My boss Rick brought in a magazine with the above mentioned article in it, which prompted me to make my own list. I kept a substantial portion of the magazine list but had to make a few changes. Note: the 25 year limit eliminates the original Star Wars trilogy, and the first Alien movie. I probably won't remember them all off the top of my head, but here's an attempt (not in any particular order)
The Matrix
Firefly/Serenity
Star Trek II - the Wrath of Khan
Star Trek: The Next Generation
Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Aliens
Farscape
Galaxy Quest
The Fifth Element
Starship Troopers
Babylon 5
Starman
Children of Men
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Vintage Japanese Motorcycle Club show
Last Saturday was the VJMC show, and Ross spent the previous two weeks prepping a $20 Honda 450 to ride to the show. He slaved over the thing to get it running and we set off that morning on it's maiden voyage. I rode my 1990 Honda CB-1, which is officially old enough to be vintage (it has to be over 15 years old). From behind Ross I got to enjoy the incredibly loud muffler of the old Honda, and the occasional burning oil smell. We met Bill and Susan at Bill's place. Bill has an old Honda 750 that he had recently got running and had just stripped some nasty aqua paint off of. Susan has a Yamaha SV 650, a thoroughly modern motorcycle.
Together we rode to the Maplewood Suzuki dealer, where the VJMC show was on display.
Bill's bike in the foreground, mine is the bright blue one.
The trophies for the winners.
A nice lineup, including a beautiful blue Honda Dream.
Ross' bike in the foreground!
A lovely older Honda with a lovely younger woman on it.
After the show we decided to go to Bob's Java Hut for a drink. On the way there Susan and I lost Ross and Bill on the highway. Ross ran out of gas, had to pull over on the non-existent shoulder and restart his bike. We all got there eventually and lazed about with iced teas. Bob's is a most excellent place to people-watch. I felt pretty darn good on the motorcycle. I just love that Honda CB-1. It's small and maneuverable and lovely.
Together we rode to the Maplewood Suzuki dealer, where the VJMC show was on display.
Bill's bike in the foreground, mine is the bright blue one.
The trophies for the winners.
A nice lineup, including a beautiful blue Honda Dream.
Ross' bike in the foreground!
A lovely older Honda with a lovely younger woman on it.
After the show we decided to go to Bob's Java Hut for a drink. On the way there Susan and I lost Ross and Bill on the highway. Ross ran out of gas, had to pull over on the non-existent shoulder and restart his bike. We all got there eventually and lazed about with iced teas. Bob's is a most excellent place to people-watch. I felt pretty darn good on the motorcycle. I just love that Honda CB-1. It's small and maneuverable and lovely.
Fascinating movies
Other fascinating movies we've watched recently;
"Donnie Darko". It achieved cult classic status while flying under my radar, and I finally thought to put it on my Blockbuster list and thus end the wait. Wow. I appreciated it even more after Googling it and reading some snippets about the back story (not all of which I absorbed from the film after one watching). I don't want to say too much lest someone want to see it without my opinion clouding their minds... I appreciate how open to interpretation the whole thing is, even though the ending does suggest one truth. In that sense it reminds me of "Pan's Labyrinth", in which to the very end it is not clear whether the true story is in the girl's imagination, or in the harsh and violent "real" world.
"The History Boys". I read a snippet about this in the City Pages, and remembered to pick it up at the video store. My. How literate and theatrical (as it well should be, having begun life as a theater production). Loved it. Beautiful storytelling. Great characters. Great faces. Subtle. Dramatic.
"Children of Men". Wow. Bleak, desperate vision of the future - a near future in which infertility is rampant and the youngest person in the world is 20 years old. Clive Owen blows me away. I haven't seen him enough; he rocks the screen. Michael Caine is marvelous as an old hippie growing and selling his own pot. Funny man. The film made me think about how lucky we are to be living in the world we do... and also how fragile it all is.
"Donnie Darko". It achieved cult classic status while flying under my radar, and I finally thought to put it on my Blockbuster list and thus end the wait. Wow. I appreciated it even more after Googling it and reading some snippets about the back story (not all of which I absorbed from the film after one watching). I don't want to say too much lest someone want to see it without my opinion clouding their minds... I appreciate how open to interpretation the whole thing is, even though the ending does suggest one truth. In that sense it reminds me of "Pan's Labyrinth", in which to the very end it is not clear whether the true story is in the girl's imagination, or in the harsh and violent "real" world.
"The History Boys". I read a snippet about this in the City Pages, and remembered to pick it up at the video store. My. How literate and theatrical (as it well should be, having begun life as a theater production). Loved it. Beautiful storytelling. Great characters. Great faces. Subtle. Dramatic.
"Children of Men". Wow. Bleak, desperate vision of the future - a near future in which infertility is rampant and the youngest person in the world is 20 years old. Clive Owen blows me away. I haven't seen him enough; he rocks the screen. Michael Caine is marvelous as an old hippie growing and selling his own pot. Funny man. The film made me think about how lucky we are to be living in the world we do... and also how fragile it all is.
Climbing on a Wednesday
I'm so behind on posting... a week and a half ago I took Wednesday off work and went to Red Wing with Shawn and Mike. I was really hot to go to Red Wing after a great day there the previous weekend. In short order I warmed up on Two-Tone Zephyr and then led, with no fanfare, Call of the Mild, a 5.11 route that I had yearned to lead for a while. Then led, with one hang, No Whippin Boys. Goals are goin' down!
