The Bitch is Back

Well, the day has finally come.  After successfully unloading the mainstream bike to someone who loves it a little too much (more on that to come), there is a new horse in the stable.  This process was a pain in the ass.  In theory, selling something more expensive to purchase something less expensive, should be a walk in the park.  Well, this turned into a walk in the park at midnight being chased by the things that go bump in the night.  In more direct terms, it was not as easy as it should have been.

Things being what they are, life always comes before self.  I have no problem with that whatsoever.  So, my search dragged out for a few more weeks than I had originally anticipated.  But hey, shit happens for a reason.  My original plan was to get a bigger bike, albeit still relatively new.  However, after a douche bag tried to pawn his piece of shit off on me for a ridiculous price, I re-thought the whole process.  I have been fascinated with older bikes since this love affair with two wheels began.  I do not like bling-bling.  I do not necessarily want comfort.  I have no need for saddle bags, cup holders, floorboards, or the like.  Nope, I want raw speed.  Or as Elanor Roosevelt so bluntly put it, "America was built on speed.  Hot, nasty ass speed."  So the search was on at that point.  I wanted lighter, quicker, and older.  Yeah, Baby Cheryls and I are that way.  We don't crave the new.  We crave the unique.

I literally spent two weeks stalking craigslist.  Hoping to sneak up on someone and steal what was rightfully theirs.  I had a price limit, an idea, a geographical area, and a can fucking do attitude.  I finally found something I fell in love with: a 1980 Suzuki GS1000G.  She is tall and lean.  One of the original superbikes; the precursor to the modern day rice-burning crotch rocket.  She is blue in color (at this time at least) and hopefully full of piss and vinegar.  After a few nights of nervous anticipation, her original master agreed to sell her to me. 






Excuse the picture, I did not take a proper "before" picture.  Cheryl and I made the trek to St. Petersburg, Fla.  Oddly enough, this is where I found my other girl.  She has turned out to be better than I could have imagined.  So, I am hoping the symbolic lightning will strike twice for me.  We rolled out at 4:45am, all 2 and 3/4's of us---she is eight months pregnant by the way.  Five hours we drove to the middle of Florida, to a quaint little sleepy neighborhood where a sleeping beast had gone into hibernation.  After giving her a proper kick of the tires, I decided what I already knew: the bitch was back.  After two flat trailer tires, two hours in a Wal-Mart parking lot, and two shitty Olive Garden lunches, we busted it back to Dookietown.  The fire-breathing monster is still resting in various different areas of my self-made garage.  This is still a time of rest.  Once I am done injected my own mixture of desire, creative vision, and mechanical know-how, she will roam the streets once again.  Weekenders beware.  There is a monster lurking in the shadows.  A little more time (and money) and you will know her name.

I cannot begin to express my uttermost appreciation to my wife and road partner.  She has to put up with my highs and lows throughout this process.  However, she knows the good that come of this for me.  And I love her for it all.  It is my intention to document this as best I can.  I have only done small things to this point.  However, she will fly again.  Mark my words.  This is a demon is sheep's clothes.  Nothing ordinary about this one.  Just pure balls.

Why I Think I Hate Facebook and other random thoughts.

As we (KGJ and I) were out walking our pot-bellied Labrabull, I came to a conclusion.  There are too many distractions in life.  Now I am just as guilty as the next schmuck when it comes to getting distracted.  However, when all the smoke clears, we are just left with ourselves.  I took a quick glance at my "friends" on Facebook when I got home.  I knew full-well what I would find: people I barely know.  I grew up with some of these people, went to college with some of these people, and have the pleasure of calling some of these people family.  But still, I know none of you.  And you do not know me either.  If you did, chances are you probably would not like me enough to be my "friend" on Facebook.


This nightly ritual that Kaighty and I have developed has become very cathartic.  As we lug the 40 lbs. of Harley around the rotting neighborhood we live in, we are connecting in a way that I bet not many do any more.  We are exercising our bodies, minds, and our relationship.  I talk more to my daughter on these walks than I talk to most anyone else during the day.  And guess what, she talks to me too.  I don't have to post on her wall or send her a private message.  Nope, she is right there.  Learning to communicate with me, father to daughter.  We live in a world that makes it really easy to conduct relationships online.  As a result, we become dependent on electrons to carry out our most basic emotions.  What the hell happens when the lights go out people?  Are you going to adapt and overcome or are you going to fade into the darkness for good?

The reality behind all of this is that we are left with nobody to call our own if we continue down this road to nowhere.  I have family members that would rather communicate with us via Facebook than visit with us face to face.  The computer hides all of your ugliness.  You can be whomever you want to be hiding behind a computer screen.  You can take your shots at people indirectly.  You can pretend to be involved in someone's life as long as they accept your friend invitation.  You can also invade someone's privacy cloaked by anonymity.

Who and what I love and care for is right in the next room.  If I want to go yell at them for not cleaning their rooms, I can.  If I want to give hugs and kisses, I can.  If I want to go into a peaceful room and fart just to get a reaction, I will.  The point is, we know how to communicate with each other still.  We have to keep this alive.  It is the very life-blood of our existence.  I want to be apart of their lives, not a lurker on Facebook.  That is the easy way out.  So do us all a favor, don't send your invites to stupid events.  Don't sent out requests for prayers.  Don't "like" my status updates.  Don't even think about asking me to share some fucking mindless link to ten of my friends.

