What's this? A new post??

Hello all... Yes, I'm still alive, though sometimes I'm not so sure... School and life in general have been the bane of my existence for the last several months, and free time to write is non-existant. Anyhow, I just thought I'd post a little something that I sent out to my classmates today about the state of affairs that is looming for veteran's healthcare. Up until now I've been more or less eating my words in that I HAVE agreed with many of the new president's choices. Not all, but a lot. Seemed to me maybe he really was the 'right man for the job' despite my earlier thoughts. Well, after today, I have to say this little idea of his erases ALL previous accolades I'd considered for him...

http://www.nypost.com/seven/03182009/postopinion/opedcolumnists/dont_cut_costs_on_vets_health_160069.htm is the article i'll refer to here:

Things tend to be a little less "shades-of-gray" when they impact someone you know.

Essentially, the gist here is the current president is pushing to have private insurance companies become responsible for the cost of healthcare for injured veterans, therefore saving the US government a little money. What's so bad about that, you ask? Isn't change great? Well, here's what I've been able to glean so far...

From what I understand this will cause my healthcare to be subject to the same "standards" imposed by insurance companies.

That said, I wear an $80,000 electrical prosthetic that you only ever find on ex-military amputees b/c they're (the military) the only ones who will pay for it. Insurance companies feel that "since you already HAVE one hand, why do you even NEED another." Therefore, they will not buy the very expensive yet functional electrical arm. They WILL eventually break down and buy a cheap mechanical prosthetic which I've been informed they will only replace/repair every other year.

All that said, I break my prosthetic arm about once a month due to my rather active lifestyle. So looks like soon I'm gonna get to have a functioning (though inferior) arm about 1/24th of the time.

To those of you who think "oh they aren't THAT bad", my prosthetist (civilian guy missing a leg above the knee) told me the reason he went into the field was his insurance company refused to buy him a new leg when his broke after just a few months. He said they bought him a set of crutches and told him it was just as good. He said the reason prosthetic shops are full of amputee employees is that it's the only way they can keep themselves on a leg or with an arm.
Remember, the goal of insurance is to spend the least amount of money possible. A $5000 barely functioning arm every 24 months, or $80,000 electrical arm?

Hope you all enjoy clapping for your elected official...

A sample question from my finals...

Taking them this week, so I figured I'd post a "sample" of the kinds of questions we seem to get, and a pic of my response...

A middle-aged National Guard veteran and part time pig farmer in the San Joaquin Valley, recently back from serving in the middle east, decides he's going to take his children, pet cats, and his ol' beagle on a raspberry picking trip in Guatamala. He leaves one morning after a night of heavy drinking with just some old bread and rare steak to tide him over. He shoos off some pigeons waves goodbye to his prize rosebushes as he gets in his DeLorean and heads to the daycare to get his kids. After taking off his nice shoes he retreives his children from the sandbox and they head to the airport. After landing, he quenches his thirst at a local water fountain and they head out to the Berry farm, which is next to a large forest that's being harvested. Sadly, because of the dust in the air, he is forced to whip up some contact solution using local water so that he can see. Being the troopers they are, they spend the night in the bush, sleeping deepest between 10 and 2, wearing only in shorts because of the heat. Finally, they have a breakfast of crab and watercress before heading back to the USA. Along the way they visit their uncle JB in the Appalacians where they have a tasty meal of fresh bear. After returning home, they each sneeze once. What color do I think his car is? Choose the answer that BEST fits the information above:

A) Grey

B) Gray

C) Silver

D) Metallic

E) Light Smoke

Some say freedom was won....

In basic training way back when I was just a wee little private, we used to sing cadences. Most of them centered around our women, and how some guy named Jody was having the time of his life. The rest were usually about blood, guts, glory, and hips big as battleships. One that I particularly had the refrain of:

"Some say freedom is free, but I tend to disagree. Some say freedom is won, through the barrel of a gun."

Now, I realize a number of people in these United States completely disagree with this idea, and as much as I'd love to think the world is sunshine, gummi-bears, and rosebushes, I know it's not. The sad fact is the Gummi-bears have gone on strike after decades of being offered only in basic colors. The sun is angry for being blamed for skin cancer, drought, famine, global warming, polar bear depopulation, and generally just being a hotheaded kinda guy. And finally rosebushes are protesting that early February massacre they are forced to endure every year. Point being, the world is not perfect as it is.

Today we take a moment to remember why we live the way we do. As this past week has shown, like it or not, people will have their say. People who may never contribute one iota to society have just as much of a say as those who gave all. This is because someone came before you, and made sure it was so. Centuries ago, when the British ruled the colonies, somebody was willing to step forward and say "I will go." Less than a century ago as the world watched in Europe, somebody else came forward and proclaimed "I will go." Again at mid century an American stood up and said "send me." Through Korea and Southeast asia, American's stood up and said "I too will go." Now at the beginning of another century, Americans are still standing up and saying "I'm ready." In almost every case, the enemy was not at the gates, yet still we went.

These men and women who stood ready, who stand ready, and who wait their turn all do it for their own reasons. Be they noble, monetary, or patriotic, still they stand. They go when asked, whether they agree or not. When they return, they may or may not even know why they went. They may not return. The price paid to them for following this call? It might be glory, it might be money, it might be a wheelchair, it may never be paid. The purchase made? That goes to us all.

The purchase was your right to continue living the way you do. Some people may feel we shouldn't be involved wherever we are. They may be right, they may be wrong. Because our military IS involved, we will never know "what would have been." We will never know if maybe a small nuclear attack was thwarted in some desolate cave in Afghanistan. We'll never know if some key player in a major biological warfare lab was taken down in Iraq. All we'll know is what we see now, and what we think it means. I often tell people to remember, we don't have all the information. CNN and Fox news don't have all the information. Whether we deploy or not is a decision made by people who DO have all the information, or at least have as much as they can get at the time. The sad fact is, those who deploy are the ones who bear the burden of circumstance. We can only hope they were used to further the greater good.

As most of you know, I'm a 2nd year medical student missing an arm and a whole lot of other stuff wrong you can't see. What many people don't know was that I COULD have not gone. I could have stayed here, joined the med school class that's now ahead of me, and maybe be better off for it. At the least, I'd still have a hand provided something else didn't happen. I'd still be in the military, working towards being a doc, and I doubt anyone would have faulted me for it. However, when the call came, I didn't. I stood up and said "I can go."

Today, take a moment just to say thank you to some vet. Whether they went or not, say thanks. Even if you despise the military, remember that it is their willingness to go that allows you to keep on despising them. Also remember, today is just the day we "officially" remember our vets. Remember that their job is not one day a year.

Finally.... to ETSU's NPR radio station 89.5 WETS, who decided at 12:07 today to play some good anti-military music, I'd appreciate it if you return my calls. While I do not expect you to play nationalistic music or anything, have a little respect.

"We sleep safe in our beds because rough men stand ready in the night to visit violence on those who would do us harm.”

-George Orwell

It's heeeeeEEEEEEEErrrrrrrrrrrrrrrre.....

Well ladies and gentlemen, it has arrived.

By it, I mean this fictional unicorn of a calendar that most of you probably have lost interest in, or at least forgot about. Fortunately, I was wise and purchased a proof before turning this over to your hot little hands...

See, when I made this calender, I just assuuuuuuuumed that it would automatically be for 2009. Makes sense, right? I mean why in the world would you have a calendar made in 2008 FOR 2008? Well..... yeah.... So I was looking through my calendar, excitedly flipping pages while trying to keep RTD from drooling all over it when I noted that apparently November 4th was listed as "Election Day." "Odd" I thought "why would we have that two years in a row? I mean, that makes no sense! Ohhhhh... uh-oh." Well no problem, I'll just have the year updated and we'll be right back on track! Nope... Apparently that means "whole NEW calendar." Crikey! Man if it weren't for bad luck....

Well I immediately began slaving away to rebuild the whole thing from scratch. Several long hard hours later, I was done. Success! Then I saw that price. Odd... that's more than it was. So yeah... Apparently the publisher raised the price about 20%.

Well anyhow, as I just accidentally published this post before it was finished, it's here!

Here's the deal... It's a FULL SIZE calendar. That means big single sheets, 18 inches high. I also made it on low gloss heavy weight linen paper. While this makes it look AMAAAAAZING, it unfortunately raises the price. If you want a cheap $10 mass produced wal-mart calendar, this ain't it. If you want a calendar that I personally guarantee will withstand a nuclear holocaust, this is your one.

That's right folks, I am so confident that MY calendar is rugged enough to withstand a nuclear holocaust, I personally guarantee it! Yup, if we have a nuclear attack and your calendar is burned up during 2009, I will personally replace it! NO other calendars come with THAT kind of guarantee.

Anyhow, I'll place a link for you to order it here. What will happen is the publisher will mail it DIRECTLY to you. Nothing (including billing) goes through me. For those of you that want it autographed, I'll have to figure that one out...

Without further ado, the purchase link!!!!!

Smells like..... Victory...

Well tomorrow is “The Big Day!” This is the day that a truly beautiful thing will happen. It is the day when millions of people will go vote for the wrong candidate! Which one is the wrong one, you ask? Well, the ones I didn’t vote for, of course! That IS how we view politics today, right? I say all this with tongue in cheek, but it illustrates a good point. Here in the USA, whether you want to or not, there is the OPPORTUNITY to vote. Not only can you vote, but you have more than one person to vote FOR! Sure, some people feel that no matter who you vote for, it’ll all be the same, but I disagree. Change, Mr. Anderson, is inevitable… For this blog I’m gonna link a few things, and ramble in general. Overall I’ve been happy with the responses people have sent/posted. Most even make sense!


Someone replied asking if I REALLY thought that Obama would be THAT big of a change in the system? Well, l think the possibility is there. Look at today’s administration for example. While I support a lot of it, I certainly don’t support all of it. Here’s a VERY good example. If eight years ago, you asked me if the USA would EVER hold one of its’ own citizens in jail, indefinitely, and without counsel and trial, I’d tell you there was no way. Even if you mentioned that elusive specter of “domestic terrorism” I’d still say no way. I’d mention McVeigh and how even HE got a trial. Yet what do we have now? Compliments of our administration if someone with legal power declares you a “terrorist”, you may simply disappear. That’s certainly “change” if you ask me…


See, one of the things I disagree with MAJORLY with this administration is something my dad and I talk about at length. That is the “Executive order” system. I prefer to refer to it as “Decrees from the King.” Why? Because it amounts to the same thing. See, in government 101 we are taught that there is a “checks and balance” system to ensure our laws etc stay fair. However, a decree from the King can bypass all of that! His word will become law on the spot. Seems a bit shady for a “democracy” if you ask me. Are there times you NEED this? Yes. Are those times often? No. My worry is that the GWB administration has set the precedent for future leaders to just rely on this system so that “thy will be done.” I ask you, does this sound scary? Do you foresee change? I do.


Here is an excerpt from another blog that REALLY hits home the Obama/Hitler comparison:


“Economically the situation today is similar to the early days of the Great Depression. Foolish/greedy speculation, aggravated by governmental interference in the market (i.e., the Smoot-Hawley Act of 1930 versus the Community Reinvestment Act), had created an unbalance in financial markets that the government only exacerbated with its attempts to fix. And in some ways this year's presidential election is similar to that of 1932. But the similarity there is merely superficial. I believe this election much more like the German election of 1932 which resulted in the appointment of Adolf Hitler as Chancellor on January 30, 1933. One must note that, in the month following Hitler's ascension, the Reichstag was burned and that by July Germany had become a one-party state.

This rapid consolidation of power by the Nazis in 1933 was facilitated by the mood in Germany. Historically the Germans had been a deeply religious people. Based on their religious faith they had built a strong Protestant work ethic. On that work ethic they constructed an industrial machine; and on industry they had built a strong central government under the Kaiser.


But with economic and political gains came spiritual loss. In the closing years of the 19th century the Germans lost faith in their God; then they lost the Great War (and with it their Kaiser); then they lost faith in their money, and finally they surrendered all faith in their government. By the early 1930s Germany was desperately cynical. Of course, the Nazis were eager to exploit this deep well of cynicism: inviting the German people to place faith in a more modern god, a god who promised to restore all of Germany's fortunes.

But more than promising mere material blessings, this modern god promised commodities that Germany desperately and undeniably needed even more: "hope" and "change". The Nazis did a masterful job of portraying themselves as the likeliest source of these core needs. In 1933, National Socialism was - rather than "evil" - seen as (to sum it up in one word) "progressive".

In economics, National Socialism was middle Europe's middle road between the failed experiments of American capitalism and Soviet communism, but it was much more than the thinking man's economic choice.


The point here is not that Obama will begin to persecute the Jews and lead us to world war, but that the POSSIBILITY exists for him to lead us down a darker road than one could imagine. I’ve already listed my reason why I feel this way… Some of them are from comments he made years ago, but again, just as with Hitler, the past may forespeak the future. People often cite “How could anyone have KNOWN what Hitler had planned?” Well, he talked about it at length years before in Mein Kampf.” Just things to consider… On the other hand, Obama (or any of the others) may turn out to be the shining star people are hoping for.


A few other things to mention… A few of you think by my “not Obama” statements I MUST be a diehard McCain fan… Hmmm…. You might want to re-read what I’ve posted. Ultimately, the election WILL come down to being a “one vs. the other” vote. Most people have/had no idea there were more than that on the ticket. I know I could name four candidates (Nader and Barr being the other two) but I was still missing several! That raises the issue of campaign reform, something I’m not going to bother with right now. If more people want to know, ask and I’ll post it. Anyhow, one lament I have on the 1vs1 idea is that neither of them have ANY Executive experience! Executive meaning “top of the totem pole, the great leader, wise chief, numero uno” position. In fact, in the top two parties, ONLY Palin has ANY! She at least served as a mayor and a governor. A few other things about her that DID impress me: She gave herself a pay CUT after being elected mayor. How many politicians have you heard of doing that? She also voted against her personal beliefs (a vote related to alcohol). Her reason? Because she is there to represent the people’s will, not her own. Things I like to hear from a politician…


Ultimately, day after tomorrow will start the “recount/voter fraud/sue/countersue” debacle I’m sure will follow this election. What I HOPE is that all of you voted for SOMEONE! The thing I hope is that you at least did your homework and voted for who you felt will be the best leader. Honestly, some of the reasons I won’t vote for Obama are the exact reasons someone else WILL be voting for him. The same thing goes for the rest of the candidates… Just don’t go vote for your candidate because “I’m not voting for a black guy” or “I’m not voting for some old guy” or worse yet, “I’m voting for him because he’s black or because he’s white!” Remember, wield your vote wisely, because yours might be the ONE that sways it!


Now back to our regular schedule of RTD stories, calendar promises (I’m still awaiting the proof) and yes, that other vet who will be undertaking a braver and more difficult journey!

Oh and enjoy the pic from the trip of me posing at my future residence! Remember, there IS the Write In option on the ballot!!

A few replies

To the e-mails I've received: If the picture offended you, I think maybe the bigger picture was lost. Since I think most people missed it, I've taken it down. Basically, it wasn't to fear monger etc etc. It was to illustrate the idea that people must be careful whom they choose. As for my "incoherent ramblings" that are not drawn from my personal experiences, I ask that maybe you re-read the posts, as they are based SOLELY off of my personal experiences. These encompass the military, college, postgrad, and even healthcare experiences I've had. Ultimately I have no misconceptions that i'm swaying people, only that I hope to kindle thought about the issues. Anyhow, I suppose that's all. Daniel

*************I forgot to SAY what the picture was for those who missed it******************

It was a couple pictures of Obama and Hitler in similar poses, with their respective party logos and this quote. "This isn't the first election in history with a candidate running on a platform of "CHANGE" and "REDISTRIBUTE THE WEALTH TO THOSE WHO NEED IT..." BOTH of these men were DEMOCRATICALLY elected.

As it was pointed out, Obama is not yet elected, but he WAS elected to the senate.

Keep the replies coming, "good and bad." I've read some interesting arguments on both sides so far.

The "GIMME! Generation"

So to begin, to those who are worried I’ve decided to turn my blog into a political platform, no worries! I am however a fan of using it to air my thoughts on things and stimulate discussion. Hopefully whether you agree with me or not, you’ll at least take the time to think about whatever it is I’m rambling about. Judging by some of the e-mails I received, some of ya agree, some disagree. Some make good points for their respective candidates, and one or two were out in space somewhere. No worries… I’m there a lot, too. I’ll be sure to wave if our orbits get close enough! Anyhow, on to today’s rambling…


I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about WHY so much of Obama’s support comes from the “under 25 crowd” and I’ve come up with a reason! Fasten your seatbelts and follow along closely, because the hammer is about to come down dead center on this nail… To start, here’s the one sentence answer; Young adults view Obama as a parent. It’s that simple… How so, you wonder? He looks nothing like your dad, you say? Well allow me to expound. Before I begin though, these are BROAD generational observations, and obviously do not apply to EVERY member, but in my experience, it gets most.


Anyone who has had the misfortune of listening to me long enough has heard my thoughts on the generation following mine. I guess you know you are getting old when you remember how “it used to be.” Granted, I didn’t walk to school uphill both ways like my dad, or in the snow like my grandfather, but I did still WALK to school. No one took me… In a bit this analogy will make a lot more sense.


Today’s generation of young adults has been given everything. The notion of “working” for it is a thing of the past. I think this started with the whole “everyone’s a winner, we don’t keep score” youth sports leagues. There was no incentive to try harder, everyone made the team, and everyone got fair play time. As these kids aged they got to experience the “no child left behind/1000 points of light” school systems which were pressured to pass everyone. Regardless of the work they’ve done, they got a passing grade. When they didn’t, here came mom and dad to talk to these mean ol’ nasty teachers for failing to recognize the brilliance of their misunderstood little angel. That’s right, my and generations above mine are to blame, too.


As these kids grew, they were given “all their parents never had.” Sure, there was the occasional lawn mowing or whatever to “earn” it, but by and large, it was given. “What’s that? You want those $150 blue jeans or you won’t fit in? Guess I’ll work overtime!! Anything for you, precious!” Then these kids hit sixteen, and it was car time. Yayyyy! “You want that new BioCar9000? Anything for my little jewel to be safe and happy! Luckily the factory has some extra shifts open!” Now at this point I do admit that my dad did give me my first truck, though it was of the “beat up old Chevy, exploding version.” I still ended up buying my own mustang, which all who remember it referred to as “The Rustang” but at least it was MINE!


Well now these kids are nearing completion of High School, which most will do, and it’s college time! Today, EVERYONE is expected to go. How bad is it? You can get a masters degree in what amounts to “lawn mowing.” Seriously. It’s called “Turf Management.” Go look it up. Well now that junior is practically required to go to college, however will they pay for it? Well every GOOD parent is expected to have saved for Junior’s College Fund. (NOTE: I don’t mean you aren’t a good parent if you didn’t.) This is now a societal expectation. If the parents couldn’t, well then they can always co-sign for some school loans. Again, the now nineteen year old is having EVERYTHING given to them. Sure, they’ll have to repay those loans one day, but a teenager doesn’t understand the reality of this. They think they do, but they don’t. Here’s an excellent example of my way vs. that way. I paid my own way through school via the Army. I worked for four years to get the money to go, and then I went. Every semester, I would have to walk on down to financial aid, and hand that check over to the college. That money was VERY real to me. I’ve known a LOT of kids who had mom and dad paying their way who failed out. I’ve never known a one who paid their own way (i.e.: earned the money) to fail. Why is this? The earners WORKED for it. They WANTED it. It was REAL to them. The brilliant progeny coasting on dad’s MasterCard didn’t earn it. They could care less. It wasn’t “their money.” Even to the ones who DO succeed, it’s still not “THEIR MONEY.” The sense of ownership doesn’t belong. I recall talking to freshmen who were failing out of biology at UT Martin. Nearly to a one, I would receive the same set of answers as to why. Always “The test was stupid. It was too hard. The professor was stupid. He didn’t tell me what I had to know.” The answer I NEVER HEARD, not one single time, was “I guess I didn’t study hard enough.” When I would ask them if maybe they just didn’t try hard enough, I would again get the same set of answers; “I studied plenty. I never had to study before in high school. I shouldn’t have to study THAT hard to have to pass this.” Finally, and this was confirmed by talking to professors, when I asked what they THOUGHT they should have made, invariably it was an “A”. Why? Because it’s always been given to them. Mind you, these are the same professors that I’d had, in the same classes I took.


One would think “great, fail out the slackers and let the workers succeed!” But then you’d be wrong. See, this “GIMME!” generation has forced what was slowly already in place, a dumbing down of the university system. See, colleges are for profit. Don’t believe me, look at the average rate of tuition increase over the last fifteen years and compare it to inflation. Because they are for profit, they don’t like it when the students all fail and go home. So now the pressure is put onto professors to pass these little misunderstood geniuses, regardless of their grades. So now everyone gets their Bachelor’s degree, and businesses now increasingly require a Master’s degree to demonstrate that you REALLY know what you are doing.


Now finally lil’ junior has received their degree in advanced underwater basket weaving and is ready to enter “the real world.” These kids are expecting to start out in a nice $60,000 a year corner office job. They are very surprised when that doesn’t happen. Why? Because they’ve never had to WORK to get anywhere. I’ve read quite a bit about the term “Helicopter Parents”, that is, those parents who hover over junior’s every endeavor, ensuring success is given to them so that their delicate little psyche’s are not damaged by “failure.” Apparently there is now a growing trend in the human resources world for parent to come to their COLLEGE GRADUATES job fair and interviews! Gotta make sure they get that corner office they deserve!


So HOW does this all lead to an Obama supporter? Now again, remember, this doesn’t include EVERYONE, and is mostly aimed at the GIMME! Generation. There is an entire population of people in play here who have never experienced working hard to get what they want. To them, Obama is promising a continuation of what they’ve lived so far. Here you have a man who is promising, however unrealistically, to take money from the wealthy who’ve earned it, and giving it to those who haven’t. To the GIMME! Generation, this is “normal”. They don’t understand HOW this couldn’t be the case. They have never had to TRULY work hard to achieve something, only to see it taken away and given to someone who didn’t. The analogy I’ve made a lot here in medical school is this; We are all here working hard in a four year program to be Medical Doctors. This is an accomplishment to say the least. Now I say this to them. Picture today the dean of the university walking into our class and saying this. “Congratulations, future docs! I’m proud of you! Just two more years and you will BE doctors! Now, however, we’ve been down at the nursing school and we at the university staff realize that you know, they are working hard, too. We also notice that they know quite a bit, too. We’ve talked it over and we’ve decided that we are going to go ahead and confer upon them ‘Doctor of Medicine’ degrees when they graduate because it’s only fair! Now, you guys go ahead and keep at it, just two more years and you can be doctors, too!” I’m pretty sure a riot would ensue… Now mind you, I have the utmost respect for nurses and the job they do, so don’t think I’m saying nurses are slackers!!! This was just an easy analogy.

Well I think that about ends my rant for now… I hope that at the least your brains have been stimulated, regardless of whom you support. Remember, your only right to complain about the next four years is if you voted! Be it M or O, go make your choice!! I leave you with this picture that might be a little polar, but it illustrates a good point. Not every dictator rose to power violently, and most felt they had the best intentions of the majority at mind when they started!


Finally, if anyone cares to repost this rant or forward it to everyone they know via e-mail, please do!


Coming soon: A post about another vet doing a year long trip! I still need to talk to him a bit more, but its coming!

The Calendar Nears Completion!

Just a quick note to let everyone know, the calendar is technically done, and I'm awaiting a proof before I turn them over to your hot little hands! The price ended up being a bit more than I wanted, but I also went with the best material and a full-size calendar. I'm looking into also having a smaller cheaper one, but no promises!

Also, as Paula suggested, I MAY make a second calendar consisting of shots of RTD and I in various places. This will differ in that we will be in every shot. Scary, huh? No promises on that one though!!

Rome is falling...

Ok, a few things Io think most people just don’t seem to get… Politics is not a reality show, it’s not a popularity contest, and it’s not “progressive” just to vote for someone because they are “different”. It’s not racist to vote for the white person if that’s who you agree with, though it IS racist to vote for the black person, just because they’re black. That is no different from voting for the white person JUST because they’re white. Not everyone in the USA deserves equal everything, and not every system out there is better than what we have now. That all said, today’s issue with me is… POLITICS! I’d LOVE to say that I avoid these topics, but I don’t. Nope. So I’m SURE this will offend someone, somewhere. Good. Maybe you’ll think a little harder!!


Now, I’m not a huge fan of EITHER major political candidate for president right now, but I’m less of a fan of Obama. You’ll notice I DIDN’T refer to him as “President Obama” like a number of media outlets have. I prefer to pretend that people will vote their own way, not let the media tell them who it “should” be. Here I’m going to list a few reasons why I am making MY choice! You go make your own. Be it for the old guy or the young one, at least go do your OWN research before making a decision. I know I have. Also, I am directing this as to “why I’m not voting for Obama.” Notice I didn’t title it “Why I AM voting for McCain. Or Nader. Or anyone else.” Think about that. See, an inherent problem with politics is that in order to keep your job, you have to make people happy. The happier they are, the longer you get to work. How is this bad? Look at it like this: What makes people happiest? Free stuff! Incentive plans! Rebates! Money money money! Never mind that fact that you will pay DOUBLE in the future for what you “just got” now. Never mind that this is YOUR money being given BACK to you. Or better yet, YOUR money being given to SOMEONE WHO DIDN’T PAY taxes! They didn’t pay b/c they didn’t work. Again, think about that…


First off, the one nearest and dearest to my heart: Obama’s stance on the military. His goal is to cut funding? We tried that. Back in the 1990’s. Look where THAT got us. There is truth to the statement “you go to war with the Army you have, not the Army you want.” So when all the flak came down about “how can our president have such an ill-equipped army??” Remember who GOT it that way. The other thing to remember is we STILL have the best army currently employed in a conflict. Yes soldiers die. Yes, it is tragic. However, because of the INCREASES in spending, a lot less of them do than would have because they are now better equipped. The other issue here, and my personal “seal the deal” one is a statement Obama made about the military killing innocent people. No, this ISN’T the “out of context” statement you can easily find on the net. This is another one he made that I can’t seem to find again ANYWHERE. If I find it I’ll post a link b/c I HATE to post misinformation/misdirection. Basically he said something along the lines of “we need to reform/rebuild Afghanistan, not have out military out there attacking and killing innocent women and children.” The statement was spoken in a way that he made it sound like that was our goal as a military. That was enough for me to decide he wasn’t my choice. Period. And for those who think I’m just jingoistic and Army Brainwashed, I’ll let ya know I’m pretty pissed at the military right now, too. (Purple heart thing still getting denied b/c the commander lied in the official report and said my crash was a “mechanical failure on a non-combat mission” which causes me NOT to get a PH b/c that’s the permanent official record.)


Secondly… Healthcare. This is also near and dear to me being that I AM an injured guy, and I WILL be a doctor here soon. Let me explain a few things to start. Not everyone DESERVES the same level of healthcare. That is not an elitist or racist or any other –ist statement, other than REALIST. Why do I say that, you ask? Because we live in a capitalist (well, almost, but that’s changing) society. This society allows everyone the FREEDOM to better themselves. It means everyone DESERVES the chance to do better. It does not GUARANTEE everyone will. So that said, does Donald Trump deserve billion dollar healthcare? Yes! Do I or Joe Methaddict deserve billion dollar healthcare? No! Why? Because we’ve not done the work to get to that level. Everyone in America has the opportunity to GET healthcare, whether they TAKE it or not is a different thing. Sadly, everyone ultimately WILL get sick and they will die. There is no way around it, it’s going to happen. To give every person out there the best of the best will never happen. It can’t. Sure, if you get jacked up in a crash or whatnot, you should get treatment. If you don’t want to have to pay for it, you should get insurance. Again, is that elitist? No. Let me take you to the world of “Socialized Medicine.” Hop aboard the Magic Pinto Bean folks!


This is my problem with socialized medicine. This “everyone is equal” ideal that won’t work. Aside from the fact that it’s BLATANTLY communist, it already exists right here in the US of A! What’s that you say? Surely not! Well… Let me tell you where! It’s called The Veteran’s Administration! See, I already get to experience this wonderful world of Socialized Medicine at its’ BEST! Seriously, this is it. At its’ best. See, in the VA system we all have the same opportunity. Because of that, we all get the same wait! Also, here’s one most people don’t realize; if the VA doesn’t feel you NEED whatever treatment/medication you want/need, YOU DON’T GET IT! Period. See I have a mild head injury that gives me attention span problems. There are drugs out there to treat it. They work. Well. I don’t get them. Why? Because the VA feels they are too pricey, because they have to work within a government budget. You see, if the government has X dollars to spend on medication, and they can help 20 people with it with medication A, or just you with medication B, they are gonna go with A. See, that’s how “socialism” works. What’s bestest for the mostest. Don’t YOU want to experience that!? Here’s another example… I recently found I MAY have a little heart condition. Nothing bad, but it MIGHT be the cause of my inability to run. Anyhow, to diagnose it I have to go to a cardiac cath lab! Lucky for me, the VA has one! In fact, they even have an early appointment! In March. Hmm… sounds a little long eh? That’s because it IS! Because under socialized medicine, doctors don’t get paid much b/c of that there budget we talked about. Therefore, there aren’t as many, so the wait is longer. How much longer? I went to my primary provider and got a referral: 2 weeks. See, I ALSO have insurance. While yes I COULD use the VA for everything, I realize it is a broken system and my PRIVATE care is much better. This is what you WANT? Because this is the Obama plan! Think about it!


