Motorhead Coffee

vagabond blog: thoughts from the saddle

A Good Pair of Boots

I’m a boot guy. Some people like tennis shoes, some like loafers. Me, I like boots. I’ve been wearing boots as my shoe of choice since I was a little kid. I don’t know if it was because I lived on a small farm or if it was driven from spending all my time riding motorcycles. Nothing like a good pair of well worn boots to make you feel right at home.

I’ve owned several pairs of motorcycle boots over the years. I’ve tried a few brands, but there is one boot in particular that stands above the rest. Sometime back in the late 90s or early 2000s I bought a pair of BMW Kilimanjaro boots. They looked more like motocross boots than street boots, and maybe that was part of the appeal. This was before everyone started using the term “Adventure bikes.” Those boots were the most comfortable riding shoes I ever owned. I wore them until just about a year or two ago, when I discovered I had worn the toe completely out. It was a sad day indeed.

I began searching for a replacement and ended up picking up a couple different pairs. Neither one compared to my old worn out boots. Frankly, I didn’t much care for them at all, so when I go the chance I picked up a pair of boots that reminded me of my old friends. I read somewhere that at one time Forma made some of the BMW boots. I have no idea if they made my old Kilimanjaro or not, but I’ve got to say I love these new Adventure boots! They are all day comfortable…good thing, as that is how they will be worn. When I go on bike trips my riding boots go hiking on mountain trails, walking around quaint downtowns and take me out to dinner and drinks. FullSizeRender (5)

These new boots feel like home and they remind me of my aging Triumph Street Triple R. I decided a few days ago that it was finally time to let my 5 year old Street Triple go. I have owned the bike since new. It was actually a gift from my wife for my 50th birthday. I have loved that bike since the day I rode it home. I didn’t put all that many miles on it (pushing 15k right now) because I have owned other bikes at the same time, however, none of them ever stuck with me like the Triple.

It’s not just that it was a gift that makes me wax poetic about this machine; it just fits me. I love the sound of that three cylinder engine as it winds out. I love looking over the bars and realizing there is nothing between me and what lies ahead. I love the minimalist nature of the bike, the raw power, the ease with which it can be handled. I don’t even think about steering it; my body just knows how it will respond and, together, we navigate the asphalt serpent.DSC_0050

This bike has taken me many places, figuratively and literally. It has spent many weeks in Asheville, running from one end of the Blue Ridge Parkway to the other. It’s been all over Virginia, West Virginia and the Midwest. Together we have created many memories.

So, I tried to put it up for sale, just like I’ve threatened to do many times before. I went as far as to create an ad. As I wrote out the post I found myself getting a bit teary-eyed and realized I couldn’t let this bike go to just anyone. I have loved this machine and someday, its new owner must love it the way I did. But for today, the Street Triple stays in the garage, at home where it belongs…just like those old worn out boots.IMG_0923



Viking Cycle Ironborn Textile Jacket Review

Call us hoarders if you will, but I prefer to think of motorcycle enthusiasts as collectors. We collect extra seats, windshields, all types of motorcycle luggage and random spare parts. Right now, my mother’s barn has 2 stock exhaust systems, mirrors, handgrips and random other parts from bikes dating back many years. In fact, it was not too long ago that I had a tail box lid for a 1982 Honda Goldwing Interstate tucked away in her barn.

We also tend to collect riding gear. I’m an all the gear all the time rider, which means when I ride I not only wear a helmet, I wear gloves, boots, a jacket and riding pants or 1 piece suit. Right now I could probably scrape up 6 helmets around the house and at least that many pairs of gloves (probably twice that, yet I only wear one brand and one style…ever!). I have 3 different pairs of riding pants, a 1 piece Roadcrafter suit and I would guess about 5 jackets. That does not count the 2 old BMW riding suits I recently gave my son-in-law and 3-4 others still packed away in crates. Over the years I’ve owned dozens of riding jackets, including: BMW Savannah, Motoport, Aerostich Darien, Tourmaster, Firstgear, Klim, Rev it’ and Clover. In my closet right now is a Klim, 3 Rev it’ jackets and a Tourmaster, all of which see regular duty. Oh and don’t forget the red Stich.

The same people who ask me why I own more than one motorcycle also wonder why I own so much riding gear. Well, the answer is the same; different tools for different occasions. I have jackets that are 100% waterproof but are a little stiff and don’t breathe well. I have jackets with removable waterproof liners, which can be a pain, but they are lighter and breathe better. I have jackets that are warmer in winter and others that are cooler in summer. I have touring jackets and around town jackets. There, see? Makes perfect sense!

