Kids will be kids...

DURING my school years, I was something of an athlete.  I found out early as a short, different refugee kid, running from bigger meaner kids, that I could run faster than them, so fast in fact that I gained some measure of respect and by grade three was getting picked first for playground team sports instead of dead last.  As I got a little bigger and older, I made a point of picking the underdog for my own team.  A trait I have stuck to my entire life.  Even long after I'd grown up, I still find myself being that guy that tries harder to get the the "little guy/girl" the support they need.  There was Bill, and even Rob.  Some things are good to have carried over from childhood don't you think.

I have two natural daughters as well as a third that I i'm living with now, going through her own trials and tribulations. To say they had things easier than I did would be irrelevant to be sure, after all, each life is different and every person on the planet has to make their own way after all.  However once a Dad... always a Dad. 

My girls are grown young women.  Both in their thirties.  I can easily say that because by the time I'd reached my thirties, I accomplished much on my own list of dreams and wishes and to this day, continue to do so.

Only recently, after a move far away from my 'children' can I sit back and evaluate my job/career as their father and look with a passionate eye at their own lives.  If you are a parent and have a pulse, you know what I mean by that.

It's true that some families are close, others indifferent while the vast majority will fall somewhere in between.  I wouldn't call my own small Cdn family "close" in fact sometimes I wonder if we are even related, we are so different in many ways.  Kids, for the most part, are a product of their environment.  They tend to emulate or ignore their parents and siblings.  Sometimes people wonder if they are even family...

By saying my headline today, I am doing so, tongue in cheek of course (had you going didn't I :)

Experience tells us kids do NOT stay kids, they grow up and much of the time, away.  Take my own for example.  My younger daughter lived with her mother until about age 19 before  the gutsy move across the country, coming to live with her sister and I.  Her sister has just moved back to Calgary after spending 4 years away, at home and abroad on her studies. 

Probably the hardest dam thing a parent can do it to encourage their 'kids' to grow up and go out there... into the real world.  You and I both know from our own experiences, it can be a cruel and vicious world indeed. 

I've just spent the last ten days at my Phoenix home, five of those days with my thirty something elder daughter.  Yeah we did some touristy things, drove across town to the Frank Lloyd Wright compound and had dinner at the Golden Corral last night, but for the most part, we met on the playing field (my patio) as equals, not as superior or inferior. 

I haven't seen much of Holly these last four years.  She has after all, lived elsewhere (Halifax, Germany, Beijing etc)  and it wasn't a walk to the corner to catch a bus.  In our discussions, varied and deep as they were, it struck me once again that this girl, my girls, are no underdogs.  Intelligent, experienced vivacious and mostly confident especially as compared to many of my very own contemporaries. 

Holly tells me her flight has been diverted to Abilene due to thunderstorms in Dallas.  I have to smile at that.

Sure,

she is my daughter... but she sure ain't no kid!

A Tail of two kittens...

PHOENIX is such a temperate climate for kitties.  Warm year round, no risk really of freezing to death.  Lots of shelter, plenty of water if you know where to look and an abundance of food sources, especially in a complex as this.



My pal Einstein died March 31st, 2010 and I was not in a hurry for another cat.  He had been such a reliable, long term companion, it seemed like betrayal to even think of another cat, despite the advice I got from every quarter.



In the fall, I headed to Phoenix for my vacation and to host first Liz and Cindy, but also later on, Brenda and Anna.  During their stay for those of you following along this Blog over the years, they schemed to round up a young male kitty that was pretty obviously looking for a place to rest his paws.  Against my better initial judgement, after all... they were flying back shortly and I was doing a winter drive, little Phoenix became part of my household here for several weeks. 

I couldn't find anyone that would take him, there was such a multitude of feral cats around, so I decided to train him the last week and ended up driving the two of us back to Canada.  He has since lived with me in Calgary and then last September, made the move to PEI as my driving partner in my Ford.



In the week it took us to cross the country, he spent the nights in my motel rooms and the days cooped up in the cab of the truck, sometimes unhappily!



Fast forward a year...





I'm here again at my southern home.  During my first night airing out the place, this little kitten hops up on the couch at my head, friendly and purring mewing gently, she has made herself quite at home.  Fortunately she belongs next door with my neighbor Judy, and wanders freely back and forth.