Lastly I leave you with this… Think long and hard here. Consider EVERY government run institution you can think of. The TSA comes to mind for me. Now think of how HAPPY you are with them, how efficiently they operate! Now, tell me this is who YOU want to run your HEALTHCARE!??? Need I say more?

The Rant

Ladies and gentlemen, something I heard recently has really made me mad. Okay, a LOT of things I’ve heard recently have made me mad, but one stands out above the rest! While usually this relates to whatever headline abounds about the local celebrity scene, as this usually takes priority over any real news, this one is a bit different. This one is near and dear to my heart. This one has to do with… traffic laws! Get your popcorn folks, and settle on, its rant time!




I heard on the local radio station the Johnson City commissioners just voted unanimously to install red light cameras. This angers me. My one arm starts turning all green and I start ripping my shirts off. Well at least seriously stressing the hem… See, these cameras have NOTHING to do with safety, and EVERYTHING to do with “revenue enhancement”. Sure, the companies that market these wallet lightening devices market them in the name of safety, but a few moments of thought and common sense (common what??!!?) pretty much strikes that down…


Let’s think about this for a moment. Tell me exactly what you were doing three weeks ago this very moment? More than likely you have no idea do you? So how in the world would a reprimand now help fix what you did then? This is how the camera works… You run a red-light now, and three weeks later you get a $75-100 ticket to teach you a lesson. Well now you’re that much safer, right? Never mind the fact that your “running the red-light” occurred when you slowed down to half a mile an hour and used your judgment to be discern that there was not a car coming for as far as the eye could see. See, judgment and revenue are my biggest peeves about this. Let’s take a look at this…


First, judgment. This is a human trait that we are doing our absolute best to remove from society. Zero tolerance laws are a GREAT example of this. See, right now, if you come to a near stop and continue turning right because there was no traffic in sight and a police officer sees you, more than likely nothing will happen. However, when the camera “sees” you, instant ticket! No need to engage a brain or involve common sense here! Zero tolerance baby!! Sure, the makers of these all seeing thieves will tell you that “a law enforcement officer reviews every tape” but given the large amount of discrepancies in the tickets mailed out, one has to wonder… Even if a cop DOES look at every tape, he doesn’t then get to ask you what in the world were you thinking. There’s no opportunity to explain that the beanie-weenies you washed down with a case of beer the night before are making a hasty retreat for the back door. There is no chance of the camera thinking “ya know what, I’m gonna cut this guy a break and just give him a warning.” Nope, instant ticket.


Secondly, since you now have the ticket, let’s look at HOW this system works. Redflex, the company that makes this crap, puts the cameras in, usually for free. Then they handle all the monitoring/mailing of your tickets… For free right? How noble… WRONG! No, they keep about 40% of the ticket money. Now you have a private organization GAINING from your “mistake”. In a world of recession and monetary woes, our politicians are jumping at the chance to relieve you of yet more money. So to keep that from happening, you go fight it in court, right? Sure, except now you have to pay court costs and fees to prove your innocence. Wait, what? Isn’t it innocent until proven guilty? Hmmm… if only there were some way to not have to pay this! Well you’re in luck! If you have a license plate that isn’t registered to you and your address, then you won’t be held liable for the ticket. But who has those, you ask? Oh… Right… Politicians and law enforcement types. Dang….


So I’m SURE some people are thinking “well just don’t break the law, and you’ll be fine.” Well I agree totally! We all must be protected from these awful lawbreakers! In fact, we should also have a bureau that makes sure you follow ALL laws! We could give them the right to just randomly come to your house and check to make sure you are in full compliance of all laws. Of course, since you are, you won’t care right? Well more luck abounds, as this organization has already been used with great success in the past! They were known as “Gestapo” and “KGB”. I mean just don’t break the law, and you’ll be fine, right?


People, take a few minutes to think about this. What is next? Speeding cameras are already in use in Europe, and possibly even here in the US. Maybe in the future there can be a machine right there in your car that can print out a ticket every time you exceed the limit, run a light, swear, or even fart loudly. It’s all in the name of safety and justice!!


Finally, take a few minutes to look around online yourself for articles about these cameras. Three minutes will net you a wealth of information from reliable sources about the problems surrounding them. A few more minutes and you might even find some of the studies that show that these cameras actually INCREASE accidents as people slam on their brakes trying to avoid the ticket, or run into the car ahead of them while trying to see if there is a camera at this intersection. (Hint: Search “University” to find a few.)


Sorry if this wasn’t that funny, but it sure makes me mad!!!

Still alive!

Expect forthcoming rant on the goings on of the Johnson City Revenue Enhancement program...

Unfortunately, medical school seems to continue to be hard, leaving me just enough time to play with RTD, and occassionally let the ferret steal all his toys... Who knew? We have next week off though so I hope to get a few things up here for the few of you still coming to see!

Why I'll be headed to Lowe's...

While on my trip this summer I had the opportunity to use some friend’s front loading washer and dryer to clean my stuff. Aside from looking ultra spiffy in their laundry room, these things performed miracles upon my clothing. My clothes were all noticeably softer, and my socks felt downright new. I was so amazed I kept a pair and a shirt separate just so I could check when I got home. We’ve all seen the commercial with the little bear talking about softness right? Well that bear ain’t got anything on this softness. These things were like laundry crack. Everything else felt like sandpaper after that. I was hooked. I knew I needed them. Prone to irrationality, poor decision making, and impulse buys, I headed down to that place where everybody knows my name; Home Depot.

At the Depot, I headed straight for the washer/dryer section. I knew where this was as I practically lived there last summer whilst pretending to be Bob Villa and destroying, I mean remodeling, my humble abode. At least this time there was no risk of screwing me to something, an event responsible for numerous holes in my old prosthetic arm. Yes I really did drill into it. Several times. Anyhow, I quickly narrowed down my choices by utilizing the tried and true “what’s cheap and on sale?” method and pestered the salesman with 9048673256 questions about the amazingness of the chosen appliances. A few minutes later I was the proud new owner of the miracle worker front loaders, water into wine option still unavailable. I opted to have the Depot install them as it was cheap, and given that I could screw up making ice in Antarctica, it seemed like the safest bet. I mean, what could go wrong? Really… This is the story of what could go wrong, in the form of my angry letter to the Depot.

On 28 August 2008 two guys from Home Depot (Chris and an unnamed employee) came out to stack my washer and dryer after Jim from the appliance section forgot to install the stack kit. Approximately six hours after they had left, I came downstairs to find my garage/basement flooded. Assuming that the lines were improperly hooked up I mopped up the water and checked all the fittings, congratulating myself on a job well done. The next morning I found even more water on the ground and no evidence of leaky fittings. I called Home Depot about 9 a.m. to inform them that the sewage line out of my house was now leaking adjacent to the washer and dryer. I was assured someone would immediately get out to fix it. Finally at about 3 p.m. Chris and another employee came out to fix the issue. So much for immediately. Unable to resolve the problem, they tried a quick fix on the sewage pipe and informed me that no plumbers were available since it was Labor Day weekend. Apparently I was going to enjoy raw sewage throughout my garage for my labor day. I was assured that a plumber would be there on Wednesday at the latest, but most likely on Tuesday. I spent the weekend mopping 6-7 times a day…

Wednesday came and I stayed home to make sure I didn’t miss the plumber. Finally at 4pm I called HD again to talk to Chris and was informed that he didn’t remember saying that they’d be there by Wednesday but in any event they would DEFINITELY be there Thursday. I spent Thursday at home enjoying my sewage pool and waiting on the plumber. Again late that afternoon I called Chris and was told that there had been “a water heater emergency and that it took priority.” Apparently raw sewage isn’t nearly as bad as cold water. Strange that in my training here in medical school we learn the bugs like C. difficile and E. coli can be bad for you. Let’s not even think about Black Mold. Anyhow, I was assured that no matter what, it WOULD be fixed by Friday. Now remember, this is over a week after the leak started. The sewage leak. As in feces, urine etc. sewage. Well finally Friday came around and I excitedly anticipated the arrival of the plumber. I’m sure you can guess what happened next. Friday afternoon I called back to Home Depot and talked to the “manager on duty.” She promised that she would get this resolved as fast as possible. I gleefully continued to mop fetid water out of my garage…
Amazingly, within an hour, a real live plumber called me. Apparently he had just been called by HD about this. Yes, eight days later and after numerous promises, HD finally called the plumber. Now this seems a little odd since he supposedly has known about this for a week now. Well he again informed me that there was no way possible he could make it on the weekend, but he promised to be here between nine and eleven on Monday. Finally, the sewage crisis was going to be fixed. Oddly enough, I’ve now developed a chronic headache and sores on the inside of my nose. I wonder if it has anything to do with the stagnant water in my house? Well I must also say that the one upside is that detritus has filled some of the leak by now, so I don’t have to mop as often…

Well Monday, twelve days after the first leak, arrives and I get up early to make sure I don’t miss the plumber. I check the leak, which is now relatively small, but still present. I then park my rear on the couch and watch the clock. At precisely 10:58 the phone rings… It’s the plumber… He tells me he probably won’t make it out. I remind him he SWORE he would be here before eleven, and explain that this is the third day of school I’ve missed. He somehow has forgotten he ever promised to be here before eleven, so I ask my roommate if he remembers this. He does. Finally the plumber professes that he can be here no later than five p.m. and we’ll have it fixed tonight, no matter what. By this time I pretty much understand this to mean “you’ll not see me at all today, and probably not tomorrow, either.” Therefore I’m hardly surprised when five rolls by with nary a phone call. Finally, at 6:01 p.m. I collect my mold spore addled senses enough to call the Home Depot corporate line. I explain to Mr. Ceary my predicament with the sewage, and also mention that I spent over $30,000 last year at Home Depot. Yes, I used the last of my insurance money from losing my arm to renovate my house, purchasing nearly all my supplies through HD. While I realize that to Home Depot 30K isn’t much, to me it represented and arm and a leg… Well at least an arm. Ceary puts me on hold a few times while attempting to remedy the situation. Finally he comes back and explains that the people who handle these matters are gone for the day. He tells me he will continue to work on it and swears to have it resolved in 24-48 hours. At this point he might as well promise to get it done using pipes manufactured by leprechauns and hauled to my house on unicorns, as I would believe that just as much as 24-48 hours. Sadly, my house now has a distinct “fecal smell” which I think might have something to do with the pipe in my basement. I also think this will be the last time I EVER shop at Home Depot. To me thirteen days of sewage leaking while vehemently promising its’ repair does not constitute customer service no matter how you stretch it. I guess tomorrow I will contact my insurance company and a lawyer to see what can be done about this. Until then, I’ll make do mopping up the putrid water, minimal as it may be, still leaking into my basement.

Well after a couple more days of waiting and never hearing back from the elusive “Mr. Ceary” I decide that yet again I’ve been bamboozled, and head down to the Depot. Now I’m angry. While I may have but one arm, the other one end in stainless steel hook, attached to a formidable sized torso. You don’t want to see me angry. You won’t like me… when… I’m… annggggry. GRRRRRR!!!! Ok so maybe I’m not quite the Incredible Hulk, but I’m damned sure the One Armed Man. Well at the depot, I proceed to inform the managers there of just how much they suck, and how much it’s about to suck more if I don’t get this fixed NOW. They quickly call the plumber who lies and says he’s TRIED to call me with no luck. I offer to show them my phone call list for the last week. They decline. Finally they say he can be there the next day at four p.m. I agree to this, replying with something like “so help me God, if he isn’t there by 4:00:00000000000001, I will unleash Hell. Gangs of your pipe wielding leprechauns and unicorns with whistle tips (woo woo) will be no match for the destruction I will cause. You will need to build another home Depot next door just to supply the building materials to rebuild this one by the time my anger has subsided!” At least that’s how I remember it…

Well the next day the plumber actually arrives, and I nearly go into cardiac arrest. A mere two weeks later and this is gonna get fixed. He then tells me he didn’t bring the right part. GRRRRRRR…. I think the expression on my face inspired him to go get the right part, as he quickly left and returned with what he needed. Ultimately he managed to fix it, which pleased me to no end. He also got quite the scare when BTD and RTD managed to push a cinder block out of a seven foot high window frame so they could see into the garage. Sometimes, justice is small but welcome. Even if it is in the form of exploding bricks.

Calendar nears completion....

Good day all! In my complete lack of ability to multitask, a lot has fallen by the wayside but alas! It has not been forgotten. I've pared the 1500 pictures down to about 14 for the calendar, so here they are! There may be a change here or there but for the most part this should be the lineup.

In other news expect an "Angry Daniel Rant" next week about a shopping experience... It's mostly written, so it shoule be getting posted.

So w/o further ado, THE CALENDAR

Meet 'Bella the Demanding

Well I've finished the first couple of tests of medical school and I now have a good seventeen seconds or so with which to type a new story. Unfortunately for those who've anxiously awaited news about Alaska, that's not what it's gonna be about. Nooooo not at all... See here at Casa de Daniel life moves at a pace somewhere just faster than gossip out of Hollywood, and Alaska is far from my mind. What is close to my mind, other than school of course, is the new addition to the household. At the end of the summer that consisted of five members. There was: me the high strung and overly excitable peabrained amputee. Stu, my beer making, low strung, uber-mellow yet still a medical student roomate. The ever lovable yet not so bright and somewhat confused Hyperdog Rocky, and finally the diabolical and evil incarnate ferrets, Samson and Snatch. Now the number crunchers out there will immediately notice that all the pets are mine, and my roomie has nothing. Well that was all to change... This is the story of that change.

When I first got back from my trip this summer I had heard that my roommate wanted to get a dog. While I had no problem with that I knew that two dogs in the house all day would be a bad idea. Fortunately this is easily solved by putting them all outside. Unfortunately the only thing that was outside was the dog run for Rocky. I figured putting two dogs on one dog run would be a horrible idea. Visions of doggy bondage danced in my head... After talking to my roommate we decided that we would split and the cost of a fence. This didn't seem like to big of a problem, but you also have to realize that we live in the Johnson City area. Let me take a moment to explain what I mean...

See, here in Johnson City there is an attitude that prevails 99.9999% of the time when dealig with any sort of subcontractor. The attitude is along the lines of "I'll do it when I FEEL like doing it and you'll be good and glad that I FELT like doing it." This can be slightly annoying, but apparently business here is so booming that there is little one can do to thwart it. Anyhow, I called the fence guys and they agreed to come out the next day and give me an estimate. By next day, they mean "sometime in the future, but definitely NOT tomorrow." I was hardly surprised when three days later they showed up to get the estimate. While they were here I shamelessly mentioned the whole disabled veteran thing in the hopes I might get a little discount... I think I did, though I prefer to look at it as more of a "lower on the priority list" sale. That all said, we agreed on the price and they promised to get started on it no later than the end of the week.

Well since we knew that we'd have a fence in a matter of days, Stu went out and found his new dog. While I myself wasn't a part of the selection process, I can imagine it went something along the lines of "yeah, I'll take her..." Well with his selection made and the Rocky dry hump of approval stampesd on her back, Stuart and his new charge came home. Stuart was now the proud new owner of a mixed breed bundle of energy.... She was about six months old, golden in color and short in hair. She was loveable as can be, and smart in all the ways that counted. She was wrongly named. Apparently somehow Stuart decided she looked or acted a lot like an "Isabella" might. Apparently he settled on this name because the National Hurricane Center already had dibs on "Katrina" which was much more suited to her personality. Either which way, she was home, and home was enjoying its' last moments before hurricane Isabella rolled into town...

Now I must admit that 'Bella, as she has become known, is a decent dog. The decency all ends, however, the moment you allow her out of your sight. For now though, let's focus on when she IS in sight. Firstly, I've taken to referring to 'Bella as"I WANT!" This is in reference to the fact that no matter what the case, whatever RTD has, she wants. If he has a bone, she wants the bone. Not A bone, THAT bone. Initially she would trot on over and bark at Rocky until he dropped it. Rocky, being the genius he is, caught on to that after about the 84678983th time she did it. Once I WANT! figured out that merely barking no longer worked, she quickly came up with a new ploy. She now will go and grab one of RTD's favorite toys and carry it to him to play with. Rocky, a kid at heart (and brain) will then drop said bone to play with Bella. Bella then takes the bone, leaving a bewildered RTD in her wake. Sadly, he has yet to catch on to this trick, and it doesn't look like he will soon. This also works for any other toy, stick, ball, etc that Rocky might have taken a liking to.

Now when Bella isn't stealing Rocky's wares, she's usually playing with him directly. This he loves. They will play chase for hours. Rockstar will chase Bella until Bella collapses, and then he'll bug her until she plays some more. Never in my LIFE have I seen an adult dog wear out a puppy before this. Another past time is 'rasslin' which sadly has become the most entertaining thing in out household. Rocky's general approach to this it to lie on his back and allow Bella to jump all over him. We've noticed that RTD oftentimes will be lying on a toy while wrestling Bella, and we've decided that he has managed to achieve doggy nirvana by simultaneously playing with Bella and scratching his back. Maybe RTD isn't as dumb as he looks... Ok that may be stretching it.

Well back to hurricane Bella... When she gets out of sight, nothing is safe. Well nothing except a chew toy, which seem to be immune to her destructive fury. She so far has destroyed enough hi-liters to raise their stock price, ripped apart several boxes, gnawed on a few shoes, and turned my expensive and well-taken care of Ray-Bans into a gnarled mess. I should also mention she passed on several Wal-mart brand pairs of glasses to get these off the table. Not only is she destructive, she's a snob. the only thing Bella has found so far that she didn't enjoy chewing on were the ferrets. When she finally attempted to get a mouthful of tasty mustelid, she ended up becoming just another chew toy on the ferret menu. Sometimes size doesn't help...

So now here we are two weeks later.... The fence has finally been finished a mere fourteen days later than promised, and Bella's reign of terror over the tasty objects of the house has come to an end. I wish I could get some video of her and RTD kickin' butt all over the house, but everytime the camera comes out Bella comes over to see if it is a tasty treat... Until next time!

Good day all!

Hello to the few who still check back in the futile hopes that one day I'll write again... Sadly medical school has me busier than a one armed man in a clapping contest. I do hope to get a few posts up about Alaska, even if is a day or month late... Also I'm still working the Calendar thing, so don't give up hope yet!!!

Finally, my roomate got a new dog which may be the source of new stories. He named her "Isabella" though it's shortened to "Bella". I myself have taken to referring to her as "I WANT!" as it's very fitting of her demeanor. Between I WANT! and RTD, few things here are left standing...

Oh and BTW, RTD has eaten another corncob, with predicatable results... This week has two big tests but I'm gonna try to get a post up after that! No promises, so just check in and see from time to time.

Also, EHOWA listed some fall movies, and I noticed one called "The Lucky Ones" which is about some Iraq vets and their impromptu road trip. Sounds a little familiar...

The Calendar

Hello everybody! I've been working on the calendar, and I have the pics narrowed down to about 80! My plan right now is to get it down to about 30-40, and then post them somehow where they can be voted on. Then the favorites will go into the calendar! I'm looking at doing a full size textured paper calendar right now. The cost will be a bit more but it should look a LOT better than some cheapy one you'd see in a truck stop bathroom. Not that there's anything wrong with truck stop bathrooms! Or airport bathrooms if you're a congressman... (tap tap tap) Anyhow, I suspect the cost will be about $20-25 each because of the low number (read: exclusivity!) of the calendars, so PLEASE E-MAIL ME to let me know if you want one, and how many! That way when I get the whole thing together, I can e-mail you and let you know the specifics!! The calendar will contain at least one pic each with me and one with RTD in it, as well as a mirror shot, too. I feel this helps keep my trip them in mind!! So again, E-MAIL ME!!! danielsbigtrip@hotmail.com

Alaska, Part 1....

Well my summer has sadly drawn to an end and my last hurrah has come! It's my trip to Alaska, land of big bears, big fish, and snow. In July... Each year for the last three years, the Wounded Warrior Project has offered a trip to the lovely little city of Kodiak, Alaska. I got the opportunity to go last year, and managed the opportunity to go again this year, thereby missing the first day of school again. Hey at least I'm consistent!



The trip to Alaska is a week long, and consists mostly of fishing and eating, two things I both enjoy doing. I spent the week before attempting to landscape my tiny little house up a bit to maybe improve the resale when that day comes, or at least make it look a little better while I'm here. This consisted mostly of my digging a few holes. About a hundred to be more accurate. Needless to say I managed to break my prosthetic in the process, proving that some things haven't really changed over the course of my summer.... I'm still hard headed and insist on doing what I want to. Anyhow, a hundred liriope, a couple azaleas, and a lot of mulch later, Rocky effectively had a new salad bar and it was time to get ready for Alaska. As for Rocky, he spent most of his time attempting to eat the newfound greenery while avoiding the shovel handle swung his way to interrupt his dining experience.

Packing for Alaska was handled much the way I handle my packing. Wait until the last possible moment to wash and fold a bunch of clothing, then toss it all in a big suitcase and hope I got it all. Toss in a few prosthetic thingamajigs and a shave kit and call it a day. This time consuming process tends to take about five minutes leaving me with ample time to wander the house aimlessly trying to figure out what I'm leaving behind. At the very least this method makes unpacking an experience akin to Christmas as I discover just what it is that I'm gonna have for the week. Oddly enough I forgot nothing, though there was a brief heartpounding moment where my future looked decidedly "commando" if ya know what I mean (think underwear). Anyhow, an early wake up and short jaunt to the airport and my last great adventure was underway!

My flight was set to depart from Tri-cities regional in East TN and end up in Kodiak, AK via a long day of the exciting and fun filled aviation experience that we have come to know and love here in the US. Of course, this trip must begin with the ubiquitous "full body cavity superterrorist search" that all military disabled get to enjoy. This entails me standing around while my ID is given a thorough inspection followed by the "physical search." This search is usually conducted by a guy who looks like he's having more fun that me... It starts with the customary "will you take off your shoes?" request that I never comply with. Tying shoes is a big enough chore with a hook that I don't feel like doing it unnecessarily in the interest of "safety." I've learned I still get the free "you might be a terrorist if" check anyhow, so why bother.

After we argue about the shoes, I then get the wanding. Of course this thing beeps anywhere there is metal associated with my prosthetic, and this earns me the "full patdown prize!" A few minutes of groping usually still fails to turn my frown upside down, though a few times the groper seems to have really enjoyed it. This makes me more nervous. Once my molestation has been doled out appropriately the final fun starts... In order to ensure that we as a nation are ensuring that our wounded combat veterans aren't a threat to national security, we get the final wanding where my prosthetic get swiped and swabbed in ad nauseum to ensure there are no bombs hidden in my hook. My favorite part is where my fellow travelers get to gawk at the guy with the hook getting the spa treatment behind the big glass partition. I'm not sure but I think the TSA might charge for this free show. Anyhow, once my story of "innocent amputee traveler" has been confirmed by the Thousands Standing Around (TSA) I'm finally freed from my Gitmoesque holding cell to rejoin the general population of weary travelers. At this point I'd like to extend a special thank you to Homeland "Security" for their unwavering and infallible execution of ensuring that the nation remains safe from those sworn to defend it. Good job guys!

Once through security, I get to actually get on the plane and make my way north! This process is usually a little more worrisome for me given my aviation track record and knowledge of the "incidents" that tend to happen... I usually try to keep all this to myself so as not to scare other passengers. People tend to get a weird look in their eye when they find out that you lost a body part in an aviation related crash. For people who are particularly obnoxious however, the gleeful delivery of this statement "At least I crashed after flying an hour! Most crashes happen within the first 60 seconds after takeoff... Hope we beat that again this flight, too!" ends all said obnoxiousness... If only there were some way to end that "middle seat elbow fight" as easily.

Well sixteen hours later I arrived to the welcome of the shining sun of Kodiak. Did I mention it was about ten at night? I met with the WWP representative and went and got checked into the hotel in anticipation of a fun filled week. This was gonna be fun, and my biggest hope was to see a bear. That was about the only thing I didn't get to do last year. Before I get too much farther, let me take a moment to explain this whole trip...

Three years ago a small group of wounded were invited to come fishing for a week in Kodiak, and enough fun was had by all for this to become an annual event. Last year I made it up for the trip and had so much fun I jumped at the opportunity to go again. The trip revolves around days of fishing for salmon, halibut, and a variety of other fish. The nights are then dedicated to amazing dinners sponsored by local groups who are helping out with the entire trip. After that most guys have a few tasty beverages at a local establishment and then retreat to hotel to get a few hours of shuteye and ready themselves to do it all again the next day. On the outside, it appears to be just another "guys (women too if they want!) week fishing" but the reality is there is a lot more to it. The trip offers a chance for wounded service members an opportunity to just "get away." There are no agendas, no health care professionals, no "higher-ups". Just a week of hanging out and having fun. This year even saw a few changes that IMO made it even better. To the guy on the trip the therapy of being around a bunch of guys having fun, the chance to talk about whatever, is worth a lot more than hours spent on a therapists couch. In addition to the mental decompression that occurs, the physical fun and challenge of learning how to fish for BIG fish, as well as learning the associated skills of open sea fishing is worth more to most guys than any dollar amount can reflect. Anyhow, this wouldn't be possible without the overwhelming support of the people of Kodiak who open up their schedules and time to help raise money and support to make this all happen. I'm sure the logistics alone are mind boggling! For this, I salute you!

Anyhow, I'm gonna break up this trip into a couple stories over the next few weeks. For now I'll leave it at my arrival there, and pick it up with the fun of fishing so stay tuned!! Pics should be up tomorrow too, I hope!

Into the wild

Well everybody, I've made it to Alaska, more to follow!!

The Follow-Up!

Hi everybody.... I've not just fallen off the face of the earth, I've just been really busy trying to recover my house from my trip...

When I finally arrived home from my trip, all was relatively well at the Daniel household. The lawn was a little overgrown, and it was really hard to get the environmentalists to stop protesting my destruction of the wildlife reserve that it appeared to be when I finally mowed it down, but otherwise it was ok. Rockstar was thrilled to get to frolic through the weeds and pee on his favorite schnauzer next door. This is a pretty ritualistic thing for them. He goes outside, the schnauzer runs to the fence to squeal, and RTD calmly pees on him. Repeat as necessary. The only real difference now is that there's a second schnauzer. Fortunately for RTD, they stand close together...

Once in the house it was evident that no one had broken in to clean my place up, and I was slightly disenheartened at this. The only issue presented itself when I waded into my garage. Yeah... waded. Unfortunately, Johnson City apparently had been the victim of heavy rains and animals marching two by to, and my garage apparently served as the reservoir for the water that came with it. The good side of all of this would be that I don't really have much of value in my garage so there was no real "damage" done. It took a few days to mop and evaporate it all out, but now it's back to being the dank place that I know and love. That all said, I spent the rest of the week attempting to landscape my yard a little bit. I'm not sure if anyone here has ever attempted to operate a shovel with one hand, but let me suggest that you pass on it if that was in your weekend plans. I planted a lot of liriope and put in some cheesy walkway lights since whomever designed the stairway on my front walk was obviously a fan of M.C. Escher... After digging roughly 100 small holes and planting a metric arseload of vegetation, my good friend called to inform me how I did it all wrong, so who knows if it will take. Even if it does, I have to keep and eye on RTD as he is excited at the prospect of this new and intriguing smorgasbord that I have given him. He's already managed to ravage a couple of plants...

So now on to lessons learned. First off, this is what I feel I've learned. I don't necessarily AGREE with it all. Saying this, I'm sure I'll still get a little hate mail from someone who didn't catch that.... These are based on my discussions with people, as well as the thousands of e-mails I've gotten and the comments on the blog. So onto the lesson!

The best thing I think that most surprised me would be American people's desire to help people. I am not even going to limit that to "vets, wounded, bloggers" or such, because so many people were willing to help for reasons that had nothing to do with my service. While many people were voiced their pleasure at getting to help a vet, a number of people readily admitted that they weren't too concerned about my service at all. Some people even just wanted to see Rockstar... The sheer number of offers I had to stay with complete strangers was simply overwhelming. People who had nothing to offer other than a meal and a floor were still vying for the chance to help. Had I been able to stay one day with every person who offered, this trip would have lasted into the "years" category. I had offers from all walks of society, too. I met people who obviously were liberal, conservative and other. There were those who were well to do, and those who were scratching to make ends meet. In all honesty, I feel that the "economically poor" were probably more willing to help than any other group. Don't confuse me here, I'm not passing judgement or looking down my nose. I am simply awestruck that those who themselves are worse off than me still want to help. I met and corresponded with people throughout the USA, as well as the rest of the world. I had e-mail bidding me well from around the world, from people who've never set eyes on my country, and will likely never meet me. I met people who were nearly speechless as they tried to convey their feelings about my trip to me in a thickly accented English, underlining their immigrant background and their pride to be here now. All in all, I'm that much more proud to be a citizen of these United States, and above that a member of this worldwide society.

Conversely, if there is a "negative" to this outpouring that I've been able to detect it is this. While I think the majority of Americans WANT to help, I think we suffer from a few problems. The biggest one I would venture to say would be a nationwide sort of "bystander effect" and "crowd psychology." The analogy is this: If you were standing alone and saw a little old lady fall down, you would MOST LIKELY offer help. However, if you were standing around with twenty strangers and saw this, MOST LIKELY everyone would stand there and ignore it, silently wondering what to do while actually doing nothing, just like the rest of the crowd. This phenomena has been demonstrated many times over, and I feel it exists in this context, too. While most American's are aware of combat wounded coming home, we don't know "what to do" about them. We want to help, but we look to our left and our right, to our neighbors and friends, and we see that they are doing just as we are. They are doing nothing. So there we stand, awkwardly wishing we could do something, perhaps even voicing that something should be done, yet never taking the initiative to do it. We don't do this because we're bad people, we do it because we ARE people. I think people were so willing to help me because they saw in my trip an outlet for their desire to help. I appealed to the masses on my blog, though those who read it were largely "alone" at the moment. Quietly you sat at your computers, reading my adventures, seeing the "little old lady fall down" and alone you decided to help. In my blog, there was no crowd to look at, no one else to draw an initiative from. There was simply me and you, thousands of people all standing alone, ready to help. For all of this I thank you. So now here is what I hope to see. I would love to see people find an outlet for their desire to help. I'm going to leave my blog up and even update it where I can for everyone's entertainment. I'm also going to leave my paypal link up for donations, every penny of which will now go to The Wounded Warrior Project. I also may try to link a few other worthy organizations to this blog in order to present other opportunities to help to those who want to. I know some people only have time to donate, and maybe this will give an outlet for that.