Shawn led this route that traverses out under a huge overhang... can't remember the name, but it doesn't get climbed much and really needs to be rebolted. I think it's 5.11ish. He led and I followed, pulling on the draws through the crux. Then he led Geriatric Sex Maniacs from Mars and I toproped it. A good day, and I'm itching to have another one like it.
Shawn led this route that traverses out under a huge overhang... can't remember the name, but it doesn't get climbed much and really needs to be rebolted. I think it's 5.11ish. He led and I followed, pulling on the draws through the crux. Then he led Geriatric Sex Maniacs from Mars and I toproped it. A good day, and I'm itching to have another one like it.
Romance for dummies, romance for smarties
I got sucked into signing up for Blockbuster Online, their answer to the "threat" of Netflix, and it has allowed me to finally watch some movies that I've always intended to see... and to be more spontaneous when I go to the video store. We've had some amazing viewings and some bombs as a result.
I picked up "The Holiday" one evening for two reasons - I was weary and wanted some fluffy, mindless entertainment, and I've totally got the hots for Jude Law. There's something magical about the look of polite inquiry he often gives. I don't know, it's hard to define his charm. He smiles well.
Kate Winslet and Cameron Diaz star as two women who meet online in their quest to trade their homes (in L.A. and rural England, respectively) for a vacation. In the process they meet two nice guys (Jack Black and Jude Law) and have romance.
Anyway. The movie was a meaningless fluff of overblown Hollywood pablum... through which bits of genuine sweetness and charm shone. There were setups that made me cringe, ridiculous mood-establishing shots that could have been dropped with absolutely no damage to the plot. But still moments, moments, only moments of real romance and beauty. Dialogue that sounded horrendously in need of editing, and then a glance, a moment of contact. The revelation of Jude Law's life as a widower and single parent after the first impression of him as the drunken younger brother willing to jump into bed on first aquaintance is quite nice, and then the girls playing his daughters were absolutely wonderful.
Kate Winslet is sweet and talented. She does a good job, has no chemistry with Jack Black, but pulls off the role of the Brit rediscovering herself in L.A. I've always found Cameron Diaz appealing, and this role is no exception, but she's kinda over the top and really plays to the Hollywood excesses of the movie. Jude Law helps save her performance; he is disarming and adorable from the start. Jack Black is actually quite fun to watch playing it straight. He could do better as a romantic leading man, but it's so interesting watching him not be Jack Black that I could forgive him his faults.
Then we watched "Before Sunset" which I had read about years ago and never seen, but always kept in the back of my mind. I read about the sequel a few years ago and it reminded me forcibly that I did indeed want to watch them both someday. And now that day finally came, and it was every bit as good as I thought it would be.
Richard Linklater has created something fine and true with these movies, something that touches the truth of what we are and what we want and how we reach out for contact.
"Before Sunset" occurs over a single night, as Jesse, an American travelling in Europe, meets Celine, a French woman on her way to Paris. They connect, get off the train together in... Vienna? and walk around the town for a single night. They share thoughts, drift about town, drifting closer and closer to the possibility that neither speaks of but both have imagined from the start - that they might sleep together on this, their one night together. Their thoughts and expressions tell us so much about them, about their romantic ideals, their dreams, their cynicism. It is almost as wrenching for us as for them when they part, Jesse on his way to catch a flight, promising to meet again six months later.
"Before Sunrise" picks up later, 10 years? Jesse is in Paris on a book tour; Celine sees his picture on a poster and shows up at his talk. I just found myself utterly and completely wrapped up in these movies. They made me think, imagine, dream. Most definitely something more than mindless entertainment.
I picked up "The Holiday" one evening for two reasons - I was weary and wanted some fluffy, mindless entertainment, and I've totally got the hots for Jude Law. There's something magical about the look of polite inquiry he often gives. I don't know, it's hard to define his charm. He smiles well.
Kate Winslet and Cameron Diaz star as two women who meet online in their quest to trade their homes (in L.A. and rural England, respectively) for a vacation. In the process they meet two nice guys (Jack Black and Jude Law) and have romance.
Anyway. The movie was a meaningless fluff of overblown Hollywood pablum... through which bits of genuine sweetness and charm shone. There were setups that made me cringe, ridiculous mood-establishing shots that could have been dropped with absolutely no damage to the plot. But still moments, moments, only moments of real romance and beauty. Dialogue that sounded horrendously in need of editing, and then a glance, a moment of contact. The revelation of Jude Law's life as a widower and single parent after the first impression of him as the drunken younger brother willing to jump into bed on first aquaintance is quite nice, and then the girls playing his daughters were absolutely wonderful.
Kate Winslet is sweet and talented. She does a good job, has no chemistry with Jack Black, but pulls off the role of the Brit rediscovering herself in L.A. I've always found Cameron Diaz appealing, and this role is no exception, but she's kinda over the top and really plays to the Hollywood excesses of the movie. Jude Law helps save her performance; he is disarming and adorable from the start. Jack Black is actually quite fun to watch playing it straight. He could do better as a romantic leading man, but it's so interesting watching him not be Jack Black that I could forgive him his faults.
Then we watched "Before Sunset" which I had read about years ago and never seen, but always kept in the back of my mind. I read about the sequel a few years ago and it reminded me forcibly that I did indeed want to watch them both someday. And now that day finally came, and it was every bit as good as I thought it would be.
