Halle-fricken-lujah...

Someone found my truck today.  It was gone for one week exactly.  It was about four blocks away, parked
in the driveway behind a hostel.  As expected, they stole all my tools, and the stereo and speakers to boot.  I really don't care about the stereo or speakers, but I'm angry about the tools, since the expensive ones belonged to my Dad.  And Autozone.  I guess I'm just angry at the whole situation.  It looks like they used about a quarter tank of gas, so they were driving it around a while.

They did one kind thing for me though.  I didn't have screws to affix the front license plate before, so it was just sitting in the cab.  They did it for me.  I guess they didn't want to get pulled over

Now I've just got to figure out how to fix the ignition.

Hmmmm...

Truck's still gone.  No news from the police.  I've been hoping that they'll just find it out of gas on the side of the road somewhere.  I can't think of a reason for anyone to steal it, except maybe that they wanted all my tools that were in it and didn't think they could carry them all alone.  I don't know.  It kind of baffles me.  But if it isn't found in working condition, it will have cost me about $1500.  It's not a huge amount, but one I can ill afford, being without real employment and engaged in building a house.  I mean I had planned to rent an excavator to break ground, just a couple days after it was stolen.  But I need a truck to drag it to the house.  I'm working on alternatives.

Anyway, I went out to get on my bike this morning to run an errand, and it wouldn't turn over.  I tried whatever I could think of, but couldn't get it moving.  So I walked on my errand.  Then afterward I walked it up the hill to the church parking lot and tried to bump start it.  Have you ever tried to push almost 500lbs. up a hill?  I realized I need more exercise.

I tried a couple of running compression starts, in the parking lot, but no dice.  It just wasn't happening.  I started thinking about it, and I'm pretty sure that it wasn't the battery, like it was last time this happened.  I mean I could run the starter again and again.  It just wouldn't turn over.

I then tried getting a bit more speed down the hill on the sidewalk (it's a one way road, up the hill) before my building.  Still, it wouldn't turn over when I slammed it into first.  I got it back in the garage just as the rain and snow started falling again.

I'm trying to have a sense of humor about the state of things.  But it's wearing a bit thin.

Gone...

My truck got stolen out of my garage last night.  I can't understand why anyone would take it.  It's in terrible condition.  I don't think there's a big aftermarket for parts for a stock '89 Ranger.  Especially one with 196000 miles.  I mean anyone driving away would feel that it was in bad shape.  And anyone who looked at the body with all it's dents and crappy black spray can paint job could see that it's not been well cared for.  I don't get it.

The Dangers of Motorcycling...

Today I experienced my first major casualty in the three years I've been riding a motorcycle.  It's really upsetting to me.  In fact I'm having a hard time writing about it because I'm so upset.  It's moments like this that you really have to re-evaluate your life and try to figure out what's really important.

I guess the best way to go about this is just to explain how this happened.  It was approaching 6:00 and the library was closing.  I'd just showered, and took too long cutting my hair.  So I hurried as fast as I could up there on my motorcycle.  I wanted to get a repair manual for my truck that I had on hold.  And I did.

Little could I know what was about to happen.

I went down to Smiths for a couple of grocery items that I needed.  The other day I saw a guy blasting out of the parking lot on a bike there.  He was going fast enough that he lifted off a little when he went over the sidewalk and through the ditch.  He was already leaning into the turn and when his weight came back down on the wheels gravity and friction had it's way with him and he high sided over the bike.  That's the worst type of accident.  A low side you just fall down and slide.  But on a high side you fly over the top of the bike, and come down hard.  It's the high sides that break bones.

Anyway, I went into the Smith's to shop.  I'd only gone in to buy a couple things, but then there were a few things on sale that I was going to need anyway.  Usually I'm a quite good judge of how much stuff I can put in my bag without it becoming unwieldy as I ride home.  But it was those damn sales.  In hindsight I don't know how I could have been so foolish.

As I packed the bag after my purchase it became obvious that it didn't all fit.  And although I didn't think of it at the time, when you're riding a bike you don't want to be distracted by an unwieldy bag.  The last thing that didn't really fit was a bag of oranges.  I didn't want to put them underneath other heavy things.  Unfortunately they are round, and rolly.  I put them on top of the bag, hoping that they wouldn't roll away if I laid my bag on the seat behind me.

I think you can tell where this is going.

The incident came after I turned onto 3rd Ave, going down the big hill.  I felt the oranges shifting behind me, and then it happened.  I felt them go.  And then...

I watched them in my mirror sitting in the road as I drove slowly down the hill.  3rd Ave is a one way road, so I couldn't flip a u-turn and go back for them.  I watched in desperation as one car passed my lovely oranges, then another, then another.  There was no place to park on the bottom of the hill so I could run back up the hill to get them.  I hurried around the block, rushing to try to get back to them as fast as I could.  It was only about 45 seconds.  But when I got back to them, someone had crushed my oranges.  My poor delicious oranges.  Jerks.

So now I'm orangless.  Orangless.  And I have to wonder, is grocery shopping on a motorcycle always a good idea?  I'm orangless.