So when the folks at Motorcycle House approached me about trying one of their Viking Cycle jackets, I was more than happy to oblige. Just to be clear, I did not purchase the jacket; it was sent at no charge for my review.

The jacket that showed up at my doorstep this past week was the Ironborn Textile Jacket. The jacket body is black and comes in several accent color options. I asked them to send me the jacket in black/black. I’ve never been accused of being flashy! They were out of that combo in a medium, so I was sent black/green. Green? That made me a bit nervous. I was envisioning Kawasaki Lime Green! Anyone got a Ninja H2R they can loan me? When the package came I was pleasantly surprised to find that instead of lime green, the accents were more reminiscent of Hi Viz yellow. I can do that.

A model I'm not!

A model I’m not!

My first impression when I pulled the jacket from the packaging was, “This is nice looking jacket.” The Ironborn is a short, sport style jacket. Most of my gear is 3/4 length, but as I said, there is a purpose for every style and there are times when a short jacket is more appropriate.

One reason I like 3/4 jackets is because of the storage. They have lots of pockets. Well, the Ironborn was like a spy coat…it had pockets tucked away everywhere. Aside from the two outside zippered pockets, it had multiple pockets inside, including a phone access pocket, MP3 pocket, sunglass pocket, and random other pockets. Heck, it even has a way to route headphones inside and up to your collar! But the coup de grace is the 10″ tablet pocket inside. No kidding, this thing will hold an iPad Mini! I put my iPhone 6 inside and never felt it once.

take your entire library along!

take your entire library along!

Those of us who wear riding gear do so for specific reasons, the main one being protection. For a piece of riding gear to be of value it has to do the following things: protect you from harm, shield you from the elements, be reasonably comfortable, be somewhat versatile in regards to climate, be durable and it doesn’t hurt if it looks good too.

Protection is number one in my book. I’m happy to say that I did not “test” the Ironborn in this regard! The outer shell of the jacket is constructed of Rock Tex 600 and is complete with CE approved shoulder and elbow armor. It also has a back protector pocket and comes with spine armor in place.

CE Approved

CE Approved

I was pleasantly surprised to discover that the Ironborn has a waterproof treated outer shell. We have been experiencing pop up showers here in the Midwest for the past several weeks, but in my 400 miles of weekend travel, I never felt a drop. I guess I could have tested the waterproof claim of the jacket by standing in my drive and letting my wife spray me with a hose…but I think she would have enjoyed that too much!

I wear a size Medium in all the jackets I own. The Ironborn medium was a little roomy on me. I think I could have worn a small. There are adjustment straps on the sleeves, as well as take up straps for the body. I pulled all of them as tight as they would go. The jacket felt good on. It zipped up nice, I pulled the velcro tight on the cuffs, put on my gloves, and off I went. 50 miles down the road and I had not given the jacket a second thought. That’s a good thing. It means it is comfortable. The neck closure was secure, no flapping, no chaffing, no bunching up anywhere.

Who says I have a bald spot?

Who says I have a bald spot?

The Ironborn even has a zip out, full sleeve, insulated liner…which I promptly took out. After all, it is 92 degrees in Kentucky right now and the humidity is through the roof. No liner needed.

thermal liner

thermal liner

I was fairly comfortable riding around locally, until I stopped for some photo ops. I got hot quick. I’m not faulting the jacket for that though; I would have been hot standing around in any of my jackets. Once I got back on the road, I did a quick, 30 mile blast down the Interstate just to make sure nothing odd happened while encountering a higher rate of speed. Before I did that though, I opened up the front chest and shoulder vents, as well as the rear exit vents. The high-speed ride, cooled me off quite nicely, thank you.

2 chest and 2 shoulder vents

2 chest and 2 shoulder vents

If I were guessing, I would call this a 3 season jacket. In fact, I think it would be very comfortable in the Spring and Fall, my two favorite riding seasons. I don’t know its degree of warmth for a northern winter, nor how well it would cool on a Florida July. But to be fair, I don’t know of any riding gear that feels all that cool on a Key West summer or warm on an International Falls, Minnesota winter. As for looks, I think the Ironborn is an attractive jacket. The green might have clashed a bit with my KTM orange, but so does my Arai helmet with the Union Jack on the front!

