Friday, June 30, 2006
Motorcycle Wisdome...
"I'd rather be riding my motorcycle thinking about God than sitting in church thinking about my motorcycle"--Anon
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Immaturity Level Rising in Adults
"Specifically, it seems a growing number of people are retaining the behaviors and attitudes associated with youth. As a consequence, many older people simply never achieve mental adulthood, according to a leading expert on evolutionary psychiatry."
found at Slashdot
Famous Motorcycle Wisdome....
You're the guy that'll be sneaking out of your bedroom at three o'clock in the morning to look at your bike. ~Paul Teutul, Sr., American Chopper, "Billy Joel"
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
A WyzWmn Story...
Helmet Hair?
in the olden days when I was very young
in the olden days when I had hair and a waist
my hair grew to my pass my waist
Whenever we went across the border to the Northern States
we'd strap our lid's to our bikes and ride bare naked!
We were all brave and crazy in those days
But it always came to pass
that I would ended up
with a matt of hair
at the back of my head
something closely resembling
a rather large fur ball.
One summer we attended a swap meet
It was outside of Minneapolis
and the riding that weekend
caused my hair to get so badly matted
that I’d tried for hours to get it out
and by the evening
while we were sitting around the campfire
I had gone so far
as to borrow a buck knife
because I was quite sure
that I was gonna have to
cut it all off
You can imagine my emotions….
from the next campsite
comes this little elderly Indian lady
she takes me by the hand
and leads me off to the shower cabin
she fills the sink with warm water
and she pulls a little brown bottle
with a cork stopper
out of her medicine bag
and pours it in the basin
I am immediately encompassed
Enveloped in the smell of flowers
I feel an overwhelming calm settle over me
And I am truly touched by this woman
sharing her ancient secrets with me
she bends me over and soaks my hair in the basin
and almost immediately
I can run my fingers thru my hair!
she smiles and leaves
never having said a word…
I wander back to my campsite
feeling completely satisfied
and full of the wonder of mother nature...
and sisterhood
and love
as I arrive back at the campsite
one of the ladies from Minneapolis
speaks to me…
"I see you met Old Sally..."
"the elderly native woman?" says I...
"how did ya know?"
“oh I knew it” she said…
"cos you smell like Downy Fabric Softner!"
in the olden days when I was very young
in the olden days when I had hair and a waist
my hair grew to my pass my waist
Whenever we went across the border to the Northern States
we'd strap our lid's to our bikes and ride bare naked!
We were all brave and crazy in those days
But it always came to pass
that I would ended up
with a matt of hair
at the back of my head
something closely resembling
a rather large fur ball.
One summer we attended a swap meet
It was outside of Minneapolis
and the riding that weekend
caused my hair to get so badly matted
that I’d tried for hours to get it out
and by the evening
while we were sitting around the campfire
I had gone so far
as to borrow a buck knife
because I was quite sure
that I was gonna have to
cut it all off
You can imagine my emotions….
from the next campsite
comes this little elderly Indian lady
she takes me by the hand
and leads me off to the shower cabin
she fills the sink with warm water
and she pulls a little brown bottle
with a cork stopper
out of her medicine bag
and pours it in the basin
I am immediately encompassed
Enveloped in the smell of flowers
I feel an overwhelming calm settle over me
And I am truly touched by this woman
sharing her ancient secrets with me
she bends me over and soaks my hair in the basin
and almost immediately
I can run my fingers thru my hair!
she smiles and leaves
never having said a word…
I wander back to my campsite
feeling completely satisfied
and full of the wonder of mother nature...
and sisterhood
and love
as I arrive back at the campsite
one of the ladies from Minneapolis
speaks to me…
"I see you met Old Sally..."
"the elderly native woman?" says I...
"how did ya know?"
“oh I knew it” she said…
"cos you smell like Downy Fabric Softner!"
