Triumph!

Gratitude

Exactly 5 years and 10 days ago... This Dr. was at his Doctors office feeling low on energy, coughing alot, my body hurting. I was tired, having nose bleeds, dizzy spells, Walt Healy once told me he was... and like him, I had become, an S.O.B. (short of breath) Like most men, I suspect... I don't go to the Doc's unless I have to.

Dr. Stephanie examined me up and down, and even called in a colleague to concur. Yup...

"You have pneumonia Frank." they said. "Best get some antibiotics immediately and get down to the Lab for lab work and X-rays, which I promptly did. Nearly prone in the waiting room, my name called and several pics later, I was on my way home.

In a couple of days, the lab phones me, "Mr. Simon, would you be able to come in for a few more pics?" And I did. After several more shots, I asked if there was some type of problem? "Well, there seems to be a smudge on the film. Funny though, it's almost like it is moving from take to take... we're sure it's nothing to worry about, you can get dressed and go home now."

Another couple of very difficult days pass... until, while at Visions buying a digital camera, I am feeling very poorly. By that night, the night of the 27th of April 2005, I am in major distress. Sometime in the early hours of April 28th, 5 years ago... I wake in a terrific sweat, every breath excruciatingly painful, my chest constricted. I literally fall from my bed onto the floor. I roll into a ball. I am having a hard time breathing and my vision is so blurred I can't tell which way is up.

I'm having a Heart Attack!

No, that's not a Big Mac attack, but something far more sinister.

My bedroom is downstairs, Lisa is still in the house I think (I have no idea of the time) All I can think of believe it or not, is needing my housecoat off the hook next to my bed. The last thing I want, is my youngest daughter to find me after work, laying here dead... and Naked! After a great deal of effort I'm able to tear my housecoat from the wall, pull it on and slowly crawl, yes crawl into my bathroom, where I lay on the floor cheek first, cool against the tile.

I know I'm in huge trouble!

After what seems like an eternity, with the breaths coming under serious duress, one at a time... I crawl/drag myself upstairs where I bang feebly on Lisa's door. Her reaction could best be described by herself, but judging by what I remember, I am certain Dad looked like death warmed over. Pale, sweating and freezing at the same time, all I could manage was this.

"Lisa, don't panic... I think I am having a heart attack..."

Panic ensues! (J/K... she did very well under the circumstances.)

Once the paramedics arrived, and checked me over while I lay on the living room floor in only my housecoat and slippers, he asks me what it is I'm feeling and if I am on medication. I stammer out that I have major chest pains, that I can hardly breathe and I am on meds for pneumonia. His reply was,

"Well... I don't think you're having a heart attack Mr. Simon... I think your chest is just strained from coughing due to your illness, what would you like us to do? So far, you only owe us for a call-out, an ambulance ride to the hospital will cost extra..."

My mind is numb, it takes an eternity to say... "Take me to the hospital

pul-ease."

He asks if I can walk to the waiting ambulance parked on my corner. I say I will try, so with nothing but my birthday suit thinly covered, I walk down a dozen steps hunched over like the proverbial character from Notre Dame, out to the open Ambulance door. Once in, and hooked up to the sensors... I hear him say to the driver something like this...

"Holy shit Bob, hit the lights... this guy is having a heart attack!"

Vaguely hearing the siren wail, I don't remember much after that, the morphine? taking affect. I wake to a very bright white light (on the ceiling) in the Foothills H, wired to the gills, white clad bodies all around me. Eventually I'm told that I have had an "event" as it's called and they are stabilizing me.

Within days I was shaved, the nipple ring I had worn for many years, removed, laying on a stainless OR table having my chest cut open, and a (triple) bypass operation performed.

I'm told that I am fortunate to be alive.

Fortunate!

Using arteries from my chest which saved my leg being sliced, I have been given a Rolls Royce of bypasses, the surgeon tells me. Good for at least 10 years. Fuzzy headed, I do the math. Hell... I'm only fifty now!