The only thing I really couldn’t test was durability. We motorcycle riders are pretty hard on our gear. We wear them in the hot sun and the pouring rain. We wear them in the cold, and even in the snow when fate fails to smile. We lay on the ground in them, change oil and tires in them and sometimes we even sleep alongside the road in them. Our gear has to be tough. The zippers need to be strong and the seams sound. Only time will tell how the Viking Cycle Ironborn jacket holds up to the test of daily use. When I find out, you will be the first to know.

Overall, I have to say I was quite impressed with the jacket. That is especially true when you realize that it retails at Motorcycle House for $69.99. No, that’s not a typo. $69.99. I’ve got jackets that I paid 3 to 8 times that much for. Are they 8 times better? I don’t know, but I do know this; I’ve had $500 jackets break zippers within the first few months of ownership. What I can say now is, if you are looking for a sport style textile jacket that provides protection and comfort and don’t want to break the bank, you should give the Viking Cycle Ironborn a look. You just might be surprised.




It seems like I’ve always lived my life Iike I was on a mission. Doesn’t matter what I’m doing, I feel the driving urge to get it done as fast as possible so I can move on to the next “mission.” A sickness? Maybe. Crazy? Certainly. Annoying? Absolutely. You wouldn’t think a person should have to learn to relax, but sometimes I think I need a lesson  in letting go of all the meaningless, irrelevant, time -strapped pursits that I engage in. 

I sometimes wonder if that’s why I tend to ride motorcyles on the aggressive side. I’ve never been one to lope along at the speed limit, while stopping to enjoy the sights. “Oh look Jamie, the Grand Canyon!” “Yeah, yeah, its a big hole, looks cool, no time to stop, we’ve got miles to ride!” Sounds silly, but its pretty accurate. I will never be accused of being the rider holding up a long string of traffic. Cruising to me is something I did when I was 17 while making laps in my car around the courthouse square. And I’ve never even owned an actual cruiser bike in my life.

Well, that’s not 100% accurate. The first bike I ever took a trip on was a Suzuki LS550, a very cruiser-like machine. Of course, I made it as touring friendly as possible by adding a Vetter Quicksilver fairing and Bagman soft luggage. My first wife and I rode it two up through the Smokey Mountains for a week. It rained every day. We didn’t care. We slept in a tent, rode in cheap plastic rain gear and meandered along the mountain roads. Probably the only time you will ever hear me say I “meandered” anywhere!

Yesterday morning I was debating what sort of mood I was in before mounting up for a 4th of July ride. The Duke would have been my obvious choice, but it’s still at the shop getting that performance enhancement I was telling you about. It is done, but Chad, Commonwealth’s miracle worker of a mechanic, decided to torment me by calling me 9 minutes before the shop closed for the weekend to tell me the bike was ready to go. I was 120 miles away. I did the math anyway…nope, not going to make it! Thanks Chad…you probably saved me a speeding ticket. Or at least, delayed it.

I’ve got new street rubber on the Vstrom, so I thought about breaking those shoes in. The Street Triple always puts a smile on my face, but there is no relaxing on that bike for sure. I was feeling pretty shot physically yesterday. I had spent all day Friday doing something I have not had to do in 3 years; mow grass and swing a weed eater. My wife and I spent about 13+ years mowing the 11 acres my Dad and Mom decided to call their “yard.” It reminded me of how much I enjoy living in a condo! I determined my energy level for the day was much more suited to backroad rambling than tightrope waliking and mile eating, so the Scrambler got the nod. 

 It’s not that you can’t ride the Scrambler aggresively, but it does lend itself to a relaxing ride if you will let it. And I did. With no destination in mind, I just pointed it down a country road, navigating in no particular manner, with no concern for where I ended up or when I got there. I enjoyed it very much, thank you. No pressure to attack a corner, no voice saying, “If you keep going you can be in Tennessee in another hour.” Just a relaxing ride. I know for me that is an anomaly, but I hope when retirement comes and time takes on a different meaning, that I can learn to do this more often. I’m planning a coast to coast in the near future, but I don’t want to make it a 50 cc (coast to coast in 50 hours); no, I want to take about a month and soak in all the unique people, places and things along the way. I wonder if my boss will let me take 4 weeks vacation at once? Uh, no.

Well, getting ready to climb on the Vstrom or the Street Triple for today’s ride. Wonder how fast I can make the Virginia line and back?



