6 miles to work. A guy could really get used to this.

I didn't make it to Rock The Garden last weekend - I was rocking the ballroom of the downtown Marriott wedding-style instead - but I'm obviously jealous of all y'all who managed to get in. Mostly mostly mostly for the Cloud Cult set, duh, but Bird would have been nice to see, too. (I can live without the NewPo stuff (sorry, Ginny!), and I'm already ticketed-up for the Bon Iver show at First Ave, so yeah, less jealousy there.)

For the most part the reviews were fair to middlin'. Music wise people seemed to like it, but operationally not so much. Need examples? Check out the extra cranky comments over on The Current's Blog Summary of the day. Yikes! Long lines for corporate burritos? Crappy sound? What is this, Bonnaroo 2002? Wah wah wah. Breaking news: these one-off type of events rarely go smoothly and anyone who assumes otherwise is just silly. Now here's the part where we share a laugh over the people saying 4 artists for $35 is crazy expensive and that a ticket price like that should mean everything goes perfectly. They've clearly never waited 5 hours to get out of the parking lot at Alpine Valley after spending $60 to hear Mickey sing 'Fire on the Mountain'. Holla!

Anyway, I waded through the various noise for awhile hoping to find the one thing that had been bugging me about the whole event, but [oddly] nobody mentioned it. Are you ready? Good. How about how it's sponsored by a [local] [public] radio station and it's all about the music and it's a super hot ticket and wtf, why didn't they just simulcast it on the radio? This isn't Star Party, it's a Real Show. Cloud Cult could use the exposure, right? Would they really be against something like this? Bon Iver? Bird? Really? And what about MPR? Something like that gets torrented and instantly you've broadened your audience and your brand and your fanbase. With all due respect, Mr. Kling, this was a no brainer. And it's not like this is some crazy new idea, either. In fact, The Current has done it once before (that I know of), for an Arcade Fire show at First Avenue a few years back. It's great, I listen to it all the time. But honestly, that's the only time I know that they've done it. And it's a shame. Because doesn't this seem like it was a perfect opportunity? Yes it does. Though there are plenty of other shows they should do it for, too. So let's not lose faith. Because we gotta have faith-a-faith-a-faith-AH*.

* - this should not be seen as a request to simulcast the George Michael show at the X. At least I'm pretty sure it shouldn't be.

Check it! The neighbors just got chickens!

They drove all the way to Wisconsin to pick them up at Uncle Whatever's farm. They put them in a box and punched some holes in the box and put the box in the back of their minivan and drove them home. 94 was closed because of flooding so they had to take tons of detours and it took hours and hours longer than it should have and those eggs better be so damn good you have no idea. (My favorite part of this story is how they stopped to get food on the way home and the kids had chicken nuggets. They ate in the car. That's what we in the business like to call "letting them know who's boss".)

The [adorable] 5-some is currently living in a dog kennel in the garage while the finishing touches are put on their new hen house. After that, construction will begin on 5 tiny Volvo station wagons. (To help them feel at home in the neighborhood.) In about 4 months they'll start rocking out eggs. Like one every 26 hours or something. Quick math: 5 eggs a day = 35/week = kick ass omelets for everyone and more. OMG I can't wait.

They let junior "adopt" one of them. He named it Mary. I have no idea which one it is. I lost track like 10 seconds after he named it. I hope that's not going to be a problem.

Great stuff.

Wow. Seriously. The weather, the crowds, the races, it was all absurd. I'm going to inline the pictures. They're all clickablebigger if that's your thing. Let's begin.

We took the back way into Stillwater per the recommendation of a couple of Stillwater colleagues. I thought it would be all sneaky and stuff, but as you're driving east on 36 there's a huge sign that says "Back Way Into Stillwater" or something, so it's not as sneakygenius as I had hoped it would be. Either way it worked mint. Rolled right in, parked, unloaded and walked all of 4 blocks to the heart of the race. We took up positions in the Teddy Bear Park and/or midway up the bonkably awesome Chilkoot Hill. It's a perfect location, especially if you have kids. Highly recommended.

The Women were already rolling when we got there. I climbed part way up the hill and watched the final 6 laps. Here's the nutshell: Kristin Armstrong is what we in the business like to call "much better than everyone else". She rode alone. No team, no chase, no nothing. 77-second margin of victory. She looked casual and calm and so light on the pedals that every time she'd roll by you'd think "huh, this hill must not be as as bad as it looks" and then the peleton would thunder thru and gears would clash and riders would groan and faces would strain and it was clear that this hill was sinister like an Amsterdam park after dark. But Kristin made it look easy. And now she's off to China and she's a favorite to win gold and it was really fun to see her up close.

Break for lunch. PB&J. Nice. Nectarine. Not as good as a peach, but not bad. Kids back to the playing, dad back to the hill. They joined me later for the end of the race.