A long painful recovery where my prime directive became, 'Look after thyself' there have been many changes in my life. I wasn't a smoker, or a heavy drinker or severely overweight. I liked veggies a lot, sex even more, riding my bicycle, walking, working out. When the cardiologist told me initially I would have to substantially change my life, I answered... "Doc, as soon as I leave here I am going to buy a carton of unfiltered smokes, pick up a couple of bottles of hard liquor, find myself an intravenous drug using prostitute and have unprotected conversation several times, and take up bungee jumping into the Grand Canyon."

I mean... change my life? To what??

To top it off, after nearly a month in the Foothills with various complications, the least of which was a lung that didn't happily wish to inflate... I have a message on my answering machine from my Dr's office, asking me to call immediately to discuss my X rays results. When I call in after the tap dance on the phone ('press 1, press 3, press 2... wait) and ask the nurse which X Ray's they wanted to discuss, the ones at the Lab a month ago or the 100 they took while I was in the Hospital. 'Hospital' she answers. No... the ones taken a month ago... turns out the 'smudge' was a clot heading to my heart. Ummm... I tell her, I've been in the Hospital for heart surgery. The line goes silent.

Several months later, while seeing my MD, I question how this got by them. Her answer... "Frank... we just missed it."

Hey... ain't life Grand!

Answer... Well... Yes it is.

It's been five years, today.

In those 5 years I worked hard to recover. I've had the help of several caring people, (you know who you are :) and my own steely determination.

I've been to Baja 3 times, even fracturing my ankle 80 kms off road riding the Giganta Mountains. I've been to Europe to ride 22 countries. I've laid my dear Mom to rest at home in Hungary after a last ride around her old hood on the back seat of my Divvie. I've hosted some of my Hungarian family visiting Canada for the very first time. I've written more stories...

I've had several relationships, my cats have died one by one and I sit here writing this on a wet cold snowy day in Calgary AB.

My two girls, Holly and Lisa, have grown into independent and fine young women, I have loved and been loved.

I have experienced and learned much.

And... I am grateful, yes... grateful for all of it.

What's the BL here? Haha... there is always a Bottom Line...

Life is short. Period. You wanna sit around wasting it? Be my guest. You're an idiot! I mean that in the nicest way... what are ya waiting for?

I know a good thing when I see, feel, touch, taste it.

I know what and who are important in my life.

I've always jumped head first into following my heart first.

I'm glad I have 'lived' my life.

Remember... to quoteth my Runes...

"More than we are doers, we are deciders. Once the decision is made, the doing comes easy."

If we're fortunate enough to hit fifty without (pick one) getting run over by a bus, shot on an L.A. freeway, dying of cancer or an 'event'... I feel we are on bonus time. Make the Best of it Gang!

As the hot rodders of the 60's used to say about engines:

"There's no substitute for cubic inches."

Dr. N. says...

"There's no substitute for cubic Experience!"

Ride on my friends...

VINTAGE?!

While on the topic of Old Iron... my long time pal, Ron (vintage 1945 ish ? as seen above with his GS 1000) was just this week writing me about the annual Vintage show and shine on the sunny ? (chuckle) West Coast of Canada. Fresh off Olympic fever/fervor, the featured make this year was BSA (Birmingham Small Arms) a couple of which reside in my basement.

Ronnie tells me the show was an apparent success, as these things tend to be. There is quite a loyal following to old bikes and cars in this country. I saw it first hand while living in the Maritimes and of course oldies are fairly abundant here in the West as well. For those of us that aren't aware, BSA like Royal Enfield, began their company's, as manufacturers of armaments. Like their many counterparts in the English motorcycle business, they eventually succumbed to the dual ailments of regular rampant labor strife, coupled with the inability (or stupidity as many would say) to compete with the changing marketplace. By the early '60's, the Japanese makers were making inroads along the roads of Britain and N.A. while the locals were still oiling them!

Small displacement, reliable, inexpensive bikes from Honda, Yamaha, Kawasaki, Suzuki, Bridgestone (yes the tire makers) and several other brands, were just begining to make their presence felt outside of the home Islands.

The once magnificiently proud brands that ruled the roads (if not the seas) dropped one after the other until none were left standing.

The bright news is that a steady and very persistant stream of enthusiasts, keep the flame alive in their basements, living rooms and swap meets!

I myself own a '66 BSA Victor 441 (hence my email addy) or as Unca Ronnie puts it... Victim 441, (smart ass!) and the same year model Thunderbolt. She was a single carbed 650 vertical twin, the less finicky and somewhat slower version of their famous Lightning!