Performance Awards

My 690 Duke is in the shop right now getting a “performance enhancement.” I’m very excited to get this little Tasmanian Devil back so I can give it a proper spin. The big challenge, however, is how to keep from turning a performance enhancement into a performance award! IMG_1126

You would think that a 690 thumper, putting out a paltry 67 hp, would be the last bike you’d worry about causing an impromptu meeting with Officer Friendly, but you’d be wrong. Pure adrenaline is pumping through those fuel lines. Combine that with razor sharp handling and a wet weight that is lower than an NFL linebacker and what you’ve got is an invitation to driving school!

I learned long ago that there is a lot more to a motorcycle than horsepower and that certain bikes have an unspoken quality that coaxes the juvenile delinquent right out of your Brooks Brother’s suit. My very first Ducati had that effect…and it wasn’t even a sport bike…or the color red, but that ST2 got my blood running every time I hit the start button. As I ran down the highway it would whisper in my ear, “No one is looking, do a wheelie, now!” “Here comes a curve, lean me over, hard!” So I did.

I spent a year on a Yamaha FJR 1300, a bike with no shortage of brute force. There were about 145 ponies under that tank. It pulled like a runaway locomotive. I distinctly remember heading dow the Interstate on my way to Florida and coming upon a semi who was trucking along at a healthy 80+ mph. I cracked the throttle of the FJR, whipped out left and passed the trucker hard and fast. Next thing I knew I was doing xxx miles per hour and looking for my ripcord. Fast bike. Never got pulled over once.

After about 10 months I got bored with the inline 4 and traded it in on a Ducati Multistrada 1000. About 58 less hp than the FJR, but one of the most enjoyable motors I’ve ever owned. I wrung it to redline every time I rode it. It begged me to…and who was I to deny this lovely redhead? I had my first speeding ticket on this bike within a week of taking ownership.

So, you see, the Duke is a dangerous creature in stock form, let alone the improvements currently being bestowed upon this little firecracker. I was thinking that when I pick it up I should probably just head on down to the courthouse and sign up for driving school. You’d think a 55 year old man would know better, and I do…but I’ve always been a sucker for a pretty face.




I’m looking forward to the time when the two biggest decisions of the day are: which bike am I going to ride and which State will I ride in. I’m getting closer every day and the anticipation is killing me. FullSizeRender (2)

I’ve always been a “free spirit” bridled by just enough of a sense of responsibility and commitment ( or maybe its really just a lack of courage!) to go to work every day and do my job. Well, let’s just say my “commitment meter” is about out of quarters! A few of my co-workers have retired or are getting ready to and I admit to being very jealous.

I’m trying to get myself in decent shape so that when the last day of structured work does come, I will be ready and able to enjoy the freedom. In the mean time, I will slip away and play Walter Mitty every chance I get. Right now I’m tentatively planning an East Coast Seafood Shack run in early September and hopefully some long weekends in between.

An exciting new development has taken place as well. My son bought his first bike! And both my sons-in-law want to ride too. The women in the family aren’t too happy with me right now, but I’m pretty pumped. I’m already planning a “Motorhead in the Mountains” run next spring with all three of them!



She Likes the Beatles…I Like the Stones

Well, truth be told, she doesn’t care much for the Beatles either! My wife is a real trooper. She is one of the most giving people I have ever met. She is always putting everyone else before herself, especially me. She tolerates my garage full of motorcycles, my many coffee ventures, the smell of coffee smoke and bits of chaff in my clothes. She doesn’t mind if I take weeklong bike trips without her, or go off riding alone on the weekends.

When it comes to our taste in music, Lori and I are worlds apart. Actually, I like just about every kind of music…every kind but the kind she likes! She has never really had an interest in going to concerts either. I’ve gone to many. I’m a big Springsteen fan and Lori was kind enough to go with me to a show a couple year ago and I don’t think she hated it.

I told her last year that if the Stones tour the US one more time, she might as well pack her bag and get ready because we are going. Well, her bag is packed. We are heading to Columbus, Ohio tomorrow to the Buckeye Stadium for the 2nd stop of the Rolling Stones Zip Code Tour. And if she wasn’t already sacrificing enough, a week or so ago they announced they would have a special guest at the Ohio show: Kid Rock! Haha! I can only imagine how much she is going to enjoy hearing him sing Bawitdaba! Thanks Lori for being such a good sport and humoring me one more time.