Richard Linklater has created something fine and true with these movies, something that touches the truth of what we are and what we want and how we reach out for contact.
"Before Sunset" occurs over a single night, as Jesse, an American travelling in Europe, meets Celine, a French woman on her way to Paris. They connect, get off the train together in... Vienna? and walk around the town for a single night. They share thoughts, drift about town, drifting closer and closer to the possibility that neither speaks of but both have imagined from the start - that they might sleep together on this, their one night together. Their thoughts and expressions tell us so much about them, about their romantic ideals, their dreams, their cynicism. It is almost as wrenching for us as for them when they part, Jesse on his way to catch a flight, promising to meet again six months later.
"Before Sunrise" picks up later, 10 years? Jesse is in Paris on a book tour; Celine sees his picture on a poster and shows up at his talk. I just found myself utterly and completely wrapped up in these movies. They made me think, imagine, dream. Most definitely something more than mindless entertainment.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
First day at Red Wing
Sunday I woke stiff and sore from the run on Sat. Ross and I met Micah, Jen, Everett and Brenda for breakfast at the Zumbro Cafe. Love the Zumbro. Love the company. Love the food; I was very hungry, and had eggs benedict plus much of an order of pancakes.
Then I met Katie and Kimson at Shawn's house shortly before noon, and the four of us drove down to Red Wing. The climbing at Red Wing is on once-quarried limestone cliffs at Barn Bluff, at the southern end of the city. When we pulled up to the parking area I was appalled at the number of cars there - obviously LOADS of people were climbing. We had to search for unoccupied routes to start on. And then we were joined by Adrien, a woman Katie had climbed with at the gym, so we broke into the female group of me, Katie and Adrien, and the male group of Shawn and Kimson. Us women climbed Pleasant Summer Absence, a shockingly easy 5.10, and then Vertical Vice, the hardest 5.8 in the world. It has been climbed so much that the once-useful small edges are all rounded and polished (a disadvantage of the rock at Red Wing) so I usually work my way up to the left of the bolts. I was the designated leader for the women, and felt pretty good in that role aside from some trepidation on Vertical Vice. There's a challenging move on the upper part of the route, but then the killer for the leader is the delicate traverse above the difficult move which also ends up being well above the last bolt.
So we went on from there, climbing several routes. Around 5 o'clock the crowds really thinned out and we discovered the beauty of starting late; we had the place to ourselves and the late afternoon sun coming around the bluff made everything glow.
Shawn led Prairie Fire, which is something of my nemesis, since there's one hard move I had not been able to do, and it's an intimidating lead. I toproped it and managed to do the hard move! The same anchors can be used to climb No Whippin Boys, which is a stellar finger crack - one of the rare routes at Red Wing which take trad gear (i.e. nuts and cams for protection, rather than bolts). I tried to lead it last summer and ended up leading it in the worst possible style, pulling on gear all the way and hanging repeatedly on the rope. I didn't have gear to lead it with on Sunday, but I did climb it smoothly and in control. The lead is in my future!
Me on my new Mammut 10.2 mm rope. It feels really good in the hand while belaying. It does pay to get a quality rope.
Katie belaying Adrien. Apologies for the sideways picture.
Kimson belaying Shawn.
Katie climbing Vertical Vice.
Then I met Katie and Kimson at Shawn's house shortly before noon, and the four of us drove down to Red Wing. The climbing at Red Wing is on once-quarried limestone cliffs at Barn Bluff, at the southern end of the city. When we pulled up to the parking area I was appalled at the number of cars there - obviously LOADS of people were climbing. We had to search for unoccupied routes to start on. And then we were joined by Adrien, a woman Katie had climbed with at the gym, so we broke into the female group of me, Katie and Adrien, and the male group of Shawn and Kimson. Us women climbed Pleasant Summer Absence, a shockingly easy 5.10, and then Vertical Vice, the hardest 5.8 in the world. It has been climbed so much that the once-useful small edges are all rounded and polished (a disadvantage of the rock at Red Wing) so I usually work my way up to the left of the bolts. I was the designated leader for the women, and felt pretty good in that role aside from some trepidation on Vertical Vice. There's a challenging move on the upper part of the route, but then the killer for the leader is the delicate traverse above the difficult move which also ends up being well above the last bolt.
So we went on from there, climbing several routes. Around 5 o'clock the crowds really thinned out and we discovered the beauty of starting late; we had the place to ourselves and the late afternoon sun coming around the bluff made everything glow.
Shawn led Prairie Fire, which is something of my nemesis, since there's one hard move I had not been able to do, and it's an intimidating lead. I toproped it and managed to do the hard move! The same anchors can be used to climb No Whippin Boys, which is a stellar finger crack - one of the rare routes at Red Wing which take trad gear (i.e. nuts and cams for protection, rather than bolts). I tried to lead it last summer and ended up leading it in the worst possible style, pulling on gear all the way and hanging repeatedly on the rope. I didn't have gear to lead it with on Sunday, but I did climb it smoothly and in control. The lead is in my future!
Me on my new Mammut 10.2 mm rope. It feels really good in the hand while belaying. It does pay to get a quality rope.
Katie belaying Adrien. Apologies for the sideways picture.
Kimson belaying Shawn.
Katie climbing Vertical Vice.
Get In Gear!