Famous Wisdom
It is good to have an end to journey towards; but it is the journey that matters in the end.- Ursula K. LeGuin
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Monday, June 26, 2006
Letter from BC Ferries
Good afternoon:
Thank you very much for your email yesterday. I wanted to let you know that we did receive your comments and your concerns are being treated with the utmost seriousness.
A copy of your feedback has already been shared in full with the senior operational manager responsible for this service region. He will be back in touch with me shortly and then I will in turn contact you personally.
In the meantime, thank you for your patience as we look into this serious matter. If you have any questions at all, please don't hesitate to contact me directly.
I look forward to speaking with you soon.
XXXX XXXXXX
Customer Relations Coordinator
British Columbia Ferry Services Inc.
Thank you very much for your email yesterday. I wanted to let you know that we did receive your comments and your concerns are being treated with the utmost seriousness.
A copy of your feedback has already been shared in full with the senior operational manager responsible for this service region. He will be back in touch with me shortly and then I will in turn contact you personally.
In the meantime, thank you for your patience as we look into this serious matter. If you have any questions at all, please don't hesitate to contact me directly.
I look forward to speaking with you soon.
XXXX XXXXXX
Customer Relations Coordinator
British Columbia Ferry Services Inc.
Motorcycle Wisdom of the Day
There are two types of people in this world, people who ride motorcycles and people who wish they could ride motorcycles
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Letter to BC Ferries
On Sunday June 25th 2006 at approximately 3:50 PM I arrived at the Mill Bay ferry terminal. I rode past the line up on my motorcycle to the bottom and front of the line up to see what time the next ferry left. As I got there I realized that the ferry was almost arrived – so I took off my helmet to sit on the bench to wait for my turn.
At this point I had no intention of getting on the current boat, but I didn’t think I could get turned around and back up the hill so I’d decided to just wait till the next boat.
A man came down the line to dump something in the garbage can. He was dark and tattooed and when he got near me he said, “So you think you’re just going to bypass all these cars and get on first?” I replied: “excuse me?” he then said, “I don’t like this bitch I know where you live and you’d best watch your back and your bike.”
Being caught completely off guard, I replied that I didn’t make the rules, that it was my understanding that motorcycles and bicycles loaded first on all BC Ferry ships. The two foot-passengers standing there agreed with me.
He again threatened me with “I know where you live – watch your back – watch your bike”. I frankly became upset and could think of nothing more to say than “I don’t make the rules” the man continued to threaten me with the same threat – “I know where you live – watch your bike bitch – watch your bike…” over his shoulder as he headed back up the line to his vehicle. I became concerned for my safety and that of my vehicle.
When the ship docked a member of the BC Ferries staff came out past the dock to the lineup to take fees and I told him that I had been threatened by a fellow in the line up for going to the first of the line. He advised me to pay my fee and get on board.
I did so and then I rode onto the ferry and informed the deck hand that I had been threatened repeatedly. The deck hand paid no attention to me, I became more concerned as it seemed evident that the deck hand didn’t care that I’d been threatened.
As the ferry was loading I walked back to the portion of the ship with a roof to get out of the sun. The deckhand then accosted me, stuck his finger under my nose to inform me in a most aggressive manner that I was in the wrong and that “you will never again bypass the line up to gain board of this little ferry”.
I tried repeatedly to tell him that I had been riding this particular ship for years on my motorcycle and no one had ever told me that but instead of talking or listening he barked that my motorcycle takes up too much room and that I would not be doing that again.
At this point I turned around to find the man that had threatened me standing behind me laughing. It was quite evident to me that the man who had threatened me was personally acquainted with the deckhand. The deck hand then left leaving the man began to harangue at me again. So much so that people began to get back in their cars to get away from him and his mouth.
My motorcycle is licensed by the province of BC as a motorcycle, I require a motorcycle endorsement to ride it and as such members of BC Ferry staff do not get to decide if my motorcycle is too big to be a motorcycle. If in fact the motorcycles boarding first rules had changed – the Ferry employee that took my money should have informed me. But in fact when I asked him about it later he told me “now we both know”.
