It feels like the world spins too fast sometimes.
I get lost in the internet's web like a fawn in a barb wire fence factory surrounded by busy highways, freeways, train tracks and streets and then I fall into a worm hole of warmth and seclusion of my own making. Like today when I did my once every few years vanity search of my own name and pikes peak. After watching a few youtubes, some making me smile and almost tear up and others making me chew at my own lip with anxiety, I remembered that after all nothing has ever been, ever is, and ever will be only but what we make it to be. Simple as it may be I best just get back to work. So what have I been working on lately? Nova and I have been resurrecting an old Z50 we dug out of a friend's back yard. I try not to influence her desires and passions but I can see it is futile. She is surrounded by them and at 1 1/2 years of age she lays in her bed at night and repeats "Derwt bikes, Derwt bikes". Call it genetics, hopeless disposition, or just the universe dealing out fate in a drunkin bastard's bowling game. All I know is she likes this bike and thinks it is cool every time we put another piece of it together. Two days a week plus weekends we rule the shop together. When she naps I get back to the endless amount of customer's with paying work. Work I am so thankful for and still enjoy doing after 20 years of it. And work I probably owe some to my racing success. After dinner and my little one is put to bed I go back out to the shop when I am not to run down form the endless brought home daycare illness or the mental and physical pain brought on from my weekly therapy sessions to avoid a premature hip surgery. I chip away at the Hayabusa powered hill climb race car I am building from scratch. I bit off a lot to chew but I am chewing away like a laughy taffy stuck between my teeth and making my belly ache as I avoid the teary eyed laughing. Did you know a proper oil sump system for this rage cage project will double my cost so far?! And then we get back to the last big project I started over two years ago. The KX500 Trackmaster. I let it gather some dust like a bottle of fine fucked up wine more than a few times during last years shop move but I have been chipping away at it a little sip at a time almost trying to savor the project the old late great Tommy's Triumph Shop bestowed upon me. I'd like to think my old dear friend Tommy reached down from the Cosmos and slapped my shaking backside when this half liter skeeter eater hit the powerband on the highway in front of my shop last week. It pulls like a skidder and sounds like a steam train wrecking. It makes enough power to blush Babe the blue ox and when it hits high rpm my arms shake like Michael J Fox. What did I expect when I built this Frankenstein. A true Mel Brooks Abby Normal Frankenstein beloved beautiful beast capable of destroying, dismembering and disemboweling all of us. So do I take it to Davenport this June? ... I am scared. Like the Cookie Monster. Or a squirrel. Just out to get a nut...