A few other things I'd like to mention... I received quite a bit of mail from my Pisgah trip, both good and bad. Some people were glad I "told it like it was" while others were discouraged that I was so "shallow and sophmoric, and won't make a good doctor" because of it. That said allow me to expound a bit on my beliefs as well as probably anger more people... I mentioned the obesity thing for a few reasons. It's a problem. Period. There is no other way around it, it is an issue that is only getting worse. At 18 years old I had a 38 inch waistline and did what most everyone else I know did. I blamed everybody BUT myself for the problem. That and I downed no less than three bags of peanut M&M's a day along with 4-6 20 oz pepsis. Even after I got in the Army I was still "overweight" by standard, and barely passed the bodyfat test. Then one day I had an epiphany. Maybe if I ate less food and worked harder, I'd be in better shape. No more blaming Mickey-Dees for serving me that burger. No more cursing "my genetics" for being "big-boned" (which actually I'm not... I have the bone structure of a small woman... stupid genetics!) I again faced this issue when I lost my hand. I was in amazing shape at the time of the accident, and I dropped from 215lbs of solid muscle to 168 lbs of not so solid muscle. Then I started the climb back up to 215 lbs of no muscle. I got chubby enough that my underwear band rolled over on itself... I realized that many amputees simple gave up on working out, and accepted that they would no longer be in shape. Not all, but many. Especially upper extremities. Eventually I found out that there was a prosthetic made for weightlifting, and after a bit of self-pity, back to the gym I went. Now I'm back to 195 pounds, can bench press well over 300lbs, and can knock out 25 pull ups and 90 push ups on a good day. I still suck at running, but now it's more to do with my legs going numb from my spinal issues.... Why am I saying all this? To qualify the rest.

I realize that not everyone will or wants to look like a magazine model. However, I also realize that people are allowing themselves to go down a bad road with obesity. When I see children that are maybe ten years old, and they are my weight, SOMETHING is WRONG. Some people will cite genetics, but sadly that is not the case most of the time. The reality is VERY FEW people are genetically unable to maintain a healthy body. Most people just follow that path I was on and blame everything but themselves for it. Anyhow, some people felt that I lacked empathy for voicing my thoughts on this, and poking fun at it. To that I say I must disagree... I am quite empathetic and I try to do all I can to help anyone I know to get themselves to where they want to be. Ask any of my friends and they'll roll their eyes at just how much I try to help. However, as an aspiring physician, while I think empathy is indeed important, I also feel that the ability to be frank about situations is also needed. Too many healthcare professionals turn a blind eye to issues like this out of fear of "offending someone". I come from a family of nurses who can all tell stories of parents who become angry if they or the doctor even hints that junior or themselves might be... oh my word... FAT. While it is a touchy subject, happily it is a CURABLE subject! Some will have to work harder than others, and most would have to make sacrifices, but all can attain the results! Very few other "diseases" can offer that. Finally, as for the "penguin" comment... this IS just a blog, which I have been writing for entertainment value as well as to tell my story. Sometimes something just seems funny, and I go with it. Would I walk up to someone, or even list them by name or picture on here with such a crude comment? No. No, even I am not that mean spirited of a person...

This all brings me to a last point of learning that I can take away from this. I've written a lot, covered a lot of ground, and touched on a lot of subjects. One thing I have certainly learned is that the maxim "you can't make everyone happy" hold true. Some people e-mailed telling me I didn't deserve t call myself a Christian because my stories and my blog didn't bring enough credit to God or His word. On the same day I'd receive mail from people attacking me for mentioning religion, chiding me for "shoving it down their throats." The same held true many of the subjects I mentioned. In the end I responded minimally to any of this because I am not here to argue viewpoints on the Internet. I merely took away for myself the viewpoints of others, both good and bad. Here at the end I offer my view on life. Live it and let it go. If I read something I disagree with, something "offensive", something "ignorant", I take a moment to try to view it from the other side, then I let it go. I don't let it eat at me, and I try not to let it color my view of the issue. Entirely too many people get up in arms over non-issues which simply serve to empower the issue. If you laugh at the "offensive statement", you take away it's power to offend. When you consider the "other sides" position rather than just discrediting it because it disagrees with yours, you make yourself more knowledgeable on your issue. Anyhow, these are just my thoughts, laugh at them if you want...

Well that sums it up for today.... I definitely have more topics I plan to discuss here so no worries, the blog is not yet dead! Alaska merely days away so I hope to provide more entertainment and life experience for your reading enjoyment. Also, still looking into the calendars, so please keep a watch there!!

Finally, The Book. Sadly, I don't think anyone is interested in publishing this, so who knows. I had a number of contacts initially, but most have fallen away, and the few who have responded to me basically voiced that the story "didn't hold the emotion they were hoping for." Loosely translated as far as I can tell, happy stories don't sell like a tragedy does. If you need any more proof of that, buy a newspaper or just turn on the news and see how many "tragedy stories" there are compared to "feel good" stories. That or maybe this thing just kinda sucks.... hehe

Anyhow... stay tuned for more!!

With pictures!

What has happened to our hero??? *cough*RTD*cough*

Biff!! Booom!! Poww! Tune in soon to find out!

The long road home!

Well I've been delinquent in posting for a bit because of weather reasons. When I last posted, I was in Jacksonville, Florida and about to head home. I left out and went up the east coast a ways before heading on up towards North Carolina. Well unfortunately for me storms moved in and I had to make the decision to either sit in my truck and watch the rain for a few days, or press on in to Johnson City, and then return to NC a day later. Well obviously steaming in the Bean with RTD making sweet doggy love to my ear as he tried to get me to let him out didn't sound too appealing, so I opted to go home for the night. This also allowed me to clean up the Bean a bit and have a good nights rest in my own bed! Mmmmmmmm bed... Anyhow, I decided Saturday would be Pisgah Day, and early Saturday morning I headed on down there.











Pisgah is a relatively large National Forest that surrounds Asheville, NC and takes up a good portion of the western tip of NC. I opted to head to the area West of Asheville because of an article I'd found in a magazine I'd "borrowed" from a barber shop in Vegas. It detailed several natural water slides, and the Pisgah had one. I've already mentioned how much I like water, but I also enjoy jumping into it, and sliding through it, too. Waterfalls to jump from are easily found. Natural slides are not. What Pisgah offers is a 60 foot solid rock slide that has been worn smooth by eons of water coursing over it. This was bound to be fun!











The road leading up to Sliding Rock is typical of what you'll find in this area of the Appalachian south. Lush green trees overhang a narrow winding road that courses it's way up and down the various mountain valleys, seemingly lost within itself as it slowly leads you to your destination. Alongside the road runs that meandering river that is also almost as lost as the route you're on. Cell phones, satellite radio, and the garminator are all pretty much useless here from the green canopy that perpetually shades the road. After about ten or so miles of this, I arrived at Sliding Rock. Or should I say I arrived at the line to get into SR. After a bit, I finally made it to the front of the line where I paid my $1 admission fee to the redneck riviera. After watering Rockstar I headed down to gaze upon this great rocky wonder. While it's nothing in comparison with Schlitterbahn or other man made wonders, the fact that it's a natural waterslide is still amazing.



I made my way down to where the line began and got my place and began to observe the waterlogged obesity epidemic that surrounded me. I'm not gonna say much because this is a topic that infuriates me, but out of about 200 people there, maybe twenty, MAYBE I say, weren't overweight. Call it whatever you want, fluffy, pudgy, big boned, whatever, but in the end it boils down to "eats too much, does too little." Before the hate mail comes in, let me say that I work my tail off to stay in shape. I have one arm, and still manage! Trust me, I know the effort that's required. Anyhow, back to the line. Basically you stand in line for about twenty-thirty minutes depending on the crowd to slide for ten seconds into a mountain stream. Worth it? Oh yeah.



After a bit of time in line, I'd made my way to the top. On the way I'd witnessed all manner of technique for navigating the slide. I'd also nearly burst an eardrum as a redheaded teenager screamed her whole way down the slide. I think someone had just told her the NC had just enacted a lawn banning twinkies, but I'm not sure. Once at the top, I decided to just go for the standard right down the middle slide. I sat down and pushed off with my one arm and slowly slid a ways. Apparently my swimsuit material was made of sandpaper or something else the kept slowing me down. Finally I hit a steeper pitch which simultaneously allowed me to gain speed and attempt to reverse feed myself my swimsuit. At the end I hit the little drop off into the pool of water where I learned the other secret of mountain water. Despite being shallow in nature, and the air temp hovering somewhere around "spontaneous combustion", the water temperature maintains a balmy 48 degrees. As my toes entered the water, time slowed down as my brain began to prepare for the imminent future that was to come. Quickly my legs went in and my brain began to warn me of polar bears. As my wait and chest went in and the wedgie came out a bit, relief was nowhere to be found as my lungs had apparently gone on strike. About five hours later I was up to my nose and relatively certain the fat little girl across the pool from me was actually a penguin. Finally I was completely submerged where the mammalian dive reflex was in full force allowing me to survive for the hours it seemed to take for me to reach the surface. One at the surface I began my violent thrash for the shore just twenty feet away. Forgetting I was an amputee I found myself swimming in a circle. Again. Correcting my drift got me safely to shore where I renounced all that was warm, and got back in line. Yup, I was going again, atomic wedgie, cold water and all!



My second run down was a bit better. This time I'd studied the curvature of the rock and decided on an off line run. I went left of the well worn path to a slightly bumpier but more moss covered lane and pulled my trunks as far up as I could in a friction saving self induced wedgie. I then took a bit of a sliding start and went down the icy lane to the depths below at a much better clip. The polar bear club experience was once again waiting for me at the bottom, and once again I entered the water full of regret at the error of my ways. Again I semicircled my way to shore gasping for breath and shivering violently. I again forgot all about how cold it was as I got in line for a third trip down. Yup.... dull spoon here!











Once finished there I toured on up and down the road at Pisgah a bit more, scoping out areas to see the next day. I camped at the park campground where beer and hot dogs were consumed, along with smores and other tasty camp foods. Then I laid down for one last night in the Bean. Sadly my bad choice of foods led to a restless night of nightmares as my gut repaid my brain in kind for the evils that I'd laid upon it at dinner. Oh well... gotta have fun, right!











Today I went to a place called Looking Glass Falls where again I swam around in the frigid water. I brought RTD out and threw his toy for him. I beamed with pride as he ran straight into the water to get his toy. No longer does he timidly dance around at the edge before slowly going out after his toy. Unfortunately I threw his toy into the waterfall where it was sucked under and is now probably still on spin cycle at the base of the falls. Fortunately Rockstar was smart enough not to go in after it, so we ended up leaving sans toy. The rest of the drive home was spent on those same mountain roads, overlooking the wonderful views that are just a part of living in the Appalachians. If I had to sum it all up in a word, I know of one that covers it all. Beautiful!













Well everybody, this more or less concludes my trip. The Alaska trip will be from the 28th of July to the 4th of August, and will be made with the Wounded Warrior Project. This is a yearly fishing trip they offer so it will be done by air to Kodiak, Alaska, and RTD will be back here in TN. Last year there were lots of stories from it, so I'm assuming this year will be no different! That said, Daniel's Big Trip will continue, even if in a different vein! Between then and now I will post a few "lessons learned" blogs so keep checking back for those! Also, a calendar SHOULD be coming together so please keep an eye out for that! Until then!!

The Project

To the few of you who've managed to struggle through reading all of my rambling posts, you've heard me mention a time or ten The Wounded Warrior Project. Well my trip has culminated with my visiting their headquarters... As one would expect, things went well, I was happy, and Rockstar got into stuff. This is that story...

I stayed the night with my hookah loving buddies in Hudson, FL (NOTE: lots of people questioned just WHAT was IN the hookah. No worries, it was cherry tobacco. Even I'm not so dumb as to post about drugs or anything, and that's not really "my thing" (or theirs) anyhow...) I got up the next morning and readied myself for my trip to Jacksonville. My friend was busily adding to his blog, something he'd never even HEARD of the day before. We ran out and got lunch in his brothers brand new GT 500 Shelby Mustang which he is storing for him. Just to let everyone know, I did massive smoky burnouts, lots of donuts, got it up on two wheels, and knocked out a few "Dukes of Hazzard" style bridge jumps in this cherry new car. Ok not really, but mostly because Logan was wise enough not to give me the keys, but it's coming, mark my words... After pounding down some steak and sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeet tea, I headed to Jacksonville and the Wounded Warrior Project.

The drive up to Jacksonville took me back across the landlocked central Florida area, where the Spanish moss grows in abundance, and teeth apparently don't. There were quite a few large thoroughbred horse farms which brought back memories of my horseback riding adventures... If it's possible to crash a horse, I'm your guy... My g/f in undergrad had a huge Tennessee Walker, and horses were her life. She tried relentlessly to get me to ride, and finally I agreed and she taught me how. Now I've ridden horses a lot in the past, but this was different. They ride bareback. She kept her horse with this old pork barrel like mare that had been living the good life sitting out in a field and eating grass for the last several years, generally avoiding morons like me. This was about to change.

Now I'd ridden a few other horses with her before so I generally had the hang of the bareback thing, but that was always on old broken down nags. I have to say that my first few jaunts were scary since there was no real way to "hold on". Once one becomes accustomed to riding bareback however, saddles become even scarier. Well this horse I was riding, Gunner, was a bit more spirited than the others and was also my most regular mount. We generally did well on our long trail rides as long as Gunner could follow her walker, Wyatt. The problems would arise when they got separated or Gunner couldn't see Wyatt. Gunner would become nervous and unresponsive to me, and I would mostly sit there stupidly and wonder what to do next. My seventeen minutes of experience didn't give me much to fall back on... Well one day my friend decided she'd had enough of this and it was time to break Gunner of this little issue. She decided I would ride her monster horse Wyatt back to the barn, and she would ride Gunner a different way home to break the separation anxiety. Did I mention NO ONE rode Wyatt except her? Did I mention he was HUGE? Was it mentioned that I had more time on the nickel horse in front of the drugstore than I did on real horses? Yes, this didn't go well.

Well as we changed mounts she reminded me just to be firm and relax and there was nothing to worry about. Easy for her to say, she wasn't sitting on top of a friggin Warhorse. Well Wyatt and I set off for the barn just a few miles away, and things went somewhat smoothly. Wyatt was a little agitated and kept looking back for the other two, but continued to follow my commands, and I started congratulating myself on my mastery of the beasts. We made it to the home stretch where the biggest danger still lay ahead. The Goat Farm. Now for the equestrian challenged like myself, let me explain something. Horses are giant musclebound thundering beasts that are scared of absolutely nothing. Well nothing except dangerous stuff. Things like werewolves, nuclear warheads, goats, paper bags, their own shadow, lawnmowers, gnat farts, windblown leaves and most everything else that would strike fear in the hearts of anything. The big test for me was to get Wyatt past the goat farm without him entering into a blind panic. I'm sure you think you know where this is going... Well you're wrong! In a demonstration of my horsemanship skills, I navigated Wyatt past the goat farm without incident, in spite of numerous bleats from the predatory goats, and a few attempts to get away made by Wyatt. With the big danger behind us and myself preening atop my steed, we made our way down the last little way to the barn which I could already see above the corn. This last strip was a six foot wide grass strip with a cornfield on the left, and a big ditch and road on the right. Well as we entered the last hundred yard strip a riding lawnmower was being piloted along at the near end. Recognizing the danger I tightened the lead and navigated a nervous Wyatt along past it and onto the path. Then across the road another riding lawnmower came around the side of a house and started circling the lawn like the carnivore it obviously was. Wyattt began to get more nervous and started dancing a little bit. I started getting more nervous and began trying not to soil my shorts. I kept Nervous Nellie pointed towards the end of the strip and the safety of the barn while gently coaxing him home. Then a third lawnmower appeared, this time on a trailer on the back of a huge truck. It was at the end of the path. This was not a good thing. Apparently using their pack hunting skills, the feral mowers had manged to encircle us on the narrow path. Wyatt just stopped. Then the truck with the mower in back turned towards us. Wyatt was done. Realizing that his life was in obvious danger as the rabid and blood crazed lawnmowers descended on us for the kill, Wyatt did a quick calculation and decided he could run faster if he could drop a quick 200 pounds. He started bucking to get me off, and I started trying to hold on and get him back under control. When that didn't work, he whirled around in a circle and tried to stop fast to roll me off. My adrenaline filled legs held on as I screamed "WHOOOOOOA" in a prepubescent pitch. Seeing the the frenzied lawnmowers were nearly upon us, Wyatt started bucking and spinning at the same time. With this he managed to throw me high up onto his neck, but also ended up with himself toeing the ditch and slightly off balance. As I reigned rearwards and screamed "BACK", Wyatt rolled one wild eye up to look at me. Noting my unapproved seating position on his neck and sensing freedom was near, Wyatt executed one last little forward buck, and off I went. Now however, Wyatt was a little too far forward over the ditch and nowhere to go but down. Knowing that would allow the mowers to descend upon him for the killing blow, he jumped out into the road where he saw the mower laden truck descending in for the kill. Scrambling hard to get traction and whirl away, he lost all balance and fell on his left side just as I heard the sickening "THUMP" of my friends most favorite possession getting hit by a truck.

Well the truck hit Wyatt gull on in the back as he was lying on his side, and he spun a full 360 before coming to a stop. I sat there stupidly trying to figure out how I was gonna explain why she was now the proud owner of a half ton of dog food. Well upon completing his pirouette, Wyatt leaped to all fours and scrambled towards the barn. I was relieved. Then Wyatt remembered Gunner and company weren't AT the barn. Then Wyatt went the other way. At a high rate of speed. Why me... Well I apologized to the guy looking at his dented bumper and took off running after the horse, passing the now silent lawnmowers as their riders just sat and watched the spectacle continue to unfold in front of them. I'd chased Wyatt a good mile when I finally saw Gunner and my friend come running up from behind with her screaming at me. Apparently the only thing she'd been told was "yeah that idiot on that other horse just got it hit by a truck. They went thatta way..." Finally she managed to find Wyatt running in huge circles in the field which we'd departed earlier, still wild eyed and avoiding me. Once she got him under control we managed to assess the damage. Amazingly, Wyatt had a few minor scrapes on his flank, but was otherwise unscathed. Fate smiled on us all when Wyatt fell on his side, allowing his precious legs to avoid contact with the bumper while absorbing the energy of the hit on his massive hind end. I was relieved. Wyatt was happy to be back with the herd. My friend was still ticked. It was a long silent walk home...

Anyhow, enough of my equestrian inability, back to Florida. As I mentioned, central Florida is mostly poor rural farmland like so much of the south. As I neared the Atlantic coast, the urban sprawl of Jacksonville replaced the falling in trailers and moss covered oaks of the inland. Once in Jacksonville proper I managed to make my way through the spaghetti like organization of the inner city interstate system to the manicured corporate park that housed the Wounded Warrior Project. I was excited to see the headquarters of the organization that's done so much for me. As I pulled the Bean into the parking lot, they waved me in to the right door as RTD and I dismounted and headed in.

Inside, the entire staff applauded Rocky as he triumphantly entered the hallowed halls of the WWP. I think a few people noticed I was there too. Rocky was his usual timid self as he ran to and fro, jamming his nose into everyone's crotch. Finally he settled down a bit and I was able to let him off the leash while everyone welcomed us. The staff was so kind as to give RTD and I a plaque with the Wounded Warrior logo on it, which I must admit I was proud to get. I'd seen them before at events they'd hosted and always wanted one for myself. After introductions were made, the staff was dismissed back to more important matters of running the organization as I was given a tour of the facility. Rocky still jut ran in circles accepting all manner of attention from anyone willing to give it to him.

When you first walk in, you're greeted with a foyer containing the wall sized logo, the mission statement, and some pictures of our wounded. Off to the left is the exhibit portion of the Sacrifice Center, the name bestowed upon the headquarters building. The first wall you see stretches down to your right and contains stories about some of the stories of the soldiers that the project that the WWP has helped. Also is the current focal injury that the WWP has highlighted, currently the Traumatic Brain Injury. Rounding the corner of that wall to the left stretches the sponsor wall where notable celebrities pictures and stories are displayed for all to read. All of these placards are interchangeable so current stories can always be rotated in. Another left turn brings you to the inside "room" of those first two walls where the core values of the project are listed. Each of these values is listed along with a picture of a wounded warrior who can be heard describing what these values mean to them on the video that's displayed there. These wrap around to your right in a rotunda like fashion, as well as a couple silhouettes outfitted with prosthetics which have been donated by actual service members after they are no longer usable. The centerpiece of the rotunda are a couple of mannequins outfitted in the latest gear being used to help keep warriors OUT of the project. One must remember that the best situation would be no injuries. To the right of the rotunda, the names of sponsoring companies are proudly displayed for all to see. Crossing across the rotunda brings you to the hall to the exit on your left, and the offices on the right. Displayed prominently on this wall are stories of "Alive Days" and the pictures of the injured they belong to. Finally as you make your way back to the entrance foyer there is a wall of letters on your right containing letters written by the wounded and their families, detailing their appreciation for the project. There are lots of them, all unsolicited. This comprises the "tour" part of the Project. Also in the same area is the TRACK center which will be used to help educate our fallen to get them ready to go back into the world and rejoin the society the gave so much for. While I was there several members of Aaron Rental's headquarters touring while debating on helping sponsor the WWP. I mention this to draw attention to the fact that this is all privately funded. This isn't some governmental right/left wing organization wasting your tax dollars on $4683 toilet seats. These are real guys, many of whom are also wounded, doing their best to ensure our nation's wounded aren't forgotten. Take a moment to check out the WWP site and see what I'm so enthused about.

Anyhow, as my tour drew to a close, I heard RTD's diesel engine growl emanating down the hall, and moved quickly to see what he was into. I showed up to see Rocky with a cornered staff member. RTD was snarling and growling at the largest guy he could find, who was a looking a bit worried at the moment. He said RTD initially noticed he he prosthetic legs poking out from his shorts, and then started in on the growl when he reached down to pet him. What I noticed was RTD's stumpy tail wagging at 97 mph. I grabbed Rocky and immediately launched him into a vicious sounding playfight there in the foyer, much to the horror/amusement of all who saw and heard this. It sounded like RTD was out for blood... Once everyone saw RTD was just wanting to "playfight" tensions were eased, and Rocky was able to turn back to his first "victim" who now eagerly smacked RTD around. Turns out Rocky's "Cujo" moments are just his mentally challenged attempts at initiating a bout of playing with anyone he thinks will be game for it.

Finally my time at the headquarters drew to a close and a few of us headed out for dinner. We ate at Dave and Buster's, a first for me, and traded stories about med school, the WWP, and other trips we'd been on. Afterwards we split ways and I headed to my friends place there in Jacksonville for the night. The trip is sadly drawing to a close and I'm not looking forward to its' end. Fortunately for you, the loyal readers, WWP is sending me to Alaska in a couple weeks, so my trip isn't over yet! While RTD won't be there, I'm sure there will be adventures to write about so don't delete my sight just yet! Until then I've still got a bit more to go, so keep checking back! Homeward bound in the near future!!...

Guns and Hookahs!!

Hello all! I write this from my buddies place here in Hudson, Florida. I headed up here just north of Tampa from the mangrove swamps of Cape Coral as soon as my head stopped pounding. As usual I swore off alcohol at sun up, yet had partaken of tasty beverages by sundown. Don't get me wrong, my idea of "hard drinking" is pretty tame, and I average about two drinks a week, but sometimes ya gotta have fun! The trip back north was uneventful, but I did have a bit of time to reflect on a few things. I've been thrilled to go on this trip, and proud to be "sponsored" by so many people who've never met me. I'm not sure what the final tally will be, but I'm sure that it will go a bit into offsetting the cost of this adventure. In the end though, I think back to what the medicine man told me; money isn't that important, it's what you learn from it that is. I've received a number of e-mails from people thanking me for lessons they've drawn from me, and no they aren't referring to dumb dog ownership! here's one in particular though that sticks out, as I've had it both in person and in e-mail.






Apparently people feel somewhat inspired by what I've done. One thing people continually note is "how much I've accomplished in spite of my injury." Well here's my take on that... First, one thing I always say is that everyone's injury is grave to them. People make the mistake of thinking "oh I could never go on if that happened to me", or conversely "how are they letting THAT slow them down." Within reason, everybody's injuries are important and serve as obstacles to overcome. One thing that I do know is everyone has the capacity to go on and do great things, regardless of their injury. Be it a sprained back, a missing arm, or a wheelchair for life, the life you lead afterwards is a reflection on your inner self. I have friends and acquaintances who've had relatively minor injuries who simply give up, sit down, and do no more. I also have friends who have injuries that make mine look like a bad paper cut, and yet they go on to lead productive lives. Why? Because they chose to! These people knew that they'd never be happy lying in a bed being fussed over. they constantly sought the next challenge. Sometimes that challenge was walking, sometimes it was as simple as eating. In the end they did the most they could, and were all the better for it. I'm sure I could sit at home and draw a little VA pension, tell anyone who'd listen about my tales of woe, and many people would say I was well within my rights to do that. I don't. Instead I go tax my tiny brain trying to learn the art of medicine so that someday I'll be a decent doctor. Before that I taught myself how to frame, do plumbing, lay tile, hang drywall, lay concrete, and a host of other activities all while trying to renovate my little place. I do all this because I choose to. Every time I get down, I just think about the "do nothing option" and I press on. Ultimately, while I am thrilled that people look at me as an inspiration, I try to let everyone know that everything I've done, they too are capable. It all comes down to you and your choice. Me? I choose to live.



Ok enough of the rant, back to beer and hookahs... I made it here to Hudson in time to shoot the breeze a bit with my friends here. They recently found out they will be the proud parents of triplets, so there was lots of talking to do! I also showed them the wonders of the blogosphere and they have now set up their own blog to tell the tale of three kiddies and the life of being a cop, and ask advice from those who are in the know about young'uns. Hopefully it all goes well! After trading tails of in vitro fertilization versus life on the road, we settled down for some good steaks and water. Ok maybe not so much on the water... Logan's parents (of the couch/urine story) came in for dinner too, so the conversation was never dull. Finally, bellies full, we settled in for post dinner drinks and whatnot. This is when Logan busted out Ye Olde Hookah. Having never messed with one, I was intrigued. I myself am a staunch non smoker, but he assured me it didn't smell like an ashtray in Hell, and fired it up. I must say that the smell was in fact quite fragrant, which was even more intriguing. Finally I got up the courage (read: had enough to drink) to take a puff, and was amazed that it wasn't bad at all. Apparently the tobacco is flavored, and it also takes on the flavor of whatever liquid you bubble it through, i.e. wine, beer, bleach or what not. All in all, it's a lot like a cigar, where the goal is to enjoy the flavor (which cigars lack IMO) and not really so much about inhaling all the smoke. Well the hookah brought up tales of the middle east where we both have been, and it wasn't long thereafter before the topic of guns floated by, too. So here we are, two ex-infantry buffoons puffing on a hookah, talking politics and guns. While drinking. Then the cameras came out. First it was a picture with the hookah, then the brandy... I'll let the pics themselves tell the tale of the rest of it. Remember, you can click the pics for bigger versions... Hopefully at least a few people might be offended and will send me hate mail, which I will then find immensely entertaining.

After everything was put away and order was restored, the parents took this as an excellent opportunity to leave before things got too out of hand. We were then sitting around debating what to get into next when we heard the booms. Someone was shooting fireworks. We were out the door before the next set was off. We headed down the road to where his neighbors were firing mortars off as fast as they could. We brought along Logan's rinky dink black cat bottle rockets and quickly joined the fray. It went a lot like this... BOOM! BOOM! phhhtpop BOOM! I was reminded of the "Harlem Nights" scene where everyone had big guns and the one guy had a tiny pistol. It didn't take long before one guy was tying fuses together and other guys were lighting them. Two people bent over the mortar tubes, giggling with glee as they try to get all the fuses to light at the same time, then sprinting away before anyone took a round to the face! As this went on, neighbors began to gather to enjoy the free show that had manifested outside their doors. I think a number might have been betting on who got "blowed up" first. Probably didn't help that one guy out there was running around with one arm... The saving grace was that several of those involved were cops, and therefore viewed as professionals who knew what they were doing, and not as giggling half-lit man-kids with lighters and explosives. Anyhow, the night ended with no big incidents as I'd left RTD inside. I figured it would take him about three seconds before he started trying to go catch the fireworks...

Well today I'm headed to Jacksonville for a day or two, and then on back to TN. Like I said, I'll try to post for a bit longer about whatever I remember that I missed on the trip. Also, I must clarify, RTD is in fact housebroken, he only has issues if another dog has been there and peed first!! Hope everyone is still enjoying this!

Ernie and his balls...