Because guess what?  You are no longer there.  If you want to be apart of our lives, you know where we are.

New and Improved.........with the song d'jour

Jack of all trades, master of none.  That should be engraved on urn when I leave this earth.  Now, I am trying my hand at HTML.  Yeah, I don't understand a damn thing about it either.  However, it's pretty much my lazy ass ripping off someone's contribution to the interwebs.  Therefore, without any more unnecessary diarrhea of the mouth, I give you my blog: Jowers MC Est. 2011 version 2.0.  Now with more music.

Just click on the bottom of the page for my choice of tunes for the day.  Careful, this may blow your computer speakers up.  Or you may hate me and never come back to my little bloggy.  Nevertheless, this is a major part of who I am.

So for all of your aural pleasures (minds out of the gutters peeps!), I present to you a mighty fine band: Anthrax.  The Song d'jour (SDJ from now on): The Devil You Know.

Octopus and Our Near Death Experice(s)

One of the greatest pleasures in my adult life is taking my wife out for sushi.  Typically, this only occurs when we are without our kids.  They have not yet developed their love for Asian cuisine.  So, when a free night presents itself, we head towards our favorite sushi bar, Ichiban. 

I never much cared for the stuff until Cheryl came along.  Now, I absolutely love it.  More often than not, our sushi order includes California rolls, Volcano rolls, Shrimp Tempura, and something a little more less cooked.  Last night, my choices were raw Tuna rolls and octopus.  Yep, octopus.  I've had many raw items over the years, but this was my most daring choice yet.  To my surprise, they were awesome.  A little chewy, but awesome.  Those are the suction cups in the picture and they were very flavorful.

My four month pregnant wife decided she was game to ride the bike to dinner last night.  Again, I love when this happens.  There is no greater feeling than tearing down the road with you "old lady" on the back.  I'm pretty sure she enjoys it as well.  After dinner, we hit up Target for some maternity clothes shopping.  Upon our exit from the store, we were almost killed by some dumb-ass girl in the parking lot.  This idiot was focusing way too hard on her cell phone conversation and not navigating her automobile.  She cut across aisles in the parking lot until she was in our aisle, just a few feet from us.  A wreck of any kind would not be good at this point.  Let alone a wreck with a pregnant woman on the back of a motorcycle.  So I would like to personally thank this horrible 20 year old college student who almost ruined my life.  Pay attention!  Life does not revolve around your I-phone.  Put it down when you are driving.  Seriously, what the hell did we do before cell phones?  What is so damn important that you have to constantly have a phone glued to your ear?  My bike weighs 600 pounds.  Your car weighs considerably more.  You could kill me, my wife, and unborn child.  Not to mention leave my two living children parent-less.  So again, I thank you for not killing me.

Did I mention that we almost got wiped out on the way home by another dumb-ass who cut us off without looking?  Yeah, it was a night full of near-misses.

The Beard

I'm not sure what spurred the beard on.  However, I'm not sure that it will ever go away.  The beard has become an extension of my inner-self.  It is my proverbial "middle-finger" to society.  It is me showing my rebellion on my face.  Oh yeah, I'm a rebel at heart.  It took me a long time to come to that conclusion.  However, now that I have arrived at this destination of the soul, I feel at home. 

 The beard now has a life of its own.  Soon, it will have its own zip code.  Perhaps as the years have rolled on, I have assumed the role of the common man.  I no longer want to be this person.  I want to see something wrong with the world I live in and immediately fix it.  No, I'm not talking about curing poverty and hunger around the world.  Nope, I talking on a much more local level.  Hopefully, I can provide specifics on this as I write here.  But, to come full circle, the beard gives me the power to do these things.  The beard will be my source of inner strength for years to come.  I know it sounds stupid.  But, everyone hides behind something.  Whether its a telephone, computer screen, or a title, we all hide.  The beard lets me hide in plain sight.  You may think just another unassuming jackass with a beard.  However, there are mystical powers that are laying in those wiry red hairs.  Trust me. 

I'm not sure why it took me so long to grow the beard.  I've always wanted to do it.  But, never had the balls to I guess.  I know at times it looks ratty.  I know its uneven and not properly trimmed.  However, so am I.  Nothing about me is what it should be.  That's just who I am.  A walking contradiction to all stereotypes.  I'm not what you think I am nor what I probably should be.  However, what I am is a decent guy who loves his wife and his children.  I loose focus far too often and pay way too much attention to things I shouldn't.  I am one of the nicest people you will ever meet.  But I just might tell you to fuck off.  The beard gives me that power.

Number 3

While I know that this has been real for some time now, today reality finally struck.  It struck in the form of a heartbeat.  Beating along to the tune of 160 beats per minute.  Like some hopped-up thrash metal drummer inside of my wife, this unknown member of our family made his/her presence known today.  I can only imagine what this child will be like.  Of course, there is the obvious sex question.  Boy?  Girl?  Who knows.  And honestly, who cares.  They're all great.  Between Cheryl and I, along with Kaighty and Avery, there are many possibilities for who number three will resemble the most.  Then again, this could be something totally different. 

Nonetheless, today was a good day.  You made yourself heard and then you made your Mom sick.  Way to go little one!  We eagerly await your arrival.