Attitude Adjustment Happy New Year

Two Years Later

Hmmm, it would seem that I've been busy for two years or so.

Not really, it just seems that way.

New girlfriend, some job losses, some world travelling, lots of guitar, and a ton of other interesting things. Lost a great friend a few weeks ago, to a terrible disease. Went to his funeral, instead of staying in touch while he was still here. Need to change that behavior, among many others.

I think that the world of blogging has been passed by by Twitter, Facebook, and whatever else is coming along the pike, so that's my excuse for non-participation. However, being windy and wordy, I still like this.

Going to work out the real post in a few hours, and will let you all in on it.

Love.

JW

Five Minutes To Live - I'm With The Band - A Little More You

So much more to say. So much more than I can easily write in the few minutes I've got for this.

But, some friends and I have been gathering at my house on Sundays, and we've been working out some songs. Mostly we're in dire need of improvement, but every once in a while we get something sounding not too bad.

James Novellino, Brandy McCaslin, Aaron Day and myself, Jeremy Wilson, are the basic members, with Ted Potts sitting in on bass, Bill Wright from time to time on guitar, Sara Reynolds as a vocalist. It's a bit eclectic, and things are kind of moiling around as we work out the music, relationships, etc.

But, it's a blast, and I wouldn't trade it for a moment. So, here's a link to the most recent videos, and I hope you enjoy them.

Easter Monday

Well, it's been an interesting spring.

Wait, there hasn't BEEN a spring yet. It's still fricking winter!

OK, OK, there's daffodils and tulips in my garden. I've had a bit of time on my hands to garden, mind, since there's been very little activity on the job front. Had a prospect, but upon reflection discovered it didn't suit me, or my temperament. So, I'm working to change me, and my temperament. Enough said about that.

Back to the weather. It stinks. There were exactly four days a week ago where the weather was awesome. Two of those days straddled a weekend, and I can confirm that I spent one of those days sitting on my deck or out on the point with three buddies playing raucous guitar. It helps if you have a Fender Stratocaster should you wish to play raucous guitar.

Said Stratocaster made it's way into my life a bit earlier this spring. Have spent an inordinate amount of time on YouTube learning how to play from the get-go, at a website called www.justinguitar.com which I found after some searching. There's nothing like back to the basics to learn something, and I told myself that I was going to do that, as opposed to trying to use my musical ear to figure things out.

The pleasant result is that my playing is a lot better than ever. And, right until I invited the three guys over I thought I was making great progress. Then, one of them, James, picked up his guitar and I realized just exactly how far it is that I still have to go. The guy's a guitar god, and it was a real pleasure watching his fingers fly. I'll never be a thrasher, but there's much to learn from that style. Most importantly, his fingering exercises.

Anyway, I feel badly about not maintaining this blog. There's so much to say. More later.

Best to all.

Four Good Years

Not surprisingly, given my relationship with my new boss, the state of the economy, and the salary and commissions I was being paid, I find myself today out of work.

Four years to the day since I started at Galvin Flying Services.

I have been well rewarded. I have some issues with this, but that's for another post some few weeks in the future.

To my friends who read this, know that I will be baffled, confused, and then come out the other end just fine, or better than ever.

Love to all.
Jeremy

Much Clearer Now

Some Tunes

Last Few Days on Oahu

Went flying, formation flight, around Diamond Head, in a DA40 Diamond Star. Flown by Kele, an outstanding pilot. The other aircraft had Nitai, another fine pilot, and my friend Pam.

Purpose of the flight was photography, which I'm hoping to sell to Diamond Aircraft. They've been very receptive of the initial few photos. I'm hopeful.

Here's a slideshow of what happened on that flight. Lots of photos, so double-click the slideshow if you just want to go look at one or two.

First Few Days on Oahu

Well, it's been a very exciting trip to Oahu so far.

Let's start with the alarm not going off for the flight. Should have been 4:00 am. Could swear I set it on my cellphone. Fortunately my backup plan worked just fine, that is, the TV came on at 4:00

Needed to run into work before the flight at 8:20, so I had to jam the pedal to the floor to make it all happen. Over the Tacoma Narrows bridge at high speeds, up the I-5, in to work, back to SeaTac, and arrived at 6:25 am. You'd think that would be OK, right?

Wrong.

Lineup immense at ticket booth. Confirmation number entered, machine says "no seat assignment has been made, seat will be assigned at gate...."; security lineup from hell, gate lineup from hell, but finally, on to the flight; five hours of snoozing, reading, watching the movie, and it's into HNL, to the baggage carousels. I waited. I waited. I waited. So, when everybody but twenty of us had come and gone, it was one last line, to fill out the baggage claim form.