Well the end of my trip draws near, but it's not done yet! Today I'm hanging out in The House of Whoop A$$ which was so gracious as to host me. I made my way here from Pensacola along I-10 which is pretty desolate up in the norther climes of the panhandle. An interesting thing there are the rows upon rows of pines growing in the sandy Florida soil. Obviously they are tree farms, but it's just odd that everywhere they are in long straight lines like giants arranged in phalanxes, ready to do battle with nothing more than the Florida weather which is a formidable adversary in and of itself. Once I made it through Tallahassee I headed down south on HWY 19 which is supposedly a faster way to Tampa according to that great dashboard deceiver, the Garminator. What the Garminator never tells you is that there *might* be 145767923 stoplights to slow ya down.... Not that I cared but don't you be fooled!

Sadly, one thing I noticed was that Florida away from the coast is kind of poverty stricken. A lot of trailers with cars up on blocks in the front yard, kinda like my place. I felt right at home. Where there aren't trailers there are huge groves of trees covered in the hanging shrouds of Spanish moss, reminiscent of portraits of the civil war era. That or Forrest Gump... Once I got close to Tampa I came into the strip mall and powersports dealer nirvana that is the Gulf Coast economy, and palm trees and other Florichic vegetation and architecture reminded me of the money that is still in Florida.

In Tampa, I made my way over to my buddy from flight school's parents place where they'd agreed to host Rocky and I. This is an agreement they probably regret now. See RTD has never seen certain things, like screened in porches. As soon as I let him out the back door, he ran headfirst at full speed into the screened in porch, and thankfully was rebuffed. Then he ran around and tried to figure out how to get out. I mean, the grass and trees are RIGHT there! There MUST be a way to get to them! When he was again confounded, he finally gave up and decided just to pee on stuff through the screen. With all that out of the way he was able to turn his attention to Oreo, their maltese/shitzu mix. Oreo was busily running around and trying to sniff RTD, and then humping his leg. RTD just looked at me with a confused look... He's never interacted with a fog this small and was unsure how he was supposed to go about humping Oreo's rear. Finally he gave up and just peed on Oreo, which nobody found amusing except me. After all that, RTD finally let go with the coup d'grace and dropped large Rocky Bombs on the cement next to the pool. I guess he figured if he was outside, that's good enough. After dinner we all settled in and hit the sack, where Rocky then decided to go do a little marking on the white furniture. Now he's NEVER done this before unless it's somewhere another dog marked, so I think RTD might have been trying to cover a little Oreo milk. I was dispatched to petsmart to get cleaner shortly thereafter...

After Tampa I made my way down south to the Ft. Myers area to meet Ernie who, had offered food and beer both of which I could not refuse. If there ever was a need for a "North American Guy" call, it would bellow "Steak and beer over here!!!" when activated. It would work well. Here we hit the local pub and downed beverages before heading home to play in the pool, which had already been the source of amusement today. Can you guess how? If you said "Rocky The Destroyer" you would be correct.

As I've learned, Rocky fancies the pool. Well his pool is different than any others I've seen in that it just overflows over an edge into a "well" about four feet below it that acts as a skimmer/trap. Well after a while of playing with the ball, RTD decided to try to play with two. This worked for a bit, but eventually one managed to fall over the edge into the well. Well RTD then swam over and peered over the edge ad the orphaned toy and contemplated his next move. While he did this I screamed "Rocky NO!" which roughly translates to him as "You better hurry up and do whatever it is you're planning!!!" Upon hearing this Rocky crawled up on the thin edge of the pool wall and teetered precariously while eyeing his ball. I unassed my seat and yelled at him "you better not! No!" Which again roughly translates to "Now or never!" Rocky opted for "now" and into the well he went. Once in there he realized that there was no way out and began thrashing around as I laughed at him. I finally got down and was able to grab his handy dandy Rockstar Carrying Handle that I make him wear at all times and pulled him out. Well as soon as he was out, he realized that while he was out, the ball wasn't. Luckily I was able to catch him midair as he jumped right back into the well. We had to restrain him until Ernie could fish both of his balls out with a skimmer. (How's that for a sentence to take out of context....) Finally Ernie took his balls away from RTD so we could dry him off. But the fun wasn't over yet...

With Rocky now dried and ball-less, he soon became bored. This was right about the time the pool was back to smooth waters, and RTD was able to see something he hadn't seen before. Where the jets blow water out just below the surface, it creates a ripple in the water. Rocky was intrigued. He sat there and watched it for a bit, debating on what to do. His first action was to try to paw at it. He managed to lean over and balance enough to paw, but he kept coming back emptyhanded. Odd... the ripples are still RIGHT there! Next he got on his belly and sniffed at it before jamming his head underwater to try to get a closer look. Still nothing. He then sat back and watched some more before choosing his final course of action. I looked over in time to see him on his haunches wiggling trying to judge how to jump onto it. I yelled another "Rocky NO!" which we all already know means "Do it! Do It Now! Get to the Choppah!" RTD immediately jumped in and once again came up empty mouthed, but alas, this time he could FEEL whatever it was making the ripple. Sensing that the prey was close, Rocky made his way over to the jet and then did his best to drown himself attacking the underwater jet. Once again the Patent Pended Rocky Carrying Handle was used to haul him back out of the water for some more drying off. At least Ernie was happy that this time his balls were safe and dry.

After all that RTD was put back inside and we headed out for the steaks and beverages. After dinner we headed to a little outside pub where I regaled all within earshot with my tales from the road and whatever else came to mind. As mentioned before, nothing makes me happier than an audience. Eventually, no doubt sensing I was nearing the point of no return as the area was starting to get more crowded, Ernie wisely hauled us back to the house where we were able to hang out and drink with the Captain, though the Doctor couldn't make it. Those who know me know what I mean (think Morgan and Pepper). Ultimately the night wound down and everyone headed to their places of rest where tragedy struck. apparently sometime during the night, a band of bat wielding thugs broke in and popped us all on the head. At least that what I think happened. that's what my head keeps telling me...

Well today it's back to Tampa to see my friends who recently found out that they are about to be parents. Times three. After that I'm headed to Jacksonville to see the Wounded Warrior Project people and a few more friends and then it's back to TN. I still have several stories to post so keep coming back to see what's new!!

Also if anyone here happens to work with a book publisher, feel free to lie and tell them this is the best thing you've seen since chocolate was invented and see if they're interested in helping me publish any of it!

The camera....

Hey everyone! I've had a lot of people ask what kind of camera setup I use, and then they tell me all about theirs. I'm kind of ashamed to admit it, but I have no clue when it comes to photography... I am using a cheap Fuji Finepix 8.0 I bought at Best Buy about a week into the trip when my older cheaper camera died... Sorry there's no great digital SLR supercamera with "adjustable F-stops" and "variable lenses" etc etc etc...

That said, I've had a fair amount of interest in a calendar and or glossies of some of the pics. If you are interested, PLEASE take a minute to click the poll on the right side here. You can choose more than one option so pick accordingly. I'm trying to gauge interest here to decide if it's worth the time to get some professional calendars made to sell here for probably around $20. Thanks gor taking the time to take the poll!! Daniel

Born on a Bayou...

After my last post (from Katy) I headed on over to the local Autozone to get a new compressor for my A/C system. I think I should have invested in autozone before I started this trip... I wonder if they'll name a store after me after all the business the Bean has brought them in the last six months... I bought the compressor and asked if I could use their store toolbox to put it on. They asked what tools I needed and I explained I didn't know yet, but adamantly promised I wouldn't steal the box of broken and mismatched tools they loaned me. Finally the relented and turned the box of tools over, and I went outside to work. I quickly set about pulling the compressor with all the wrong tools. Finally I got it off with a large blast of freon to the face and finally got the instructions out to read. Step 1: drain freon from system. Ooops... Eventually I'll learn.




As I started getting the new part ready to go in, one of the employees stepped out and asked me how I planned to get the freon BACK in.



"In? I was just gonna hook up this can here..."


"That won't work. You need to have something to suck it in."


"Wait, what? Do you have that here at the store?"


"Uh no, not really."


"Uh oh..."

Years of experience allowed the Autozone guy to recognize imcompetence when he saw it, and he suggested I take it across the street to the mechanic there and have them charge it. I told him that was a bit too pricy for me and I was gonna try it myself somehow. Recognizing that dangerous combination of incompetence coupled with ignorance, he took it upon himself to call the shop himself and explain that he had a customer who was systematically destroying an ugly truck in their parking lot and asked if they could fix it before meltdown occured. The instructions lying crumpled on the ground nearby probably helped my case, too... Fortunately they agreed and I took the truck across the street for a professional attempt at repair.

At Katy foriegn and domestic auto repair, the mechanic, Tink, assured me he could get the Bean recharged and I'd be set. After a bit he asked if I'd changed the filter, too. Filter? There's a filter? Well Tink the uncharged the system and checked the filter, which contained all sorts of parts of the old compressor. Not good. After seing this, he decided maybe the whole system should be flushed, too. Several bottles of flush later, 24 years of crud was removed and he set about hooking it all back up. Finally, several hours later and a lot more work completed than what they initially agreed to, the Bean was blowing 48 degree air and I was ready to get back on the road. I have to thank Tink and the rest of them there for being so kind as to work late into the afternoon before the 4th to get the Bean back to arctic goodness!

Back on the road I decided I'd drive late to make up time. I then promptly got stuck in the parking lot that is I-10 in Houston at late rush hour. Eventually everyone remembered they were supposed to be driving and traffic started moving and I headed out. I managed to get to Lake Charles, LA around 9:30 and looked for a camp. Jellystone was the only option, so off I went in search of Yogi and crew. Once there I was laughingly informed that if I didn't have a reservation there was no way they were taking me in. Dang. I then went to the local Econolodge, which happened to be on MLK drive there. I hate to make broad statements, but in my life, I've NEVER been on a MLK drive that gave me a good feeling and the fact that the Garminator was beelining me there wasn't reassuring.

At the hotel waiting to check in, I got my first clue when the clerk told security that there was someone on the second floor going door to door asking for drugs or money. Nonplussed, I bravely checked in anyhow and pulled around to my room. I hadn't even got the bean in park before there was a guy at my door. I got RTD and my knife ready and opened the door. he immediately asked if I could come across the street with him for a little help. I looked at the dark grove of trees he was pointing towards and followed my gut instinct and tasered the guy. Ok I didn't taser him, but at the sight of Rocky he lost interest and ran off. Still undeterred I headed up the stairs to my hovel... The room itself was disgustipating. The carpet was hideous and the smell was worse. I looked at the two beds and bravely pulled back the comforter. Blue sheets. Not good. For the hotel unitiated, colored sheets are ALWAYS a bad thing. Colored sheets indicate bleach is not a part of the washing process. I looked closely at the sheets and was impressed at the number of stains on the first bed. The second bed looked a little better, but then when I touched it, the bed was wet. I briefly considered getting the air mattress before realizing I'd PAID for this. Angry, I finally headed back to the desk where I stood around for about twenty minutes while the clerk did everything but unlock the lobby to let me in. My only solace was in scaring off potential customers with my tales of nastiness and funk in the hotel. Finally I was given a refund and I made my way on down the road to a Ho-Jo that was much nicer.

The next morning I set off for Pensacola to see the fireworks at the beach there. Along the way I crossed all manner of woodlands and bayou. Pines and hardwoods would yield to the cypress and other undergrowth of the wetlands. Herons and other waterbirds hovered just off the highway, taking advantage of the updraft off the water to hold them steady as if painted into the sky. Every time I got ready to pull over to take a picture, a local law enforcement officer would appear next to a "no parking ever" sign. Eventually I crossed into Florida where the wetlands gave way to the sandy soil of the Florida guld coast. Pines and dark undergrowth again became the masters of the land as I pulled into the RV park which was kind enough to let me park there. They were the only place that wasn't booked full, or so greedy they hadn't jacked the prices way into the hundreds. I watched the fireworks from the Outback there, and then headed back to campground for a humid nights sleep. I must say 75 degrees still sucks when you can swim through the air to get to the bathroom... Today I'm headed to Tampa for a day or three, and finally on to either Orlando or Jacksonville before making my way back north.

BTW, Ernie of http://www.ehowa.com/, get ahold of me!

Independence Day

Today is the day we all celebrate our independence as a nation. This is a day that is uniquely special to the United States, yet sadly has become more commercialized in the last several years. One day in the future it may become "Happy Fireworks Day" once some organization protests that they are offended by our Declaration or some such nonsense. It seems unlikely now but look at all the other "Holidays" that have changed over time. One never knows.... Today though it is still Independence Day, and it's a day I'm proud to get to see. Sadly, it also marks the two year date of the day I found out my friend CW3 Flanigan was killed in Afghanistan fighting for the freedoms we hold so dear, yet take for granted.

Over the last several weeks I've had an excellent opportunity to witness just how much freedom we have. I've received e-mails from people who think otherwise, and even talked to one (conspiracy theorist) but I myself remain confident in our freedom. People point out that we are restricted from owning automatic weapons, and scream that our freedoms are gone. The truth is though, we are free to own them provided we follow the rules to GET them. Not all countries have this, and I personally agree that there needs to be a checks system in place for such stuff anyhow. The Supreme Court, in a rare moment of enlightenment, even upheld everyone's right to own a handgun, provided you meet the requirements which essentially mean you aren't a felon. Seems pretty free to me! If you want to go buy a few hundred gallons of diesel fuel and fertilizer, you can! Don't be surprised if someone questions WHY you just bought the ingredients for a bomb, but if you don't have ill intent, their yours for the taking.

In a few more months we'll all head to the voting booths to make our selections for the future leaders of this country. In that little booth you'll have several choices to make about this future. Some people might argue that candidate A is just like candidate B, and there may even be some truth to that, but in the end there is still an A and a B. Some countries don't have that. Look at Zimbabwe which recently held their "election". It was a really easy process, you vote for the only name on the ticket, Robert Mugabe, and you go home. I can promise you this, Robert Mugabe of last week will be just like Robert Mugabe of next week, which is a lot more similar than McCain and Obama. What you won't have there is someone with a gun assisting making sure you have no trouble choosing the "right" candidate. More freedom in my book.

Perhaps some of you are heading out across country today to celebrate with relatives. As you cross easily from state to state, think about the places where you can't do that. There are no guards asking why you feel like heading over to Georgia for your afternoon. Not every country can say that. While you tool down the highway on your trip, you have no worries of being pulled over merely because you aren't from the local "tribe" which runs the show there. No officer will be holding out his hand expecting your license and a hundred dollar bill to avoid a little "talking to" courtesy of a nightstick. Still sounding pretty good to me...

Some of you might be enjoying your summer, anxiously awaiting the start of school where you hope to go on to be a doctor, a lawyer, a politician, or maybe a humanitarian worker. All options are open and your performance will be your key to these dreams. What you won't encounter is some bureaucracy that tells you that you can't chase these dreams because you didn't score well enough in school, or you are from the wrong caste, or you just aren't the right race or gender. I myself came from a background where I nearly failed out of high school and came from a poor family yet here I am, a student in medical school. These are all freedoms which we enjoy that people in other countries don't

One of the things to remember is that this independence didn't come for naught. The price paid was heavy, and even today the debt is still being settled. Tonight while you enjoy your steak and beer, remember that somewhere in the world, an American is suffering so that you won't have to. This is a person who did this of their own accord, be it for school, a sense of patriotism, or just a way out. No letter arrived in the mail directing them to report for duty. No truck full of armed men came and whisked them away to a new life of danger. This citizen willfully stepped forward and said "I will go" when so many others sat back and criticized or listed the reasons why it just wasn't convenient for them to go. Tonight while you watch the beautiful displays of fireworks bursting overhead, know that somewhere else in the world an American is seeing the same bursts, hearing the same booms, and wishing they weren't there. This person will see no beauty in the rockets red glare, only danger unknown to those who've not been there. When the embers fall on you as you try to dance out of the way, remember that for a neighbor of yours these embers are shrapnel, embers that injure far more gravely. Lastly, remember that in the morning when you awaken, head pounding from the nights festivities, a friend you've never met will never reawaken from their last nights journey.

I myself will be in the Pensacola area provided all goes well. I'll likely be sleeping at a truck stop as all the campgrounds are booked and I lacked the ability to reserve one far enough in advance. I'll enjoy my night in the Bean because tonight of all nights, hotels apparently don't offer a military discount because of the opportunity to make more money. Thankfully though, regardless of where I enjoy my night, tomorrow I will awaken though just two years ago I came so close to not, and so many of my brothers in arms never will.

Remember, freedom is not free. As soon as I get better internet access, I'll repost one of my favorite pictures because I feel it says it all.

No country for dumb dogs

The other day RTD and I made the trip through Big Bend National Park over in the far reaches of Southwest Texas. The trip the from Las Cruces was boring, and I must admit the desert gets a bit monotonous as I've mentioned before. One can only spend so much time thinking "Yay! Sand!" before wanting to fill ones eyes with cactus spines and starting dreaming of unnamed horses. At least that's my feeling. Desert dwellers probably feel that green trees and rolling mountains get a little old... Well this was my first trip to Big Bend in spite of my years of living in Texas. I took a route through Marfa, TX so I could see the area where No Country for Old Men was filmed. If you've not seen this movie, go rent it now and watch it. Twice. The first time will leave you feeling unfulfilled and confused, like that first morning after prom. The second time brings it all together a bit better since you kind of know what's going on. I was surprised at how "artsy" this tiny west TX town was, but after considering that it is a popular destination for Hollywood Western types, it made more sense. Alas, there was still no Starbucks.

As I continued on towards the park, the desert continued to be about as exciting as RTD on Valium. I did see some Javelinas which was another first for me in TX. Javelinas are a time of swine that get up to about 60-80 lbs, and have a perpetually bad day. Running into a javelina is bad. Running into a pack is worse. Running into a pack with piglets after a meal of bacon and pork chops is probably catastrophic. Luckily RTD didn't run into any at all. We also saw more wild turkey and buzzards which always hold Rocky's rapt attention. Other than that we mostly drove and I cursed the thunderstorms that were prevailing, and swore that if the park was just more scrubby desert I'd start searching for books of matches...

I was not let down. The contrast between the park and the surrounding nothingness is huge. The park is filled with jagged peaks and valleys, colors across the spectrum, and varieties of fun filled wildlife to keep the nights interesting. I entered from the west entrance and made my way through. The same showers I'd been cursing made for amazing pictures, so of which I've already posted. The elevation change is amazing, and at the highest points in the park the weather is almost cool. Well, for Texas at least. I tooled along taking pictures and stopping to admire the contrasts of the oranges and reds of the rocks and sunsets against the angry blacks and greys of the summer storms. I finally descended into the Rio Grande valley where the heat and humidity were in direct competition with each other to see which could be listed under "cause" on your death certificate. I made it to the campsite where I got out of the Bean for about thirty seconds before deciding to head back up the hill to the Basin campsite. I'd suggest this to anyone who isn't "camping" in Van Halen's old tour bus.

We overnighted at the infamous Skunk Stomping Grounds where tragedy was narrowly avoided, and I was pretty much miserable. My air mattress picked that night to spring a leak, and after two refills I just settled for misery on the cold floor of the Bean while Rocky looked at me in a mocking fashion. The next morning brought on more rain and massive fog until we made it back into the lowlands. The trip out of the park was ok, but the best scenery is in the west of the park, and the rains do nothing but to enhance it though that might only work in the evenings. After the park I went through yet another Alien Checkpoint where the Bean was scrutinized in detail to see if I was running illegals through there. I guess the fact I could easily fir thirty or forty brings a little attention to me. After that it was back to desert boredom until I noticed a little something.

In was driving about thirty miles south of Fort Stockton when I notice a large black hunk of rubber on the side of the road. You know, the ones that occasionally depart a truckers tire and sail directly into your windshield, too small to do damage but big enough to require and underwear change after it hits. Well these hand sized chunks are not unusual, except this one moved when I got closer. This piqued my interest, and the Bean was eventually doing a 27 point U-turn to get back to see what it was. When I got back to where it had been, it was gone! I turned around again and slowly cruised up the highway to see if I could find it. It wasn't long before I saw the "rubber" walking through the woods. The "rubber" was actually a "Tarantula". I was impressed, another first for Texas and I! I immediately stopped the truck and got out for a closer look. I left RTD there in the truck since I wasn't sure how poisonous these things might be. Anyhow, one thing that fascinates me are spiders, and here was a big one. I drew deep from the wellspring of knowledge gleaned from years of watch such great shows as The Crocodile Hunter and other Discovery Channel wonders, and tried to decide what to do next. It didn't take long for the answer to come to me.... Poke it with a stick. I've learned that when all else fails when dealing with wild animals, especially those with large fangs, stick poking is a given. I rounded up a twig and tried to remember if tarantulas were capable of long jumps. My gut said "no" so the poking began.

My first couple of pokes did not produce the desired effect, so I went with another time tested method of wild arachnid wrangling, and tossed a few pebbles at it. I was rewarded with some movement to and fro, but not much else. Now I got a bit of testicular fortitude up and started alternately poking, pebbling, and picturing as close as I could. Finally it wandered into the road and stopped. Foiled, I increased my stick poking, attempting to poke about the head and neck area. I was having fun! I was five years old again! I was standing in the middle of a highway with a semi truck headed my way. Finally with one last deft maneuver I poked away and garnered the desired pose. The spider rared back on its' hind legs and displayed the fangs. Success!! I snapped a picture and retreated to the side of the road as the truck passed by, blowing the tarantula around a bit. Finally, bewildered at what had just happened, it made it's way back off into the brush in search of that eternal motivator of males, females, and I continued on to the Hill Country of Fredericksburg, TX.

Now I realize Texans love Texas and everything, but most of my memories of Texas aren't very fond, therefore my opinion may be a bit jaded. That decree made, I have to say the Hill Country is a pretty nice area of the world. The temperatures here tend to be about ten degrees cooler than the rest of Texas, so Satan isn't nearly as often spotted in this corner of Hades. The hills are a golden rolling carpet spotted with live oaks and mesquites, and that everpresent destroyer of cars, that oversized rodent, that walking eating machine, the White Tailed Deer. Throughout the hill country are numerous wineries and ranches, and my personal favorite, several winding rivers. The rivers are where one can engage in that great Tejas Past Time of tubing. This is where you and a few friends rent inner tubes with plastic bottoms, toss in a cooler of tasty brew (cans only) and float lazily along the green hued limeladen rivers with hundreds of your new friends. On a weekend it is nearly impossible to not end up drinking, regardless of whether you brought any beer or not. The multitudes of sun seekers floating along on the donut shaped caravan will surely bequeath unto you more alcohol that you care to have. While Texans might be hogs of the highways, they certainly aren't stingy with the beer.

After a lazy frozen rainfilled afternoon of floating the river, we headed to my other favorite destination of the Hill Country; Gruene, TX. Gruene is an old German town that's since been revamped for tourism. It's just touristy enough to be a tourist town, yet not so overdone you expect a large mouse with gloves to pop out from behind every corner. My favorite restaurant there is The Gristmill, and one would be selling themselves short to miss out on it! No meal on the menu will run more than $20, and most are half that. The place is in an old mill, so the old walls, timber, and water tower are all still there, along with terraced seating, and the oldest dance hall in Texas just a stones throw away. If all of this sounds like a shameless plug for Gruene, it's because it is! If you ever end up near San Antonio, scratch the River Walk off your list and drive the half hour north to Gruene and mail me your "thank you" notes later!

Speaking of Texas dance halls, I also got the opportunity to here a couple of Texas musicians play. Sadly it wasn't at Luckenbach, though I've heard Thomas Michael Riley (whose place I was staying at this time) play there and ya can't pass that up, either. Matt and I ended up in Marble City Falls to hear Mike Blakely play along with a few other fellows, and good times were had by all. I was getting a bit worn down by this point but I was still quite happy to have the opportunity! Finally with all that out of the way I visited a few more friends in San Antonio before getting ready to head out to New Orleans. One of my classmates is spending his summer playing Army in the summer heat of Texas so he can be an Army doc, so I had to bring him and some of his other downtrodden buddies some Rudy's so that they'd know what real brisket was like. Hope ya enjoyed it, old man...

As for SATX, I don't have much to say, that's where I did my rehab, and I may write about that tonight for the 4th. I don't know yet, I'll have to look in my soul and see if there is a story that wants to get out. If so, you'll see it. That brings me to where I am now; Katy, TX. I stopped here because my air conditioner stopped about ten miles back so I'm about to suck it up and go buy a new compressor. The sound you heard this afternoon was the wail I unleashed after seeing the price of keeping the Bean (and Rockstar) cool.... Anyhow I hope to get to around N'Awlins tonight, and then who knows from there. My buddies at Fort Rucker have all headed out for the Fourth so I may just sleep on a beach in Florida somewhere, who knows. At least the bikinis will be out in abundance!! Until then...

The Solo Flight...

A few of you may already know, but for those who don’t, I’m a man of many talents. Most of them are useless, such as being able to remember completely irrelevant facts, and some are at least fun. One of those talents is my ability to fly. Not with my underwear outside my blue jeans and a cape, but in large hunks of aluminum known as aircraft. Ok the underwear thing may have been attempted after enough tasty adult beverages, but that’s not what this story is about. See not only do I fly helicopters; I also hold a fixed wing rating, which means I’m cleared to terrorize the friendly skies in Cessnas. I attained this rating while hanging out at the hospital in Texas. At the time I had the idea that I would pay to get my own airplane license to keep up my aviation skills, that way when the Army was ready to let me fly again, I’d still be sharp. Great idea, bad results… Anyhow this is my “solo story”.


Almost every pilot has a “solo story”. Generally this is a story about how they executed some amazing feat that pilots far beyond their skill level can barely manage. Ok actually it’s usually a story about how they nearly killed themselves due to incompetence. Mine is one of those. Before I get too far in, allow me to clarify a few things. Flying an airplane is everything that flying a helicopter isn’t. In a word; easy. An airplane WANTS to fly, to soar gracefully through the skies, to mingle with the great eagles which man has always desired to be. An airplane pilot is a happy guy, confident that his bird will not fail him, that she will always deliver him gently to the ground, gliding in like the raptor of which she was modeled. The helicopter, on the other hand, does not want to fly. Most airplane pilots are relatively certain that the helicopter violates one or more laws of physics merely by existing. I’ve best heard it described as “a million parts all working in opposition to each other, doing their best to fail at the most inopportune moment.” There is nothing graceful about the helicopter. Left to its’ own devices it will immediately plummet to the earth as a ball of angrily whirling wreckage. The helicopter pilot is a neurotic man, constantly wondering if the noise he just heard was a crucial part failing, ceaselessly scanning the ground for the softest place to crash when the helicopter realizes it is in fact incapable of flight. I say all this to convey the point that airplanes are easy to fly. I’m sure that the airplane pilots will attempt to disagree with all this. They’ll cite that the Chair Force likes for their pilots to have advanced mathematical degrees, yet the Army trains high school grads to fly helicopters. They’ll surely mention that senior airline pilots make six figures, whilst senior helo pilots are lucky to pay the bills on one job alone. The reason for this? Image. What looks better? The happy go lucky airline pilot, cap tilted jauntily, maybe a scarf and a big smile as he programs the auto pilot to do the entire flight, or the half crazed chain smoking manic depressive helicopter pilot who spends most of his time mumbling something about “Murphy’s Law” and continuously asking “where are we going to land when the engine fails?” Right. The airline pilot. The reality though, there’s a reason NASA used chimps in the space program…. Trust me, I’ve flown both, and crashed one. So onto the story…


My flight training was pretty easy, especially compared to rotary wing flight. My very first takeoff and landing were accomplished with the instructor pilot talking me through it, never touching the controls. In a helicopter this would have been catastrophic. Sure some of it was likely his recognizing my amazing aviator skills and trusting in me to safely take off and alight unhelped. More likely it’s because one must try hard to crash a Cessna. Not impossible to do, but hard. I waited until solo day to give it my best shot. When you solo, you have to do a certain number of hours of local and cross country flight to meet the FAA minimums. The point is to build confidence that the instructor pilot is not a necessary item for a successful flight. This is done by allowing the fledgling student to go out and attempt to fly, finally returning with much more bravado and confidence. This is initiated when the IP feels the student can fly “safely” without doing irreparable damage to the aircraft. During this process most students begin to feel confident, and then get themselves into a minor predicament which they safely overcome, and everyone drinks a beer at the end of the day, that much wiser. Usually.


On the day of my cross country solo flight, the weather was what is known in the field as “crappy.” This is a highly technical term used to describe cloudy, windy, and rainy days where one would be much better off sitting in ops and drinking coffee. Instead I was outside preflighting and watching the IFR beacon to see if it was turned off. Turning off the beacon indicates that the minimum weather to fly has been achieved. That doesn’t mean you SHOULD be flying, but I paid no heed to this, I was gonna get some air time. Now don’t get me wrong, I’d checked the enroute and forecast weather, and it was all supposed to be improving, at least according to the guy who was sitting at a radar screen and drinking coffee in BFE. Well with minimum and improving weather, I felt confident in my abilities, and fired up the little Cessna 172 and called tower. They gave me permission for a southern departure with a westward turn out to Uvalde, the airport I’d planned on going out and practicing at some seventy miles away.


Well I took off and immediately things started rolling downhill. Apparently Murphy was on this flight, too. As I was climbing to altitude I looked inside the cockpit to check my heading and instruments, and then looked back out into the great white nothing that is the inner workings of a cloud. I was at 800 feet. The clouds were supposed to be at 2000. Thanks weather guy. Well I then did what most pilots do in this situation, a maneuver commonly known as “the wrong thing to do.” I tried to get back UNDER the clouds. This can be fatal if the clouds happen to become “ground fog”. I quickly weighed trying to fly instruments (hard when planned… REAAAALY hard when unplanned) to get back to San Antonio versus diving and decided I’d be safer that way. Luckily I was able to get back under them, and leveled out at 700 feet. Legally I’m supposed to be at 500 feet below the clouds, but that would have me driving down the highway in morning traffic. I advised tower of the situation and they told me they were unable to get me back in at that time, and to continue flying south. Finally they came back and cleared me to Uvalde with assurances of better weather that direction.


