Time flys when your having fun

Another birthday is fast approaching. It will be tomorrow July 26th at 9:33pm, at least that is what Mom told me.  And yes, I believe her. These days 9:33 is close to my bed time now, during the work week anyway, (I'm not THAT old, come on!) and to think that I was just coming into the world at that time.
The last couple of days I've been thinking about how in the world that I survived this long.

Kids these days, their biggest worry is getting carpel tunnel from clicking the video game pad for hours on end. Let me give you a quick run down of what life was like for me growing up.

People have asked me how long have I been "cycling" and I usually say about 3 years, but that is not how long I've been riding a bike. I remember my first time giving up my trusty tricycle, Charlie, (yes my tricycle had a name) and getting on a "big boy" bike.  With my Brother Mike at the rear of the bike, he helped me get on and pointed me down the driveway toward the back yard and gave me a push. I had the balance down, but not quite got the hang of the steering yet.  As I was heading down the drive, I saw the big Mimosa tree drawing closer, Uh Oh, this is not good. When I picked myself up from my first of many crashes, I thought maybe I needed more real estate. The rest they say is history.
Once I mastered the bike, holy cow, look out. Before long we were setting up ramps, no not the little wimpy ones, I'm talking plywood laid over rock piles and heading down hills at about 20mph and jumping over EVERYTHING.  Big Wheels, neighbor kids, you name it we jumped it.

I've already come clean on most of what I did growing up, but not everything. Some things are better left untold.  48 years of living = Building forts in the woods, BB gun wars with the neighbors, Shooting bottle rockets\ Roman Candles at each other, putting lighter fluid on Evil Knievel and jumping him over a ramp of fire, Tonka ambulance and fire truck were standing by. The hose pipe (or garden hose as Northerners would call it) helped Evil ride a few more times before the wheels melted. Climbing the biggest trees we could find, (remember falling out of one a time or two), the "Rod Raiders bicycle club",  melting army men, falling off horses at least three times, getting into fights, Kiss concerts in the garage, pyrotechnics included, wrestling by best friends Ocelot, sleeping outside on the patio and running naked through the neighborhood at 1:00am, watching mom put the kitchen curtains out when the fish sticks she was cooking got out of control,  riding my bike up Pump Hill (only the biggest and steepest hill in the world) for the first time when I was running home to tell Mom, that Mike "set the lake on fire".  Yea, after the fire trucks had left we were both in big trouble.
If I started in on the lake stories, we'd be here all day!
I have been blessed and watched over by an awesome guardian angel over the years, and wish every kid could be so blessed. 
Now I know that you all are wondering about my later years, but as I said earlier, Some things are better left untold. My guardian angel and I are going to mosey on. We have our sights set for the next 48 years.

Car Chaser

I learned back in my Nascar days the power of drafting. No I wasn't a Nascar driver in the circuit but did a lot of online racing with the Nastrack Online racing circuit. Basically the same thing.  I was also about 30 pounds heaver.  But never the less I learned that cars cut a bigger hole in the air than drafting with other cyclist. 
On my solo rides, there is a particular spot that I will circle around waiting on a car.  The spot of choice is at the top of Lynnwood Blvd that turns down to Berry's Chapel and if I turn right, there is an awesome long down hill with smooth pavement and great S curves that leads to Hidden Valley Road.

It's at that moment, as I lie in waiting for a passing car, that I realized that I'm not much different than the hound.  We both like to pee on trees and we love the thrill of the chase.  As I sit and wait, a Buick pulls down the the hill toward the stop sign where I wait. As I size up the driver I let the Buick pass. Everyone knows that anyone driving a Buick will not give me the speed that I'm looking for and will slow me down.  So I wait.
 Next I see a young kid driving a red Mustang pulling down the hill toward the stop sign, my heart immediately starts to pound. I've found my prey. The kid stops at the stop sign and shoots a look my way and makes the right turn heading down the hill. At that point, I'm clipped in and ready for the chase!
It's not long before the red Mustang has his rear view mirror full of me in my tuck position, 35, 40, 45 mph and I'm still there.  I can see his eyes glancing in his mirror as we hit the S turn where he has to back down from 50 to 45 mph to make the turn, I'm still there.  Once on the flats he guns it as if to say, "my Mustang is faster than your bike", and leaves me in the dust.
I, like the hound, have accomplished my mission and got my thrill. Then I pull my bike over, dismount, and pee on the nearest tree.  My work here is done. 