Pam met me outside. Our first meeting. It was very nice. We went for lunch, down by the docks. It too was nice. Then, it was into the truck and out to the North Shore, through Haleiwa town. Into the surfer shops we strode, looking for the beach shorts, and flip flops and t-shirt that would get me through the night....... Stuck a few toesies in the water, then out to her house, which is very nice, a block off the beach.

Forgot to buy coffee. Went to find some first thing this morning, saw a brochure for a glider soaring operation at Dillingham Airfield, which is just a few miles from Pam's house. Thought that might be fun. But, since a purpose of my trip was to go to my company's flight training operation at the former Barber's Point naval air station near Pearl Harbor, I thought it would be a bit of overkill to think about soaring. I'd placed a few calls earlier last week, telling people at the flight training operation that I'd be in town.

Went down to the beach to fly kites and swim. Pam was working on her computer. My baggage had been found, and they were going to deliver it by 1:00 in the afternoon. My phone rang. It was Joe Kina, a flight instructor at Galvin Hawaii whom I'd worked with in Seattle last year. He said he'd be delighted to fly with me later in the week, but was working at his other job. I asked where that was, and he said at the glider soaring operation at Dillingham.

I figured that was too good to pass up, so at 3:00 Pam dropped me off, and Joe and I flew for an hour.

I'll admit to it being about as much fun as I've ever had flying. Fabulous views, real stick and rudder flying, and a fine pilot to show me the ropes.

Joe, if you've read this, thanks my friend. You were amazingly generous, and I can say without hesitation that I'd recommend that every visitor to Hawaii who's ever thought of being a pilot should give you a call.

I chose to start walking home, even though Joe had offered a ride, because i wanted to do some photography. As it turns out, there were a lot of kite-surfers, so I had to pause for some of that....

And then there was just the beauty of the North Shore mountains.

It's been a fine first two days.

More to follow, but check out the photos in any case.

Barnstormers

Have been spending a lot of time on barnstormers.com looking at aerobatic aircraft.

There's a type called a Pitts, and I was fortunate enough to have had a ride in one some few years ago.

Pretty much every pilot I've ever talked to who's flown a Pitts talks about the skill required to keep it happy on the ground, to keep the spinny thing up front pointing ahead, not backwards.

I can't possibly come up with any real reason why I want one, just that I want one.

Here's a video from a guy who's selling his, and if everybody reading this would just send me their spare change, then sooner or later I'll get to own one.

Early Fall Dawn

Was thinking this morning as I was heading out how lucky I am to have the morning commute that I have.

I wish I could adequately describe it. Let's start with, take a moment to walk out on the front deck.

Dead calm, low tide, pink and grey sunrise over the back side of Bainbridge Island. Southeast, God's morning message catches the east flanks of Mt. Rainier, glacier peaks glistening in the dawn.

On the water, wingtip whorls from two mergansers water-skimming; you can hear the synchronized wingbeats from two hundred yards until they pass by heading up Rich Passage.

My morning seagull sits on the rocks on the point, watching, no squawking, no noise, just an alert eye turned cautiously my direction. Low from the bay to the south a great blue heron swoops over the point, hovers for a moment, then steps down lightly on the rocks where the sea-otters play. Noticing me he gives his dinosaur screech and heads up Rich Passage too, following the mergansers by a minute.

In the garden, there's quiet stirring; leaves, moist from the dew, stretch toward the warmth; blossoms, hidden overnight begin to greet the day. Tomato plants thirst for sunlight, and strawberries drink dew until lunchtime looms.

But I'm off the deck, and it's been my morning sixty-second refresher. Need to get up ten minutes earlier, but for some reason I don't.

Up to the carport, fire up the motorcycle. Bending to strap on the chaps I catch a glimpse of my neighbor the morning runner. Absolutely buff, absolutely dedicated, absolutely ignoring me for the first two years I've lived here, I've now gotten to the pleasant "good morning' greeting. Slow progress indeed. I love running shorts.

On the bike, slowly into gear, slow on the throttle, for after all I live here, and it won't do to wake anybody if I can help it, though I'm told by another neighbor that even at my quietest he knows when I'm outbound to the ferry for work.