The similarities between the two very different pussy cats is uncanny as you will see in the photos.  Sure sure, they look different and are several generations apart, but the thing they have in common is my yard and tree!  For  two small kitties, its a size able property to patrol the fence and perimeter from.  In the week or so I have been here, and since Holly's arrival last Monday, we have thoroughly enjoyed her company, basking in the sun, getting underfoot, rubbing against our legs and generally working into our hearts.



I will be sad to see her stay behind but of course glad that she is in such good care with neighbor Judy.




Who knows... she may even remember me when I return in the fall, and come by for a treat or a neck rub... her not me:)

Clarification!

Hi everybody out there... I just re read my last post and wish to make something a bit clearer for those that missed it.

I have Judy's kitten sleeping over.  Not Judy!

Geez some of you people...

Boo Boo

Holly has arrived.  Her flight was great, Calgary a short three hours north, and we immediately set to sorting the week and making plans.  One of the first things was to get groceries for her and riding the SUN L to the local mart proved to be our first unexpected, Mr. Murphy moment.  After loading the several bags in the underseat storage (no lifejacket there) and the remainder in the trunk, I kick started the little blue and silver bullet and promptly blew out the lights!

We're here after decades of thinking about it!

Yup, its' dark, roads are busy, and I have no instrument lights, no headlights and no tail light.  I do however have signal and brake lights.  How is this possible?

Thinking its got to be a disconnected gang plug, we ride home and with Hol putting away groceries and making dinner I begin the arduous task of removing bodywork.  Alas, after an hour of that and searching for the problem I spot a gang plug going to the regulator and there it is... not disconnected but also not connected.  The locking pin is broken!  Most likely this would have happened at the factory when built.  After wrapping it with electrical tape late at night, I left things till morning.

Always blending into Nature FLW.

Next day, that would be Tuesday, using her suggestion of calling around with Google via my laptop (did you know you can do this??)  I found a dealer in Phx that I had visited before and he had all the parts in stock.

My Phx buddy Dave graciously set us up with a vehicle for a few days and we headed over to get the bulbs and a new battery.  Very nice proprietor Kurt, helped us out and gave me some tips on the scooter as well.  I now know that within 30 minutes ride, there is a shop that offers sales parts and service if needed.  As it turned out, his store is 3/4 of the way to the Frank Lloyd Wright Taliesin center, which we toured yesterday afternoon and I must say, it was great.


Bought in the late 30's when Phoenix and especially Scotsdale were just dusty little desert towns, FLW and his disciples built an architecture school that even today, produces forward thinking future architects.

Off limits, but Holly is in there in spirit...

In fact my touring companion and daughter, is one of them.  She with her mate Kevin recently finished 4 years of a Masters program at Dalhousie university in Halifax Canada.  Congrats to them both and I'm absolutely certain that both these bright stars will benefit mankind as the years move ahead.



We drove home during late afternoon, the sun sinking into the West over one of the many local mountain ranges, and us in slow moving gridlocked traffic on the 101.  Had it not been for the traffic, it could easily have been a Zane Grey moment!

Water supplied by aquifer.

Onto other news...

Sunday prior to Holly's arrival I took apart the dual carburetors on the XT 350.  The bike wasn't running particularly well when I bought it and I've been finding little things that were done in the interest of leanness for emissions inspection likely but as a result the bike ran poorly in some conditions, like when I was heading out to the Superstitions and she wouldn't climb hills.  It did however deliver 80 miles per Imperial gallon, which although great fuel mileage, could be deadly to the engine!

What did I find... you ask, well turns out my theory of tiny main jets was proved false in fact the primary main was slightly over sized and at some point washers added under the single position needles giving a richer mid range, where the problem began.

Amazing auditorium, the acoustics are great!

Closer inspection revealed the securing plate was loose and as a result would have let the needle float considerably as it was drawn up thru the inlet!  After making a thorough inspection, I took care to secure all the parts and my test ride yesterday morning, promised a much improved XT experience.  The bike now literally rockets to 70 mph and accelerates properly from mid range speeds, whereas before there was no question of pulling out and passing anyone but a bicyclist and even that would have been a near impossibility going uphill!

