Teenage Driving

Natalie finally got her permit last week and Saturday was the day I would take her out for a little spin. We spent 2 hours in the car which, by the way, was the longest 2 hours of my entire life. Lets face it, nobody feels as safe driving in a car than when you are behind the wheel yourself. I don't let my wife drive me, nor her mother. That is suicide. I would prefer dental surgery than a trip to Dierbergs with either of the two of them. I drive straight through to Florida each year, twice, not trusting anyone to take the wheel. It is too dangerous. For me.

I find that the key to teaching a kid to drive can be found in the following points:

1) Use the loud open "fist slap upon the dashboard" technique. Seems to really keep the awareness high.

2) Cussing. You get a free pass while the car is in drive, let it fly. Repeatedly.

3) Use a four wheel drive vehicle, for spontaneity.

4) Do not tell on your kid if there were issues (to your spouse). She will never take her out driving if she truly knows how nerve wracking it is.

5) No alcohol or other anti-anxiety consumption can take place prior to, or during the driving experience. You will need to be "on" and able to give directions to the body tow truck driver, if need be.

6) Be prepared to suffer, especially the cliche of other drivers seeing that you have a student driver with you and, while at the stoplight, you try and give the appearance that you are calm, they will know that you are weeping.

7) Prepare a list of reasons why the session must be cut short.

8) Check seat belt often.

9) Put insurance and license information in a folder and have visible for easy access, any other medical records, living will etc. should likely be current.

10) Make your destiny a restaurant of your choice. You have earned it.

I suppose we bonded a bit while out there on the streets. If you think about it, driving is 100 percent accountability. My kid needs a little accountability and this seems to be doing the trick. Life is so short, and the time I have with my daughter is limited as it is. If the terror of teaching her to drive is as good as it gets. I guess I am down with that. We fared decently well for the first trip.

Ruckus

As much as I would like to claim initial style point recognition, the concept of the Ruckus was given to me from a tip from Lil Buddy, small engine guru.

Local bicycle racer Chris Ploch, of the Disaster Recovery Journal (DRJ), purchased one of these first, then I went down and got one from Dave Mungenast Motor Sports, in St. Louis. Since I was looking for a new statement to meld up with my "Going Green" attitude, I went down and bought one last week. 100 freaking miles to the gallon! Did you hear that? Ride it like a bike, the 49.5 cc motor has its advantages.

So yes, last week the SUV was parked for two days, while this is now my preferred mode of transportation when possible. Oh, I got rained on already, and had to get a biscuit while waiting it out, in Frontenac. Baby steps.

By the way, if you choose to seek out the Ruckus, buy one and enjoy the release of guilt from your gas guzzling American oil monger, ask for Josh, give him my name. He will pay me twenty five bucks, in which I will in turn donate to a scholarship fund for some college kids.

Michael Pless

Micheal Pless is Authentic. And I will tell you why.

There is a hope that I have someday to find a certain place in life that truly allows for an unconditional free flow of soul. In other words, I would prefer not to have to worry about the result of any action, oration and/or position on a subject that I might have commentary. I want to let it flow someday, non-stop. I want to influence others through my tin can of experience, tell it like it is without recourse. In order to do that, there are risks, we have talked about that, therefore I, like most people, keep things tucked in. Conformity sucks, but I am slowly converting. I have a teenager for Gawd's Sake, if she knew of this she might think ill of me. Nothing scary, nothing over the edge here. I simply want to be me, totally, authentic, before it is too late.

I suppose that is why I am going out to California to meet a new acquaintance soon, Michael Pless, you will see the depth of character if you read the story and that pretty well is the reason why I am intrigued when it comes to "authentic" heroes. I have a passion for people with special skills, mainly the skill of expression, helping others, giving something up for the sake of your fellow man. My buddy Lewis Greenberg is of the same ilk. As are others, authentic, real and unconditional. They are the real deal, the teachers of soul release.