I ran the 30th annual Get In Gear race this Saturday with my cousin Sara. It was a far cry from last year's race, with steady and increasing rain, and a temperature in the 50s. I couldn't have asked for a better day - a hint of chill that turned into just the perfect baking heat (for my tastes) with morning sun.
It's a huge event, and even bigger this year because of the 30th year. It's like running in a giant river of runners, but the course is utterly beautiful and Sara and I had just the best time. I know I did, anyway. We talked of many things. It felt great to me until about mile four or five, when my legs and hips started complaining, but when I said, "I'm feeling pain," Sara said, "We're almost done!" and that carried me through the end.
Through silent mutual agreement we sped up across the Ford Bridge, passing people left and right, and kept that pace through the last winding, tree-lined avenue toward the finish line. I had a tiny bit of energy left for a last minute sprint to the finish line, and then when I dropped to a walk I swayed on suddenly weak knees. But we grinned in triumph; we had pulled it off.
Then off to an Indian buffet with Sara, Chris and the boys (Ross had to work) and home to the most delightfully lazy afternoon. Ross and I were invited over to Andy and Betsy's for dinner, so I didn't even have to cook.
It's a huge event, and even bigger this year because of the 30th year. It's like running in a giant river of runners, but the course is utterly beautiful and Sara and I had just the best time. I know I did, anyway. We talked of many things. It felt great to me until about mile four or five, when my legs and hips started complaining, but when I said, "I'm feeling pain," Sara said, "We're almost done!" and that carried me through the end.
Through silent mutual agreement we sped up across the Ford Bridge, passing people left and right, and kept that pace through the last winding, tree-lined avenue toward the finish line. I had a tiny bit of energy left for a last minute sprint to the finish line, and then when I dropped to a walk I swayed on suddenly weak knees. But we grinned in triumph; we had pulled it off.
Then off to an Indian buffet with Sara, Chris and the boys (Ross had to work) and home to the most delightfully lazy afternoon. Ross and I were invited over to Andy and Betsy's for dinner, so I didn't even have to cook.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Gym climbing
Climbed in the gym with Shawn last Sunday. We've got a 5.11 lead route that we've been working on. It's so rewarding to work on projects in the gym because the improvements are so easy to see. This route begins with about 15-20 feet of technical, balancy climbing, and then a dynamic move off of two, smallish crimpy handholds to a bucket. At this point the wall begins to overhang and the sequence to the next clip is challenging. Actually the next three clips are challenging, but I learned that I could indeed do them. Physically and mentally, I learned.
The grand rounds
Ross got an assignment. A secret assignment. He got to write an article for Motorcycle Classics, and because of time and weather pressures he ended up riding the Grand Rounds in the Twin Cities on his Honda CB400f. I followed in the car and took pictures. It's something that I've dreamed of doing on bicycles, but it was actually really great via motorized vehicle. We went through some parts of the cities that I've never been to, which was really a treat. Any one of these cities is certainly big enough that I haven't seen all of it.
Things grow
I don't know why I even posted this picture, cos that was two weeks ago and things are getting huge and green now! We've got tulips with a hint of red beginning to show. Tulips make me so happy. Spring air makes me so happy. I revel in the glossiness and vigor of tulips. I love their gaudy show of color. I delight in their display.A spontaneous haiku.
Tulips are flashy
Some red, some yellow, some pink.
They're askin' for it.
Climate blogging
http://tamino.wordpress.com/
A cool blog I stumbled across today.
Admittedly, I tend to look at the pro-global warming blogs and sites rather than the (in my opinion) wacky nutjob "global warming isn't happening" sites, but the blogs I've looked at seem to belong to intelligent, thoughtful people who really care about science and believe in what they're doing.
A cool blog I stumbled across today.
Admittedly, I tend to look at the pro-global warming blogs and sites rather than the (in my opinion) wacky nutjob "global warming isn't happening" sites, but the blogs I've looked at seem to belong to intelligent, thoughtful people who really care about science and believe in what they're doing.
Motorcycle
I bought Randy's Ducati Monster a couple of months ago. I should post a picture, but I haven't taken one yet. Why, you may ask, do I own three motorcycles when I can only ride one of them at a time? I don't know. Why does Ross own... four cars? And probably ten motorcycles?
But I digress. I've always loved the way the Monster looks; I don't remember who designed it off the top of my head, but I know it was designed by some hotshot Italian designer and it looks it. It's muscular and timeless, a work of art in steel and aluminum, and very masculine. It's also very real-world; it does not force the rider into a contorted, feet-up, hands-down position like a racer-boy. It has a relatively low seat. A civilized ride. Randy bought this one last summer (flat black paint, 750cc) and rode it all year. Ross kept joking with him that it would someday be mine.
But I yielded to temptation and whim early last summer and bought a '99 Honda VFR 800. Ross had found it on Craig's list. He and Everett and I were looking at the listing and admiring it. Ross said, "I should buy this." Everett said, "No, I should buy it." I said, "I should buy it." Ross said, "Yes, you should."
Dear reader, I did buy it. It was a great deal, and I had been wondering if a full-fairing bike would increase my highway confidence. It did, although I still had a world of confidence-building to do. The VFR felt great, stable, and powerful while cruising down highway 100. It felt great, stable and powerful while riding to work.