Heading up the hill into the forest land, catching the running neighbor, a wave, a glance in the rear-view mirror, a smile on my face. Around the corner and out of sight, now to the top of the hill and it's the pasture. One cow, two horses, one white, so I do the lucky-fingertip-lick-palm-touch-fist-in-palm gesture I've been doing since I was a child whenever I see a white horse. Hello Mom, long dead. Hello Dad, long dead, wish you were here with me this fine morning. Hope you're happy wherever you are. Thanks for giving me life.

Around the corner by the mailboxes, no dogs up this early to bark their way down the fenceline as they will on my trip home. Reach to the handlebars, grab my coffee mug, slurp quickly while avoiding the bump in the road that's spilled it on me more than once....and down to the first stop sign, by the farmhouse where my firewood for next winter sits piled, waiting for me to pick it up. Chickens are scratching near the barn, and the pigs are snuffling in their pen.

Nobody coming along Beach Drive, as usual, so I pull out, turning left, and accelerate hard through the first two turns, feeling the bike come alive, smashing the choke full forward; she's warm now, and ready to go, and the tires are softening as they should.

On the straight, there's farms, more pasture, more horses, and low fog. Today's the first day of the morning fog; a sure sign that fall's here, that my summer fun is fore-shortened, that I'd best make the best of what's left. Six Canada geese in formation flank me for a few moments up-sun, and I know for certain that fall's arriving. No honking boys, it's early still.

I look for the African camel, and the Asian camel. One hump one, and two humps the second, though I'm not sure which is which, only that they live near my home, content in the Pacific Northwest, and a long way from their desert homes. They share pasture with another white horse; a brief thought for my family long gone, and into the heavy braking for the next set of curves. I'm feeling for the line.

The line's important. If I miss the line, if I'm thinking about work, then it's hard onto the brakes to survive the corner. If I'm in the flow, then no brakes required, using every part of the allotted lane, but never touching the yellow double lines that define where unexpected death lurks. A glance at the rounded back-out-mirror on the high tree on the outside of the corner tells me I'm safe if I did make the double-yellow mistake, but not today. Today I'm flowing, and the line leads me on.

Past the first farm I stopped at the day I found my home. There's an old truck, and a Volvo. I forgive them the Volvo, because they have the truck, and because they were kind to me, welcoming me to Kitsap that first day. Across the road wood-smoke drifts from the chimney, and the massive flat-panel TV is on, the same as it is every morning at this time. Another set of curves coming up quickly, these ones always with gravel from the intersecting road. And later in the fall, black ice from Beaver Creek will get my attention in a hurry if I'm not paying it.

Into the chain-link fuel-depot high-speed quarter-mile curves; the Navy ships will drink well this day, for there's a tanker moored to the docks, waiting to head to sea with the aircraft carrier and nuclear submarine at the base behind me; but that's another morning this fall. The gate guards must hear me coming, must be vaguely amused, but I can't glance to see, because the hard left over the rise hides danger, and maximum alertness is required to hold the line; downshift to fourth, then to third, hard over left, hard over right, heavy acceleration and we're past the muskrat pond, past the sewage treatment plant, and heading into a two stop-sign town. Dogleg left and then right past the two taverns, the barber, the tax-man, the post office, the boat launch. There, over the water, is the Seattle skyline, the Space Needle pointing into the morning fog; grey, purple and blue Cascades in the background beckoning me to work.

Heavy acceleration up the long hill, hugging the double yellows to give me that last second warning of the guys pulling out of their driveways, down to the Mile Hill intersection, with the sand-cliff that hides the oncoming traffic if you choose to run the stop-sign, which I have only done once, and almost died as a penalty....

Glance right, quick left, downhill fast, through the cathedral grove, deep hanging gloom pierced by bounced-yellow rays from the water on the left, heavy downshift and into the left hand corner at 75, over the wooden bridge with a wry thought for the railing, glance at the boat hull mired in the muck upstream, the abandoned storefront, the church with new landscaping, now to the tide-flats, smelling them before I see them, knowing they're going to have high-school kids wakeboarding late in the afternoon when I'm chasing the rest of the motorcycles off the ferry heading home.

But now, nobody, a jogger, a dog-walker, no cars, no school buses, no transit bus. Downshift at another post office for the Harper Pier corner, the cigarettes-are-welcome-here restaurant with the fading for-sale sign, heavy acceleration into the four curves past the baseball field, one last left, and into the roller-coaster hills on the straight to the ferry. Horses stamp in the fog. Cars and bikes in front of me pop up and down like an Ikea Volkswagen ad.