Here's the start and here come the men, raging up the hill. They start them right at the bottom, so even the guys who sprinted for position are immediately forced to downshift and jump out of the saddle. The next hour or so includes a bunch of breakaways and lead changes and it's got a great pace and intensity. Dudes start bonking after maybe 5 laps. There was a guy in a Grim Reaper costume who would chase them up the hill when they showed weakness. Everyone else would cheer for the rider, but it was usually just a matter of time. You may not fear the Reaper, but he's a remarkably good indication that you're trips up the hill are numbered. This reminds me: lots of people with cowbells on the climb, too. Did I say it was a great scene? I did.

The Healthnet team was on point all day and dictated the pace as they rode in protection of the yellow. They were quite a sight. Fast and disciplined and extremely well managed. A black menace, cranking and growling and barking orders each time they'd start the climb, they owned the pursuit and reeled in pretty much everyone who tried to make a move, including a pair in an early break that worked together to maintain the gap. No luck. Healthnet would just throw their guys in, blow them up, whatever it took.

Then came the last lap.

You can see the gap in the picture above. You can also see the last of Healthnet at the tip, with the yellow right behind. What happened next was ridiculous and enveloping. The fans are screaming, the riders squinting and looking anxious and desperate, searching for the finish line at the top of the hill and at the gap that needed to be closed. Suddenly everyone is in slow motion. Except Rory Sutherland in the yellow, who blew by on the outside. Man among boys. Pefectly executed. Perfectly timed. Genius. But yeah, he came in second. By a length. It was still impressive, though. Rocking everyone's world. Very nice.

Down the hill we go. To return again next year.

Results - Men
Results - Women

About 3 months ago I decided I was going to have a fake mid-life crisis this summer. Tattoos, motorcycles, girls, the whole shootin' match. It's gonna be great. Ok, really it was mostly about a motorcycle. The rest was just a carefully orchestrated distraction designed to draw attention away from the motorcycle. And I'm happy to report that so far it's working beautifully. How beautifully? Let's just say that I spent the last two days turning slow figure-8's in a parking lot in Eden Prairie to earn my motorcycle endorsement and as of now Libby is mostly freaking out about the possibility of a tattoo. Genius!

The endorsement process is a 3 part class. First comes a 4+ hour classroom session. I went last Wednesday. You watch a DVD and break into small groups and hammer thru this giant workbook with like a bajillion questions. It's brutal, especially if you spent the prior two nights cramming for the [written] State of Minnesota motorcycle permit test, which most everyone in the class had done. I'm only 40% joking when I say the highlight of the night was the turkey on rye sandwich I picked up at the Kwik Trip on the way from work to class. Seriously, it wasn't a bad sandwich.

The following Saturday and Sunday were two 5+ hour parking lot training sessions. They provide the bikes, you provide long sleeves, a helmet, eye protection, long pants, and boots that cover your ankles. There were 10 of us in my class and everyone was a complete novice except for 2 guys who had maybe kinda ridden before. I'd say on par we were all very much beginners.

The class goes really slowly at first. We spent an hour putting on our gear, picking out our bikes, getting on the bike, starting the bike, stopping the bike, shifting with the bike off, simulated braking, etc, etc. Literally an hour plus before we rolled more than 3 feet. And it totally flew by, btw. As did both days, really. Highlight of this phase was when one of the ladies in the class put her helmet on backwards. The greatest rookie icebreaker in history. Nobody else had to worry about looking silly after that. So great.

The rest of Day 1 was learning the clutch and picking up your feet and stopping and starting and turning slowly and then cornering and all that beginner stuff. It progressed quickly, but for the most part everyone was keeping up. And the teachers (pictured above) were so great and patient and the sun was out and it was a really good time. The only real issue was that we took so many breaks I somehow managed to chug my entire thermos of coffee in like 2 hours and I was crazy jittery from like 10-noon. Whoops!

It rained overnight, so day 2 started out on wet pavement. Class picked up right where we left off. I picked up by stalling my bike on my first roll-out. Breaking news: still a novice. Eventually we got into swerving and traffic and harder breaking skills and this crazy counter balance figure-8 in a box drill that I actually ended up mastering even though I have no idea when I'll ever run into that situation. Unless I join the Shriners, I suppose. Hey, it could happen.

Eventually you take the 'endorsement test' and - assuming you pass, which everyone did, even the super nice girl who killed her bike like 9 times during the test (!!) - you get your permit stamped and then you're legal to ride at night (won't) and ride on the interstates (won't) and carry a passenger (now accepting applications).

Overall the whole experience was actually a lot better than I expected it to be. Not the classroom part - it was lame and slow and redundant - but the parking lot stuff was really well done. Should that have been a surprise? Probably not, but it was.

Onward to bike shopping. Tally-ho.