In our annual managers meeting the other day, we set the stage for our key management group. I suppose that, since we want to be different, and that we are different, I have no other choice than to include that (we are different) in our culture--that we make no bones about our unconventional "isms". We'll make it one of our "Pillars of Culture"--one of the things that makes us unique, the fact that we are inspired because of our ability to be ourselves. "Pillars of Culture" is now our slick reference to the soul of Pfoodman, our homegrown version of prosperity for those who want to achieve. Join us if you feel inclined to be yourself, while jiving on the energy of our staff. We got a pretty cool thing going on. Not perfect, but pretty cool. If you want to know our "pillars of culture" contact any one of our managers. They should have it tattooed somewhere by now, (kidding).

So during the meeting at around three PM. My favorite bald guy says for everyone to go to the condo and get comfortable, check in and meet back at the conference room. This was every ones signal to go and change out of traditional "business casual" dress and emerge as they truly are. This was the start of something new, something authentic. At 5:00 pm the party was to begin at a Cabin at Bald Guys lake house. I laid out my t-shirts on the bed and paced back and forth as to which t-shirt I would wear.

I had a Black Flag shirt, pre-Henry Rollings logo, by the way. When I lived in LA in the early 80's I saw them once and my sister thought I might like the shirt some 30 years later. Whenever I wear it, I get commentary from any assortment of people. People with the secret handshake, those who get it. The music, the counter culture of what was, years ago. Pretty cool.


There was a Burnin at the Bluff bike race t-shirt there. Which pretty much sums up what I do outside of work. There is sacrifice and a lot of energy in that shirt, it is grassroots, mountain biking. It represents what others can't do, unless they REALLY work at it. Blood and broken bones are in that shirt. I have had surgery 4 times because of what that shirt represents. I wear that shirt when I have threaded some sweet single track. I earned it at the Burnin at the Bluff 12 hour mountain bike race that takes place each year at Council Bluffs in Southern MO. Thank you Mesa Cycles.

I waded up the pastel colored polo's and tossed them in the closet. While they are important to me, this was no place for them.

I wore the Black Flag t-shirt and along with a salty Telluride Visor. Headed back to the meeting, it all came together for me. As I approached, I saw the managers filing in, dressed the way "they" are. The way they are most comfortable. It was expression. They were different, as was I. Talk about Soul Release?

At the party there was a rule. Everyone had to take a kayak ride. I brought my Wilderness Pungo, my 14 footer. I love that Kayak. It makes me smile. So everyone who got in it smiled a lot. When Fenner fell over we all laughed with her. Though everyone was ready to jump in and give her a hand should she have needed it. We had guitars and blues harps, we played music and sang stupid songs. Chef Anton knocked out a gourmet meal out of nothing. The campfire roared later, with 35 people in a circle laughing, telling stories being themselves. Authentic.

Karl Marx

"The needy animal knows how much it
needs, but the needy man does not."

Funny, this is not a Marx quote, rather an undefined quote from the era of Democritus, a pre-socratic Greek philoshopher born in 450 B.C. He hypothesized that different tastes were a result of differently shaped atoms in contact with the tongue. Smells and sounds could be explained similarly. Vision works by the eye receiving "images" or "effluences" of bodies that are emanated.

The Greeks were so deep and scholars like Karl Marx studied them, who's background includes being quite the indulgent; a side that most of us can idenditfy with. While in college he joined the Trier Tavern Club drinking society and at one point served as its president. His grades even suffered as a result, before recieving his doctorate in 1841 from Friedrich-Whilhelms-Universitat in Berlin. The dude can't be half bad.

Democritus was one of Marx's influences, as was Epicurus, another greek philosopher who's philosophy was to attain the happy, tranquil life, characterized by the absence of pain and fear, and by living a self-sufficient life surrounded by friends. Marx's thesis, The Difference Between the Democritean and Epicurean Philosophy of Nature was quite compelling and pissed off the faculty enough to be labled a radical Hegelian, the concept that (A) ideology conflicting with its (B) opposite ideology = (C) a new and sometimes better philosophy.