Again, the weather sucked, and I flew out to Uvalde at about 1000 feet where the air was nice and bumpy. The bumpiness was due to a straight 15 knot headwind. Finally Uvalde came into sight, and I called the traffic there to let them know my intentions. Had I been wise I simply would have said “Skyhawk 27J Solo inbound from the east for attempted landing to the south, resulting in probable crash and burn, ready the fire trucks”. I finally turned base and lined up with the runway and tried to ready myself to land. This was made hard by the strong right crosswind blowing me everywhere but in line with the runway. Now here’s an excellent time to clarify a few more differences between helicopters and airplanes. At low speeds, airplanes require big inputs to get the control you want. This is because the wing relies on the wind speed across it to work. In a helicopter, it’s the opposite. The slower you go the less input you put in. This caused me the most problems in the airplane transition because as I slowed down I never wanted to make big inputs out of fear of that whole “crashing” thing. Read the hover story for more…. The other major difference is in the helicopter you “neutralize” the controls at touchdown to alleviate stress on the system. This is accomplished by centering the cyclic and listening to the accolades of the admiring public about your amazing pilot abilities. In an airplane you continue to “fly” all the way until you shut down the engines. You’ll see why soon…


Well as I was on final I was trying hard to stay in line with the runway, and the wind was trying harder to get me back to San Antonio. This is done by lowering the wing in the direction of the wind and turning the nose into it until you are flying straight. Essentially I looked a lot like a drunkard on a DUI stop. Finally I touched the wheels of the little Cessna down and waited for the nose to touch. As soon as the nose touched I did my typical helicopter move and centered the controls and silently congratulated myself on my sheer amazingness since there was no public present aside from one man mowing the lawn adjacent to the strip. What happened next was the wind got up under the right wing and blew me up onto the left wheel. I was now about .00005 seconds away from a ground loop. This is when the airplane spins on one wheel. At about 45 mph. The results are not pretty, and usually results in damage to the plane and cool points being spilled all over the runway. Well as the right wing continued upwards and I had visions of crashing yet another vehicle, I realized I needed to act. I “steered” the wing into the wind and got the wheel back down. The only big problem left was I was now pointed towards the edge of the runway and still rolling too fast to stop. At this point the man mowing the lawn had stopped to watch the winged tragedy finish out. The only option I saw now was to go full throttle and try to take back off.


Well I pushed the throttle full forward and started praying. I needed about 55 knots (60.5 mph) to be able to take off, and I wasn’t sure I was gonna make it. If you try to take off too early, you’ll break ground, stall, and crash on the nose. This is generally known as “bad.” As the ground loomed closer and the airspeed needle seemed to hang at 50, I was trying to figure out how I was going to explain crashing on the side of the runway. Finally I was up to about 53 knots or so and the wheel were about to go off the edge, I opted to pull up and take off. I managed to get about two feet off the ground and level off at about two feet high to build more speed as I dragged the wheels through the grass that hadn’t been mowed yet. The man on the mower could only sit and stare. Finally I had enough speed to take off and off I went. At this point I ignored all rules about taking off and pointed my nose straight for San Antonio. I made my final call to Uvalde and said “27J Solo is departing at this time and will not be returning.” As far as I was concerned if I was going to crash and burn, I was gonna do it at an airport that was close to a hospital! Ultimately the rest of the flight was uneventful except for a fair amount of cussing. By the time I reached San Antonio the weather was beautiful, and I executed a textbook landing. Upon touchdown I congratulated myself on my amazing abilities for being the skillful aviator I was, and called it a day. Some people never learn….


Well I hope you have enjoyed this story. Next post should cover Big Bend and Central Texas. I’m hoping that now that I’ll e out of the desert there will be more to write about! The pics I’m including here are just some random pics I like that I’ve posted for your viewing pleasure. On Wednesday I’m heading towards New Orleans, so stay posted for more updates!

My posts fall further behind but this time it’s not my fault! I finally got into my site tonight and started getting the truck ready for the night. This took a few minutes because of the way RTD chooses to eat his food. Unlike a normal dog and eating his food out of the bowl, he instead takes a mouthful and spits it out on the floor and munches the kibbles one at a time. Well tonight I set his food out as always, clipped him up, and threw all the kibbles out of the back of the truck. After that I gathered up the garbage and took Rockstar on a walk to the dumpster to toss out my detritus. After figuring how to work the apparently bearproof and hookproof door on the dumpster, RTD and I headed back to the truck. As we rounded the back of the truck, the night took a turn that I hadn’t anticipated.






See, I use a headlamp to see what I’m doing after sundown, so I can only see about four feet ahead of my feet. Fortunately I have RTD to warn me of any danger that may be out ahead of this. As long as this danger is a cat. Or bird. Apparently RTD’s keen senses aren’t tuned to the frequency of harder to detect animals such as lizards, tiny rodents, and oh yeah, skunks. Yup, less than four feet from RTD and I was Pepe Le Pew himself, in all his white striped glory. Apparently a skunk found RTD’s food in the 42 seconds it took us to toss the garbage. Anyhow I spotted the skunk before RTD and acted accordingly. Years of military training had prepared me for just such an event. I reached deep down inside, planted my feet and screamed like a little girl. RTD still had not noticed the gas bag that was busily turning around to bring his weapon to bear, and I was envisioning anal gland goodness the likes of which I’d never experienced. Finally I managed to utter the magic words that unfroze my body and slowed time enough to make a get away. Basically, I yelled “OH S**T! SKUUUUUUUUNK!!” As I furiously backpedaled away and tried to drag RTD away from the now discovered skunk. Luckily my force in the reverse direction was stronger than RTD’s in the skunk’s direction, and we got away. Unfortunately that just left Pepe to munch on RTD’s food. Eventually I managed to scare him off the food long enough to scoop up the food. What I forgotten however, was the food I’d thrown behind the truck. Because of this we spent the next hour or so standing a safe distance away as Pepe had his way with the Bean. RTD tried hard to get away, angry that I was withholding him from playing with such an obviously fun filled friend. My explanations did no good… Oh well, on the upside, no animals or vehicles were sprayed in the making of this story!


Anyhow, how did I come to be where I was? Well… lots of driving! Like I’d said before, I’d made it to Las Cruzes, NM from Phoenix without incident, though I did drive through a number of huge sandstorms. I also paid a visit to the Pima Air Museum which is a few hundred acres of airplane fun. While there RTD managed to rub up against as many cacti as possible, and my fingers paid the price! We wandered the grounds of the museum looking at planes and a few helicopters. I reflected back on my experience in the fixed wing world that I used to kill time while I was at Fort Sam Houston waiting for the Army to decide what they were going to do. Finally RTD and I headed back out on the open road to NM, where the duststorms were the order of the day! The desert pretty much looks the same from Nevada on out thru Texas, though the farther east you go, the greener it becomes. The biggest difference were the cacti… In Arizona large Saguaro cacti are present everywhere but are all but gone by the time you get to New Mexico.


After the night in Las Cruces we headed up to White Sands National Monument at the suggestion of some of the readers. We got there relatively early and the brightness of the sand dunes was striking in contrast to the bleak brown of the surrounding desert. When you first enter the park the dunes have a lot of vegetation poking through, but once you get to the heart of the dunes, they stand as unblemished white waves as far as the eye can see. RTD and I got out to play here, which made for a bit of fun. I threw Rocky’s Frisbee ring several times, and before long he had a frothy/sandy white beard hanging off of his face. I gave him water, and the we just repeated the game… After that we headed to Texas where I found the best barbecue ever!


Rudy’s. If you are EVER in Texas, this is a requirement. I had just crossed into El Paso when I saw the sign for Rudy’s. I nearly crashed the Bean making the exit. Amazing barbecue was only a few minutes away. Rudy’s started out in San Antonio, and it violates all my rules for good barbecue. My experience has taught me that truly good barbecue must have these elements: Non-vinegar based sauce. Pork, pulled or shredded, not sliced. Made and served by a large black man, preferably in a really dingy building in the heart of a ghetto. I’m not saying this sarcastically! Truly the best BBQ I manage to find almost always comes from joints where most people are double checking their door locks as they speed by. Rudy’s on the other hand specializes in beef brisket. When you order it, you actually see the guy pull it off a fire and saw off charred slices that crumble when touched with your fork. Barbecue nirvana is to be found here. The most amazing part is it’s a CHAIN!! If you have money to buy into a franchise, buy Rudy’s and I promise you’ll die rich! Mmmmmmmm Rudy’s….


Anyhow my next installment will take me through the park at Big Bend an on to Fredericksburg, TX. Hopefully I’ll get that solo story there, too… Until then!

Out of the ashes....

I learned a new thing yesterday... RTD is actually a duck in a boxer body. The family who hosted me in Phoenix had a pool and a bunch of dogs, and given that RTD was cranky from munching on corncobs the night before, I was a bit worried about going over there. Don't get me wrong, I didn't FEED him the cobs. he took it upon himself to dig the out of the trash and make a quick meal of them. Unfortunately for him, he lacks the four stomachs of a cow and subsequently couldn't digest them. This caused him to have an upset stomach, and with that came the Rockstar patented bad attitude. Fortunately by the time I got to the hosts' house he was in better spirits and ready for an afternoon of water and Butthumper!

Once we were there and all the introductions were made, we got down to the pool and I went in for a dip. I tried to get RTD in the pool, but he wasn't really feeling it. I then went and got his favorite toy, and his feeling it level began to increase. I tried throwing it in the pool and RTD just ran circles around the pool and whined. Finally I got into the pool and tried to entice him in. No dice. When that failed I gave him his toy and began playing tug. It only took one good pull and RTD was in the water! Success! Which came at the price of claw marks all over my chest.

Back out of the water I gave RTD the toy again and started the tug game. This time he wised up a bit and let go before I could pull him in. This went on for several tries and still RTD managed to keep all four brain cells focused on not getting pulled in. Rebuked, I hopped out of the pool and threw his toy in again. More circles. More whining. Finally I grabbed him by his handy dandy blue all purpose RTD carrying handle and tossed him in.... Surprise!!! He swam out and got his toy, then swam around confused as to how to get out. Eventually he found the submerged ledge and got out. I threw the toy back in, and threw him in shortly after. This was fun! Finally RTD got the hint that he could jump in the pool, and the fun went on for quite a while. That was until RTD's hormone level began to escalate and he decided he was gonna mount the retriever come h*ll or high water. Well being the Phoenix was hot, and he was in a deep pool, the stars seemed aligned and RTD went for broke. The only problem was she wouldn't stop swimming long enough for PePe La Rocky to make his advance. So he tried to mount her. While swimming. At this point one of the other dogs succumbed to eating rocks and became lethargic and just layed on her side. RTD went over and licked and nuzzled her. We were amazed at his sensitivity to her plight. Then he went for the mount. No one ever saw him slip her the roofie, but he musta got it in somehow. That's my dog, the drunken frat boy trying to get a little no matter how bad off she is... After we dragged him off and the other dog went to the vet, he went back to attempting the watermount, which never really worked out for him.

Today I awoke to RTD's whines to go play with the other dogs. I let him out and began getting ready when Rocky decided he was gonna try to be the Alpha dog, and it all fell apart from there. We managed to keep the peace with a few choke slams to get RTD's attention, so luckily no blood was shed. After a bit I had the Bean loaded, and we set out for parts unknown. I was supposed to stop and pick up a bunch of Wounded Warrior stuff, but my tiny brain forgot all about it and I rolled out of Phoenix empty handed... Sorry about that! From there we made our way to Tucson and the Pima Air museum which was well worth the stop! Tomorrow I'm gonna write up what that was like and whatnot, but for now I need to get to bed...

Today I'm in Las Cruces, NM and will be heading into TX tomorrow. I'll be in central TX sometime after that and will actually spend a few days there! Stay tuned for more adventures, and another funny story about a solo flight I took where I attempted my best to crash, and luckily failed!

Has anyone seen a coyote with an anvil? He just ran this way...

Well I made it through the Grand Canyon yesterday and I must say it was quite the experience. This is not just some ditch in thr ground, it's a BIG ditch! Some might even call it Grand... I legt out of my hole in the woods early, and passed several other weary travelers who'd chosen to just drive off into the woods and sleep. Either that or I have discovered where people go when they go missing. I drove up to the canyon, and too HWY 64 east along the south rim. About every three miles or so there are pull offs so everyone can stop and gawk at the greatness that is the canyon. The first one I pulled into gave a limited view of the canyon, and I was mildly impressed. The next one I went to gave a better view of the canyon and I was more impressed. I believe it was at about the third stop that I found a little placard that pointed out how far away the various peaks and mesas were and I got a lot more impressed. As I mentioned I was on the south rim, and the north rim was clearly visible across the valley. I estimated it to be about 1-2 miles across, and consulted the placard to see how close I was. Apparently my aviator senses were on full disconnect when I'm standing on the ground, as the canyon is nearly TEN MILES across. To put this into scale, on a clear day on flat land you can see about 6-7 miles away. At the canyon you can see just short of forever.

From the rim that canyon isn't quite like what you see in the movies. You wouldn't just fall straight to the bottom as in the movies. The walls steeply stairstep down to a large flat valley, which is then further cut by another canyon known as the inner gorge, which i swhere the lower half of the canyon lies. The inner gorge finally ends at the Colorado river which flows both quietly and violently depending on whereupon the river you are. From the top to bottom, the canyon is over a mile deep, though without anything to give you a sense of scale, one has a hard time determining this. The walls of the canyon themselves appear as many layers of a book, representing different eras of geologic time of the last several million or several thousand years, depending on which side of the "where we come from" fence you fall on. The different layers are clearly seen as various reds, oranges and browns, accented with grays of all shades. The river provides a wonderful light green contrast and anchors the bottom of the canyon. Scrub trees and cedar poke out where ever they can find room, but for the most part there is very little green in the canyon itself.

Back from the edge, the rim hosts all manner of small cedars and desert wildlife. Most prominent are the huge crows which managed to hold RTD's rapt attention for longer than most any toy I've ever given him. I fully expected he'd chase one right off the cliff in an attempt to drool on yet another animal if I gave him the chance, so I made sure to keep his leash short. I also saw signs warning of large cats but never came across any. If the size of the crows is any indication, one had better bring fancy feast in five gallon drums if they don't want to be dinner themselves.

After my trip to the canyon, I headed down to Phoenix to visit my extended family there, and tour the Apache factory. It was great to get to see where the bird I flew is made, and meet the people who turn the wrenches to make it happen. I muse express my gratitude that they build such a survivable aircraft because that death thing really would have slowed me down a bit. Unfortunately due to all the secret squirrel stuff the goes on there, I couldn't take any pictures but it was still cool as can be! Now I'm getting ready to head East tomorrow, so stay tuned for more stories from the road!!

Leaaaaaaaaaaaavin' Las Vegas!

Well I've been out in the cell phone netherlands so I've had no cell access so I'm a day or two behind. Last I blogged I'd just made it to Vegas and had yet to do much. Well after that I headed for the KOA down at Circus Circus, but first detoured to In-N-Out Burger. For those not familiar, here's my description. Tasty goodness meets paradise all while in dreamland. Seriously the burgers there could be no better if cows came from fields of gold. $100.00 Kobe beef burgers would fall faster than France to a Girl Scout invasion if they went up against these burgers. The menu is simple enough even RTD could figure it out if he had to. Your options are Burger, Burger w/ cheese, Double Double, fries, drink. No yardbird, no fake mexican Enchiladoriburritas, no gimmicky burger the size of a book of matches, just pure amazement. Personally I went for the DoubleDouble which is two patties and two real cheese slices. The only other name this burger could have is tastebud crack. If you ever go to Cali/Nevada, forgo the Bunny Ranch and spend that money at In-N-Out. Your tastebuds and VD report will thank you!

Satiated, I continued on to Dante's KOA. Let me dispell a little myth for you real quick. The desert does NOT get cold at night. All those stories of 115 degree days and 30 degree nights were obviously propagated by the Bureau of Tourism somewhere. I checked in at 9:30 pm and it was a balmy 96 degrees. I grabbed a cold shower and met up with a kind lady named Shannon who took me out to see the lights of Vegas and then drink frosty beverages. Finally I headed back to the 7th level of heKOAll and tried to turn in for the night. I ended up leaving the fan running all night and still slept fitfully thanks to RTD. Super Retarded Dog started the night breathing heavily enough that I started to wonder if HE made it to the bunny ranch. Finally sometime around 2 am I awaken because I'm getting kicked in the face. See, I sleep on a twin size mattress in the back of the Bean. Well there's about a 10-12 inch gap between the matress and tirewell when I'm back there. Apparently Rocky The Destroyer managed to somehow roll over onto his back and then inch his way up into that gap. And get stuck. His answer was to occasionally kick me in the face, and the snore some more. I responded by smacking his ribcage which caused occasional gyrating, more face kicking, and no progress whatsoever. Finally I grabbed his doggy harness and tossed him back into his spot in the Bean. Aside from a grunt or two, I don't think RTD ever stirred.

The next morning I woke up to a beautiful day on the surface of the sun. I went ahead and packed the sleeping bag away in the storage bin, and rolled up the mat etc to get ready to go. I then headed to a local Firestone to get the Bean fixed. Once there they explained that they weren't affiliated with that other Firestone, so my "nationwide warranty" was no good there. I asked where the nearest one was that I could use, and apparently it was the one I'd recently left. Great. Anyhow I had them check it out and they found the other place had put the brake springs in backwards, and forgot to tighten the trim cap on the wheel. Thanks Firestone of Sacramento, glad I'm not dead now! Well I paid them for their services and started my trip to Phoenix. Fortuitously, I thought to call ahead to my family here, who inquired as to why I was skipping the Grand Canyon. I then ended my trip to Phoenix and rerouted to canyon country.

The only place I hit along the way was Hoover Dam, which was different than expected. The water level is waaaaaaaaaaaay lower than in the pictures I've seen, so it looked much taller on the lake side. I couldn't get to much of it b/c apparently dogs aren't allowed there for whatever reasons. Probably homeland security. I'll have to remember not to let RTD wear his turban and sandals next time. The drive out of the dam follows the rolling dry hills of the Lake Mead area, and the view is still pretty spectacular. All variety of craggy hills and mountains come and go, never relinquishing their reign to trees or other foliage. Only after you've driven a few hundred miles and gone up a few thousand feet do the scrubby little pines make their debut.

As I continued on, I decided to run the A/C for RTD's benefit, and enjoy the musical selection of NPR talk radio. Yes, that's right, I'm a talk radio nerd. I'm really glad my phone doesn't have the letters on the keypad for me to be able to dial the 1-800 NPR number, or I'd quickly become that Talk Radio Ranter we all hate so much. I can only angrily yell at my radio . For now... After a bit I went to roll down the window to check the outside temp, and it didn't budge. I looked at the voltmeter, which was redder than the desert I was in, and I knew I was in trouble. I asked the Garminator where there nearest Autozone was, and it let me know it was conveniently only 32 miles away. I mean OUT of the way... Of course... I knew that the alternator had gone bad, b/c it was about the only thing I hadn't yet replaced. I'd hoped to save a few hundred bucks... C'est la vi... I called ahead to make sure the zone had the part, and then limped there. I've learned that if you don't call ahead, they are required by unwritten law to not have the part you need.

Amazingly, the alternator was an easy fix, which is a rarity in the breakdown world. I just barely had made it to Chino, as the battery was too dead to even crank the Bean when it was finally fixed! While I was there I had an interesting chat with an Apache medicine man. We talked about my journey, and how in the end it's a journey to find myself. He told me to think less with my head and more with my heart, and to be nicer to RTD. Before I left he gave me a few dollars for fuel which I tried to refuse. The advice was donation enough, and on top of that he gave me a well worn stone he had in his pocket. He explained that whenever I needed direction or was worried, to rub the stone and think with my heart, and I'd find my answer and solace. Humbling, to say the least. A man who told me he sold scrap metal to make ends meet willing to part with a few hard earned dollars to help what is essentially a college kid on break get around. I only hope that my journeys bring credit to men like this.

With a new alternator in the Bean, I hauled arse up towards Grand Canyon to camp for the night. There was no one at the KOA office when I got there, so I pulled out and headed closer to the park. After a bit I realized I was in a national forest, and I could camp for free! Not wanting to waste money, I immediately pulled off and into the wilderness. Once I was a good distance away I set up shop and tried to stop sweating. Stupid desert. After I realized my phones wasn't gonna connect to the net, I went ahead and hit the hay. I opted to leave the tailgate down as it was so hot...

Ok so maybe the desert DOES get cold at night! Apparently this is in the higher elevations only, though! About 1:30 I awoke to a chilling sound on a chilly night! All around the Bean, within a 1/2 mile or so were coyotes calling to each other. Every so often one group would do their increasing yip-yiiippp-yiiiiiiiippppppppp to the other, and I'd nervously wonder if leaving the tailgate down was a great idea. I occasionally looked over at my fearless companion, who was twitching one paw as he chased some rabbit or Pimp Hand Strong off in dreamland. This is the same animal who goes rabid at the sight of a crow hopping by. The same dog who explodes at the sound of a mouse fart. Great protection ya got their, Lou. Anyhow, finally the coyotes found their Acme box or whatever and calmed down. I then broke down and fumbled the sleeping bag BACK out of the storage box where I'd banished it only that morning, and managed to get some decent sleep for a change.

Next, The Grand Canyon!

The Nickel Ride...

Almost everyone has the same sort of experience on their first flight while learning to fly a helicopter. This is mine… A few things before we get started, just to remove a few questions. Every helicopter has three basic flight controls. They are: the cyclic- the stick between your legs, responsible for going in the direction you want to go, at least once you learn how to fly. The collective- the stick on your left side the controls going up or down, or adding power for forward flight. The pedals- seemingly the most simple, yet your bitter enemy to the end. At a hover they are responsible for spinning the helicopter left or right. In forward flight they are used to keep the helicopter straight by pointing the nose in such a way to compensate for the wind (crabbing). The only other control available, and one I didn’t have to worry about in the kinds of helicopters I flew, is the throttle. For us it was “set it and forget it.” Finally the last issue; size. Size matters. The smaller the helicopter, the slower it is and the harder it is to fly. We learn on relatively small ones…

The first flight you take in flight school is commonly known as the “Nickel Flight”. This is because it is ungraded, reminiscent of the little nickel rides in front of a grocery store, and a way for underpaid instructor pilots to make a little money on the side. That first day we met our instructor pilots, mostly a crusty bunch of ex-Vietnam guys who have more time preflighting than I had years on earth. My guy however was a mid thirties former Blackhawk pilot named Jim (we used his last name, but I’m leaving that out.) Jim was a laid back guy with a good healthy perverted sense of humor, and I knew we’d get along just fine. Also along was my “stick buddy” who is the person you learn to fly with. The helicopter we learned on was the TH-67 Bell Jet ranger, painted in bright orange colors to let all who gaze upon you know that you are a danger in the skies, and to avoid you at all costs.

The day starts with some classroom time, and Jim takes a bit to ask us some questions about the helicopter and its’ emergency procedures. We’d spent the last two weeks learning all there was to know about the working of this bird and I knew there was nothing I could be caught off guard about. The one thing they didn’t teach me that I quickly mastered was “the blank stare” which I gave a lot those first few days. Apparently there was a lot I didn’t know or remember… After a while Jim got tired of asking Amy and I random questions about such complicated things as “how does the helicopter fly” only to be greeted with said blank stare, so we headed out to the flight line. The helicopters are parked all over the airfield in nice neat lines, and the most junior pilots get the ones farthest away, so we got the keys and logs and headed to our steed.

Once at the helicopter, we bumbled through our preflight that we learned, and Jim followed us around to play “point and tell”, a game where he pointed at various things and we were supposed to tell what it was. More blank stares ensue, and our tiny sponge like brains tried to absorb what they could. The reality was we were so psyched at finally getting to fly we wouldn’t have properly identified our names if they were painted on the side of the helicopter. After a few more of this we donned our helmets and hopped in. I drew the short straw and ended up in back and had to fly second. Jim wisely didn’t let us start the helicopter, and after a bit we were airborne enroute to the stage field where I’d be dropped off whilst Amy went to soar with the eagles. There at the field we were supposed to study and prep for flight, but mostly we stood around and bragged about how we were gonna have this sucker licked in a day. Type A personalities at their best…

After an hour passed, Jim and Amy returned and I made my way out to the bird. I briefly noted that Amy looked a bit flustered, but whatever, we can’t all get it right for the first time. I hopped in, kicking the cyclic as I did, and started the flight with a stern lecture about not letting my big clodhoppers hit the cyclic no matter what. Finally Jim took off and we climbed to a safe altitude for teaching young students how to fly, also known as “low earth orbit.” Now when you learn, you don’t just get all the controls at once, you get eased into it. At altitude you really only need the cyclic to keep going, and the goal was go in a straight line and stay at the same altitude. I immediately began porpoising up and down above the altitude but eventually settled down to a nice level height. Jim then took a moment to point out we were now going 90 degrees away from where we started. Oops. Next I made a series of “S-turns” which are supposed to look like a huge S if viewed from above. A more apt term would have been scribble turns, but after a bit I managed to do something that resembled more of the English alphabet and less of the Chinese alphabet. Finally Jim took the controls and took us back to the field to learn to hover. Finally, some slow flight, at least this will be easier…

Once at the field, Jim came to a hover about 15 feet above the ground and pointed the nose at a huge tree off in the distance, and explained that hovering required coordinated use of all three controls at once, but in reality was really easy. I watched with envy as he took one hand off the collective, and used just his finger on the cyclic to hold us at a perfect hover. I knew this was going to be easy. Next Jim gave me control of the pedals and told me to keep the nose pointed at the tree. No problem… The nose tried to wander a bit, but I used my fancy footwork to keep it expertly pointed at the tree. I wondered if the other students could see me demonstrating how it was done. I noticed out of the corner of my eye other helicopters in all sorts of unusual attitudes (attitude being the relative position of the helicopter relative to the ground.) Whatever. Amateurs. Obviously they had not yet tapped into their birdlike instinct to fly like I had. I silently thanked the Creator for making me naturally so great. Next Jim gave me the collective, too…

Now things began to get a bit more interesting. The nose wandered a little, and I expertly corrected, but now the helicopter sank a little when I did. I added a little power via the collective and brought the helicopter back to the height I started and looked back out at the tree which had now somehow moved to the left side of the helicopter. I corrected again as a single bead of sweat ran down my nose. My instincts were apparently a little rusty but I wasn’t worried. I knew I’d have this licked as soon as I got ahold of the cyclic. Finally I managed some semblance of holding the aircraft in one spot, and immediately started talking smack to Jim about my amazing abilities. Jim looked oddly unimpressed. Jim then gave me the cyclic. Jim then wished he’d taken out more life insurance.

About the first five seconds of hovering went really well, and I started congratulating myself on my shear awesomeness, but then it started to drift left. I added a little right cyclic but was confounded when it kept going left. I added more right cyclic and it started to come back, but now the nose was turning. I went ahead and pushed the pedal to get the nose back as the helicopter went sailing past the starting spot as it drifted a hard right, and began to go backwards a bit, too. More sweat down my nose, and a little at each temple. Still unworried, I worked at taming the beast. Jim just sat and stared at me with a little smirk.

Now I added left forward cyclic, and was again confused as the helicopter kept going back and right. And down. Figuring more is better I added more left forward cyclic and the helicopter began to respond. At this point I’d pretty much given up on the pedals and was trying to make the bird stay in one spot. I now realized that obviously there was obviously something wrong with the flight controls, and voiced this to Jim, who continued just to sit and stare. Well now the helicopter had begun to balloon up and pick up some left forward speed. Knowing this would result in taking off, I went ahead and corrected by adding a hefty dose of aft cyclic to get the bird back in control, and made a feeble attempt to use the pedals to get the nose straight again. At this point the helicopter made and abrupt change in direction as a result of my aft cyclic maneuver. I found myself about forty feet up, nose pointed precariously downwards as I attempted to touch the moon with the tail. I looked over at Jim and he simply responded with “well, fix it”. Apparently he wasn’t aware of the problem with the flight controls and I continued trying to tell him until he finally took the controls and I sat back to await the imminent crash as he was gonna have to wrestle it to the ground.

Five seconds later Jim was again hovering with one finger, and I was wringing out my shirt and trying to figure out how a hose got lose in a sealed cockpit. Jim then went on to explain to me what the problem was. See, helicopters are subject to a lot of important sounding technical terms like “gyroscopic precession” and “phase lag” as well as a bunch of others. Essentially this means that flying a helicopter is an exercise in forecasting the future by about three seconds. The input you put in doesn’t immediately take effect. You have to put in the input, then neutralize the controls and it will come back on its’ own. In theory. Also, helicopters naturally want to spin to the right because the main rotor goes left. As you add power, it increases this tendency to spin, and also will climb if you don’t add pedal. The final straw is the tendency of the helicopter to naturally drift in the direction the tail rotor thrusts. This all equates to a handful for the fledgling pilot. Apparently the questions we’d been asked that morning were to test our knowledge of this stuff, which was making a lot more sense now. I realized that they were all lies, and flying was actually impossible except for the select few who’d been blessed with the ability. I left the helicopter that day humbled, and wondering how much it would cost to break my lease when I was sent home after failing miserably at flight school. What could I say, it’s for the birds.

Vegas baby yeah!