Much of the buildings dates to the forties.

With only 21 cubic inches at hand, the little DOHC 4 valve twin carb single, needs all the help it can get.  Output although not advertised would have been right around 20 or so bhp.  Given the six speed transmission and light weight and it's intended use, its very important that things work as planned.

Here's a lesson in all this... if you are going to use equipment of any type, even if its a screwdriver or computer, you should at least make an attempt to understand the principles and be prepared to troubleshoot if required.  Most of my repairs over the years have been a result of training and experience and of course, common sense to diagnose problems.

Looking forward now to some longer distance trips while here and perhaps this fall, but certainly next, gearing up for another Baja road trip.

Proud Dad with architect daughter

Ah yes... the SouthWest...

MY first visit to Phoenix Arizona was in the winter of '97-'98.  I had a Dodge van powered by a propane fueled V-8, from which I had removed the Captain's chairs and fold down bed.  In their place I had built a plywood carrier that the two XT 600's fit neatly into.



Then partner, Deb and I were doing a Pony Express run to Baja Mexico or California as it is better known.  We had both taken 6 weeks off our jobs, her at Mountain Equipment Co-op and I at Bow Cycle in Calgary.  It was a hideous drive, crossing the divide several times, through snow covered and sometimes very icy driving conditions.  It was after all, January. Winter had set in solid some time before.

Using Surprise as a jumping off point, we did a couple of shake down rides locally before heading south and crossing at Yuma.

That trip will always sit fondly in my mind as my first foray into the wilds of Baja, to be followed up by 11 more over the years.

Ever since I was a kid, I have been fond of the south west.  Utah, Nevada, California and of course, Arizona.  Images of cowboys, trail drives, outlaws, cacti and rattlesnakes were well planted in my mind.  None of it would live up to the actual experiences though.



Many, many years later, in fact several girl friends ago, I bought a small, humble and affordable home in the city of Glendale, one of the many that make up the greater Phoenix suburban area of some 4.5 million people.  The "sub prime mortgage meltdown" brought prices within reach and notwithstanding our dollar trading at only 78 cents at the time, bought myself a little condo.  I've since spent several months downloading my thoughts and regaining some measure of energy at the little place in the Arizona sun.


Since moving far far away, in fact nearly as far diagonally as one can get across this immense continent, my opportunities will be limited.  I have vowed that every fall, I would afford a ticket to fly down and spend a couple of months reading, writing walking and generally recharging my batteries.

I arrived at my southern homestead this week.  It's been nearly two years since my last stay.  The blue Super shuttle dropped me off in warm fall weather and key in door, I felt myself relaxing already.  Now usually I sleep for a couple of days but given the fact that my only transportation here is a '98 vintage XT 350, kick start only and a Chinese made 150cc scooter, I have to get these geared up so I can pick up some groceries before doing my napping.

Thursday I had both bikes re registered, they had expired, and licensed them for 2 years so I don't have to think of it next year at all.  Only recently Phoenix rescinded the emissions requirement for motorcycles to be consistent with the rest of the USA, and this certainly simplifies things for me.  After all, you can't renew until you passed emissions. 

The rest of the time has been spent cleaning, dusting, more grocery shopping and yes... sleeping.  I ain't getting any younger!

Holly arrives Monday, for her very first visit to our place, the reason I say that is because I bought the place hoping my girls and their partners would use it as well.  It's a keeper!  We have plans to visit the FLW center in Scottsdale and several other activities and hopefully get a chance to sit on the deck, in summer like heat and have a coffee or cold Rolling Rock with my kid, get back to basics as it were.  We've rarely had much time to sit and chat over the last decade.



A little female kitten belonging next door at Judy's, wandered in the patio door the other night as I was airing the place out.  She has been my constant companion since then, and is asleep  next to me, as I write this.

Over the next few weeks, I would like to do some day rides of course and hopefully a few over-nighters once I get the jetting sorted on the 350.  At only 21 cubic inches, it isn't exactly a powerhouse but then again, I'm not usually in a rush to go anywhere when here.

Now I'm going to finish my airplane novel and then, well who knows... maybe Judy and her son will come by for some refreshments and view some of the thousands of photos I have on this little laptop...

Yahoo!