Then came the day when Ross and I decided to ride up to Viper Motorsports (where Everett works) for their grand opening. It's an hour's drive north of the cities, all on the interstate. And so I discovered that riding for an hour at 70 mph, surrounded by traffic, is absolutely terrifying to me, at least in my relatively neophyte-motorcycle rider status. It's not that I was unable to make all the decisions and actions required of me. It's more the fear of the unknown, the fear of the speed and the lack of confidence in my responses. I never lost control, but I was terrified of what would happen if I did. And the thing is, if I had years of riding under my belt I would have that much more belief in my control and ability. I don't have that yet, and I want to acquire it in a less terrifying mode, in smaller doses.
On top of that scariness, once we got to Viper Everett helped me change the tires on the VFR (I had just bought new ones to replace the worn out ones it came with) so I had to ride home with new, still slippery tires and in the rain, no less! But the ride home was actually far easier. That amount of riding had given me a modicum of comfort-level.
One more VFR part of the story; I rode it to work last fall one day. I left home and pulled up to the stopsign and decided to practice coming to a complete stop rather than a rolling stop. First stopsign, right turn. Second stopsign. Right turn, but there was a manhole cover I decided to avoid by turning more sharply. I gave it gas and let out the clutch, and... I killed the motor. Not enough gas. It lurched forward, already turning, and started tipping. It was too far, I couldn't hold it... it went down, right on the corner, taking me with it. I was fine.
With help I got it up, rode to work, rode home. The only damage was a broken mirror stalk and a few scratches.
So when Ross told me Randy wanted to sell his Monster and would give me a good deal, I jumped. I could sell the VFR in the spring and enjoy the Monster. Those VFR experiences had made me doubt whether it was the bike for me. But the Monster now, there was a handsome bike of manageable proportions, with a tourquey two-cylinder engine, great for cruising around town.
Last week I got the Monster out for a first ride. It needed some fresh gas so I thought I'd just ride to the gas station and back, and then maybe go further. I started it, though the engine showed an alarming tendency to not want to idle, either running too high with the choke, or just dieing with the choke off. I kicked it into gear and rolled down the driveway, feeling very cautious. Through the stopsign and down the street, into second gear and suddenly I felt like I was moving very fast and it wanted to MOVE! I made the right turn, and then the left, and rolled into the gas station with extreme care. After putting a couple of gallons in I slipped the clutch like mad to circle the pumps and head back home. Riding it was terrifying, like holding a massive bull with a piece of yarn. I worked the clutch, fearing that if I let it out too fast the thing would leap away with me and careen across the street.
I got home and started up the driveway, and the thing killed. So there I stood, feet on the ground, one hand on the clutch, one on the brake. I knew I couldn't push it up the driveway; I'd have to start it again and simultaneously let out the clutch, the brake, and give it gas. No way. I let it roll back down to the bottom, started up and cruised up to the garage. Then I got off, went in the house, took off my gear, and cried on Toad's shoulder.
In my defense I was having an emotionally bad day. Work was getting me down. I should have ridden a smaller, friendlier bike for my first ride of the season. But, heck, this was supposed to be my dream bike, and it scared the crap out of me! Ross told me once that he could see the appeal of climbing, but the process of working through the negative fear was too much of a burden for him to make climbing worthwhile. Sometimes I feel that way about motorcycling.
But there are other days. Better days.
But I digress. I've always loved the way the Monster looks; I don't remember who designed it off the top of my head, but I know it was designed by some hotshot Italian designer and it looks it. It's muscular and timeless, a work of art in steel and aluminum, and very masculine. It's also very real-world; it does not force the rider into a contorted, feet-up, hands-down position like a racer-boy. It has a relatively low seat. A civilized ride. Randy bought this one last summer (flat black paint, 750cc) and rode it all year. Ross kept joking with him that it would someday be mine.
But I yielded to temptation and whim early last summer and bought a '99 Honda VFR 800. Ross had found it on Craig's list. He and Everett and I were looking at the listing and admiring it. Ross said, "I should buy this." Everett said, "No, I should buy it." I said, "I should buy it." Ross said, "Yes, you should."
Dear reader, I did buy it. It was a great deal, and I had been wondering if a full-fairing bike would increase my highway confidence. It did, although I still had a world of confidence-building to do. The VFR felt great, stable, and powerful while cruising down highway 100. It felt great, stable and powerful while riding to work.
Then came the day when Ross and I decided to ride up to Viper Motorsports (where Everett works) for their grand opening. It's an hour's drive north of the cities, all on the interstate. And so I discovered that riding for an hour at 70 mph, surrounded by traffic, is absolutely terrifying to me, at least in my relatively neophyte-motorcycle rider status. It's not that I was unable to make all the decisions and actions required of me. It's more the fear of the unknown, the fear of the speed and the lack of confidence in my responses. I never lost control, but I was terrified of what would happen if I did. And the thing is, if I had years of riding under my belt I would have that much more belief in my control and ability. I don't have that yet, and I want to acquire it in a less terrifying mode, in smaller doses.
On top of that scariness, once we got to Viper Everett helped me change the tires on the VFR (I had just bought new ones to replace the worn out ones it came with) so I had to ride home with new, still slippery tires and in the rain, no less! But the ride home was actually far easier. That amount of riding had given me a modicum of comfort-level.
One more VFR part of the story; I rode it to work last fall one day. I left home and pulled up to the stopsign and decided to practice coming to a complete stop rather than a rolling stop. First stopsign, right turn. Second stopsign. Right turn, but there was a manhole cover I decided to avoid by turning more sharply. I gave it gas and let out the clutch, and... I killed the motor. Not enough gas. It lurched forward, already turning, and started tipping. It was too far, I couldn't hold it... it went down, right on the corner, taking me with it. I was fine.