Well the Bean lives on another day.... Last time I blogged I was limping the bean to Sacramento. Well I made it there and treated myself to a hotel, mostly to end a frustrating day on a high note. While there I managed to attract an audience willing to listen to me go on and on about the fuel situation, so I was happy. If there's one thing I love, it's people willing to listen to me rant and appear interested at the same time. After the pool/podium I headed to the shower for a refreshing few minutes. While in there the phone started ringing, and I jumped out all panicked and managed to answer it. I could see on my cell I'd just missed a call from Brittany so now I was really worried. Upon answering the front desk says "Hi, is everything all right?" Great... now I'm really panicked and RTD is trying to lick water off my legs... I tell them everythings great and ask what the problem is while trying to kick Rocky who was deftly staying out of range. They tell me everythings fine they were just checking, and my heart rate drops back down to normal and I hang up. I had barely finished towelling off when there is a pounding at the door. I look at and see a hotel clerk. Seriously, did they not beliebe the phone call?? Well I open it and she asks if I have time to talk, and I briefly contemplated walking outside in my nekkid glory before deciding against it and telling her to give me a few to get dressed.

Once dressed I stepped outside and confront her and another guest. It turned out that he was an old vet who had paid for my room and just wanted to talk for a few so I didn't mind trhe interuptions, but I had started to wonder if maybe the hotel had taken checking on their guests just a little too far. Finally all was settled and I plopped down to watch TV before drifting off to sleep...

Sunday morning found me heading to the Firestone dealer to get the brakes checked. Once in there they got the Bean in relatively quick and RTD and I sat in the waiting room awaiting the verdict. After a bit they told me there was just a minor adjustment issue and the drums were a bit warped and needed to be fixed. I gave them the go-ahead and sat back to wait. After a bit another customer came in, and RTD immediately set about making friends. Then he layed down on the guys feet and looked at me like a stranger. After about three hours I'd started to wonder if maybe there was a strike or if perhaps there was some sort of tiddlywinks tournament preventing any work from getting done. The shop finally told me the Bean was A-ok and I picked Benedict Arnold up off the poor guys feet and we got a move on to the cabin in the hills.

Once off the interstate and heading back up into the smoke filled and golden hills of middle California I realized the Bean was now worse than it began. Apparently my $120 in repairs netted me absolutely nothing... I stoppesd to look the Bean over and take some pics, too. The valleys here are all wine and fruit country. The fierce heat gives way as you pass the huge orchards, but picks right back up as the vineyards dominate again. As I approached the Sierra Nevada mountains, the smoke gave way to reveal the dry strawcolored hills punctuated with blotches of green that were the small scrub trees. I saw quite a few deer, dodged a number of suicidal ground squirrels, and even saw a large bobcat running through the grass. I tried to watch the wildlife while keeping an eye on the temp gauge of the Bean, as it seemed to rise just like hills which I was clombing. Every time I thought I'd have to pull over I'd hit a downhill stretch and trhe temps would drop. Finally I made it up to the cabin so graciously offered by one of the readers here, and RTD and I got set for the night.

The cabin was up over 600o ft, so the air was nice and cool, and RTD was loving being in the forest without a leash for the first time in his life. Allen explained to me about the local wildlife, so I tried to keep Rocky in sight as he furiously tried to mark all the trees out in the darkness. In the morning I was able to see the fruits of his labor... more on that in a moment. Anyhow, we settled in and had steaks and beer, and finally knocked off for the night. Overall, a decent end to a long day...

This morning I finally dragged myself out of bed about 9 or so, and debated if I was going to stay another day or not. The lack on internet crack convinced me I should press on, so I got to work. I decided to pull the thermostat out of the Bean so it would run cooler as I crossed the Death Valley today. I wisely had packed a set of tools, so I got them out and tried to figure out which tool was missing since I knew it would be the one I needed. Amazingly, I had all I needed, so I set to work. Meanwhile RTD continued his marking... I drained the antifreeze and got it out of RTD's way because the stuff tastes like deadly Kool-Aid. Then I pulled the thermostat and started breaking stuff. I think it is physically impossible for me to work on a vehicle with breaking SOMETHING. Just makes it more fun! This time it was some plastic vacuum lines, which I capped off and now the Bean runs a little funny... Adds character! I then reassembled everything sans thermostat and sat back to see if it would actually work. Surprisingly it did! Who knew.... Still, never trust the one armed mechanic. I then turned to see the minefield Rocky was busily making. See, RTD recently has learned how to scratch the ground to mark his spots. now he does it furiously. Tornados in Kansas lack the ferocity with which RTD plows the earth. He uses both front and rear legs all at once, and looks a lot like a four wheel drive truck trying to do a burnout in the dust. All through the forest about every five feet were tore up areas of dirt where RTD had marked them as his own. Somewhere today a mountain lion is probably roaming that area, confused as to what monster passed that way...

Well today we headed out across the aptly named Death Valley enroute to Vegas. As far as the eye could see, the largest growing thing one could see were Joshua Trees. I would have run a few down but apparently it's illegal to harm a U2 album in the state of California... Pity. I must admit that the browns and reds of the desert do have a beauty of their own, but it is one enjoyed for a few minutes, and then it gets a little old. The farther into the valley we went the hotter it became, and the more I worried about the Bean. Eventually we had to climb out of the first valley, and the Bean wasn't liking it. The temp gauge finally pegged in the red just as we crested the hill, and it slowly came back down, but not without an odd smell. Fortunately I ignored the smell long enough and it went away, so it must not have been a big problem. We reached the bottom of the valley, and the temperature approached that of the sun. I stuck my hand out the window and the wind felt like jetblast as it blistered my hand. Rocky paced the back, panting furiously so I pulled over often for him to get water. A few times I soaked him, but he didn't much care for that...

We finally made it out of the valley, and I rolled up the windows and turned on the A/C so RTD didn't lose his tiny little mind and start trying to do something stypid, like play Butthumper with the back of my head. The downside to this was the gas mileage dropped to about 14-15 mpg from the usual 18-20. I guess I better get used to this to keep the hero back there cool and happy! We kept the A/C going as I continued the trip to Vegas, and RTD eventually stopped sounding like a freight train. Now we are in Vegas where I intend to do no gambling... I may post why tomorrow, but it's not that entertaining. I may stay in Vegas if anyone here has any ideas as to what to do, or can show RTD and I around. From here we're heading to Phoenix where I will definitely be for a day or three. I've been offered a lot in Phoenix, so I may try to organize a meet and greet, so keep a watch here to see!!

Now for something a little bit different....

I fear my writing might be becoming boring, but it's so hard for me to tell. Having "lived it" it never seems as good to write it as it was to do it, but here's an attempt. I wrote this about my first day in basic, so I'll post it here for everyones critique. Please take a minute to read it and let me know what ya think. Next up I am gonna try to write about my first flight in the Army, which might be a bit more entertaining!! So without further ado, Basic.

I enlisted in the Infantry, and started basic/inprocessing on Oct 03 1995. I arrived at Fort Benning just after the passage of a hurricane which had made the flight in more like a ride on the Vomit Comet than a passenger plane. My first few days were spent at inprocessing with no power, and a bunch of bored drill sergeants trying not to have too much fun with us. Each day a group would be taken and given all their immunizations and shots and also would get their initial issue of uniforms. Upon their return to the building, they would immediately put on their uniforms and transition into Viet Nam veterans. The groups would then split into uniformed and non-uniformed, with the former trying to pass on their expertise to the new guys, who’d been in the Army about six minutes less than them. All in all it wasn’t too bad, and just a few push-ups were doled out at any one time. I knew I was gonna like this whole Basic Training thing. Then came the day we actually went to our training units…
The units were known as “Starships” for their huge layout and this was where the “real training” would commence. We sat anxiously on our duffle bags at the replacement unit, waiting to get loaded on the cattle cars and sent off to the starships. Finally my turn came and off I went, a little saddened that I was riding on a bus instead of the cooler looking cattle cars. Finally we stopped in front of our new home, and unlike the movies, the gentleman who stepped onto the bus wasn’t yelling at all. He was the unit’s executive officer, and he gave us some encouraging words about the training we were going to face, and then explained that soon we’d get to meet the cadre of Drill Sergeants where we’d all be formally introduced and the training could begin. This wasn’t bad at all! I sat there on the bus wondering if maybe there’d be some snacks at this formal introduction, and barely noticed the less friendly looking man who had now stepped onto the bus. After getting our attention he informed us we had no longer than 30 seconds to unass the bus, then stood there in the middle of the doorway counting. Now how were we supposed to get off the bus if he was in the way? Maybe he didn’t understand our plight, as he just stood there calmly counting. At the end of the thirty seconds, he expressed his displeasure at our inability to listen very well, and now things started to go downhill.
The DS stepped off the bus, and out of thin air about twenty more materialized. I think maybe they’d been hiding in the bushes, or perhaps they utilized some Army magic we’d not yet learned to appear to us, but either way they were here and not happy. They jerked open the back door of the bus and started jerking privates out of the bus. Finally I made it off the bus unscathed and took my bag and beelined for the assembly area. DS’s were grabbing guys left and right and assisting them with carrying their bags in all kinds of new and interesting ways. Personally I couldn’t understand how crawling on your hand and knees with two duffle bags on your back was an easier way, yet this seemed to be choice method. I, being me, continued hand carrying my bags trying to ignore the advice of the kind gentlemen surrounding me and instructing me otherwise. Finally one suggested I just stop and start doing push-ups to help clear my hearing, so I dropped down and happily obliged. Eventually we all made it to the formation area and lined up in a ragtag attempt at a platoon formation, then continued with all manner of physical fitness maneuvers designed to distress your mind and refocus that stress around one’s body. A particular favorite was “The Mule Kick.” This involved locking your fingers behind your head, putting both feet together, then jumping as high as you can while attempting to kick your own rear end with your heels. I guess if they couldn’t do it to us, they could help us to do it for them. Autoarsekicking at its’ finest!
After a few hours of this, I was beginning to think maybe there wasn’t going to be much in the way of refreshments at this meet-and-greet. After we were done with the greeting we headed upstairs to our platoon bays where we would be assigned our battle buddy, as well as learn the art and science of making a bed and setting up a wall locker. How hard could it be? This was when we met the first non-screaming DS who then sat us down and calmly walked us through the steps to properly make our bunks. 45 degree corners on all four sides, and the dustcover over the pillow is ¼ the length of the bed. How bad could that be? Well he left us alone with ten minutes to get all our bunks squared away, and we all set about busily measuring and folding. This was when I learned another very important lesson. Apparently Drill Sergeants have trouble telling time. He specifically told us we had ten minutes, yet he was back in only four and very displeased at our lack of bed making progress. I knew he wasn’t happy because I found myself doing push-ups with my legs elevated on the bunk I’d worked in vain to make. Finally he told us to get up and remake the bunks and he’d be back in ten minutes to see our progress.
Three minutes later I found myself learning a new maneuver called the “over and under”. We’d crawl under one bunk and over the next as we made laps around the bay. I was seriously beginning to question if we’d ever get to finish anything given the propensity for the DS to arrive and undo all of our hard work. We ended up repeating this game for several more cycles before we were deemed unfixable and we just left our bunks sloppily made (which I must admit looked a lot like the way they were the whole time I was in basic, but hey this was day 1 and they were the experts. We then went on to play a similar game involving the wall lockers and fitness training. The basic sequence was: calmly explain how to do it right and then leave us to do it. Show up at some arbitrary and unrealistic time later to inspect. Smoke young privates while berating us about our inefficiency. Rinse. Repeat. I later learned that the Army continues to use this model of inefficiency throughout the service for certain things.
The only other real agenda we had for that day was to meet our battle buddy, who was the guy sleeping in the bunk next to you. He was the guy who was supposed to help and motivate you, while the two of you learned together. You were supposed to do everything but wash each other’s cracks in the shower with your battle buddy. If your battle buddy screwed up, you both paid the price. My battle buddy was a fat guy who was also a pathological liar. This made basic much more fun for me over the duration. No matter what the story, he’d always done something better. Turns out he had almost won the professional bull riding championships before deciding to join the army. I often wondered if he’d meant to say the competitive eating championships, but mixed up his words. Anyhow, every basic training unit has “this guy” and I just happened to be partnered up with him. Some guys get all the luck. After these introductions were made, we finally were released to get ready for the next day, and it was close to midnight before I got under the sheets for my first night as a trainee. It wouldn’t be until later I learned not to sleep under the sheets…

The brakes on the Bean may be bad, but I could still see the headlights!

Just a short update... Today didn't go as planned at all. I decided the shoreline highway might be a bit hard on the Bean, as the brakes started acting funny so I headed inland. I then got an invite to come up to lake Berryessa to hang out and drink beer with nubile women (there words, not mine) and some ex-army guys, so how could I refuse! As I trekked up even curvier roads to get to the lake I noticed the Bean was shaking worse than RTD's ears when I hit the brakes, and it was getting worse. I decided that after the lake I'd go have that looked at. Well from there it went all downhill....

Once at the lake, I couldn't get in touch with the inviters, so I drove around and finally parked with the idea of swimming with RTD for a bit. I walked him all over kingdom come, and he did whatever bidness he had in him so we headed to the beach. As we walked down the road RTD was tapdancing all over the place b/c of how hot the road was, and no matter how much I pushed him into the grass, he was right back in the road. I used to do something like this when I was about six years old, but that was because traffic looked like so much fun! Some things never change. Finally we made it across the beach and RTD was on good behavior. That should have tipped me off it was about to change...

We ended up walking in fron of the girls who were tanning and dozing, and Rockstar chose now to strike. No, he didn't run up and scare them, instead he stopped no less than four feet in from of them and dropped a huge Rockstar signature load. this was about the time they woke up... Well at first we all just kinda stared, then the girls lost it. They started yelling for me to get my d**n dog out of there, and expressing their inner feelings that I am in fact a freak. I think their words were "HEY FREAK! GET YOU AND YOUR D**NED DOG AWAY FROM US!" I was somewhat unamused, and had it not been for the fact that someones pitbull mixbreed decided now would be a great time to run up and sniff RTD, I might have replied.

Well now here I am, hunkered over trying to scrape up feces one handed with a huge garbage bag, and RTD is busily trying to start the butthumper game with a dog that was much bigger than he was. Fortunately the dog was also friendly, and just tried to play before his owners got him back... Another disaster narrowly averted. After that we got a spot to swim, and I took the leash off and let RTD do his swim/drown mix dance. After a bit I threw a big rock about 50 feet out, and RTD swam out looking for it. Once there he started snapping at the water where his paws were frothing it up, and generally doing his best to drown. I started to go out to get him when he wisely turned around and came back in. I decided this was a great opportunity to leave, but the fun wasn't yet over!

As we walked out, a little mini pinscher/chihuahua looking dog named "Chocolate" came over and started sniffing at RTD again. he'd done this the 1st time by, and RTD had ignored him. Allowing his Napolean complex to get the best of him, Chocolate decided to snap at Rocky, which was just what I didn't need. The little rodent snapping at RTD alerted him to his minuscule presence, and Rocky decided to see if Chocolate was true to his name. Now as RTD was snapping back, large Mexican men were coming to the aid of their little buddy, and I had visions of myself disappearing off the face of the earth. Finally I dragged RTD away from the little Hershey's Kiss and imminent danger, and we started out towards Yosemite.

It was along the way that the back left brake started locking up. I replaced EVERYTHING in the brakes about 4 months ago, so I'm guessing it's an adjustment issue. Deciding I didn't want to turn the Bean into the Black Eyed Pea by slamming into someones rear end, I stopped in Fairfield to get it looked at. After sitting there for over an hour watching four mechanics work really hard standing around staring the each other, one finally came and told me they were too busy to get to it today. Thanks.... With that great news I loaded up and angrily headed to Sacramento where I decided I'd rent a room and sleep well. We freaks need our beauty rest, apparently... It was along the way here that I finally had something many people have asked about happen. I saw my first pair-o-boobies! A lady was so kind as to display them on their way by, with her hubby laughing hysterically in the drivers seat... At least my day improved a little! The funny thing was as I was filling the Bean up 30 miles later, the hubby pulls into the gas station at the very next pump. We chatted a bit as his wife was off getting food, and they both thought it was a hilarious thing to do... I agreed wholeheartedly. Finally I headed out, but not before following him over to where he had to pick up his wife to give my best Wolf-Whistle for her (his idea). I'm now happily in a hotel, and hope to get the bean fixed tomorrow. From here i'm heading to Vegas, and might make it tomorrow or Monday, so stay tuned!! Sorry there are no pics for today.....

A recurrent theme...

Good day everybody! Currently I'm in a tiny town called Sebastopol, CA. I've made my way out of the towering Redwoods and down some of the twistiest roads I've ever seen. I must say these rival US129 aka The Dragon down south of Knoxville, and they just go for miles! I took HWY 101 to HWY1 which follows the pacific coast down California. The turns are hard in the SportsBean, but i'm making my way through them well. RTD isn't to happy about my choice of route, and spends much of his time attempting to avoid stuff that isn't tied down from bouncing off him as I squeal the bean through yet another 180 degree turn. When I'm on the coast side of the ridge, the weather is a balmy 65 degrees, and then on the valley side it's about 110 and I start having Kandahar flashbacks. While the road is particularly twisty, the earth is usually some shade of parched brown, but the ocean stretching out toi the right makes it all worth it! Also I managed to find the tree with a tunnel cut through it, and the Bean even fit! By fit I mean the mirrors were folded in and the CB antenna down but whatever. I have to wonder HOW there came to be a tunnel through the tree. I suspect it involved a fair amount of alcohol, at least at the start! This seems like the kind of thing that results from a conversation that included "you know what would be totally amazing? A tunnel.... THROUGH a TREE! Pass me another beer and I'll go get the chainsaw!"

Anyhow, something that has come up quite a bit from people has been the issue of gas prices, and the remedies that people have heard of. Global warming has reared its' head a bit, too. I reference it a bit in jest, because last year was the coldest year ever recorded globally, which seems kind of interesting given this whole "warming" scam. I hate to turn this into a rant, so I'll try to keep it entertaining at the least. We all have noticed that the prices at the pump have been going up, and if ya haven't that probably means you are a politician and have a driver who fills your car up for you. Everyone seems to have some very misguided ideas at what the answer is, and I'm amazed at how little people know about an issue seem so passionate about.

First off, ethanol. Seriously? How in the world have we sold ourselves this BRILLIANT idea? "I know! Let's take our FOOD, and turn it into GAS!" By the way, this is a fuel that is significantly less efficient than petroleum, so as a side benefit of higher food prices, you also get to enjoy lower mpg and power in your car. In the end, to save a few cents per gallon of gas, you get to pay several cents more for all of your food, AND get worse mpg, meaning you buy MORE gas! This is like giving someone $1000 dollars and then they give you $800 cash back, and you get excited at your "windfall". Now some people might argue that it's only corn that has gone up, but again that's not true. Given the increased demand for corn, farmers have stopped planting other crops to meet the demand, so now wheat, barley (BEER!) and other cash crops have fallen to the wayside in lieu of the new Corngod. Personally I think this is a bad idea. Kinda like much of the stuff that I do... Again many people point to Brazil and their cheap fuel, but what people don't realize is ethanol is a byproduct of their sugar industry, so it's a win win situation there. Not here.

That being said, electricity MUST be the answer! We can get Enron involved in this idea, too... While electric cars SOUND great, we need to think about a few things. First off this doesn't get us OFF of fossil fuel, it merely removes it to a place you don't see to make the energy for your eco-car. Your friendly power plant! So picture this, and electric car in every other driveway, and the power plants attempting to meet the need of the increased demand for electricity. There was another industry that had a sudden increase in demand... It was the petroleum industry... So now you get to pay more for power for your car, and your air conditioner, and your TV, and computer, etc etc etc. Also, many cities can barely meet demand for power just for houses. Now add to that the demand for cars, too. Coal burning power plants are gonna go into overdrive to make that power. I say coal because the majority of the power in the USA still comes from coal. Last I checked that stuff has some nasty emmissions...

Now that you have you electric car, you have a big battery, which will die every 6-10 years with current technology. So what to do with the HIGHLY TOXIC and LARGE lithium battery? Can't put it anywhere it will get wet, because then it will react violently and go boom. Can't put it in a landfill because it will eventially leak, causing a HUGE disaster to the local environment. What about nickel? That's great, except for it too is toxic in concentrated amounts, plus it currently is mined in the North Americas, shipped to Japan (via fuel burning boats) turned into a battery and shipped back (more gas!). So with current battery technology, this MIGHT just be a bad idea...

So then what? Hydrogen, right? Yayyyyy.... Has anyone here heard of "The Hindenburg"? Granted the hydrogen cells will be well built, but eventually one WILL rupture in a bad enough crash, and then the it might spark off, since crashed often involve sparks. I can barely wait to see the lawsuits that roll into the courts when THAT happens. Pluse, where do we get the hydrogen? From water right? But how, Daniel? Well you get it by shooting a busload of electricity through it, resulting in electolysis and H gas and O gas. Where does the electricty come from? The friendly little cave dwelling electricity gnomes? Nope.... back to the power plant. So I think driving a hydrogen car might be a bit of a gamble at best.

So what is the answer? Well there are engines in Europe that get 47-53 MPG, AND make good useable power. They are called "common rail diesel engines" and already in widespread use there. Why not here? The EPA won't allow them because the sulfonated fuel doesn't meet out emissions standards. Nevermind the fact that they are highly efficient, and emit way less emissions at highway speeds, we can't have that sulfur can we. Or can we? We have to ask ourselves what tradeoff are we willing to make. Do we protect the ultra rare blue ringed snotty tree slug while millions of Americans lose their houses, families, jobs, and lives because they can't afford to eat or buy gas? Or do we find a LONG TERM solution to the problem? I vote long term. As for electricity, I think that wind and solar may be good solutions. I know South Dakota had constant 20-30 mph winds all day, and a LOT of unused space that would be great for windmills! However, given current battery technology, THAT isn't yet the answer. The only other suggestion I have is possibly a car that is like a train engine. A diesel that is highly efficient which drives a small generator to power the elctric motors in the car, and only runs on demand. Not sure how well this would work, but it beats having everything die off from the lithium leached into the soil from the battery it replaced.

Anyhow, I hope to be in Vegas tomorrow and Monday, then on through the Southwest. Expects somre pivcs of me keeping RTD from walking over the edge of the Grand Canyon... I hope to get to meet some people in Vegas, so e-mail if you are interested! Maybe another meet and greet a la Portland, Oregon. Enjoy the pictures of the Pacific Sunset I've posted!

Deep lakes and big trees...

Yesterday and today have taken me through the rest of Oregon and into California... The scenery has been ever changing from scrubby plains to deep gorges. From Portland I pointed the Bean southward and headed through Salem on my way to Crater Lake. I've seen enough pictures of this place to know I had to go there. The back road I took was worth the extra time as I climbed like Jack up the Pinto Bean Stalk to elevations of almost a mile high at points. The forest itself was an expansive dark green swath bordered occassionally by the kind of clear lakes you find miles from human habitation. Finally the road straightened and the vegetation became more scrubby, and I contemplated settling in for a nap, butthe exit for the north entrance to Crater Lake was fast approaching. As I prepared to turn, I noticed all the signs saying that the Crater Lake exit was still 30+ miles away. Odd, the Garminator say it's here now. Well knowing that the GPS would never lead me astray, at least as long as there was no ghetto readily available, I went ahead and exited and continued on. A short while later I saw a sign advertising the the North Entrance was still closed due to snow. Seriously? Has anyone notified the global warming people that there are still several FEET of snow on the ground just days before summer?? Well I through a quick U-turn and sailed the SS Bean back the ay I'd come and started looking for that next exit, 32 miles away. The Garminator continued in vain to take me down every dirt road that passed by, and when that didn't work, it just started making up roads that weren't even there. I need to find the patch to download to fix the "screw up Daniel" program the GPS came loaded with...

After about an hour, I finally made it to the front entrance to the park, where there were several park rangers, and ambulance, and several asian girls with their arms behing their backs. It appeared as though they were handcuffed, and I wondered just how strict the rangers were with that "No Flash Photography" rule. As I sat there waiting for homeland security to come load the up and take them to Gitmo, I saw one stretch, and realized they were just standing that way of their own accord. Oh well, I guess the terrorist photographers have won. Once in the park I followed the herd of Great White Elephants known as RV's to the top of the rim where I could finally gaze upon the deepest lake in North America. I had planned to go take a quick dip in the icy waters, or at least throw Rockstar in for laughs, but much to my chagrin, this whole "lake in a crater" thing means steep walls and no lake access. Everyone else I told this to apparently knew this, and therefore looked at me like maybe I was a little slow. Either that or they noticed that I was wearing my underwear outside of my pants. Again.

The lake itself is as I mentioned, kind of deep and it checks in at a lung busting 1949 feet at its' deepest. The water is supposedly crystal clear if you get close enough, but I was only able to enjoy the side benefit of seeing the bluest water imaginable. It was a brilliant royal blue as far as the eye could see, contrasting starkly with the ashen colored walls of the caldera as they sloped down to greet each other at the edge. There were random pines scattered along the edges at the flatter parts, snd several feet of snow still blanked much of the area. This seemed a bit odd as I comfortably stood there in my short sleeve shirt, trying to keep Rocky The Destroyer from terrorizing two elderly chinese ladies who were trying to avoid RTD and a heart attack while simultaneously enjoying the view. Since I wasn't able to get to the water, my time there was short, and I was back on the open road to Grant's Pass in under an hour.

Once out of the park the road to Medford was akin to driving through a thirty mile long tree formed tunnel. After a bit the snow relenquished its' grip on the ground and the green forest undergrowth resumed its' reign of the forest floor. The thermometer also steadily changed from blue to red faster than a politician on election year, and by the time I was out on the highway again, I was starting to sweat and RTD was panting heavily in my ear. Thanks, bud. Grant's Pass was firmly in the grip of the more arid climate, but the foilage was still green so therefor I was still happy. After grabbing some Mexican food with a local engineer who was kind enough to treat me, I bid her farewell and set up camp for the night.

Camping was sadly uneventful but at least I slept well! I woke early so I could talk with the 98 Rock guys in Baltimore to update them on my trip, and then I got ready to go. RTD was in a better mood, so I think I'll be able to pass on the vet. I finally set my route to take me to the Redwood National Forest and away I went!

As I neared the forest I drove along treelined roads, craning my neck for the first glimpse one of the giant redwoods. I saw some large trees, but was still relatively unimpressed. Then I actually entered the park, and my perspective changed. I have to say that the height is impressive, but is hard to appreciate when every tree is the same height. The trunks on the other hand are unimaginably huge. The biggest trunks are from the Giant Sequoias, which are slightly shorter than the Redwood, but much broader at the base. I hoped to see the one I've heard of with a tunnel through the trunk, but I never did. After a bit I stopped and walked out amongst the groves, eager to see these goliaths up close. I started to wonder if maybe I should be on the lookout for a Velociraptor, as the whole scene was prehistoric. There were clover with leaves as broad as my hand, and I searched in vain for one with four leaves, but to no avail. The trunks were the size of small houses and I think even RTD was a bit too intimidated to pee on them. I took a minute to demonstrate for him, and he caught on... Ahhh the great outdoors! We walked for a bit among the towers, inhaling the musty scent of the forest mixed with the salty sea air just a few miles away. Rocky ran around and crawled up on some of the bases, and I kept a watch out for Park Rangers who might be eager to handcuff me for bringing my dog in the park. That's a tazin' bro. After lots of pictures we eventually loaded back up and headed for the coast.

As I rounded a curve I saw the fog blanketed Pacific stretching out away from the woods, and I pulled into a turnoff to take some pictures. As I got out I was greeted by a couple of young ladies who'd been attemptiung to bash in their car window after locking the keys in it. They asked if I knew how to break into a car, or break the window. At first I contemplated the fun of seeing if I could punch the hook through a car window without fear of repercussion, but instead asked if they'd called anyone about it. After explaining they were on a road trip and their cell phone had no reception I offered mine after checking that it could make a call. AAA finally agreed to come unlock their door, and I stayed and chatted with them about politics and the state of affairs of the world. It was refreshing to meet people younger than me who seemed to be up to date on politics in the world, and not just obsessed with the image of any certain politician. I also wasn't too keen on leaving two attractive young girls on the side of the road in a huge forest. Sounds a lot like the start of a B-rated horror movie. Besides, The Fugitive has taught me that people will obsessively search for the One-Armed Man if a relative of theirs has been wronged. Thanks Hollywood!

Well after that I headed into Eureka, where here I sit like a moder Alchimides (not naked, or in a water) trying to decide what to do next. I believe I will head down the Pacific Coast Highway in an attempt to get near San Francisco, and then tomorrow start out towards Vegas, and maybe get there on Monday. Anyhow, if anyone has any steak and beer they want to part with, as always you are freee to message me!

The much requested Nu-skin story...

Well, I've had enough requests for the story so here goes... The pics also represent the dog lovin' that was going on yesterday, which while having NOTHING to do with the story, are incredibly entertaining nonetheless. The first bike that I bought and owned myself was a CBR600 F4i, bought July 3rd 2001, and died the end of July, 2002. This is how it all happened...

It was the weekend before I was to head to the final phase of Officer Candidate School, so I was out trying to maximize what fun I could have in preparation for the suck that was to come. OCS essentially is a "pay your dues" school where in addition to a little bit of training, there is a lot of "fun" stuff that is put in for your personal enjoyment of pain and misery. The final phase consisted of two weeks of running around the woods of middle Alabamastan, fighting mock battles, and then roadmarching all over creation, all in 95 degree heat and 3466788% humidity. Swimming pools are drier. Keep all this in mind as the story continues...