Keep this in mind. These guys got it figured out all ready.

I got a Road Rage Wrack

So here is a cycling story that I still feel a little guilty about. Not.

I was in my car, on my way home, stuck in traffic and on Ladue Road going south just under 270. I was in the left lane that, which I assumed was the left turn lane. I was going to be continuing straight so I jumped over to the right lane, only to find that I had abandoned the correct lane and now had to merge left as my lane was ending. I put on my blinker and looked in my rear view mirror to find my way back to where I was. There was a gap and I began to merge. Well, you know the story, this guy didn't like that fact that I was going to merge, and gunned it so I couldn't complete it, like a redneck POS, shameless A-hole, he felt it his obligatory response to keep me from merging. He cast his stone first.

There was really no reason not to let me in other than he thought it was his duty to discipline me, keep me from having it that easy, punish me for thinking that I would have a smooth transition. It might have appeared that I was cutting in line, just the opposite; I had made a mistake by changing lanes in the first place.

So normally I would have pushed my way in and freaked him out by “near missing him” but he was road raging and I backed off a bit it. I rolled down my window and said: "Hey, are we in Argentina", because the last time I saw such disregard for fellow drivers, I was there. If you take a lane in Buenos Aires you pay for it with a honk, gesture, every time you turn the wheel or give it some gas. It is customary.

He looked at me kind of funny. And said: “Yeah, well why you don’t just make me".

“Brahahahahahahaha” was all I could come up with.

Was he serious? Make him do what? Indulge on Dos Elche? Hike into Patagonia?

I was appalled. Not at the implication but at the lack of attempt to respond with anything better than "Wanna make me"?

It was then that I saw a bicycle wrack on the back of his SUV with a Specialized S-Works Mountain bike hanging from the rear. I noticed several things right off the bat. First, it was a rear mounted bike wrack, not nearly as pure “style wise” as a roof mount. He also had a lock and cable dangling from the receiver hitch, a clear violation of manor. Not to mention that it was a Saris. The bike was a 03-04 26 inch, a little over as far as I am concerned, padded seat, yech.

I followed him up to the next light where I was turning left. And rolled down my window again. I said: Dude, your bike sucks and I will shred your legs when you are ready”.

He says, “yeah, but you...you shouldn't cut in line”. Sigh, again, totally lame response from said puke.

So dude, please, do yourself a favor, get your ass on my blog and let me know when you want to ride. No fists, no cussing, just a little fun watching you gasp for air. You will see things my way. You are much younger, much more aggressive in your thought process, apparently. You need to chill out. Get beyond whatever it is you feel is wrong in this world. At the very least, understand that your rebuttals are way cliche. Disappointing.

I won’t make fun of you, even though I know that your kit is a club fit.

Back in Black

Back in Black, an appropriate title for this latest blog entry. That song always makes me feel good, gets the tempo going, brings me back to the day when there was nothing but the Rock and Roll partytude. It plays now, distorted on the little speakers connected to the box that didn't exist when the song was conceived. My kid just slammed the basement door.

Yep, sorry I have been gone. Writing is cyclical, is it not? I have to seek out "ponder ables", in order to provide commentary on the things that I feel are important. Things "pop in" and if the timing is right, I sit and bang out a stupid story. Truly, I was really saving up for a turbo rhetoric piece on the IRS but I ended up getting the case abated in which I was right and they were wrong. The world is about logic. Pieces fit or they don't. Bureaucracies are filled with illogic (not a word). Square pegs. My world is round and will always be round. Idiots will always have a square peg in my manual.