With help I got it up, rode to work, rode home. The only damage was a broken mirror stalk and a few scratches.
So when Ross told me Randy wanted to sell his Monster and would give me a good deal, I jumped. I could sell the VFR in the spring and enjoy the Monster. Those VFR experiences had made me doubt whether it was the bike for me. But the Monster now, there was a handsome bike of manageable proportions, with a tourquey two-cylinder engine, great for cruising around town.
Last week I got the Monster out for a first ride. It needed some fresh gas so I thought I'd just ride to the gas station and back, and then maybe go further. I started it, though the engine showed an alarming tendency to not want to idle, either running too high with the choke, or just dieing with the choke off. I kicked it into gear and rolled down the driveway, feeling very cautious. Through the stopsign and down the street, into second gear and suddenly I felt like I was moving very fast and it wanted to MOVE! I made the right turn, and then the left, and rolled into the gas station with extreme care. After putting a couple of gallons in I slipped the clutch like mad to circle the pumps and head back home. Riding it was terrifying, like holding a massive bull with a piece of yarn. I worked the clutch, fearing that if I let it out too fast the thing would leap away with me and careen across the street.
I got home and started up the driveway, and the thing killed. So there I stood, feet on the ground, one hand on the clutch, one on the brake. I knew I couldn't push it up the driveway; I'd have to start it again and simultaneously let out the clutch, the brake, and give it gas. No way. I let it roll back down to the bottom, started up and cruised up to the garage. Then I got off, went in the house, took off my gear, and cried on Toad's shoulder.
In my defense I was having an emotionally bad day. Work was getting me down. I should have ridden a smaller, friendlier bike for my first ride of the season. But, heck, this was supposed to be my dream bike, and it scared the crap out of me! Ross told me once that he could see the appeal of climbing, but the process of working through the negative fear was too much of a burden for him to make climbing worthwhile. Sometimes I feel that way about motorcycling.
But there are other days. Better days.
Monday, April 16, 2007
finding blog time
I wish I could blog at work, but I don't think that would be appropriate.
I want to blog more.
I want to form a book club.
I want to read, and read, and read.
I want to rediscover the voracious need to create art.
I want to climb.
I want to ride a motorcycle and not be scared.
I want to go on vacation.
I want to win the lottery so I can do all those other things.
I want to blog more.
I want to form a book club.
I want to read, and read, and read.
I want to rediscover the voracious need to create art.
I want to climb.
I want to ride a motorcycle and not be scared.
I want to go on vacation.
I want to win the lottery so I can do all those other things.
An intriguing morning
This was actually a morning last week. On mpr Kerri Miller talked to E.L. Doctorow and then to Anne LaMott. What a pleasure to listen to such profoundly articulate individuals. That just reminded me of how startlingly inarticulate many actors seem when speaking extemporaneously (Tom Cruise, for example). I suppose it has to do with the professionalism of the writer's ability to bring forth thoughts in a rational manner.
When I was in high school my English teacher (Mr. Tom Reiter) recommended "Ragtime" to me. I was utterly, head over heels in love with "Wuthering Heights" and he was trying to point me in some new directions. I wasn't ready for Doctorow, however. I don't even remember why because I really didn't get far with the book. Now after hearing him speak he is freshly added to my mental list of writers I really want to read - along with John Updike, John Irving, Donna Tartt and Barbara Kingsolver, among others.
And then came Anne LaMott, who, in her frankness, her unapologetic selfness, and her genuine ownership of her faith, makes me feel a little braver, a little more willing to own my own truths without needing to excuse or hide them. It made me think about the fact that I've got an ongoing struggle with my sense of selfworth which goes WAY back. Certainly back to middle school days - I have distinct memories of not trusting people to like me. Note: there is a substantial difference between not trusting others to like you, and not liking your self. I've always liked what I am. But that not trusting others to like me... really hits the nail on the head and has shaped a lot of behaviors for me over the years.
But I digress. It was a wonderful, literary morning. It made me excited about reading, and excited about thinking.
When I was in high school my English teacher (Mr. Tom Reiter) recommended "Ragtime" to me. I was utterly, head over heels in love with "Wuthering Heights" and he was trying to point me in some new directions. I wasn't ready for Doctorow, however. I don't even remember why because I really didn't get far with the book. Now after hearing him speak he is freshly added to my mental list of writers I really want to read - along with John Updike, John Irving, Donna Tartt and Barbara Kingsolver, among others.
And then came Anne LaMott, who, in her frankness, her unapologetic selfness, and her genuine ownership of her faith, makes me feel a little braver, a little more willing to own my own truths without needing to excuse or hide them. It made me think about the fact that I've got an ongoing struggle with my sense of selfworth which goes WAY back. Certainly back to middle school days - I have distinct memories of not trusting people to like me. Note: there is a substantial difference between not trusting others to like you, and not liking your self. I've always liked what I am. But that not trusting others to like me... really hits the nail on the head and has shaped a lot of behaviors for me over the years.
But I digress. It was a wonderful, literary morning. It made me excited about reading, and excited about thinking.
argh!
I keep intending to blog! Every weekend! And then time passes and I do other things and the blog gets neglected.