I’ve got a great wife and I just wanted to say so.



Sharp Dressed Man

Everywhere I go, I hear the same thing: “Aren’t you hot?” “Are you a fireman?” “You look like a Power Ranger?” “Aren’t you hot?” Wait, I said that already. That’s because I hear that one over and over. So, here is the answer: “Yes, I know I look silly. Yes, it can be very hot in the summer wearing this suit, especially in the city. No, I’m not a Power Ranger, but my kids liked them when they were young. And, no, I’m not a fireman but if I was, I would be hot as Hell in this suit!”

A new rider asked me recently about how I handled my family’s concerns over the safety of my chosen hobby, motorcycle travel. We talked about several things, including riding smart, which, in my mind includes wearing protective gear. Make no mistake, I’m no evangelist for safety gear, nor do I have any intention in telling you how to ride or what to wear…wear what you want…no skin off my nose (pun intended).

I’ve got a few different sets of gear that I wear. Well, let’s be honest here; I’ve got dozens of sets of gear! In fact, we were recently cleaning out my mother’s barn and I discovered crates full of old riding suits that I have not worn in years. That does not count the 8-10 jackets that hang in my closet, nor the 3 pairs of riding pants, nor the 1 piece Roadcrafter.

Why so many suits? Well, they all have their place. Some are better in warm weather, some in cold. Some do well in an all day rain and others just do it all. Those are the ones I wear on trips. And then there is the Aerostich Roadcrafter. I’m on my second one. I will probably buy a new generation one this year or next. And not in red. For those of you who don’t know, they are basically 1 piece coveralls that slip over your clothing. They have a full zipper up one leg to the neck and half zipper up the other. You can jump into one in about 15 seconds. FullSizeRender (1)

They are highly protective, heavy, a bit bulky, sometimes waterproof and sometimes make you look like you peed your pants. And they are very expensive. I wore mine today in the pouring rain and came home dry as a bone. They make me feel safe; they make me look silly. I don’t care. I have wore my road worn, bug spattered Roadcrafter into many a fine dining establishments. I’d walk in the mall in one if I needed to. I really don’t care how it looks. If you are the kind of person who spends a week or even a long weekend away from home on your bike, being fashionable is generally not a high priority.

Admittedly, some suits make you look better than other. Leather can look pretty sharp, but I find it too impractical most of the time. There are a lot of nice Cordura suits out there that look pretty nice in my opinion…but you still look silly in one when mingling with the public. I remember a friend seeing a photo of me on a bike trip I took a couple years ago. He said, “You look like a movie star in that outfit.” Never thought I’d hear that. Must have meant in a Sci-Fi movie! Sexy, no. Practical, yes.IMG_0923

So, if you see me along the roadside in one of my silly outfits, it’s okay if you think I look dumb, or if your kids think I’m the missing Red Ranger…I’m used to it.



Coming to a Garage Near Me

Just a quick teaser. Tomorrow afternoon I will be taking a short road trip…and this little puppy is going to follow me home. Details to come later, but for now, meet Sir Duke.



Don’t Tell Mom

I used to swear that my mother was a clairvoyant, or a witch or at the least possessed some kind of creepy mind reading skills. It seemed that she always knew what us kids were up to, often before we had even completed the act. Since her recent passing, my sister and I have spent a lot of time reminiscing and digging through “ancient artifacts,” (like our report cards from the 1960’s and 70’s…my sister’s behavior was questionable in 1969!).mom

Our mother had a very rigid sense of right and wrong. And she was extremely good and making you aware of the “wrong.” I suppose most households are the same, but for us there were certain things that you just din’t want your mom to know.

1. Drinking. Mom was always opposed to drinking. As far as I know, with the exception of communion wine, Mom never took a single drink for pleasure. Never knew what it was like to be three sheets to the wind. Now, make no mistake, Dad did. Dad didn’t become a teetotaler until his 50’s. I clearly remember Mom complaining about him having a six pack of Schlitz or Falstaff or Stroh’s in the fridge. She was afraid because Dad drank it would give us kids the green light to drink also. Believe me, the four of us needed no encouragement!