If in fact the rules had changed, the deckhand that yelled at me should have informed me in a calm professional manner. The deckhand, when he saw the man having at me again should have at the very least asked the man to leave me alone as his point was well made. As I am a single woman, part of his job is to see to the safety of the people on the ship.
In this day and age it is beyond reprehensible that a single women should have to be in fear while riding a BC Ferry. As a single woman I should have been able to find comfort or at least safety via the Ferry crew. Instead Ferry staff yelled at me.
At this point I had no intention of getting on the current boat, but I didn’t think I could get turned around and back up the hill so I’d decided to just wait till the next boat.
A man came down the line to dump something in the garbage can. He was dark and tattooed and when he got near me he said, “So you think you’re just going to bypass all these cars and get on first?” I replied: “excuse me?” he then said, “I don’t like this bitch I know where you live and you’d best watch your back and your bike.”
Being caught completely off guard, I replied that I didn’t make the rules, that it was my understanding that motorcycles and bicycles loaded first on all BC Ferry ships. The two foot-passengers standing there agreed with me.
He again threatened me with “I know where you live – watch your back – watch your bike”. I frankly became upset and could think of nothing more to say than “I don’t make the rules” the man continued to threaten me with the same threat – “I know where you live – watch your bike bitch – watch your bike…” over his shoulder as he headed back up the line to his vehicle. I became concerned for my safety and that of my vehicle.
When the ship docked a member of the BC Ferries staff came out past the dock to the lineup to take fees and I told him that I had been threatened by a fellow in the line up for going to the first of the line. He advised me to pay my fee and get on board.
I did so and then I rode onto the ferry and informed the deck hand that I had been threatened repeatedly. The deck hand paid no attention to me, I became more concerned as it seemed evident that the deck hand didn’t care that I’d been threatened.
As the ferry was loading I walked back to the portion of the ship with a roof to get out of the sun. The deckhand then accosted me, stuck his finger under my nose to inform me in a most aggressive manner that I was in the wrong and that “you will never again bypass the line up to gain board of this little ferry”.
I tried repeatedly to tell him that I had been riding this particular ship for years on my motorcycle and no one had ever told me that but instead of talking or listening he barked that my motorcycle takes up too much room and that I would not be doing that again.
At this point I turned around to find the man that had threatened me standing behind me laughing. It was quite evident to me that the man who had threatened me was personally acquainted with the deckhand. The deck hand then left leaving the man began to harangue at me again. So much so that people began to get back in their cars to get away from him and his mouth.
My motorcycle is licensed by the province of BC as a motorcycle, I require a motorcycle endorsement to ride it and as such members of BC Ferry staff do not get to decide if my motorcycle is too big to be a motorcycle. If in fact the motorcycles boarding first rules had changed – the Ferry employee that took my money should have informed me. But in fact when I asked him about it later he told me “now we both know”.
If in fact the rules had changed, the deckhand that yelled at me should have informed me in a calm professional manner. The deckhand, when he saw the man having at me again should have at the very least asked the man to leave me alone as his point was well made. As I am a single woman, part of his job is to see to the safety of the people on the ship.
In this day and age it is beyond reprehensible that a single women should have to be in fear while riding a BC Ferry. As a single woman I should have been able to find comfort or at least safety via the Ferry crew. Instead Ferry staff yelled at me.
Saturday, June 24, 2006
A WyzWmn Story
It’s Good To Be Home
We left Duluth round 10 AM and the sun was shining.
We were headed north to Canada, home to Thunder Bay. Ten machines, 10 riders with 7 passengers on our way home from one of Minnesota’s largest annual swap meets in Elko. We had wined and dined and partied and shopped. We had new parts and old parts and t-shirts and even made a trip into the city for a stop at a “love” store. It had been a great long weekend, but we were all tired and looking forward to the ride home and sleeping in our own beds tonight.