Two weekends ago I went to the climbing gym with my cousin Sara, her husband Chris, and their kids Henrik and Gunnar. Everyone loved it. It was crowded, the Friday before Easter, but we got on a perfect, easy route and the kids built up their confidence.
I went back to the climbing gym the next night with Shawn, and we kicked it on some hard lead routes.
This weekend I went to the gym with Katie and we spent almost the whole time in the lead pit. It was great, because she had been getting into leading but then hurt her finger at the competition and has been easing back into it, and I loved encouraging her to push her limits but stay comfortable and in control. The mental game is such a big part of climbing. That is certainly part of why I love it so. It is a physical activity that really forces you to push your limits - not just the physical but the mental.
Two weekends ago I went to the climbing gym with my cousin Sara, her husband Chris, and their kids Henrik and Gunnar. Everyone loved it. It was crowded, the Friday before Easter, but we got on a perfect, easy route and the kids built up their confidence.
I went back to the climbing gym the next night with Shawn, and we kicked it on some hard lead routes.
This weekend I went to the gym with Katie and we spent almost the whole time in the lead pit. It was great, because she had been getting into leading but then hurt her finger at the competition and has been easing back into it, and I loved encouraging her to push her limits but stay comfortable and in control. The mental game is such a big part of climbing. That is certainly part of why I love it so. It is a physical activity that really forces you to push your limits - not just the physical but the mental.
Monday, April 02, 2007
A sad and soggy weekend
Still sad and confused and dazed about the loss of my coworkers. It rained all weekend and we never went running. I did go climbing at the gym with Katie on Saturday. Climbing with Katie makes me happy. She is just so enthusiastic and we enjoy each other's company while climbing. I feel like I can be a little bit "mentor-y" with her because I've got my years of climbing experience to share, and yet we climb as equals. I've been climbing a bit harder than her, in part because of my years of climbing experience, and in part because she tweaked a finger tendon and is still recovering, but I dig the experience of climbing with another woman.
Still love climbing with Shawn, too, though. There is something distinctly different about it. Shawn is stronger than I am, but I'm close to his level. Perhaps in the same way that Katie is close to my level. Shawn pushes very hard; when I climb with him I end up climbing harder things that are closer to my limit and there certainly is a satisfaction in that. Sometimes I'm not in the right mental space, and then the pushing of the limits can feel intimidating.
Went to St. Cloud to visit Ross' mom on Sunday. I helped her hang some pictures while Ross went to a motorcycle swap meet; then we had lunch, watched a cool show she had taped. Went out to the farm where she keeps her horse and walked the dogs in the woods. It's fun to watch Toad react to the horses.
Still love climbing with Shawn, too, though. There is something distinctly different about it. Shawn is stronger than I am, but I'm close to his level. Perhaps in the same way that Katie is close to my level. Shawn pushes very hard; when I climb with him I end up climbing harder things that are closer to my limit and there certainly is a satisfaction in that. Sometimes I'm not in the right mental space, and then the pushing of the limits can feel intimidating.
Went to St. Cloud to visit Ross' mom on Sunday. I helped her hang some pictures while Ross went to a motorcycle swap meet; then we had lunch, watched a cool show she had taped. Went out to the farm where she keeps her horse and walked the dogs in the woods. It's fun to watch Toad react to the horses.
It's been too long
Been too long since my last post. I intended to post on the previous weekend, and then again this last weekend. Keep doing things that prevent me from posting.
Previous weekend; went climbing with Shawn and Mike to the cliff that Shawn and I were developing down by Rochester. I believe we're calling it Coyote Cliff. It's just outside the tiny hamlet of Hammond, MN, a mere 10 minutes drive from Rochester. The guy who owns the climbing gym in Rochester happened upon this cliff last summer and told Shawn about it. Shawn's been kinda keen on doing new routes, so he dragged me down there. The first time we were there we were really ambivalent about even trying to climb it. There was a lot of brush growing on parts of the cliff, and it all looked dirty and dusty (it's right next to a gravel road). But we bushwacked to the top, set some anchors and rappelled, "cleaning" our routes as we lowered from the top - which involves prying anything loose off of the wall. After a good cleaning we climbed our routes, then did some secondary cleaning, and then eventually bolted a few of them. The purpose of bolting a route is to allow lead climbing. I'm too weary right now to describe the distinction between lead climbing and toproping, but suffice it to say that there are now six bolted routes at Coyote Cliff, as well as about six more that are not bolted.
Anyway, we went there. First outdoor climbing of the year. Mike is a great guy, but I was disappointed that his wife Elizabeth had not come along. They're both really cool people, very intelligent, personable, good climbers, good company. Mike can be VERY funny. He is a fount of movie quotes. We started joking about the dampness of the rock, and whether it was clammy or "oystery". Shawn's best route (and perhaps the best route of the cliff) is called Latrans (the scientific name for Coyote) and involves some delicate, crimpy climbing up a sandy face, then long, powerful moves between positive holds, then a big reach to a alcove/ledge, a slap to a rounded top, and finally a lovely, crimpy sequence to get established in the alcove, and then a desperate lunge to an intermediate and then a good pocket. Then two more pockets to the top. I've never made it past the desperate lunge part. And the crimpy sequence was too wet to climb.