I’m not so sure about my older brother and sister’s antics when they were younger because they were much older than me, but I know for sure my surviving sister was no angel (love you Karen!). Nor was I. The funny thing is, that right up until Mom passed away two weeks ago, both my sister and I would never drink in front of her. It wasn’t like she didn’t know we drank. Heck, I even took a job at a microbrewery. For some reason, we just felt we had to keep that part of life separate from our relationship with her. Karen was actually smarter at this than I was. When I was 17-19 years old, I carried a cooler in the backseat of my car as a permanent fixture. Pretty sure Mom knew what that was all about. The local police sure did. I posses the distinct honor of being the only one of her four children who ever spent the night in the drunk tank. Proud moment.

2. Smoking. Now that I think about this one, I don’t remember if my sister ever smoked or not. Well, cigarettes I mean. Uh…moving on. I can remember my first sample of tobacco was the chewing kind. My brother chewed Beechnut chewing tobacco. I tried it, did not like it. I did, however, steal some of his cigarettes he had stashed away. And his cigars and his pipe. Or maybe they were Dad’s. I don’t remember exactly how old I was but I’m talking maybe 10 or younger.

If I remember correctly my sister got caught “smoking” by Mom once. She and the neighbor girl were sampling a “hand rolled cigarette” and Mom’s creepy radar zeroed in on them. I remember there was some “turmoil” at the house about that little incident.

About the same time in life that I started drinking heavily, I also started smoking. I smoked for several years, and like the drinking, I always tried to hide it from Mom. It didn’t work. Every once in a while, out of the blue she would say, “Are you smoking again?” Then she would proceed to make me feel so guilty that I might even quit for a day or two.

3. Porno. Porno was a big taboo in the 60’s. You see more skin on network television today than you saw in a 60’s Playboy Magazine. And I should know. I got caught looking through my brother’s hidden stash of Playboys. I was barely even old enough to be curious about such things, but there were a couple neighbor boys who were older and they knew my brother had a stash. They asked me to take them to his room when he was gone and show them. So I did. And my older sister caught us. And she told on me. “Really Cooky? You had to tell on me?” Sure enough, she ran to Mom and said, “Jamie is looking at Steve’s Playboys.” Apparently my brother didn’t have the same concerns about what Mom knew that my sister and I did. In fact, I’m sure he didn’t because for my 16th birthday, guess what my older brother bought me? A subscription to Playboy Magazine! Delivered monthly to my mother’s house. Dad loved it…but you can imagine how Mom felt! To this day, I’m shocked that she did not intercept each and every one at the mailbox and burn them in the burn pile out back.

My dad passed away nearly 17 years ago. Two of my siblings died as well. Now that Mom is gone too, it is a very different feeling to have no living parents. Those of you who are parents of older children know that no matter how old your children get, you are always very concerned about what is happening in their lives. My oldest daughter is 32 today. My youngest is 22 and there are two more in between. They can still keep me up late at night with worry. I’m sure they have tried to hide a lot of things from me, and no doubt have succeeded at some of those efforts, but I’m not my mother in that regard. My children don’t have to worry about me freaking out over their behavior. I am very much a realist. My wife on the other hand, much like my mother, has never been drunk, never smoked anything in her life and is very private about the subject of sex. So kids, if you are reading this today, whatever you do, “Don’t tell Mom!”



Laugh or Cry

We used to joke that every time we went to the beaches of Naples on vacation, it was Shark Week on the Discovery Channel. A few few episodes of man-eating sharks and our kids began to think maybe we should have went to Disney instead of the Gulf. But we kept on going, kept on playing in the water and I can happily report that after about 30 plus visits, so far so good!shark

I haven’t seen Shark Week in a while, but I have dubbed this last week of March as “Disaster Week.” After writing my last blog, bragging on how I felt this would be a good riding year, the forces of the Universe decided to knock me down a peg or two by reminding me that there are a lot of things out of my control.

The first two events that happened last week are not funny at all. No humor here. They are, in fact, tragic. My mother was scheduled for a serious surgery the 26th of March. My wife followed me up to Indy so she could return to home after the surgery. About 3 miles from the hospital, in 4 lane, rush hour traffic on I65, dark and raining, a semi-truck merged right onto the road. He kept on merging over into our lane. I saw him come behind me, between my wife and I. At least that’s what I thought happened. But a mile or so up the road, I noticed a large distance between myself and the vehicles behind…and no Lori. A few seconds later I received a panic call from Lori. The semi had came into her lane, sideswiped her, sent her spinning into the other lane and eventually off the road.