The Fly Market

On one of my regular biking routes, there is a place that I always stop.  It's the Fly Market in, yes you guessed it, Fly, Tennessee.  It's located about a mile and a half off the Natchez Trace Parkway heading East on Hwy. 7.
When we stop there its like going back in time. Mr. Fly the owner of the market, (at least that is what we call him) is a thin man with grey hair that can make a mean ham sandwich.  In the market you can find anything from a kite to a gun holster. Growing up listening to Jerry Clower, I just had to find out if he carried crackers and sardines.  I was not disappointed.  I expected to see Marcell come walking in any moment.   I usually get Gatorade, water, chips and a ham sandwich, which totals about $5.00. What a bargain!
There is always a porch full of old men, sometimes laughing and joking and sometimes they are all stone cold silent.  They always speak when spoken to, but sometimes I feel like they think we are aliens from some far away planet, with our biking outfits and funny shoes.
If you ever find yourself hungry and short on cash, it's the place to go.

Leave a message

Despite the fact that I grew up in a very small town, Dickson, TN we have always had a telephone. As shocking as that may seem, I feel like I mastered the concept of making a phone call.  Even at the young age of 3 years old, I figured out how to dial 0 and tell the operator that my big brother was picking on me. The lady on the switchboard told me to tell him to stop, good advice, but that didn't work. The operator asked what my name was and after telling her not only my name, I also told her my life story. It was a short conversation, I was only 3.  The operator knew Mom (like I said it was a small town) and so I put her on the phone and magically my brother stopped picking on me.
So from an early age, I understood the concept of using the telephone, even learned at Granny and Granddaddy's house what a party line was, but that's another story.

Phones have changed a lot from that time. Now we have Droids, Iphones, Answering machines, bluetooth devices and even video phones, but the concept has not changed much, or has it. Back in the olden days when you made a call and no one was home it would ring and ring and ring until I hung up the phone.  Then came answering machines. Great concept. You dial the number and instead of the forever ringing, the person you were calling, if they knew how to pre-record a message, would answer and ask you to leave a message.  I picked up on this concept like a pro.

But now everything has changed. I seem to have lost any ability to leave a message. Now when I make a call, and no one answers, I get a pre-recorded message from the person that I was calling, telling me to leave a message. THEN an unknown lady butts in and is giving me all these OPTIONS!
"If you wish to leave a message wait for the tone, OR I can hang up, OR press 1 for more options!"  MORE OPTIONS!  Should I hang up, leave a message, throw my phone across the room, OH WAIT I can leave a message?  Maybe I'll press 1 and see just what my OTHER options are?  Okay, Okay I'll just leave a message.  I'm not sure I would like my other options.
Now every single time I make a call and no one answers, this lady gives me her speel again and again and again. I'm surprised I can even get out of bed in the mornings without this lady telling me what to do. "If you wish to get out of bed, pull back the covers and put your feet on the floor OR you can poke yourself in the eye with a sharp stick for more OPTIONS!"

Cash or Check?

 I was in a automobile impound lot, posing as a parking garage yesterday.  My first attempt to escape was unsuccessful because I was at the wrong exit. So I caused the 6 vehicles behind me to have to Jockey around so that I could backup. Once I finally got to the correct exit, the total cost to get my vehicle out of impound was $21. I reached in my wallet to give the warden my company credit card, the only English the warden knew was "only cash or check...no credit" I was sure she had to be mistaken, since I did not want to give her every last penny in my wallet. So I informed her that I only had a credit card, and the warden informed me that I could write a check.  A CHECK!? WRITE A CHECK!?!??!! I HAVEN'T CARRIED A CHECKBOOK AROUND IN 15 YEARS!!! The warden told me in her broken engrish, "There is an ATM rack in d Hotel" from which I just spent the last 10 hours setting through a seminar.
Long story short.. After giving the warden a piece of my mind, I again backed up and drove past the rent-a-cop that was heading in my direction and up the 3 levels to the exact same spot I had just left what seemed like hours ago. Went back into the Hotel, managed to find the manager and at least get a $11 dollar discount, lowering my bail to only $10. As I opened the door to leave the hotel...again.... yes, you guessed it. Pouring down rain, GREAT JUST GREAT!!!!! I ignored the rain, got back to the impound lot, gave the warden my $10 and drove to meet my buddy, who thought I had gotten lost because he was expecting me 30 minutes ago, and finally sat down and drank two draft beers totaling $9. Somehow the outrageously expensive beer didn't bother me as much as the $10 that I had to pay for parking all day long.