Within the confines of my various garage nooks and crannies,

(typical gear head, I bought a garage with a house attached to it! )

I also own amongst others, a mint 1971 Honda CL350 scrambler, a Yamaha R3, an XS2 650, and a couple of step thru Honda's, one of which resides on it's own stand in my living room!

Why we collect these old things is a mystery to many. I had a *girlfriend, who by the way is older than I, who could never fully understand why I spent soooo much of my limited time polishing, repairing, lovingly lavishing attention on my old bikes and of course my other two seater, an MGB. She herself has a bright yellow Boxster in her garage, and wondered why I wouldnt just trade them all for some new modern stuff!

Several years ago, 2005-2006 in fact, the Reynold's Alberta Museum, just a stone's throw from Calgary in Wetaskiwin AB, put in a fabulous display of Vintage motorycycles entitled 'The Life and Times of the Motorcycle' (see my story in Canadian Biker November 2005) On display were 150 Classic bikes including many I've pictured here from my photo collection. Although that particular display was a 'ltd time offer', RAM has a large selection of bikes on permanent show alongside an incredible collection of motorized and otherwise, memorabalia. Check them out...

http://www.machinemuseum.net/

I really don't know how many bikes I've actually owned over the 40 years I've been riding. Many have turned out to be modern classics. My Suzuki X6 Hustler or as Ron mentioned in his latest dispatch, the Big Bear 305 scrambler. What makes somethings desirable and others not... well I guess it's all in the way you look at it. For me, it's something that touches a nerve, or my heart. Something that moves my spirit. Vintage does that for me, as it does for many.


*BTW...

in answer to her question, why I spent so much time and effort on my old bikes, I replied...

"Just be happy that I still value and love things old."

BUGS!!!!!

And I don't mean Bunny!!!

You can tell winter is (nearly) over when the cute little furry creatures begin the annual cycle of color change. Even in the heart of Calgary, I often see bunnies hopping about like miniature Kangaroos without the built in Gucci bags attached.

It's been nearly three weeks since Einstein's passing, my how time flies.

(see Willy in foreground and Bugs in background!)

I've been prepping my bikes and little blue two seater in much anticipation of an early spring, which for anyone that is familiar with Calgary weather, will certainly get a wry chuckle from.

Having lived much of my life either in the lee of the Atlantic or the Rockies... one just doesn't know. Hell, there could be snow here in June!!!

A country drive with the Blazer, Easter Monday, south thru the AB foothills, brought a horde of deer sightings. One herd alone counted at least 24 individuals. All told, we spotted over 30 deer, a couple of 'wabbits' and two (count em) 2 muskrat.

Okay... there's only one in the photo, the second demanded more money up front for a pic.

Being a Monday, the Lancaster Air Museum in Nanton was closed for the day, however I have a good shot of a Harvard (otherwise known as a Texan in the USA) an advanced trainer used by the Commonwealth Air Training program during WW2. Alberta is dotted with grown over fields that once trained thousands of pilots, navigators, and assorted aircrew, to be shipped over to England during the war.

This pedestal mounted example is found in Claresholme.

Eventually we looped across to hiway 22, a very pretty little two laner frequented by Motorcyclists, summer time RV users and back country enthusiasts. (22 is the gateway to the southern half of the Forestry Trunk Rd.) After a brief stopover at Chain Lakes Provincial Pk, (where we spotted those verrrry cute muskrats) a look see at the World's Largest Glacial Erratic ( huge boulders brought south during previous ice ages from the Northern Rockies) south of Okotoks and a late evening dinner at Edo, our Easter Weekend was completed.

In the ensuing days, I've had a chance to take my MGB for a couple of short runs, been out on my HyoSung Sense SD50, slid around on my XT 600 a little and yesterday got "bugged" riding the T-Bird west of Calgary...

Can't hardly wait for more.

On another sad note, one of many this past few weeks... my former sister-in law from PEI and her husband, were heading home from Charlottetown one evening 2 weeks ago. Travelling straight thru an intersection on a green light, a van driven by an 18 yr old young man, coming from the opposite direction, turned left into their path.