Thankfully she was not injured, but very shook up. I had to drive 3 more miles to exit, then back before I could get to her. It was the longest 15 minute drive of my life. We waited 30 minutes for a police officer. He turned out to be one of the rudest people I have ever met. I have a lot of respect for the job a police officer does. I know there is a lot of stress and pressure. I don’t know what this young man had been going through, but he was so rude that he made my wife cry…which made me very angry.

The car was drivable, so Lori followed me to the hospital. Mom went through the various procedures with little complication, however, a pacemaker was added to the list of needs. She spent the better part of  6 hours back in OR. Things went well…until they didn’t. She was recovering in her room when I went to check on her. As I stepped through the swinging doors to the critical care unit, I heard over the loudspeaker, “Code Blue, 3rd Floor…room 3202.” Mom’s room. As I pushed into the CCU, at least 10 people stood at her door and immediately looked at me. A nurse came to me, held me back. I understood I needed to stay out of the way, so I let her lead me back to the waiting room so we could talk to my sister. 30 minutes went by as the team worked hard to save my mother. It was not possible. We lost her.

My mother was quite a woman and one day soon I will write about her life, but not today. We eventually came back to Mom’s house and began all the preparations that one must make. Then more crisis struck home. But that’s enough depressing information for one blog. Disaster Week was in full swing.

Eventually, after the funeral, I came back to Louisville. I decided to ride one of my motorcycles the next day. I rode back to Bloomington, both for some stress relief and to take care of some business there. When I got home, I parked my bike in front of the garage. Later in the day I decided I better put it up. Now, we have been renting a condo here for the past couple years. It only has a 1 car garage and I have it pretty well packed with motorcycles and coffee stuff. I rolled the bike in the garage and, well, I’m not sure what happened. I thought I had the kickstand down. It either got caught and folded a little or something; all I know is as I set the bike on it’s side, it just kept coming. It fell on me, and because of the small space, pinned me against the wall. I jerked my left leg up and out to keep from getting it caught or crushed and that’s when I felt it…a sharp pain tearing up the back of my leg. I knew instantly it was bad.

I tried to walk on it and couldn’t. The pain was excruciating. The kind that brings tears to your eyes if you try to ignore it. The kind that makes you scream and curse. I hopped and crawled to the door into the house and yelled for my daughter. She came, looked at me and asked if she should call 911. I told her I would be fine. I just needed to get the bike back upright. Now, my daughter is about 5’2″ and maybe 95 lbs on a good day. She isn’t going to be picking up any motorcycle. And I couldn’t even stand up, so I knew I wasn’t going to be doing it. Fortunately, one of my friends and coworkers, lives across the street. I called Dan and he came over and picked up the bike for me. By that time I had crawled into the living room and was on the floor. I’m sure Dan got a kick out of that!

As it turned out, and as you can guess, I pulled/tore my hamstring. And if you have done that before then you know it hurts like Hell. I have been on crutches since last Wednesday. My days have consisted of lying on the couch, sitting on the couch or in a recliner, sleeping, watching more TV than I have watched in my entire life and slowly going insane. I tend to fall on the hyperactive side. I don’t sit well. I get very restless quickly. My wife is waiting on me hand and foot. She has learned how to make my oatmeal and coffee. She has had to help me get in and out of the tub (I couldn’t stand in the shower so I had to use the tub…which I also hate!). She has had to help me get dressed. She has brought me drinks and food and phones and laptops and iPads. She has been so kind and patient…and I can’t stand it! I do not like to be waited on. One of the things I hated most about being a manager is telling people to do things I could have done myself.

Yesterday was our wedding anniversary. I spent it on the couch in pain. Lori spent it waiting on me. How romantic! While running an errand, she called me to check in. I said, “I’m going to hobble outside with a big glass of bourbon and a cigar.” She said, “Go for the bourbon, but no cigar!” I told her I thought I had “earned it.” I did neither…it wasn’t worth the trip.

It has been so crazy this past week that Lori and I have just looked at each other and…laughed! Plenty of stuff happened that’s not funny on any level, but sometimes you have to make a choice: laugh or cry. We did our share of crying: might as well laugh. Oh, I almost forgot; my oldest daughter was trying to help a little boy get his dog and she fell and fractured her ankle. She lay on the asphalt calling for help and finally crawled home. Stubborn runs in the family. But wait! That’s not all; the company I work for caught on fire Friday and one of the buildings turned into a 6 alarm fire…welcome to “Disaster Week.”



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