Phoenix, USA | 29°84°

• Sunday

  
  30°86° / 16°61°

• Monday

  
  28°82° / 14°57°

• Tuesday

  
  29°84° / 13°55°

• Wednesday

  
  30°86° / 13°
  

  
  

  
  

  

  
  

  
  

   

  
  

  
  

   

  
  

  This will be me... next weekend!

  
  

   

NOT!

the intrepid rider

TO say Ron is comfortable off the pavement would be akin to my telling you Sylvester Stallone is a great actor.

okay not exactly San Felipe but...

I have three licensed dual purpose bikes, a DT50L/C, an XT 225 and my Big Blue XT600.  Obviously the Italian Stallion didn't feel comfy on the nifty-fifty, and the 600 was too big, so... like Goldilocks, the 225 fit him this day.

IT wasn't going to be anything technical and besides, it was a cool day with rain in the forecast, when we left for the ride.

at least its a dirt road!

I chose some very non technical, hard packed clay roads and back roads for our 'off road day.'  Other than some occasional muddy sections, which we skirted, the ride was fine.  One thing about dual purpose bikes, they are far nimbler than pretty much anything this side of a TZR 250 and of course, they have far more suspension than a typical street bike with half the weight.

NO plan is sometimes the best plan.  Only thing I had in mind was to limit the ruts and mud, and stop at the bakery in Hunter River for lunch.  With full tanks, we had more range than we were going to need today.  The 225 weighs right round 240 pounds full of fuel and I felt RM could handle that on the few dirt sections we'd see.

This is as rough as it got!

WE rolled on about 150 kilometers round trip and didn't cross the same piece of road twice.  This is not something Ronnie would normally do, last dual sport he rode was back in kick starter days.  I kept tabs on him throughout the day, and except for getting cold, he did okay.  You do see different countryside when you ride across from paved road to paved road the back way, that's why I love doing this type of riding.  In the Rockies, the desert or here in the red Island. 

Besides... unlike the Mojave, you can't get lost here.

Obligatory photo op.

RON still was having tummy issues, so our lunch was mostly my lunch, his tea and crumpet, but I'd say by the end of the day, he was glad he gave this a go.  I doubt he'll rush right out and buy something with knobby tires on it, but hey... it's all good experience.  I often have said that learning to ride on dirt is great practical experience on the street.

Doesn't look as steep as it was.

THAT brought our two weeks riding to a close.  The weather did beat us up some, we did look like Michelin men for awhile, yet anytime you can put miles on your butt, two wheeling is a whole lot better than digging ditches ain't it!

OF course, he's invited me to Kamploops to ride the old GS 750 that we both owned at different times, don't know if it's in the cards but like getting married... never say never, right:)

NOW maybe I can talk my other BC buddy Dan, into finding a second big dual sport for me... and I'd visit Golden and Kamloops yet again some day...

End of day... he was riding so fast, lost in a blur!

Mother Nature... who's da boss!

WITHIN twenty minutes of renting a room, off loading the bikes in the rain, turning on the TV... guess what... it cleared up.

Yessiree folks, by 5 30 pm, the sun was shining, hurricane winds had calmed to a whisper, and apart from dripping gear or wet pavement, you would have sworn I was lying to you when I say we saw, pussycats and pooches falling from the sky.

Jokingly (and only as an experiment) I said to Unca Ronnie; with a half enthused voice.

"Hey... let's pack up and go!" 

To say there was no response would be understating the obvious at this point.  I vainly searched the room for a defibrillator (or is that defibrillator?)  Couldn't see one.  Probably non standard issue in these older Mom and Pop places on the WFCT*, thought for a moment performing CPR, but... the thought of anything near mouth to mouth appealed to me about as much as kissing the wicked witch of the west... so I just gave him a kick with my soggy Prexport.  Nada, not even a twitch.  I figured, he was either dead already or just dead tired.  Since my sense of smell is really really bad, I thought I wouldn't even know till morning... when rigor set in.



Oh well, finished putting my gear out, I had a shower to warm up and after a short break, the old man stirred and out of his lips came the words to prove he was not only alive, but well;

"Hey man... let's eat!"

And we did.  A short walk got us a local restaurant of which there are many in Cheticamp, and being the eye-tie that he is, RM ordered hisself a 'za with the works and I had a BLT. 