Paul was killed instantly and Karen flown to Halifax in critical condition, where she remains today.

Needless to say, as many of us motorcyclists already know, this is the 'classic' motorcycle/vehicle collision... car turns left across your path. We had a saying during my motorcycle training courses all those years. Having the legal right of way, doesn't nessesarily guarantee our safety.

I had met Paul last year, when he and Karen rode their Harley decker across this fabulous country to attend the HOG rally here. He was a long time HD enthusiast and I was so happy they had the time to stay at Holly's little condo and spend an afternoon visiting at my home. That week, they took home the trophy for riding the farthest distance to the rally.

My sympathy and condolences go out to the entire family, which for many years, was also my family and not just in the normal sense. Regardless of what brand we ride, or what our tastes are... we are all of the motorcycle family!

IN THEIR MEMORY!

A SAD Day for the Dr.

Einstein My Best Friend

1991-March 31, 2010

R.I.P.

Well it's April first, April Fool's day.

There's no joke at my home though I am sad to say.

My Long time companion and Best Friend in the World, Einstein... died yesterday.

He had been with me thru thick and thin for nearly 20 years. After my marriage disintegrated a final death, and I literally lost everything including the business I'd built over the years into 3 stores around the Maritimes, Holly who was then 11, and I moved across Canada a second time, in the dead of winter, days before Christmas.

We rented a third floor 3 bedroom apartment in Abasand Heights. I moved back to Fort Mac Murray to take John up on his offer of my old position back at Four Seasons.

Things were very hard. I had been forced into leaving behind my younger daughter, Lisa. I had no money, and very little self esteem.

What I did have were good friends two girls that loved me and believed in me, and I never gave/give up.

Shortly after arriving, my niece Margaret brings me this sad looking, scruffy, matted, abandoned little male cat.

Reluctantly I took him in.

Why was I reluctant, a cat guy my whole life?

Cuz we lived on the third floor, Holly was in school all day and I worked at the shop. I gave in, and 'Einstein' became a part of our lives.

He was wild at first, hated to be left alone, a condition that existed his entire life. He was always happiest when someone, preferably myself, was around.

In his life he was a Dad and a good one, fathering 6 kittens one Halloween night with Snoopy (whom we'd mistakenly acquired thinking he was a boy, wrong!)

Having accepted a position in Calgary with Pro-Am Motorcycles, then Kawasaki's largest volume CDN dealership, we made the move to Cow town. Snoopy, Scribbles and her Dad Einstein. Holly stayed with Uncle Dean and Aunt Lois until the summer break before joining us in Calgary.

Since those early days, he has lived with us in our current residence in NW Calgary. He has seen my marriage end, a long term relationship come and go. He's seen me live thru a nasty rear end collision here in Calgary on a busy McLeod Trail, where a Mazda driven by a young man in too much of a hurry, rear ended me at a red light. Good thing I was on my trusty XT600, and a good thing I had practiced what I'd preached for so long with the Motorcycle Training Course. Had I not moved when I heard the tires shriek, I'd likely not be writing this now.

He's been thru my trials and tribs that have been my relationship life, my travels and my heart attack and triple bypass. He's waited for me when I've returned, each time... and for an epileptic cat that wasn't supposed to live beyond 5... he's sure surprised us all.

In the 19 years we've been together, Einstein has truly been my pal, my Best Friend. Even if you are not a pet person, imagine having a constant in your life for 2 decades. How many of us has had something/someone like that.

Cats and dogs could teach us humans a thing or three about acceptance, loyalty, unconditional love. They don't care if we're Christian, Muslim or Martian.

They couldn't care less if we are Black, White, Yellow or polka dotted. If we are fat, short or have buck teeth.

It matters not to them that we are, or aren't CEO's rich and famous or dead broke and homeless.

No matter what, as long as they have a home, food and water... and a lap to sit on while a loving hand strokes their fur... they're fine by us.

ps: Thank You to my countless friends that have been so supportive in this.

Grace (who just lost her companion, Spuds)

Barb, who had lost her pal Tecate awhile back

Nicole

Rusty

Tom

Arlene

Liz

Many others

and especially to my girls, Lisa and Holly, as well as Brenda and Anna. They have been there, got to know him, and were loved and accepted.