A stop sign, a corner store with fried-chicken and bananas, one last post office, and it's swipe my pass at the ticket window, a quick g'mornin greeting to the ferry worker, a high five to the second ferry worker, and into the lineup of fifty motorcycles who have preferential treatment to board the ferry. Engines silently ticking, we wait the loader's signal to fire up and move-em-out.

It's 5:55 a.m. and my day is launched, and we haven't even gotten to the boat ride yet.

God I love where I live. Thank you.

Racing Sports Cars

Well, it seems that I've found a completely new way to burn money I don't have.



A young friend who works in the automotive business, who drives an older BMW, and who's been lusting after my Z3, told me that there was a practise session last Sunday at the Bremerton Motorsports race track, which is one of the abandoned runways at the Bremerton airport. I've flown over it many times, looking down on the events transpiring, but had never been in the gate until Sunday.

Got there bright and early in the morning, registered in the novice class, and walked the line, looking at the broad array of vehicles. Everything and everybody was represented. It was very cool.

Had the driver's meeting, where we got the safety briefing. Had the tech inspection, where I removed all the extraneous gear, except for the Starbucks cup, and got ready to run.

Walked the course, twice, eavesdropping on the other drivers as they discussed the best line, the best braking techniques, the tire pressures and all those things that I'd been vaguely aware of but had never integrated.

Began to really regret losing the soft leather BMW glove that I had dropped out the door of the car some months ago, and which I've not yet replaced....

Walked way out onto the track sides and became a course worker, watching the first grid of cars work their way through the cones. Found out how easy it is to be distracted, and how simple it might be for a course worker to be killed. Watched some cool cone runovers, watched some spinouts, watched some fine driving.

Then it was my turn.

Sat at the start, took a deep breath, visualized the first five gates, stomped on the gas, stomped on the brakes, swerved and skidded, missed all the cones, didn't miss any of the gates and posted a pathetic 78 seconds when the big boys were running 65's. But it got better from there, to 75, then 70, then mid sixties and down. Meanwhile, the big boys were running high 50's, so I was still a consistent five to eight seconds slow. However, that's just fine with me, as I was learning all the time.

And, I sat in the sun, had some fun, burned some rubber off my new tires, felt like a true participant, and it didn't cost much at all.

I'll be back....

Full Moonrise At The Shack

It's an interesting dilemma. I can never seem to get all the resources, people, time, and luck, together at the same time. In pretty much every circumstance, I seem to have three of the four. Now, that's a pretty good batting average, so this is not in the nature of a complaint. But just once in my life I'd like to have all four ducks lined up....that's not too much to ask, is it?

Take last night, for instance.

Full moon, scheduled. Weather, which has been crap for so long that fleeting thoughts of suicide/homicide were'nt easily laughed off; not really, but you get my drift....Seattle's weather this winter has been horrid. Anyway, the weather this past weekend was HOT, and everybody had themselves outside for a tan.

Now I, having managed myself poorly during the week, found that I had to go to the office, to complete a bid that should have been done by Friday afternoon, and was due in Hanoi at dinner Sunday night....

Rode the bike over to Seattle, then home, to a lovely evening on the deck. But, moonrise was obscured by a haze, drifting in over Rich Passage. And, and this is the point, I was alone. There was no lovely woman sitting with me to enjoy the calm of the evening.

And a lovely evening it was. The kind of evening where arrowheads of geese and mergansers skim across the water, wingtips not touching but wingbeats causing little vortex ripples on the water....and you can hear the noise of the wings thrumming. Amazing.

There IS a lovely woman, and she's no where near Seattle. So instead of sitting with her on the deck, I sat with her on the phone, which is the next best thing, but so far behind first place as to be invisble....

More on the lovely woman as I get to know her better.....

But for now, here's the photos I took for her, to show her what we were sharing....

Musical Fantasies

So it finally happened that today I found somebody to play music with. It was amazing.

Through a mutual group of friends I had met Nancy a few years ago. Once she had given me a CD, of John Martyn, and I'd liked it. I'd liked it in the seventies too.

Lately, whenever I've run into Nancy she had suggested some music I might want to listen to. And today her husband and family allowed her to take the afternoon off and come over to my house and play guitar and sing songs.

Now, that's more or less normal. Aging rock-star wannabees. But, it was FUN! And, we instantly hit it off musically. She plays guitar at about the same level as I do, which is to say at a minimum we're fairly competent finger-pickers, and we both have a musical ear, so we can find tunes almost immediately. And there's that certain sort of musical chemistry that allows us to fall into harmonies instantly, no preparation, just right after the first four beats.