I was on my way to meet my girlfriend at the time for lunch, and decided I'd take the bike to maximize that enjoyment I wanted. I put on my usual gear. Helmet, leather jacket, boots, gloves, and a pair of blue jeans and headed out to her place. I decided to take the bypass to get there quicker, as it was usually deserted at this time of day. As I went down the on road I decided to open it up a bit and have a little fun... I gassed the bike hard in 1st and accelerated nicely. Then I did a quick upshift into 2nd and racked the throttle back again. Now while this size bike is no power monster, it does have a sweet spot where a fair amount is available. I was at says "this is a BAD idea"? In my head it is different. It says "this will be the best idea EVER! DO IT!!!"

Well after I let the clutch out after the upshift, the front tire decided that this would be an excellent opportunity to attempt to go into low earth orbit. "No problem" I thought, "I'll just back off the throttle a bit" which at this point was wide open. I loosened my grip on the throttle, yet the bike continued skyward. Still unworried, I lessened my grip a bit more yet the engine continued to rev higher, and the bike continued to pivot about the rear wheel. Finally I hit the point where I was staring directly at the gas cap. Unless one is looking down, this is never good. It was at this point I though "uh oh.... This is bad. Very bad." As I loosened my overall grip on the bike, and fought to not lose my grip on my bowel control, I slowly slid off the back of the bike. This is now ending badly. I distinctly remember looking up at my bike tearing off down the highway without me, hoisted on one wheel and still rocking back and thinking "wow my bike is REALLY tall!" I also heard that tinny voice in my head laughing hysterically at my misfortune. Then I hit the ground. Some of you might notice hitting the ground it a common them in my life...

Well as I hit I landed first on my butt, then back, and finally my head. The bump on the back of the head blacked out my sight for a sec, but I could still here by bike bouncing down the road, and more importantly, my butt bouncing after it. Finally everything came to a stop and I jumped up and sprinted for the grass, afraid I might be about to be run over. After I got to the grass I did my traditional "helmet toss" that signifies the end of yet another harebrained ride, and then remembered my bike. I ran back to the road where I stopped and just stared at my pride and joy, one a gleaming red machine, fury on two wheels, slayer of curvy roads and destroyer of all comers, now vanquished and folded mostly in half in the middle of the road. "Aww crap" I thought, and then ran back to the grass where I laid down face first and sulked.

After a moment, a passerby stopped and came over and asked if I was ok. All I could manage was a tine "nooooo" as I began to notice the odd burning sensation on my rear end. I stood up and made a quick damage assessment, and realized the rear end was the only painful place on my body. I took my hand and patted my backside to make quite the discovery. Apparently, at some point in the crash sequence, some sort of bad fashion police had accosted my obviously unconscious body and dressed me like Prince. I now was sporting a hot set of "assless chaps" of the Purple Rain tour vintage. Oddly I didn't feel very stylish, nor did I have a desire to change my name to "The Artist." As I finished swatting at my rear, someone asked if I wanted them to call anyone. I told them to call my dad, and then stared blankly as they asked what his number was. I repeated again to just call my dad, and still didn't think to give them the actual number... Funny how after the helicopter crash I remembered the number but now I couldn't.

They finally got ahold of my dad and we had the usual "I just wrecked my bike" conversation, and he loaded the truck with the medical kit to come get me. Again. You'd think by now he'd be used to this phone call... He finally showed up and we loaded what was left of the bike into the truck and headed home. One there I hopped in the shower and did the usual debriding process to get the blue jean, underwear, gravel, dirt, and pride out of the wound before putting a bandage on it and calling it a day. The wound was actually superficial and didn't even break low enough to break open blood vessels so it actually looked like more of a horrible blister on each cheek. Picture a large egg sized and shaped raw spot on each buttcheek, and that's was I was sporting. Coolness is not a word that comes to mind. I just hoped since it was so shallow it would heal fast. It didn't.

See when you get an abrasion would that isn't deep enough to bleed, you don't get a scab. You instead get that crusty plasma covering the just reopens every five minutes. Also, it doesn't heal, it just slowly grows out as the skin under it is replaced naturally. this takes a while, and hurts. Badly. It also leaves all your nerve endings open for the world to play with. Needless to say I spent a lot of time on my stomach hoping it would heal faster. Of course it didn't.

Well after a few days I had to go to Nashville to catch the bus to the OCS field phase in Alabama. I stayed the night with my 70+ year old little German grandmother so that I could be there at 5 a.m. the next day for roll call. Well I realized that there was no way I could go through OCS with open butt wounds, I started trying to think of something to put on it to cover it. I came up with a brilliant idea. I would use Nu-skin! I'd used it a lot for minor nicks while in the field, and figured this would be great. For those who've never used Nu-skin, let me describe this to you. Usually it comes in a small bottle and is applied with a little brush just like nail polish. I happened upon a newer version though, This one was in a little aerosol bottle just like spray paint. "Perfect!" I thought, "I can cover the whole area really fast!" Yeah... True... However, here's a little bit more about Nu-skin.

Nu-skin in the spray bottle is designed to be kind of a liquid band-aid. Essentially, it is polyurethane or something rubbery like that dissolved in alcohol, acetone, clove oil and a secret ingredient. The secret ingredient isn't listed but I'm relatively certain it is some form of molten magma that they managed to scrape out of a volcano and can it. How do I know this? Do read on...

I got back to my Oma's house with my purchase, took a shower, and readied myself to be nu-skinned. I looked this way and that, but no matter how I tried I couldn't get the angle needed to correctly apply the Nu-skin. Given the sensitive nature of the area it was going, I didn't want to just spray it all willy nilly. I finally decided that I was gonna have to ask Oma to help and headed into the kitchen to ask.

I asked her if she could spray it on each side and get a good coat on for me. She hesitantly agreed, and I turned around and presented the full moon over Tennessee for my treatment. Well she sprayed one side, and I noticed a mild burning sensation, but nothing too horrid. Then as she started on the other cheek, my brain began to register the full effect of the liquid h*ll that was being applied to my backside. As it sunk in I began to sweat and see stars. Finally instincts overcame me and I did what any mature 25 year old man would do. I dropped the towel and ran in tiny little circle in her kitchen, screaming at the top of my lungs while fanning both of my butt cheeks with my hands. Sitting on the surface of the sun would have been a welcome relief to the pain I was experiencing now. I'm 99% certain on the side of the bottle it says "proudly made by Satan and his minions." To make matters better, Oma is yelling at me in her German accent "Pheeellip, I deedn't get it all, ach you need to let me feeneesh." Torqamada and the spanish inquisition would have been music to my ears over that. Finally I settled down and picked up my towel, which was conveniently lying on the floor right next to my pride, and readied myself for round two.

Well I can honestly say round two went slightly different. As she sprayed, I managed to maintain my composure. I was a rock. I was a statue in need of repair. I was about to pass out from the pain. This time I ran in circles cussing through the whole house, rather than just the kitchen. Yes, towelless. Again. See I told you it went a bit different.

Well the next morning I went on down to where we were getting ready to go to Alabama, and recounted my tales of woe to all my friends there, who could only shake their heads and mutter something about how brave I was. Or maybe it was how stupid. I'm not sure anymore, the details have been lost to time. This is also a good time to reflect on what a true friend is. See nu-skin only stays in place until friction rubs it off, which on ones hind-end isn't very long. So I managed to rope my good buddy Colby into spraying my arse down every day with the Nu-skin. I think he may still be traumatized. But what a friend!

Down in Alabama, the fun continued... I couldn't tell the instructors what the level of my injury was out of fear I would be booted out of the class. The next two weeks were spent with me trying hard to never have to sit down, while simultaneously not giving away the fact that sitting was next to an impossibility for me... On the other hand however, the members of my team knew the deal so any time the whine factor got a little too high I'd have to set them straight with a little "you don't know how much this COULD be sucking for you right now" tiny tale of woe. In the end I managed to finish the course and commission with a minor infection in my rear end, and a new appreciation for how much pain can be bottled up in a tiny canister of Nu-skin. Happily I can also report that was the last time I ever slid down the highway on my rear end. Now if only that had been my last motorcycle crash, too...

Well everybody, I've made it to south Oregon, and tomorrow I start my way through California. I hope to make it about halfway down before I cut over to Las Vegas. I ought to be there this weekend sometime so watch and see. Also RTD has been a little sick today. I'm hoping it's a result of the wormer I gave him yesterday, but I dunno. If he's still sick tomorrow I may end up going to a NoCal vet somewhere, so I'll be sure to update! Until then!

Portland, Oregon

Just a quick addendum. We'll be at The Rogue Brewery tonight about 7:30 if anyone is up to have dinner!!

Beware the black helicopters!!

Hello everyone! I'm a day late in posting this because I've been busy.... I set up shop at the AOK (used to be a KOA but apparently they broke off...) in Coeur D'Elaine, Idaho next to a spiffy shallow non-moving lake and prepared for the imminent attack. Amazingly, in spite of the fact that the 'skeeters were thick as clouds, they never went on the offensive and I made it out unbitten. Maybe that B-vitamin complex thing is working. The next morning RTD and I loaded up and headed for Portland, Oregon. I stopped off in Spokane, WA with the intent of typing out the Nu-skin story, but instead encountered an interesting individual, the Conspiracy Theorist. You know the kind, the one who KNOWS who the shooter on the grassy knoll was. That guy who unashamedly believes that tens of thousands of people could quietly conspire to falsify putting man on the moon, yet scoffs at the absurdity that less than fifty people could come up with the idea of flying planes into buildings. Yeah, that's right, I met Michael Moore. Well ok not really him, but you know the type.

I was sitting there attempting to remember everything about the Nu-skin incident when a gentleman next to me inquired if I was military. I told him I was and he launched into a diatribe about Blackwater, the "mercenary army" over in Afghanistan and Iraq. He went on to tell me how they had a base in North Carolina with over 300,000 "troops" and were building another in Washington state. he then continued on about how 9/11 was merely a distraction to get US troops off of US soil so that the Mercenary Army could grow and prepare. For what, he never said. Now, I don't know about you all, but this all seems a little strange to me... So I did a little research.

Apparently 9/11 was actually carried out by a little known group known only as "Al-Qaeda" which is headed up by mysterious leader known as "Osama Bin-Laden." I informed him of that and we went on to discuss how there is videotape of cruise missiles hitting the Pentagon. Now I've gotten e-mail on this in the past, and I usually respond with my knowledge of the existence of video of a 200ft tall "Stay Puff" marshmallow man attacking Manhattan, that the government has also tried to hide. This usually is not received well. I told the guy that I had friends whose family was AT the Pentagon that day and SAW the plane hit. Apparently they have been brainwashed to tell that story as to cover up the REAL attack, the missiles.

Next up I pointed out that Fort Hood, the largest US Army installation in the US (aside from the NTC) has only 33,711 people as reported by the US census, so base that holds hundreds of thousands of "troops", especially in secret, is a little suspect. I also pointed out the Blackwater has less than 1000 employees, so I wasn't sure where the other 299,000 were coming from. This was also scoffed at. Finally he went on to inform me that buildings in the WTC complex imploded on their own, and this was evidence of an obvious inside job. Again, I noted that it takes a demolitions crew several days to wire a building to blow, and it seems a little hard to believe NO ONE there noticed the teams of guys drilling and wiring TNT all through the building in the days leading up to that attack. Apparently this is also all being kept hush hush by the government. Seriously folk, we REALLY did have this conversation, as well as a bit more surreal stuff that I won't bother to recount here.

My point to all this is I am absolutely amazed that people really think that conspiracies of this scale are possible. It would be one thing if only 3-4 people had been involved in all this, but not thousands. We live in a culture where people will believe the most asinine and absurd theory yet reject that which is simple and concrete. Seriously, TV is not reality, and just because it works like that on 24, or whatever other show you see, that is not the real world... Anyhow, enough ranting, back to the trip!

The route I picked involved driving through eastern Washington to Oregon and following the Columbia River into Portland. Now when I think Oregon and Washington, I don't tend to think "barren desert" but alas, apparently that is much of these states! I always thought the pacific northwest was a virtual rainforest, but that apparently is only near the coast. As I drove on I saw amazingly huge fields of dirt, and little "dirt devils" funneling high into the sky. I also had to fight to keep the Bean on the road as 40 mph winds kept trying to plant the Bean against my will. After a few hours I picked up I-84 bordering the Columbia river, and eventually descended into a great canyon which becomes the Columbia River Gorge. The canyon was pretty spectacular in itself, but not very picturesque, and I began to worry that I might not have many pics for this leg. Every so often the expanse of brown would be slashed with the green of an occasional winery or other man-made expanse. The sides of the valley looked like steps from years and years of wildlife grazing there. In Afghanistan I always notices that all the hillsides as the stairstep appearance from centuries of goat travel, and always wondered how long this took. Apparently it takes a while... I kept looking out over the barren rock and wondered just WHEN the forest was going to start. Luckily it wasn't far off.

After you get past The Dalles, which is a large dam complex, within about ten miles the scenery transitions from moonscape to rainforest. At first a few scrub pines dot the hills, then within a few bends of the road, the hills become carpeted in rich dark green forest and the desert is all but forgotten. The rocky embankments continue to jut out through the trees, but now they are moist and lichen covered, paying no homage to their brethren just a few miles back. As I neared Portland, the scenery became more impressive by the mile, and then I spotted a sign for Multnomah Falls. I immediately whipped the Bean off the highway, because I am a fan of anything with "falls" in the name. Well I pulled in the parking lot, turned the fan on for Rocky and headed towards the falls. At the information center I inquired as to the cost of entry, and was greeted with an odd look and the price; free. Apparently here in Oregon they've not yet sold all of the states parks off to capitalist interests yet. Maybe next week. I then headed up the trail to the falls, snapping pictures all the way and trying not to feel too out of place. Apparently I never got the memo that one is required by unwritten law to wear at least one item of Patagonia, North face, Colombia, or Birkenstock clothing at all times. I also missed the part where dogs were ALLOWED in the park, another first.

The falls themselves were nothing less than impressive. It's a narrow stream that launches itself off a 275' drop to a stony covered pool at the bottom, the another 50' fall into the streambed below. The trail on the way up is shaded by towering moss covered cedars along its' length, and long fronded ferns encroach on the trail wherever possible. The closer you get to the pool, the cooler the temperature gets until it seems that you'll need a jacket at the end. The mist from the falls blows freely through the trees adding its' own twist to the cooling effect. On a hot summer day I could see this place being mistaken for paradise. For anyone coming into Portland from I-84 this is a must see. The best part again being the prices, Free. Fitty-free!

After I left the falls I headed into Portland where the Garminator threw in a few twists and turns in its' attempt to get me into the nearest bad part of town, but I made it to my friends place unscathed, and no one even through tofu at me or accosted me for polluting my way through town in the Bean. That's ok... the adventures really began at the apartment, where Rockstar did his best to lay waste to all the principles of "How to Win Friends and Influence People."

See, here's a bit more about Rockstar... I REFUSE to have him neutered. Now I know all the "benefits" of this process, but I also know all the "negatives" that no one seems to realize, and because of this I'll leave RTD as he came, fully male. Unfortunately RTD doesn't get to be around many other dogs, and when he does they usually roll over and submit at the slightest glance. Well here RTD met Joey, and together they stepped onto the fields of battle. All began ok as the usual butt-sniffing pleasantries were exchanged, but then it went downhill. See RTD only knows one game with other dogs and it's the ButtHumper game. Joey was having none of this. Rocky was. Well as soon at RTD attempted the mount, Joey whipped around and began to lay the beat down on Rockstar. I calmly stood there and sipped my beer, mildly amused. Unfortunately the other people there entered "blind panic" mode and began attempting to separate them. Well at that I stepped in and tried to separate also, much to no avail. Realizing that spraying them with a hose usually works, I scanned the area for a hose but came up empty hooked. Then a ray of genius hit me and I did the next best thing. I shook my beer and sprayed them with it. I guess my west TN redneck habits die hard. I considered running to the truck to put on a wife beater to truly represent, but decided against it. Now again, understand I do not advocate fighting dogs as a sport, but what 99.9999% of people seem to not understand is THIS IS WHAT DOGS DO. When new dogs meet, if more than one is "dominant" there has to be a little smack down to make sure all know where they stand. The problem is when you break this up, it goes unresolved.

Well after we got them apart, no blood was shed and they went about ignoring each other for a bit. Then another little dog showed up. The dog park then digressed into 5th grade recess. Remember how back in the day before mandatory life sentences for playground altercations, two kids would scuffle but neither would win, so they'd skulk around the playground eyeing each other but not doing anything? Remember that little turd who inevitable showed up and would say stuff like "I wouldn't let him do that to me!" etc etc. That was this dog. He came up and immediately antagonized RTD and the fight back on, now two on one. Joey immediately got back in on the action and the smack down continued. Unfortunately the little smacktalker dog managed to puncture three of Rocky's legs up, and Joey got a nasty gash on his head, and both had ears that were lightly chewed on. Smacktalker scampered away unscathed, just like 5th grade. After all were separated, there were random bouts of growling, but that was it. For now.

I kept advocating taking RTD and Joey inside where there WEREN'T little anklebiters, and finally it was agreed and on we did. Once inside the calm was short-lived as they got into it again. This time I intervened on their behalf and allowed it to continue. Finally after RTD had been pinned a couple times, it was over and calm was restored. Unfortunately RTD still kept trying to play the Butthumper game, but it never really escalated again. The best part was when RTD kept attempting to mount and Joey would walk off leaving RTD furiously thrusting away at nothing with the guiltiest face ever... There were a few more altercations, but by now neither were attempting to bite, and it was obvious they were settling down. Finally by late evening they were laying together and alternately licking each others wounds and growling. By bedtime friends had been made all around, and calm was finally acheived for the evening. Ahhh another day in the life of RTD....

Well today I'm exploring Portland and the surrounding area, and intend to head out tomorrow for points south, so look forward to that! I may get the nu-skin story up soon, too. Until then...

Global Warming my arse!

Well I feel fortunate to be able to type today after the travesty that was last night in the Bean. After taking spiffy pictures around the KOA and setting up my camp for the night, I checked the weather and didn't feel too worried.... I snuggled down in my fartsack (sleepingbag for the uninitiated) for the night gioving no thought to my dinner... I let RTD sleep at the end of the airmatress in a little cleared off spot where I don't have to wake up to hot doggy breath, or worse.... This was a lesson hard learned the first night in the Bean. I promptly fell right asleep, despite the nearly full moon shining in my window like the mag-lite of a celestial cop. Sometime around three A.M. or so I woke up a little bit chilled. I checked my bag etc, nudged RTD just to make sure that if I was up, so was he, and went back to bed. Don't send any hate mail, he does a very similar thing to me. Whenever RTD awakens, and randomly throughout the day, he likes to give his ears a good shaking. Violently. This started about 7-8 months ago when I suspect he contracted a minor ear infection. After numerous trips to the vet, the infections were cleared, but Sir Shakes-a-lot continued on... more violently. It got to the point that his ear tips were bleeding, and my walls looked as though your friendly neighborhood serial killer had moved in. I trtied everything to heal them, including duct tape on the edges of his ears. That didn't help but hey he looked funny! Finally I started putting "Nu-Skin" on his ears, and that helped a lot. I myself have extensive experience with this stuff, and the story is VERY entertaining... Maybe if there's enough demand I'll write it up... Well his ears have since scarred up, but he continues to shake like an epileptic on a sugar high. At 3 A.M. Well now in the Bean he's added to this. he's discovered that if he shakes next to the plastic bin where I store supplies, he can pop his ears on it. So now he does this.... Picture a three year old child with a plastic tub and a wooden spoon. At 3 A.M. Yeah he deserves the nudges... FLOPPITY-FLOPPITY-FLOPPITY.

Well I settled back in and went back to sleep, only to awaken practically frozen at about 4:30 A.M. Three friggin layers of sleeping bag and I was still hating life. RTD was sleeping soundly... NUDGE! Anyhow, I debated letting him up near me to steal his warmth, but decided against it as I know he would take that to be a new nightly ritual, and that just wasn't worth it. Well so much for global warming, AND the stupid forecasts. It was near freezing in the Bean! So unfortunately I had to spend the rest of the night locked in cold storage with a cellmate with a fur coat... I spent the next few hours tossing and turning interspersed with shivering while praying the sun would hurry up and come up. It was at this point I was starting to lose my appreciation for towering mountains. Finally it poked over the ridge and began baking the Bean, thus allowing me to sleep a bit more. Finally it got too hot to sleep and I set out to start my day.

I spent a good portion of the day exploring what I could of Glacier National Park, and was not disappointed at all. The towering sheer rock cliff rise thousands of feet above the valley floor, carved at rough angles by years of glacial action. At their base they soften a bit and dark pines begin to thicken, usually working the way down to a glacier lake at the valley floor. The lakes are narrow but long and quite deep, and the only boats I saw on them were the occasional kayak, and two park service boats. I started the day at Many Glacier, and followed the long winding road up the river that it bordered, occassionally passing a smaller lake that was birthed by a river higher up the valley. Ultimately the road ends just past a sprawling hotel built in the early 1900's and moideled after the Swiss Alpine style you see so often in movies. At the end of the road I was surrounded by towering white giants, snow covered mountains and glacial snowfields as far as the eye could see. All of this was balanced out with balmy 65 degree weather, and the austere simplicity of nature in its' purest.

I made my way back out and then went back into the park via the St. Mary's entrance. The road was closed after 13 miles due to avalanches though, so I wasn't able to get to the west park. This road differed from Many Glacier in that it followed the large lake I spoke of earlier. All along the road were pull-offs where one could stop and gaze at the wonder of nature, and even snap a few pictures of it. Eventually the lake gave way to it's forming river, that was fed by majestic waterfalls spouting srom seemingly nowhere on the tree covered cliffsides. I could hear the roar of some of them from clear across the valley, and could hear several more that I couldn't see at all. Sadly this was where the road closed, so I was forced to turn back at this point. While I never saw any large animals, I did see countless ground squirrels and even a few goats and deer, roaming the hillsides oblivious to the human presence below them.

Once out of St. Mary, I went along the southern edge of the park and was rewarded with still a different view. Here the mountains are smaller, but the valleys are larger and greener, and the road was more winding as it encircled the park. Occassionally, as in the rest of the park, I could see the bright green scars on the mountainside that evidenced past avalanches which had wreaked their havoc on the hillsides oh so many winters ago. As I drove the winding roads breathing the rich aroma of the pine, it reminded me of the pictures I've seen of the Alps, so I wonder how close they may be in simliarity. Maybe in miniature? I also thought about making a calendar to sell on here with some of the pictures I've taken, but who knows... We'll see...

Finally I made my way up the west side of the park and over to Kallispell, Montana. This road was a bit lower in elevation so the snow was minimal but the dark green pines and cascading waterfalls made this mountain pass road a worthy trip indeed. From here I'm heading into Spokane tonight, and then down to Portland, Oregon tomorrow! From there it's the Pacific Coast Hiway into middle California and finall back our East!! Stay tuned!!

Glaciers abound!

Our story continues with trek to Glacier National Park. I was in a bit of a dilemma as whether to go there, or go to Yellowstone. GNP won out and I cam up here via a northwestern route through Montana. I must admit when they call it "big sky country' they aren't kidding. I drove 80 miles and only encountered four cars total. The land is mostly rolling prairie, but you do go through some smaller mountain ranges, and the arid climate makes the vegetation start to become a bit sparse in places. The last few hours, the snowcapped mountains of GNP loomed in the distance, bobbing in and out of view with the numerous valleys I went through. I finally arrived in the non-existant town of St. Mary, at least it doesn't exist according to the Garminator. I gassed up the Bean, the hit the Park Cafe for dinner to gas up myself. I decided to use this opportunity to exact revenge on Rockstar, and ordered the swiss cheese, onion, and sourkraut bratwurst. Rocky, prepare thyself. My plan tomorrow is to see as much of the park as I can. Unfortunately global warming has struck again, and apparently snow manifested itself in huge amounts to protest the GW so many of the more scenic roads are closed. We'll have to see what I can come up with tomorrow...

Other than that there is not much news from the front, other than Rocky treed his first five year old today. We are at a KOA site, and after I walked him I decided to throw his toy for a bit. Well one time I threw it, and he ran out, got it and kept right on going. he headed to the playground where a little girl was trying to climb a pole. We as he got closer, she climbed harder, and to her credit she made it to the top. RTD on the otherhand was perplexed and tried to jump up on the pole to see what she was doing. Fortunately I was able to drag him off before pitchfork wielding parents showed up. It's amazing what a little "motivation" will do though! Anyhow, here are some pics to enjoy, and tomorrow SHOULD yield many more!!

Are we there yet?

Hello all.... After posting the Rushmore trip, I headed out to my next destination; Sturgis, South Dakota. Most people probably have heard of this, but in the even you watch even less TV than me, it's a small town that is essentially Mecca for the Harley-Davidson crowd. Being that I at one time tried to get into riding Harleys, I decided I needed to go see this spectacle. Yes, I really said it, I DID once ride Harleys. Now, don't get me wrong, the Harley is a great bike if you are truly a fan of turn of century technology. No.... not 2000... try 1900's. Maybe they aren't THAT far back in time, but close enough...

I came to ride one compliments of infectious mononucleosis, aka mono, aka the kissing disease. Now before anyone gets all confused and starts trying to figure out how a dork like me was kissing enough women to catch mono, let me assure you this was not a problenm I had to deal with. Instead, I caught it from drinking after someone else while sharing water bottles in the hellish heat of Fort Hood. I got it in July in Texas, and suffered through it initially. For the uninitiated, mono basically causes your body to expel everything it has ever consumed out both ends as fast as possible, explosively even. Then you get a nifty sore throat that makes you feel like someone tried to do a tonsilectomy with a spoon. Finally, just in case the fun wasn't enough, it saps every ounce of energy inm your body, forcing you to sleep 23/7. Yes, that's right, it turns you back into a teenager. Anyhow, after visiting the emergency room three times on a four day weekend, only to be sent home with motrin each time, I went on sick call when work started back up. The expert medical officers attending to me there immediately realized that I was faking because I waited until AFTER the four day weekend to go on sick call. Did I mention my ER trips? Well after they realized that my neck should not be 22 inches around, the diagnosis of mono was made, and I was given 10 days leave to go home and recover. Well now, my commander wasn't having any of that. I mean, who goes on leave for a sore throat?! Well he demanded that I go to the clinic and get it changed to "light duty for 14 days".

Well I show up at the clinic where a higher ranking doctor sees me dying in the waiting room, and asks me why I'm there. I croaked the story to him about how i needed less recovery time as per my commander. He was not amused. He calmly explained that light duty would result in my death by exhaustion, and instead gave me 21 days leave (10 was the original) and sent me back to my commander. He was even less amused. Well the commander calls the clinic eager to chew out the lower ranking officer who did that. I guess I should have mentioned that I didn't SEE the low ranking guy, but it was too late. There were a lot of "no sirs" and "no I wouldn't like that sir" being said as I sat there listening to my commander realize the error of his ways. I was on a plane home that afternoon. How does all this equal a Harley, you wonder? Read on...

Well after I'd been home for about a week, I started to get better and therefore restless. Unfortunately since I had flown, I had no car there, and my family lives just a mile or two south of the middle of nowhere. Well dad suggested that maybe I ride his wife's little Harley Sportster. Apparently dad had forgotten my track record thus far. Well I get out on the bike and ride up and down the road for about half the day, and then ask if I can ride out to my cousins. They say I can, and as I left handed me a leather vest, just in case.... Well I take off down the road, basking in the glory of my coolness, riding a Harley and whatnot. I turn onto the curvy road to my cousins, and begin my ride. I gleefully cruise on, smelling the nice country air, anf continuing to bask in said glory, probably wishing all my friends could see me. Then I come up on the worst curve on the road.... Which I sucessfully navigate because I am in fact, The Man. Well maybe two miles farther on, I'm still basking, congratulating myself on riding so well, and trying to see if ther eis any way I can possible look cooler when that opportunity presents itself. Off on my right are several people on a porch, enthusiastivcally waving. Realizing the potential to go at least like +7 in coolness, I briefly look over and give a small wave. They stare back in awe of my coolness. I beam with cool glee. Then I look back forward to see that the road is making a violent turn to the left. In retrospect it might have been more of a gentle change in direction, but whatever, we're not here to argue road design. Seeing the turn, I do the only thing I knew how to do on a bike, and execute what is commonly known as "blind panic." This is a skill I have mastered, and used with predictable results most every time. As I grab the front brake and slied off into the grass, I realize that I just went like -5647789235468 in cool points. well the bike slingshots me off, and I slide across the grass on my chest, and then up onto the road, leaving a fair amount of elbow and knee skin at the transition point. My brain briefly registers pain while still mulling the loss of coolness. As I slide to a stop, the waving family comes running up, tryinf not to trip over the shattered ego lying all over the place. They help me up and bring me back to the house so I can go through what will become my "post tradgedy ritual" of calling my dad. This

is never a good phone call. It went something like this:

Dad: "Hello?"

Battered and bruised son: "Uh hey"

D: "Where'd you wreck"

BABS: "D*mmit"

Well they then came out to get me and haul me and the bike back to the house. Luckily since it was a low speed crash, the bike wasn't hurt too badly, though I was feeling like crap. This was about to spiral downwards... After we got the bike put away, my dad invited my uncles over to "help clean my wounds." At least that was his premise... I suspect it was more along the lines of so everyone could laugh hysterically as I cried like a little girl during the debriding. This is where someone scrubs debris out of an open wound. This is accomplished by a lot of hard scrubbing, a lot of peroxide, and a lot of laughter on the part of the people holding the unlucky participant down. Having been on both sides of this before, I can indeed say it is a lot funnier to be the scrubber and not the scrubbee. After I was scrubbed out, I was then bandaged up and sent on my way. I spent the next two weeks walking around like some odd cross between Frankenstein and The Mummy. This was also effectively the end of my Harley days. Oh I got back on it before leave was over, but I never enjoyed it again. I also think I was the only person I ever knew to go back from convalescent leave MORE jacked up than when I left. Hard to believe this was nowhere near my last motorcycle crash, either...