It was cool, but nothing we hadn’t been through before. I was happy with the sunshine…some pin headed, pea brain had stolen my leather jacket at the swap meet and I was now wearing a jean jacket stuffed with newspaper for the ride home. Once I got over the initial anger at someone stealing from me…and my prized Queen Bee HD leather to boot…I was ok…and laughing at the picture I must have made sitting on the back of that flaming Sporty virtually unable to bend my arms and knees. Just like a kid in a snowsuit.
By the time we hit Lake Superior it was raining.
It started out being that kind of summer rain that revives and refreshes but before long it got to be that mind numbing, bone chilling rain that comes sweeping down across Superior. It convinces you that Superior is cold and old and majestic and it lets you know that snow is on the way and you’d better pay attention.
By the time we hit the high ground we had snow. On the way up the hill to the pass it was starting to accumulate on the shoulders and it blew around us in swirls that made riding pretty tense. Coming through the pass (now we’re talking hills here not mountains) the white stuff was kicking up as slush off the front tire…so much so that we had to slow down even more to see and because I was sitting higher on the back…guess who got to taste it?
We got to the Pigeon River border crossing and the crossing guard, for once in her life took pity on a rider. I’m still convinced that it wasn’t me that she was interested in…it was all them boys with vibrating dildos taped to their legs so we wouldn’t have to explain and pay the duty on them to get them home!
Either way, she gave me a couple of green garbage bags and access to their private washroom to wrap my self in plastic before I put my wet gear back on. Lucky they didn’t have one of those handdryer, blower things…I might still be there.
By the time we made the outskirts of Thunder Bay my shaking had become a detriment to riding. Poor Joey surely wished he’d left me the hell at home! The very first intersection in the city held a Maytag Laundromat and we stopped.
All seventeen of us, leather encased, near frozen bikers stomped into the laundromat and all ten or twenty yapping laundry ladies and all of their assorted children shut right up.
We collected just inside the door still too cold to even be able to take our gloves or glasses or buckets off.
The laundry ladies parted like the Red Sea as we made our way to the dryers in one fell swoop. Like we heard some unseen bell we started peeling and throwing our gear in dryers. In almost no time the laundry ladies were staring at seventeen near frozen and totally nakid sets of breasts and buttocks. I tried to get in the dryer too…but somebody stopped me.
In all this time not a word was spoken. I pressed myself up against the dryer trying to absorb some of the heat…I was numb…too numb to feel I thought.
I am dying, I thought. They can just bury me here.
Not true. I felt a hesitant touch just above the back of my left knee. I turn to see a little girl, maybe six years old dressed in her Sunday go to meeting dress and carrying a tiny teacup full of pretend tea in her hand.
Y’y’ yah? Says I.
Wansome? Says she.
That broke the ice. Almost immediately we are surrounded by clucking laundry ladies offering us blankets and towels and Uncle Fred’s one-piece long johns while the kids are trying to put socks on our feet and laundromat manager bustles off to make another pot of coffee.
Yup…it was good to be home.
We left Duluth round 10 AM and the sun was shining.
We were headed north to Canada, home to Thunder Bay. Ten machines, 10 riders with 7 passengers on our way home from one of Minnesota’s largest annual swap meets in Elko. We had wined and dined and partied and shopped. We had new parts and old parts and t-shirts and even made a trip into the city for a stop at a “love” store. It had been a great long weekend, but we were all tired and looking forward to the ride home and sleeping in our own beds tonight.
It was cool, but nothing we hadn’t been through before. I was happy with the sunshine…some pin headed, pea brain had stolen my leather jacket at the swap meet and I was now wearing a jean jacket stuffed with newspaper for the ride home. Once I got over the initial anger at someone stealing from me…and my prized Queen Bee HD leather to boot…I was ok…and laughing at the picture I must have made sitting on the back of that flaming Sporty virtually unable to bend my arms and knees. Just like a kid in a snowsuit.
By the time we hit Lake Superior it was raining.
