Heaven: Day #2 Telemark Trash

Why did the Garmin have to take a dump on an epic? Only to spite.

And Ojibwa hell. Sooooooo many downed trees...

Heaven: Day #1

Deep Thoughts for this week....

1. My dog likes to pee everywhere outdoors. Humans do the same...only they do it indoors, on each other.
2. If daytime television represents the intellect of this country, we are f*cked. OH, MAN, ARE WE FUCKED!

El Sucko

Purpose.

Damn...I just love my second home. I love sitting on my dock, having a beer while my buddy chases his duck, snake, frog, fox, and skunk friends through the water and grass. The serenity of fly fishing the Namekagon is my cathedral, my church. Only a few people that REALLY know me, realizes that this part of Wisconsin defines me. It is my family. It is my home.

But this place also brings out the sadistic side of me. Musky fishing in the 30-40 degree with rain and snow. Making continuous $20 contributions to questionable and immoral charities. All three cantinas of Dante's Divine Comedy on display.

But it also means so, so much more. It is my second birthplace...it is why I bike. Gary says I get to come back for Round #4. No begging this time, but a inconspicuous, well-place bribe might have done the trick.

Now starts 6 months of the torture, the transformation, the trip fantastic. The building of a monster and a chariot. And rage. Unadulterated and unapologetic rage.

But more importantly....a purpose.

Where did I put those Happy Pills?

Winter (otherwise know as the biking off-season) does not serve me well. I causes me to think too much about the things that I hate and bother me. If you are one of the four people on this planet that read my blog, you see a pattern in my posting dates and topics. So the clinical diagnosis is in...I am a unprincipled narcissistic introvert.

But all that changes on 03/06/2010, because remember......it's all about the bike.

The bike is my psychotropic happy pill, my Single-Barrel JD...my orgasm. It makes me forget about all of the horrible shit that happens in this world. I need nothing else, nor do I want anything else. I will never forget what Dr. Mark once told me: Biking gives a Zen-like feeling. I might argue a Tao-like fuzzy, but the Szy is a PhD.

So, tommorrow, I am morphing into the just an introvert...a happy introvert on a bike. See ya down the road.

The Decade from my Second Level of Hell

I was going to write a 2009 wrap-up of my cycling exploits (or lack thereof). But I decided that after taking a reliable test I randomly found on the Internet that has determined my eternal fate, I am going to fill the cyber world with a multi-part diatribe of the last decade.

2000: Nothing starts a new decade like having a rummage sale. If I was a better shopper and did my research in the 1990's, I would not have bought half of the stuff I thought I needed. But this was a rummage sale that needed to occur whether I liked it or not. It really sucked to see the old crap go to another buyer (or multiple buyers based on who you talked to). So when a hired antiques appraiser tells you that what was in your possession was garbage all along, you do not feel bad that it is in someone else's garage. I still laugh today that I got the better part of the deal. I will be laughing harder in 2010.

2001: At sometime in all of our lives, you hit a patch of ice. But I was speeding on bald tires when I hit that ice. No. Not, never again.

2002-2004: Professional acceleration. Going very fast and not giving a shit about the speedometer. Get out of my way or road pizza. Even a motor with two wheels is procured for the need for speed. Kick. Ass.

2005: Ummm...was someone going to tell me about the gas gage? No problem. I will start walking to the nearest gas station and someone will pick me up along the way. HEY!!! Where is everybody?

2006: On that long walk to the gas station, finally a ride---in a LIMO! Treated like a rock star, with a free lunch. Hitting the gas pedal but always looking at the gas gage. And a GPS for the nearest gas station...

2007: Remodeling/Reconstruction is in order. The exterior is beyond repair, so the effort is concentrated on the interior. It is amazing what some gas, a knife, a saw and 4,5a-Epoxy-3-methoxy-17-methylmorphinan-6-one can do for oneself. But when the doc threatens (3R,5R)-7-[2-(4-fluorophenyl)-
3-phenyl-4-(phenylcarbamoyl)-5-(propan-2-yl)- 1H-pyrrol-1-yl]-3,5-dihydroxyheptanoic acid, it is time to remove the daily ingestion of 3-[(2S)-1-methylpyrrolidin-2-yl]pyridine.

2008: Sorry to steal this, Lance. But it is all about the bike.

2009: Loss. On too many fronts. My Nona left after a wonderful 97. Paul after 83. Pat after 44 hurt the most--on a bike. From loss comes enlightenment on how life should be lived. As my buddy Doug says: "Don't eat the stem of the mushroom and see a few colors, eat the WHOLE bag and see GOD!". Since Mother would have something to say if I ingested psilocybin, I will just say that 2009 sucked.


The Future: My antiques appraiser says that schadenfreude will provide early returns sometime in 2010. Remember, I'm going to Hell anyways....

AND it's all about the bike.

Happy Holidays.