Previous weekend; went climbing with Shawn and Mike to the cliff that Shawn and I were developing down by Rochester. I believe we're calling it Coyote Cliff. It's just outside the tiny hamlet of Hammond, MN, a mere 10 minutes drive from Rochester. The guy who owns the climbing gym in Rochester happened upon this cliff last summer and told Shawn about it. Shawn's been kinda keen on doing new routes, so he dragged me down there. The first time we were there we were really ambivalent about even trying to climb it. There was a lot of brush growing on parts of the cliff, and it all looked dirty and dusty (it's right next to a gravel road). But we bushwacked to the top, set some anchors and rappelled, "cleaning" our routes as we lowered from the top - which involves prying anything loose off of the wall. After a good cleaning we climbed our routes, then did some secondary cleaning, and then eventually bolted a few of them. The purpose of bolting a route is to allow lead climbing. I'm too weary right now to describe the distinction between lead climbing and toproping, but suffice it to say that there are now six bolted routes at Coyote Cliff, as well as about six more that are not bolted.
Anyway, we went there. First outdoor climbing of the year. Mike is a great guy, but I was disappointed that his wife Elizabeth had not come along. They're both really cool people, very intelligent, personable, good climbers, good company. Mike can be VERY funny. He is a fount of movie quotes. We started joking about the dampness of the rock, and whether it was clammy or "oystery". Shawn's best route (and perhaps the best route of the cliff) is called Latrans (the scientific name for Coyote) and involves some delicate, crimpy climbing up a sandy face, then long, powerful moves between positive holds, then a big reach to a alcove/ledge, a slap to a rounded top, and finally a lovely, crimpy sequence to get established in the alcove, and then a desperate lunge to an intermediate and then a good pocket. Then two more pockets to the top. I've never made it past the desperate lunge part. And the crimpy sequence was too wet to climb.
Friday, March 23, 2007
I'm hip
I have joined the ipod nation! I'm hooked in! I'm with it! I have music at my beck and call! I can podcast with the best of them! I can destroy my hearing in an instant! But I'm not as cool as those dudes in the TV commercials who are listening to songs on their cell phones. Man, those dudes are the coolest.
My ipod is named Little Cupcake, and it's white, and I bought songs from itunes and put 'em on it. Then I played solitaire until I won. Now, unless I get some better games (or I happen to be really bored) I don't have to play the stupid games anymore. Although I must say that solitaire is good practice in using the thumb ring controller... or whatever you call it.
Happenings
Ross got a new car! A new old car, that is. I should post a picture, but I don't have one... no wait, his digital camera is sitting right here and it DOES have a pic of the car on it. Wow, I love modern technology. So here it is - a 1967 MGB GT. And this picture just happens to have the Jaguar behind it, and the '63 Ford Econoline behind the Jaguar. Ross' menagerie.
Why, you may ask, did Ross buy a '67 MGB? Well, because some guy has wanted to buy his '97 GTI for over a year now, and when that guy asked Ross recently if he wanted to sell yet Ross decided that he did indeed want to. The GTI was in fairly good shape but had some problems that Ross just didn't want to deal with and it seemed an opportune time.
We made beer. Should have taken pictures of that. It is now sitting in the fermenter, fermenting. We will bottle it next Wednesday. Exciting. We have an ambition to make labels for this batch of beer; we will be known as Bouvier Breweries, and this batch will be called Rust Bucket Bitters.
There are upheavals and changes at my workplace. The times have been a-changin' for a while... CEO out, new management group in, and some of the big changes are starting to be enacted. I am now the sole sculptor. As of today my co-workers Diane and Betsy were out. It was a terrible, weird, unpleasant day. We were all freaked out and sad and upset about this. The new management has decided that the majority of the sculpting will be done overseas, but it is advantageous to keep one sculptor in-house for last-minute changes, photo shoots, etc. I'm still in a daze, and I'm sure that Betsy and Diane are worse. I hesitate to rant about my anger and frustration. Suffice it to say that Betsy and Diane were doing excellent work, and the people who are ultimately responsible for the bad decisions that have led to the sorry state of the company have not felt any pain in this matter. In fact, they finagled gigantic golden parachutes for themselves.
Argh.
Why, you may ask, did Ross buy a '67 MGB? Well, because some guy has wanted to buy his '97 GTI for over a year now, and when that guy asked Ross recently if he wanted to sell yet Ross decided that he did indeed want to. The GTI was in fairly good shape but had some problems that Ross just didn't want to deal with and it seemed an opportune time.We made beer. Should have taken pictures of that. It is now sitting in the fermenter, fermenting. We will bottle it next Wednesday. Exciting. We have an ambition to make labels for this batch of beer; we will be known as Bouvier Breweries, and this batch will be called Rust Bucket Bitters.
There are upheavals and changes at my workplace. The times have been a-changin' for a while... CEO out, new management group in, and some of the big changes are starting to be enacted. I am now the sole sculptor. As of today my co-workers Diane and Betsy were out. It was a terrible, weird, unpleasant day. We were all freaked out and sad and upset about this. The new management has decided that the majority of the sculpting will be done overseas, but it is advantageous to keep one sculptor in-house for last-minute changes, photo shoots, etc. I'm still in a daze, and I'm sure that Betsy and Diane are worse. I hesitate to rant about my anger and frustration. Suffice it to say that Betsy and Diane were doing excellent work, and the people who are ultimately responsible for the bad decisions that have led to the sorry state of the company have not felt any pain in this matter. In fact, they finagled gigantic golden parachutes for themselves.
Argh.
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