It was magic for me, and I hope for her. I've been waiting thirty years for this.

So, we put together some basic tunes, found that we could perform well together, and now we've got a musical future out in front of us that looks like a ton of fun.

More to come.

Here she is sitting by my fireplace..



Thanks to her husband and children for the trust, and the afternoon.

Instrument Rated

Right, and who would ever have believed that I would hold an instrument rating? For the longest time, not I.

There'd been many a delay, most all of which were related to the possibility of ice in clouds. I did NOT want to be a pilot killed by icing, and more reasonably I did NOT want to be a pilot who, upon lifting off the runway on his checkride, discovered the examiner jotting a note on a page and turning to me saying something like "you may return to the airport, you've taken off into known icing conditions contrary to the regulations in......" or something like that. It's happened to other guys.

So, the morning of the eighth scheduled checkride dawned clear, cold, and not a cloud in the sky, the same way as it had been for about three days. I knew that this would be my lucky day. So, I was up well before dawn, and on a ferry heading for Boeing Field. And checked my email. To discover I was being dumped....

Not the most auspicious start to the day, but best for the both of us, that's for certain. And maybe it WAS good luck. Not yet sure.

Got to work, ride scheduled for 1:00 pm, having learned the lesson about morning flights. Had a phone call from the designated pilot examiner, with whom I'd built a very friendly relationship during the previous seven cancellations, whether they'd been in person or on the phone..... He told me he was in LA, but would be back by lunch, probably at Boeing Field a bit late, maybe 1:30. No problem.

Imagine then my surprise as, while out on the ramp pre-flighting at least an hour in advance of the scheduled time I heard a voice saying "there's reports of a cloud in Oregon, so we're going to cancel due to icing, right?". Nice sense of humor there boyo. Got me laughing, and nudged me in the ribs for my caution.

But, caution is what keeps pilots alive, and I have no need to apologize for the cancellations.

Ride went just fine. Hate it when you look over and see the examiner jotting notes, but they were all minor points, things he most definitely wanted to point out in the de-brief, but not ball-busters.

It's a wonderful thing, to know that now I have a chance to fly with the big boys.

Very grateful to my flight instructor David Cowan, my DPE Johnny Summers, and to all the people at Galvin Flying who helped and encouraged me, as well as to my pilot buddies Mark, Christine, Steve, Rob, Scobie and all the others who understand how important this is to me.

Maybe Seventh Time Lucky?

So, I've been playing at working on my instrument rating. In the late summer, I was getting ready, but aircraft availability and instructor issues meant that I cancelled my checkride. In the late fall I went at it with some diligence, and finally got to the point where a CFI signed me off for the checkride.

That was six attempts ago. All cancelled due to icing and crappy weather. I'm getting discouraged, and feel like there's never going to be the right day. But, January 22nd is the seventh scheduled day.

Made it through the oral, but it expires after 60 days, so I'm running out of time.

I'll let you know.

Finally, The Accident

It started off like any morning. Drag my sorry ass out of bed at 4:45, get down on my knees and say hello to God and the world, then pad on off to the bathroom, flip the coffee pot on, fire up the furnace, and scramble into the shower. Iron the shirt, fire up the bacon and egg, swill the coffee, grab all the gear, load up the motorcycle, wriggle into the leathers, then into the foul-weather gear, and head for the ferry.

6:05 ferry out of Southworth, noisy, steamy, and after a stop at Vashon we arrived at Fauntleroy at 6:50 or so. Then it's up the hill, over to Roxbury, and down the hill near Myers Way on the back side of West Seattle. I'd left a lot of room between me and the next guy. It was still dark of course.

And what I didn't really pay attention to was the carpet of yellow maple leaves. So, in the rain, and needing to put on the rear brakes, I fished once, fished twice, and slammed down hard on the right side.

The next few minutes were interesting. Actually, the next few days were interesting.

Here's the list of good fortune...... I was wearing a helmet, and when my head hit, the helmet protected me. Else, I'd be a vegetable today. I was wearing the leathers, and the raingear, else my skin would be all over the road. I was far enough away from the guy in front of me that I didn't slide into him. I did NOT slide into the oncoming traffic. The woman behind me was far enough behind me that SHE was able to stop. And, I have motorcycle insurance (not required in WA) and medical coverage as a result of my job.