Sullivan is pissing me off because I have to play the guitar with my fingers instead of a pick all week. I committed to this because I know it is in my best interest. Velojim, Johan, Jim Sullivan, former mechanic for Ghissalo, before getting axed, has been giving me blues guitar lessons and, I have to be honest with you, he knows what he is doing. In fact, he has been a huge influence for music. Just yesterday my wife says: "You know, I don't despise your playing as much as I did before". I am so getting a gig someday. I figure I will be a lobbyist as well. But not in the same outfit.

Fact is, I plan on laying down all pre-conceived notions of retirement, middle age; whatever the hell the over 45 age group calls for. I have compiled a list of bullet points that I will live by. I mean, after all, I got Wapiti. If you don't know what Wapiti is you will soon. It is a way of life, friends, a friggin cult. Look for apparel in stores soon.

Anyway, here is my list of stupid things:

I will continue to ride my bike where other folks can't because I can still shred a leg or two and as long as Bauer and Schuck are older than I, and Thrasher younger, I will rise to the occasion. By the way, if I haven't said it before, Krewit is the Main GNOD, the Grandmaster Geezer, for which all is looked up upon. Amen. By the way, sorry we missed you at the Ranch last week. I received 106 chigger bites on my kanks. Say Geez, who invented those friggin things and why? Seems a little overkill.

I will play some music and sing some songs because I don't suck all that much anymore.

My quest for mastering things, recognizing patterns and relationships is my trick. I want to perfect this.

I may learn a second language, to talk with other cool people. I have a new Korean friend. I want to learn how to say "pedicure" in Korean.

My first song as a performer will be a little diddy on a big red four wheel drive damnation van with a hot shower on the back.

So that is the short list.

A quick tally of reconstructive surgeries: two shoulder repairs, (one of which I still have the metal and screws) two knee surgeries, a bone repair (tailbone) from a skating issue. a facial reconstruction on the orbit bone from football in high school and another knee scope today, my goal is to give back this capsule(body) to the earth played out, used up, put to full use, welded down, full throttle for the right reasons, firsthand experiences of what there is out there. I will have touched the lives of as many as possible, made a difference, changed the world, suffer no regrets for not doing things today that I might not be able to do tomorrow. Of course I will piss a couple people off from time to time. Pain is living folks. Go get ya some.

Lewis Greenberg

Wow. Things are picking up on the front lines lately. Lewis Greenberg's war against the naysayers has been a little busier as of late, challenging his neighbors and city officials of Ballwin on his first amendment rights of expression, his beef against those who....well....don't "get" it.

Lewis Greenberg is famous for his art in West County, St. Louis, MO. He is a retired Art teacher, Cyclist, Senior Olympian, eccentric conversationalist and in-your-face technicolor conflict character, right here in our own community. There is nobody like Lewis. Take the time to get to know him when you meet him. There is a world, a "place" to visit when speaking with Lewis. Set aside your pre-conceived notions and take the trip. There is something remarkably complex, something brilliant about him. If you can keep up.

I befriended Lewis a few years ago so I check in on him from time to time. I need a dose of Lewis from time to time for reasons of my own, a reminder that our lives are truly never as dull as we think--that people like Lewis truly make life more interesting.

I decided to drive by to see if he was home on Sunday, in the wake of "media week". Lewis indeed received some media attention; "a good week" he says. No less than 10 cars drove by slowly, to get a load of Lewis and his art, his next door neighbor busy doing yard work, seperated from a big white fence from Lewis, as we spoke in front of his house.

When I return from vacation, Lewis and I agreed that a second article was in order. I want to be careful to capture the meaning of it all, the essence. I want to tackle the issue at hand, find out a little more about his art, its meaning, talk a little about the Vampires and Zombies in his life.

I received a nice comment from Clayton, Lewis's son, and a correction is due the both of them. Clayton never left his father as it might have been implied, life simply moved them in different directions. Thanks Clayton for letting me know. Lewis truly deserves happiness as everyone does. I am motivated to provide a little push in that direction for certain people; the reason for this blog.