Anyhow, back to Sturgis, I have to say that Sturgis when the bike rally isn't happening looks suspiciously a lot like a small town. Yeah there are a strangely large number of bars and tattoo shops, but other than that, it wasn't very exciting. The main drag is lined with the usual tourist stores, and there were more bikes there than most small towns, but still nothing spectacular. I had a burger and then beat feet out of town, anxious to get to the Devil's Tower.

Now the Devil's Tower was way cooler. The drive up is quite a site in and of itself, and nearly woth the ride alone. After you get off the interstate, it is all two lane winding road up the Northeastern Wyoming. The land slowly starts to break apart, and red rock outcroppings begin to poke through the prairie and hills. It is hard to tell if the desert is trying to take over the prairie, or if it's the other way around. As you go up and down the hills, the scenery begins to get more rugged, and finally as you crest a seemingly innocuous hill, the tower raises up before you in the distance. For the next fifteen minutes it continues to disappear and reappear, each time looming larger than the last. Finally you descend into the valley it's in, and the magnitude of the tower begins to take hold.

The tower is the result of a volcanic uprising millions of years ago. The stone pushed up through the land that was there above it but never broe through, and then cooled into the the tower. Over the last several eons, erosion has stripped the surrounding soft soil from the tower, leaving the formation as a lone sentry in the valley. It rises over a thousand feet into the air, and the top of it is about the size of a football field. As you get closer you can begin to make out lines on the side the go from top to bottom. The indian legends usually tell of a bear that tried to get to some children that were saved when the ground took them to the skies. As the ground rose, the bear angrily clawed the sides, leaving the tell-tale marks. When you get to the base, there are trails that you can take to get close. Winding through the tall. dark ponderosa pines you finally arive at a huge boulder field that gives rise to the tower. The boulders serve as evidence of the erosion. Looking up at the tower you can see many large birds of prey circling around, enjoying the thermals whilst looking for a prairie dog snack. RTD wanted one of those, too.... I neglected to mention that as you go into the park, you pass a huge prairie dog complex. They are all over the place, and constantly bark and banter at the vehicles as they go by. Rocky wanted out soooooo badly. In te interest of avoiding having my dog show up on YouTube as a "dog gets mauled by rodents, pimplike cat seen laughing in background" video, he had to stay in the Bean.

After I left the park I debated on going to yellowstone, but ultimately decided to continue to Glacier National Park, since Yellowstone has probably been covered in 974535 blogs already, and the pictures of GNP looked nicer. What can I say, I'm a sucker for scenery! The drive through NE Wyoming was breathtaking, and if I were ever to be a hermit, this is where I'd go, at least for spring. Eastern Montana on the other hand taught me that the sparseness of Minnesota was a veritable metropolis in comparison. While it is not quite as flat, you will drive for miles without seeing another sign of humankind other than the fence on the side of the road. When the Zombies take over, this is where I'm coming. For the last 60 miles I saw eight vehicles total. Desolation takes on a new meaning here. Add grass and the occassional tree to pictures you've seen of the moon, and you have Eastern Montana. Tonight I'm in Miles City, and tomorrow I head for the park! So until then, have fun!!

Founding Father's Day

---------------------------->

4 of a kind and one wild card

Well yesterday after uploading the daily ramblings, I set off in search of my campsite. Thankfully, I had the trusty Garminator with me, so of course it immediately tried to get me lost. I've learned to just ignore any suggestions it makes about U-turns, as they never seem to get me anywhere (funny how that happens...) Eventually I got on the correct road to where the camp SHOULD be, but of course, the GPS Hijinks weren't over yet. It proudly announced that I'd arrived at my destination, which apparently was a sheer rock face. While I have a lot of confidence in the Bean, I'm not THAT confident. I continued on for a few more miles of desparate U-turn pleadings before I finally got to the camp. Take that, Garmin! From there it didn't take too long to set up camp and launch my evening offensive against the local wildlife. I've deployed a pretty decent tactic where I put RTD on a ten foot lead and clip him to the door. Most of the bugs go to feast on him, and I go on relatively unmbothered. Human ingenuity strikes again! Sorry furball...

As the evening wore on, I engined up myself some campbell's soup and settled in with my tasty beverages. It wasn't long before one of the other campers came over and invited me to dine with them. Fresh hot dogs you say? Don't mind if I do! Well after a beer or two, I'd discovered that he was a contractor from California. Well we then got to talking about immigration, and its' effect here. I, like so many people, come from a long line of immigrants so I tend not to be too xenophobic in my views. I remember back when I was in basic training we were being questioned about our family's past military history. They asked if anyone had family that fought in the Gulf War, then Viet Nam, Korea, and finally WWII. At that I immediately raised my hand. The drill sergeant asked who they were with, 101st Airborne? 82nd Airborne? Under Patton? Nope! I told them he was with the wehrmacht in Germany. I then did pushups. I did a lot of pushups. Hey they never specified which side of history... Anyhow, after chatting a bit, we agreed that immigration is indeed a good thing provided there is some sort of regulation in place. So many people these days claim the the USA is past it's prime, and that there is nothing left to gain here. We hear on the radio how unemployment continues to rise, with no end in sight.

My question I pose to people to consider is this; if the US is so bad off, why do we still have so many migrants coming here to work. Perhaps it's time for people to realize that when you are hungry, there is no job "too low" for you. When I was finishing high school, my dad was finishing nursing school, and there was no significant income to our household. To make ends meet we cleaned churches on the weekends for the meager income it provided. By "we" I mean mostly "he". I, being the little a**hole teenager that I was spent most of the time complaining about it, and wondering aloud why we didn't just get welfare. Later in life I can look back and realize that there is almost always a way to make ends meet. It may involve doing jobs you feel are "beneath" you, but in the end the possibility is there. We must remember that we are a nation built by laborers. Our Founding Fathers weren't all some privileded class that arrived into a nation that was ready made. These were people that, while being politicians, were also workers. Where would we be now as a country if the first Americans said "Hey I'm not plowing fields" or "I'm too well trained for backbreaking labor". I have to think that we would not be where we are today.

I think the inspiration for that little diatribe came from my tour today. I spent the morning touring the Mount Rushmore national memorial, a tribute to this country's forefathers. I must admit I was not ready for the scale of the four figures, solemnly set into the mountainside of the Black Hills. To give you an idea, the eye of one of these men is about the size of a seated man. As you drive up the winding road, you will first catch glimpses of Washinton and Jefferson in profile, looking out through the trees. As you continue on up the hill, you will begin to see all four as they await your arrival at the monument. I was glad to see that the only fee was a one time charge of $10.00 and it's good for a year.

Once you park you walk through a promenade flanked on either side with the flags and names of the fifty states the currently comprise the US. Ultimately this hall opens into a large viewing area where you can see the efforts of Mr. Borglum proudly staring out over the hills. They are built in such a manner that their faces are in sun most of the day, and shadows really bring out the relief. While this are provides an excellent picture opportunity, I saw a trail that went closer to the monument, so off I went. The trail ultimately leads to the base of the hill, with many little alcoves set out for more pictures. There are also little placards detailing the achievements of the past presidents. The trail finally leads back around to the sculptor's house, where there is still more history on the building of the monument. One thing I never knew was that there is a hall partially carved into the back of Lincoln's head that was supposed to hold national records. Sadly it was never finished due to funding, but the doorway still exists! Another thing I noticed was that this was the first monument I'd been to where the predominant language I heard from the spectators was English. I noticed this while in D.C. and inquired as to why. My friend there said that this has been an ever increasing phenomenon with the strengthening of the euro to the dollar. How ironic is it that Europeans are more readily able to afford to see the US historical sites than Americans? Or perhaps many Americans don't care? Or maybe we are all too busy touring European historical sites and causing the locals to question where all the Europeans went? Any which way, I'll take this moment to thank all those who've been donating for at least giving me the opportunity to see them. I hope the writing/ramblings have been worthwhile!

Now I'm heading to Sturgis and Devil's Tower, and finally up into Montana, so until then...

You sir, in the hockey mask and machete, could you help me a moment?

Well I've made it to Rapid City, South Dakota which is farther than many people predicted the Bean to ever make it! I must admit though that tradgedy was narrowly avoided today. Earlier this morning, I came close to being killed when my alarm didn't go off. See, I knew that I could get in a good two hours of shuteye, and I decided to take advantage of it. I just set the steering wheel straight, the alarm on, and cruise control at 65mph and planned to wake up before the first curve in the road... Seriously the straightness of the roads of southern South Dakota is a little disconcerting. There should be a hill or SOMETHING, ya know? After you get across the Missouri river, the scenery changes to rolling hills, but the road still goes nearly arrow straight. Finally after several hours of driving, I made it to the Badlands.

I must admit the Badlands were a little different than what I expected. Somehow I pictured miles upon miles of barren desert, John Wayne and the whole nine yards just over the next ridge. Instead I got a miniature Afghanistan, with lots more green. Apparently the Badlands formed as erosion from wind, rain, and global warming started eating away at the prairie a few thousand years ago. Unfortunately, there were no former vice presidents around to champion the cause of the prairie, so it has slowly eroded at a rate of about one inch per year. The result is what appears to be towering hills of rock, ravaged by the winds of time. Among the jagged peaks and outcroppings are huge gullies and crevasses that would make the perfect backdrop for any of a dozen westerns. The odd thing however is that as you get closer you see that it isn't rock at all. Essentially it's dried mud. The up close view reveals that the facade is very cracked from the arid air, just like a dry lake bed in the vertical. Some of the hills are still topped by green grass and scrub trees. I say this was like Afghanistan because of the jagged and rugged nature of the hills is similar. The main difference is scale. The hills of Afghanistan tower well over 10,000 feet, and these were but a few hundred. If anyone is ever curious as to why we can't find Osama, come to this park, raise the hills by 15 times, and multiply it into a state the size of Texas, and you'll maybe start to understand.

Anyhow, tomorrow I plan on terrorizing the Black Hills and Mt. Rushmore. I think I may feed the Rockstar some Gatorade to ensure he has plenty of marker in him to get every tree here. From there I hope to get to about Billings, Montana as I make my way up towards Glacier Nat'l Park! Sorry if this post has been a little lackluster, too, as I've been feeling a little under the weather today, so here's hoping the passes soon!! Check out the photo albums on my MySpace for lots of trip pics!!!

The People....

Well I started today out right by getting into a wrestling match with the Bean. Well, not the whole Bean, but the steering wheel cover. The one that was on it was some strange vinyl material, and in the humidity it took on a texture similar to baby snot, so I decided to replace it. I headed to everybody's favorite place for low price and lower quality items, Wal-Mart. After hours of painstaking searching, I finally selected one of the three types of steering wheel covers and made my purchase. This baby was gonna be nice... tan fake suede, and extra thick, too. The women were gonna flock when they saw THIS on the Bean. I could hardly wait to put it on.

Once outside, I gleefully ripped the old one off and got to work. I slipped it on and started woeking it around the wheel. After about five minutes, it was 2/3rds of the way on, but stretched straight across from there. Hmmm.... that's odd. Being male, I naturally knew what would solve the problem; more power. I gave it a bit of a heave, and was greeted with a nice ripping sound.... Go wal-mart! I then headed back in to buy onew of the other two and give it another try. This one was black and ribbed, and rather flimsy. I knew right away no women would be flocking to this one... I got it 2/3rds of the way on, and ran into the same problem. Fortunately I had learned from the last one and knew better how to fix this; more power, applied slower. There are few problems that can't be solved with more power. Well after a few gentle heaves, there was no progress. Time for even more power. I gave it some havy tugs, and still nothing. Obviously this called for a different approach. I repositioned myself and prepared for even MORE power. Now I have to tell ya, I'm a strong guy. Had I been able to follow instructions, I'd hold the Tennessee state record for amputee bench press. I can lift about 320lbs, and still do 20 pull ups, wide gripped. There was no way this steering wheel cover was going to beat me. If it beat me, then the terrorists have won, and I certainly didn't want THAT. Finally after more power, and a few magical words, the cover slipped on and I beamed with pride. I think RTD maybe passed a little gas and went back to sleep. Everyone's a critic....

Well when I finally stopped to write the microbrewery story, I happened to run into an older man and we talked a bit. Being that we are both retired, you would think the talk would be about the best way to grow the grass on our lawns, how to keep the kids off it, or where to buy the best black socks and brown sandals, but alas that was not to be. Instead we talked first about how people today expect everything to be given to them. I tend to agree with this for the most part. I meet so many people (aside from this trip) who seem to feel they are owed stuff. Be it people who feel that tests are unfair because their grades aren't as high as they'd like, or people who sit at home jobless and complain that welfare isn't paying enough. We both talked about how we'd grown up poor, and he went on to tell me about how now he was a wealthy man from the metal business he was in. He then told me about his upcoming business venture, and how he figured he'd make another few million in that, too. Since I didn't ask if I could discuss it here, I won't say what it is, but i'll say this, it was a very original idea, and I'd be VERY surprised if it doesn't go like hotcakes. The truly amazing part though were his plans for the profits, which were to go to food for the poor programs, which I thought to be a very worthy cause. Not for those who refuse to do for themselves, but to those who try, and just can't get enough. he went on to tell me how he got the idea, which he said was given to him by the Lord in a dream. Now I must say, eight years ago I would have laughed, but today it sparked the memory of my own interesting story....

For many years I was an atheist. I no longer am, but in my late teens and early twenties, I most certainly was. Don't get me wrong, I'm by no means a puritan now, and I've had many people tell me they don't think "i'm a good christian." I usually reply by asking to shake their hand, and telling them that I am awed to meet them, because I never expected to meet the Creator in human form. This is followed by their confusion at WHY I'd say that, to which I'll reply that they must be God, for it is only he who is fit to judge me, at least that's what Christianity teaches last I checked. Anyhow, while I'm proud to be a Christian, and will happily talk to anyone who wants to hear, I make a point never to try to "sell" it. that being said, this is merely my story about how I came to be. Take it for what it is, but don't worry that I'm about to turn this into my daily prostelitizing blog.

As I mentioned, I once was an atheist. I knew all the arguments for how there was no God, and I actually felt bad for people who believed in "that guy in the sky." I would look around at all that is jacked up in the world, and see that as proof there was no caring creator. I viewed the whole "Jesus thing" as intricate fiction... nevermind that there is less evidence for the existence of Ghengis Khan, and NO ONE debates his existence... At least with Jesus there was a crucifiction site! Anyhow, back when I was a freshman in college, there were two things I aspired to be, either a doctor or a lawyer. This should be no surprise to anyone who has ever tried to argue with me. I was torn about whixh way to go, as they both seemed so appealing. I knew I'd be good at the law thing, but I enjoyed the medical stuff more. I was in a pickle, so to speak... Well one afternoon I was having lunch with my friend Aubree whom I was in the Guard with, and we were discussing career paths. We debated the merits of law and medicine, and they stacked up evenly. Finally at some point I made the offhand comment of "ya know, if there really was such a thing as 'God' I sure wish he'd give me a sign as to what to do. I don't want to waste four years in college trying to get to medical school, just to not make it." Well we continued on with our banter, and finally finished our meal. When we were done the server brought us our ticket and requisite fortune cookies (chinese food). Well I opened my cookie up to this fortune "You will have a promising career in the medical field." A burning bush and booming voice couldn't have been more tangible. Needless to say I found it hard to ignore the sign I'd just been given. I ended up keeping the fortune in my wallet for a few years, because most people said I was full of it when I told the story. Now it is in a safe box at home, where I won't lose it... I have to admit even that wasn't the point where I was a Christian, but it certainly served as the turning point. It took a bit longer before the transformation was complete, but I look back now and am amazed at my blindness back then. While I still have my dys of doubt, as we all do, I've seen so many things inthe last several years I am amazed that here are peope out there who don't believe in a God. Anyhow, I figured I'd share this story since this man brought it out of me today. I must say a large number of "coincidences" have already happened in just organizing this trip that I often feel there is influence greater than myself, or even RTD! Who knows.......

Anyhow, regardless of your faith, I hope you enjoyed this little excerpt from my life! Tomorrow I plan on making it to Badlands National Park in South Dakota, and from there, only the wind knows! If anyone has suggestions or offers of steak and helicopters, feel free to e-mail! Still hoping to hear from someone at the Apache factory there in Mesa.... I've seen your IP address.... Hehe.... Take care everyone, and enjoy the pictures of the vast Minnesota flatness!

'burban and beer!

Ahhhhh the double entendres abound! Before anyone gets too worried, I'm not writing after spending a night in the slammer for a DUI or anything... I was too tired last night to write anything that anyone would EVER want to read, so I spent the evening sleeping and being ravaged by one single mosquito. Now a quick aside... I realize mosquitoes have brains just slightly larger than Rockstar, but this one musta been the Einstein of the insect world. She managed to bite me not once, not twice, but three times in the one area she was safe to do so. I can touch most anywhere on my body with either my hand or the stump, but there is about a four inch square on the back of left shoulder I cannot reach, ever. The three big lumps all look like a tight shot group all within a circle the size of a soup can lid. Can you guess where they were? I was not amused. I once was terrorized my a mosquito while I was in flight school. Each night for several nights in a row, I would awaken to a HORRIBLE stinging sensation, but could never seem to swat her. A few times I caught a glimpse as the light came on, but never could I lay that final "hand of death" on her. Finally one night I got nailed on my cheek, and I was done. It was two in the morning, and I was prepared to do battle. I closed the door, turned on all the lights, and began the search. I was not going to sleep until one of us was done. I tossed sheets, moved furniture, and more or less destroyed my room. Every so often I'd catch a fleeting shot of her as she barrel rolled into a corner and then split-S'ed back in another direction. Air battles over Berlin were less intense than this. Finally she made the mistake of going high, and silhouetted herself against the white of the ceiling. A fatal mistake, and she paid dearly. Now most people would call it a night and head back to bed, but not me.... nooooo.... I had given blood for this victory, it was time to gloat. I took the small insectile corpse and placed it at the base of my lamp where I could view it triumphantly as I drifted off to sleep, and could again enjoy the fruits of my battle each morning when I woke up. She stayed there for a week until I showed my girlfriend at the time, who proclaimed me to be "weird" and threw it out. Oh well.... little victories, right? Unfortunately this mosquito last night lived to bite another day... Now, on to the 'burban and beer!

I got the opportunity to tour the Janesville GM plant where suburbans are made! Sadly the gas crunch is causing the plant to be closed down in the near future, so there was no joy in Janesville, for the mighty Suburban has been struck out. The plant itself appears to be somewhat small, until you get inside and see the 34 miles of assembly line snaking their way through. The front is a two story brick structure built in the early 1900's as a tractor factory, and was converted to the Chevrolet factory in the 20-30's if I remember right. I actually thought the building looked suspiciously a lot like many public school buildings built during this era. Once inside, I was told no pictures or vid, so those will be sadly lacking... I first noticed the relative "quiet" of the building. The noise level was about that of a cafeteria, and therefore not at all unpleasant. We took a tram around as the guide gave random factiods and I sat transfixed at the automotive process happening before me. Everywhere I looked was some section of the assembly line, seeming snaking along, unordered, somehow resulting in a finished vehicle. While there were quite a few robots, they were mostly involved in the welding/flipping of parts, and everything else was people powered. Throughout the factory workers gave random waves and smiles as the tour passed, and the next vehicle arrived. The only part of the factory that even had the slightest industrial odor was the paint area, and even that was light at best. The factory itself turned out to be HUGE, with two railroad lines running right thru it, delivering parts that were needed just as fast as they were used up. At the back of the factory was the quality control sort of area. There vehicles that rattles or otherwise didn't make the grade were repaired and readied for transport. All in all I'd suggest that anyone who has never been in a factory take one of these tours just to get an idea of how complex a process it is to make something that you use daily with no thought at all as to the intricacies involved in its' build.

I, on the other hand, had worked in a factory once before in my life, and it was a reinforcing experience to say the least. After I got out of the Army, I worked at the MTD factory for a few months making lawnmowers for the world. For roughly 615 times a night I would put on the same washer and cotter pin, then a hanger with nut and lockwasher set up before the mower moved to the next spot in the line. Roughly 614 times a night I would reaffirm to myself that I was going to work reaaaaaaally hard in college so that I would not have to do that again. Between the repetition and carpal tunnel syndrome, I wasted no time in deciding factory work wasn't for me. I found it odd how much the lady who worked across from me loved the work. To me it was repetitious to the point of being mind-numbing. To her though, it was easy and afforded her the opportunity to talk to everyone around her without having to stop to "work" as it was. I must admit that our ongoing dialogue about the truthfulness of the space program was interesting, though. Hard to believe that there are people who truly believed, at least at the time, that the space shuttle was a hoax, and it really just landed in Africa, where it stayed a few weeks before being relaunched back to the USA for "re-entry." Everybody is different, I suppose!

Well after taking a few shots of the factory and the obligatory "old vs. new" shots of the Bean, I loaded up again and headed to my next stop. My plan was to stop in Black River Falls to visit a local microbrewery. Along the way I saw an odd rock formation known as "Castle Rock" just off the highway. Well I jerked the Bean over to the exit, and with tires howling made the turn into the 'park'. If there's one thing I love, it's unique natural formations. Well it turns out that this rock was a remnant of an ancient glacial lake island, now in the middle of the forests of Wisconsin. I had noticed that the way up was almost completely flat with random big hills rising out of fields like the backs of some sort of giant whales in a sea of green. It turns out these are from the glacial ages, too. Well I parked and grabbed RTD and ran up the hill to try to get a good shot of the formation. I finally stopped to evaluate the area, and quickly felt a sting on my leg. I looked down to see no less than thirty blood suckers hovering excitedly around the new Ruby Tuesday's of the Castle Rock area. Dang. I took off running again, but every time I stopped we were set upon by mosquitoes like some sort of biblical plague, so the layover was short.

Back out on the open road, I drove thru the rainy miles until I reached Black River Falls. I looked up the address to the brewery, and headed on over. I arrived at the Sand Creek Brewing Company shortly after four, and headed inside. I was recognized immediately as I walked in, and took a moment to bask in my fame. After they helped me get my head thru the door, introductions were made, and a beer somehow materialized in my hand. I knew I was going to like this place. I couldn't help but laugh at the thought of my microbrewery loving roommate suffering his way through Air Force officer training as I lived the dream. Stuart, that beer was for you... sucka! Now go do push ups. The brew master there, Todd, then took me on a tour of the building, and my fascination of how how such tasty beverages were made was indulged in ad nauseum. The building was originally a brewery built in the 1800's by a family whose four sons all suffered untimely ends. Oddly enough, only one was alcohol related, and that was when his personal whisky still blew up in his basement, taking him with it. After that it became a turkey processing plant, and ultimately BACK to the brewery which it is now (though under a different name etc.) After the tour was over, and more beer had found its' way into my hook (hold beer, never gets cold, so maybe there IS a benefit...) they showed me the bar area where I sampled more tasty beverages. After a bit more people showed up and I switched to Root Beer. Call me a lightweight, but I recognized that I was reaching the point where I was about to "come up with great ideas" and knew I needed to go non-alcoholic for a bit.

As more people came, I asked if I could bring RTD in, and kick it up a notch. I was told I could, so in came Rocky. I made sure to wind his spring all the way up to ensure he was in full RTD form, and he didn't fail to disappoint. Once inside he made a quick bouncy tour of all the people there, and identified Todd the brew master as the one most likely to give him attention, and started trying to fight. I explained RTD'a love of "the fight" and after a few rebuffs, Todd finally indulged and it was game on. Out in the main lobby it was Rocky Smackdown with anyone who cared to play, and it wasn't long before several people were covered in Rockstar Funk. After a bit he ended up outside where the steak was being grilled, which was no surprise to me. A young girl out there was quickly enamored with Rocky, and kept trying to get him to come to her. When she asked how to get his attention, somebody recommended "meat." Well this was easily enough done, and the poor young lady spent the next hour yelling "MEAT!!!" at Rocky, with interestingly little effect. Don't worry, he doesn't listen to me either, but I think maybe she missed the point. Watching Rocket run around in his drool dragging circles with a little girl chasing after him yelling "MEAT MEAT MEAT" was too much, and I headed back into the bar. I've heard there is a Hollywood saying of 'never work with kids or animals, because they'll always steal the limelight.' how true this is because no story I could come up with could compete with the sight of THAT dynamic duo.

Well after a bit, the steak and potatoes were gone, more beer had been consumed, and people had begun to drift off. I have pretty much decided if med school is a bust, brewer might be my next life attempt. Finally everything wound down, and the brewers informed me they had gotten me a room at a local hotel. Figuring a good shower was worth it, I graciously accepted and headed to the room. By the time I got there even RTD had calmed down a little bit, and I decided to wait until today to write up these adventures. I must admit that I was amused at touring a brewery and an automobile plant in the same day. Luckily I didn't tour any local jail cells like so many other people who try to mix cars and drinks in one day. Go responsibility! I stopped back there today as their request, and was loaded up with a few cases of brew to enjoy at the end of each day, so I should be in good spirits until then! I hope tonight to end up in the Dakotas somewhere, where I will try to write a bit more. I met an interesting older man today, so I think I'll give a shot at writing a bit about the people I meet in the next post. Check back tonight to see if I figure out HOW to do it! Until then!

Housekeeping...

Well hello everybody! Being that I have a few hours to kill before heading to my next stop, I figured I'd drop a short blog for your reading enjoyment! I stayed the night with an Engineer for GM, who was kind enough to let me stay there, and allow Rockstar to terrorize his children. RTD was a big hit as always, and spent most of his time running in circles as fast as he could while occasionally stopping by anyone willing to lavish a little attention on him. The look on his face is undescribable in words, but think "DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE" and that ought to conjure an appropriate image. his tongue lolls out, flapping violently in the wind. Drool streaks down both sides of his face as his ears flop behind him like giant garbage bags stuck to the top of a big semi truck. Occasionally there will also be drool striped around his noce from where he has paused to violently shake his head. Now take this and attach it to a musclebound and tiger striped little body, and set the control to "SPIN" and turn him loose. "DEEEEEEEEE", indeed. Finally after the kids had gone to bed and we'd traded stories of motorcycle daring do, we all retired to call it a day. As I got ready top plop down on the mat, I see RTD go into the kids room and sniffed at the poor child curled up on the floor. I truly expected the young guy to wake up to a huge drooling Boxer face breathing hot air on his cheek, and go into cardiac arrest. I know I've awoken to RTD three inches from my nose before, so to a kid this should firmly cement the term "Bogeyman" in his little head. Luckily, this did not happen, and RTD finally came over and went to sleep, and peace was to be had at last.

As for the housekeeping matters I just thoughtr I'd answer a few questions. Several people have written asking about the people I'm meeting, or if I've gotten to meet anyone yet. So far I've opted to keep the conversations to myself, as I kinda feel that those are intimate in that they are face to face, and are directed at me. I think maybe I may start posting generalities about the people I've met, but I doubt specific conversations will make it unless they become particularly impassioned or inflamed. My fear is that people may read these conversations and start attempting to asign a political agenda to them. Let me state for the record, again, this ain't the case! A phrase I like to use is "my views are my views and they're not your views." Basically, i'm saying that I have no desire to change anyone's mind on issues, nor do I feel that I need to be persuaded to believe the same way as others. Most people will probably label me a conservative based on my arguments, but the truth is my views are known only to me, and I will almost ALWAYS take the counterpoint in the interest of good conversation, so don't be fooled!

I will say that most of the conversations are similar, and usually revolve around the politics of today, the war, and the troops. The reception I've received has been outstanding everywhere I've been, and no one yet has had the nerve to say anything "bad" to my face. The closest I've gotten was yesterday when a car with an obviously middle eastern and apparently muslim couple (headscarf, full beard) drove by on the highway, and the occupants gave me dirty looks and the driver was gesticulating wildly and did not appear to be happy at the moment. Before anyone fires up the "reply" button with hate mail for either side, I'll also mention that within the hour another carload of obviously middle eastern guys came by and honked, smiled, waved wildly, and gave me the thumbs up. It takes all kinds.

The biggest complaint I've had so far is this though, and this may ruffle a few feathers and cost me a reader or two, but whatever. While everybody is very supportive of vets, most people seem to have this idea that we are "losing" this war. The cite the horrendous body count and all the other stuff espoused by the 24 hour news channels, without ever stopping to consider a few things. Here is my general view based on my own reading and experience. We have lost just over 4100 people in this war since 2001. If you were to poll any military leader in the last 3000 years and tell them about a country waging war on two fronts, controls both countries they occupy, and has fought this for about seven years all at the loss of 4100 troops, they would call it the greatest military victory in the history of man. One must remember that there have been battles in past wars where 20,000 troops on one side were killed in less than twenty MINUTES of combat. Those are staggering losses. We as Americans lose more lives to drunk drivers every year than we lose in combat in seven. Just a few things to consider....

Anyhow, I hope to be able to integrate some of the things I learn from people into the blog in the next few weeks, but no promises! Tonight I'll try to get the story about the GM plant up online for your reading pleasure. This is all contingent on my travels this afternoon, so hope for the best!

In other news, I filled the Bean up today. Usually I've just been topping it off after every stop, just to give RTD time to drink and drool. I took a few pictures of the subsequent robbing that happened along the way, so enjoy! I think they tell the story well enough!



----------->

I'm hip... I'm cool... I'm fillin' the Bean!

-------------->

CRIKEY!! HOW MUCH?!! Sadly it was on 1/4 of a tank...

---------------->

He he... I'll show them! Get me a little return on this "investment!!"