It started out being that kind of summer rain that revives and refreshes but before long it got to be that mind numbing, bone chilling rain that comes sweeping down across Superior. It convinces you that Superior is cold and old and majestic and it lets you know that snow is on the way and you’d better pay attention.
By the time we hit the high ground we had snow. On the way up the hill to the pass it was starting to accumulate on the shoulders and it blew around us in swirls that made riding pretty tense. Coming through the pass (now we’re talking hills here not mountains) the white stuff was kicking up as slush off the front tire…so much so that we had to slow down even more to see and because I was sitting higher on the back…guess who got to taste it?
We got to the Pigeon River border crossing and the crossing guard, for once in her life took pity on a rider. I’m still convinced that it wasn’t me that she was interested in…it was all them boys with vibrating dildos taped to their legs so we wouldn’t have to explain and pay the duty on them to get them home!
Either way, she gave me a couple of green garbage bags and access to their private washroom to wrap my self in plastic before I put my wet gear back on. Lucky they didn’t have one of those handdryer, blower things…I might still be there.
By the time we made the outskirts of Thunder Bay my shaking had become a detriment to riding. Poor Joey surely wished he’d left me the hell at home! The very first intersection in the city held a Maytag Laundromat and we stopped.
All seventeen of us, leather encased, near frozen bikers stomped into the laundromat and all ten or twenty yapping laundry ladies and all of their assorted children shut right up.
We collected just inside the door still too cold to even be able to take our gloves or glasses or buckets off.
The laundry ladies parted like the Red Sea as we made our way to the dryers in one fell swoop. Like we heard some unseen bell we started peeling and throwing our gear in dryers. In almost no time the laundry ladies were staring at seventeen near frozen and totally nakid sets of breasts and buttocks. I tried to get in the dryer too…but somebody stopped me.
In all this time not a word was spoken. I pressed myself up against the dryer trying to absorb some of the heat…I was numb…too numb to feel I thought.
I am dying, I thought. They can just bury me here.
Not true. I felt a hesitant touch just above the back of my left knee. I turn to see a little girl, maybe six years old dressed in her Sunday go to meeting dress and carrying a tiny teacup full of pretend tea in her hand.
Y’y’ yah? Says I.
Wansome? Says she.
That broke the ice. Almost immediately we are surrounded by clucking laundry ladies offering us blankets and towels and Uncle Fred’s one-piece long johns while the kids are trying to put socks on our feet and laundromat manager bustles off to make another pot of coffee.
Yup…it was good to be home.
Famous Wisdom....
"I like pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigstreat us as equals."-- Sir Winston Churchill
Friday, June 23, 2006
Biker's Prayer
LORD thank you
for the open air
the feel of wind blowing
through my hair
Just me alone
upon my bike
the thrill of freedom
is what I like
To wind through country
unexplored
not knowing what
I'll see next LORD
That's what I seek
when off I ride
I'm thankful that
you're by my side
If I should ride
'til morning's light
please keep me safe
throughout the night
And when I've come
to journey's end
It's you I'll thank
protector, FRIEND
for the open air
the feel of wind blowing
through my hair
Just me alone
upon my bike
the thrill of freedom
is what I like
To wind through country
unexplored
not knowing what
I'll see next LORD
That's what I seek
when off I ride
I'm thankful that
you're by my side
If I should ride
'til morning's light
please keep me safe
throughout the night
And when I've come
to journey's end
It's you I'll thank
protector, FRIEND
Billy Lane Bike on Fire
on his way to the Biker Buildoff
that's 2 years in a row...
maybe his next bike
should be a fire truck
complete with sprinkler system??
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
And so we begin...
I have been asked
for quite some time
to share
some of my thoughts
some of my work
and some of my meanderings
with fellow riders
and readers
of
the Busted Knuckle
for quite some time
to share
some of my thoughts
some of my work
and some of my meanderings
with fellow riders
and readers
of
the Busted Knuckle
Welcome to "Wyzwmn's Words to the Wise"....
and so we begin...
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