Here's the list of bad decisions..... I had worn my multi-tool on my right hip, and landed on it, thereby causing the world's largest bruise with a white Leatherman imprint in the center.....I had been so concerned about getting to the sales meeting that I had forgotten about the leaves.......

And here's the list of good decisions.....When the policewoman asked me if I'd like to go to the hospital, and having banged myself pretty badly, I thought that would be a good idea. So, even though I had been standing talking to them, they strapped me to the backboard, loaded me into the ambulance, and took me to The Zoo, their name for Harborview, which is the critical care hospital near Boeing Field.

And that's where the gratitude really started to kick in. After I had been X-Rayed and CAT scanned, but before I had been released from observation an accident victim was brought into the emergency room and placed on the bed adjacent to me. He'd been changing a truck tire in the shop he works for, and it had exploded on him. The injuries were blunt force trauma and brutal. He had a compound fracture of the leg, compound fracture of his clavicle, and blunt trauma injuries to his abdomen. And, in order for the staff to repair these, they had to re-insert them into his body, which is basically torture. And, they needed a urine sample, and inserting a catheter into one's penis I now fully understand as torture also. For about an hour they tortured him while I sat there listening and thanking God that it wasn't me, and that I was going to be OK.

An hour or so later, I walked out of the hospital, walked down the hill to gather my wits, then took a taxi back to the motorcycle, which suffered only minor scrapes and damage, and got on it, and rode it home, then spent the entire rest of the day in bed.

So much worse this could have been.

So, I blamed it on the new rear tire which had a different, harder compound, but after a while I came to realize that it really was the leaves, and not the tire. But, I'm still a bit reluctant to ride quite as hard as I had been, and at my age that's probably a good thing.

Thanks,
JW

More Motorcycle Stuff

So, you'd think I'd have learned the lesson by now, right? Nahhhh, brain dead apparently.

Bike had been reluctantly turning over when I pushed the starter button. Struggled to turn, then kind of revved up. In retrospect of course it was a starter issue, but what did I know. It took me right up to the moment it died, on a Monday morning in a ferry lineup. You know, one of those kinds of days where you're hoping to get a great jumpstart on the week by showing up at the office all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?

OK, so they let me push start it to get it on the ferry, then it worked (thank you) for the exit. Worked at work, kept it running to get on the ferry, and then asked them to park me at the top of the ramp in case it didn't start on the exit at Southworth, which it didn't. Ran it down the ramp, rode it home, and put it to bed for a week or two.

Finally got the energy and time, got down on my knees and belly, and figured out how to remove the starter. After all that time, THEN I Googled it and found the instructions, since the manual I have was pretty cryptic about it all. Sort of "loosen the bolts and slide it out", forgetting conveniently the part about "loosen the entire exhaust system, remove the exhaust manifold, remove the stud bolt from the exhaust manifold flange, and then carefully extract the starter while the entire bike is on the side stand not the center stand, so that the chain gear does not fall down irretrievably into the crankcase....."

EBay supplied the starter rebuild kit. I removed the brush cap, determined it was the brushes, replaced them, tested it on the bench, reinstalled it with MUCH difficulty (note the starter gear internal alignment issue that is the reason it was to be disassembled on the side stand) , and it ran wonderfully for ten starts. Then, nothing.

Open it again, this time removing the field coils to determine that the internal contact on the positive electrode has broken off; figured I'm in for a penny, so brazed the contact back on, re-assembled and re-installed the starter, only to have it not work at all, even after the bench test confirmed it working.

Push-started the bike, drove around for ten miles, re-tried the starter, it worked like a charm, each and every attempt.

So, fueled the bike up, and went to leave the gas station on the way for a Sunday ride and?

The clutch cable broke.

Walked a block to the WalMart, bought a cheap vise-grip, clamped the cable-end to the clutch handle, and nursed the bike home..... Jumped in the sports car, drove 125 miles to the dealer (round trip, Port Orchard to Tacoma to Lynnwood return...) and finally got the new cable installed late last night.

Apparently it works. And, with the new rear tire, we're actually confident about leaning into a turn and seeing what will happen.

Yippee, my commuting times just dropped by one and one half hours daily, and the cost just dropped by 2/3. Ya gotta love motorcycles.

So, I bought a new engine for $100 bucks, just to have a spare, AND the guy delivered it right to my back door.

USS Seawolf

This is the Coast Guard vessel guarding Rich Passage for the passage of the USS Seawolf into Bremerton last weekend.

Volleyball Girls Alki Beach

Saw some young women playing, asked to photograph, said yes, here they are.