Ronnie decided to continue (who knows he could have been sleep walking the entire time) and I retired to the room to read a couple of verses from the bible...

We scoured the four or so channels, but could not get a weather report closer than Halifax (bad) or New Brunswick (mucho bad)  Considering it was a tropical depression heading our way, this not surprising.  NB was reporting unusually heavy rain fall, flooding along the St. John river in Woodstock and Fredericton and hi velocity winds throughout.  Local news or weather... Cape Breton, which since the coal mines all shut down years ago, gets about as much air time from Halifax as they have influence in the vote.  About nil!

Had a pretty good sleep, all things considered.  Ronnie snores, loudly, and my sense of hearing is about as acute as my sense of smell, is not, but I am used to such things.  In truth, I've had girlfriends that were louder.  Ummm... snoring I mean.



It was a decent morning as we slowly got our gear together.  One thing about aging is you don't have that same sense of "gotta be there" as when we were younger.  Of course just as we were shifting into third gear and maybe... 150 feet from the longest construction zone of our entire trip put together, with those squiggly canyons, signs warning (us) motorcyclists of treacherous going, sticky wet gray gravel and a whole lotta cars behind us... it began pouring.  'Why God?'  I asked inside my head.  The only answer I got were raindrops the size of grapes, clanking off my lid.  It's amazing how impatient cars get when the occupants are in regulated warmth and the puddles are Loch Ness deep...it is after all, Cape Breton right, New Scotland!  Talk about tailgaters...

We rode south to Margaree Forks where we took 19 all the way to Port Hastings.  Route 19 south here was marvelously smooth, almost slate like... and the weather had improved considerably.   We rode in warmth all the way to the causeway and once over, stopped at a Petro Can to fill up and partake of the ubiquitous Timmy's that are about as common in the Maritime provinces as Newfoundlanders in Fort McMurray!



I was taking a chance and stripped all my wet weather gear but Ronnie being the 'oh so cautious one' left his bright yellow slickers on.  At this point I told him that my 'runs like a Rolex' Triumph had been misfiring all during the day.  My fuel mileage had dropped by about 10 mpg and I could only attribute the problem to some water that had infiltrated some vital electrical component given that the VX was running fine he said, and we had fueled at the same places all along.

Having talked over our options, whether to continue to Truro and the Fundy coast, passing through Bass river, the various Economy's (upper/lower/middle and low income) then Parrsboro and around the coast back to Amherst, or alternatively, taking a right at New Glasgow and heading to Pictou and the PEI ferry, we decided to reserve judgement until the final turn-off before the turn off.

 

 Route 105 is a fine divided highway but of course like all expressways, rather boring to ride/drone along for hours.  Ron in tow, we made our way to the PEI turnoff and decided while traffic howled by us at high speed, to head to the coast and take the ferry back to the Island.  We'd missed a lot of the really crappy weather but there was no guarantee that would continue.  The final decision was made when I told RM that we would be getting to Fundy at high tide and the major allure of that area are the amazing tidal changes that take place every day... as high as 40+ feet!  Only the northern Cortez has tides even close to these and they can range as much as 25-30 feet.





We were first in line at the NFL terminal and met 'tall guy' from Colorado riding a 1200 GS.  He was nearly six foot, thirteen inches, could have played NBA for all we knew, but told us he had sold a software company some years back and he and his wife were retired since.  His idea of a good time was to pack the Beemer, and depart solo for destinations unknown for a month or more.



The good old MV Holiday Island, a boat I was intimately (but not in that way) familiar with, carried us back to home sweet home, Prince Edward Island.  Dinner at Smitties in Charlottetown, a foray west on the PEI Trans Canada, and major construction, and home before dark.  Well that's a misnomer as the skies were so heavily laden, we really were riding in the gloom.



1500 kilometers over 6 days.  Fort Luisburg, the Cape Breton highlands, one moose, one replica skull of a leather-back turtle, one cute old dog (well two if you count Ron), one cute and cuddly cat and the Graham Bell museum later... our east coast trip was over.  Nothing left now but cleaning the bikes and gear, Ronald getting his stuff packed and hopefully... a day ride on my XT's before the old guy winged his way back to the desert.