My "Office"

This is what I'm thinking for my mobile "office". I like it... But it might be a little over the top? Yes? No? Probably be pretty spendy to get all these logos made too...

Its HERE!

www.mobilemrt.com

My website is up. If you read my blog... which I'm pretty sure you dont, please comment! I'd like to know what I can do to make the site better.

Its coming.

Playing Fetch.

Why is running back and forth chasing a ball while sweating buckets and crashing into other sweaty guys and getting the ball smashed into your face while wearing glasses so much fun?

Wish I'da discovered basketball about 20 years ago.

Politicians and Educators...

Rough draft of my thoughts on the current situation in education here in Idaho. As a teacher, I'm disgusted- mainly with the fact that a politician that has never set foot in a classroom is ramming idiotic laws into place and driving excellent teachers away from the state.


The students come first? Has anyone asked the students what they want? I did. At the end of last semester, I included this question in my final exam- “If you could change one thing about Mr. T’s class, what would it be and why?”
Since I teach Tech and Design, Metals, and Small Engine Repair, I expected the answers to be things like cooler projects, more time in the shop, less writing, nicer computers, or something along the lines of more variety of topics or more time spent on a topic the student enjoyed. I was amazed at their answers. My assumptions were totally false.

Most of the students said that if they could change something it would be: a Teachers Aide while working in the shop, more one-on-one time with the teacher, a longer class period to work on projects, more room in the classroom, more space in the shop, or less crowded lines around the tools. I did also have one student ask if we could convert the drinking fountain in my classroom to dispense chocolate milk. Still looking in to that one.

Obviously, for this question there was no wrong answer but I still felt bad going over the test with them. I had to explain to them what was being proposed at the time. The amount of teachers in Idaho was going to be reduced by 770. We did some simple math- if each of those teachers taught 20 students, how many students are now teacher-less? The answer is 15,400. Those students aren’t magically going to disappear, which means that class sizes are going to increase. I have been told that my classroom was designed to hold 18 students. Already my class has 4 extra chairs in it. Add to that the fact that I don’t teach just one class, but FOUR different classes, I have a lot of stuff crammed into a fairly small space. Where am I going to put extra students and how am I going to pay for the added tools and supplies needed so they have something to work on?

My wife is currently finishing her degree in Elementary Education. One of the classes she has this semester studies the history of education. If there is one thing that has been proven already- it is that larger classes don’t work. I believe that each student deserves one-on-one time with the teacher. Every one of them is unique, individual, and different. They learn in their own ways and have different problems with different things. If I can’t spend that one-on-one time with a student, they are going to struggle more. If I don’t understand something and have no one to ask for help, it is easy for me to get frustrated and just give up. Students shouldn’t have to experience that. Teachers should be able to reach everyone individually and meet their needs.

On-line classes? Talk about impersonal! Give each student a laptop, expect them to take care of it for 4 years (I’m not really sure how useful a 4 year old laptop will be to a new college student), and tell them to get to work. Even for the most motivated person, this is an extreme challenge. On-line classes are hard. To succeed in taking a class like this, you have to be very well organized. You have to have the time to do it. You have to be prepared to find answers on your own when something is unclear. You have to be prepared for problems with the equipment, misunderstandings because of poor communication, and you have to be prepared to do it all by yourself. That’s right. All by yourself. Occasionally, there is a teacher you will get to “talk” to. If you’re lucky, your teacher will respond to you within 24 hours. Not real helpful when you have a really simple question that has a really simple answer but puts you at a stand-still on an assignment. Students simply can’t get that one-on-one attention they need to succeed.

One last thing I really don’t understand about the on-line classes. Someone has to teach them, right? Where are these teachers coming from? If the State of Idaho cuts 770 teachers next year to fund laptop purchases and implement internet classes, who is going to teach them? Even if the program and curriculum is already developed, someone is going to have to direct, answer questions, give assignments, grade assignments, follow up with missing assignments, adjust schedules, the list goes on and on. An on-line class won’t run itself. So who’s going to run them? The money to pay these online teachers is generated by getting rid of teachers we already have, in the classroom, that give your student immediate guidance. We’re just shifting jobs from teachers to where, exactly?

The students know what they want. Research has shown what students need. Their wants and needs are aligned, yet those in charge continue to push their will. They feel they know what’s best- based on what experience? I don’t claim to have any answers, but I do know that eliminating teachers is going in the wrong direction. If the students come first, they should be getting the help that they need to succeed. They won’t find that help in a computer or from an over worked teacher. They will find that support as they work with and come to know their teachers. I am an Idaho Educator, and I want your student to succeed!

Chapter 4: Live to fight another day.

Having triumphed over the biggest problem and getting the bike to run, there really wasn’t much left to do. As all good things seem to do, the story came to an end not to much later.

I did manage to score some parts from a motorcycle nut and get POJ on the road. This guy makes me look like an amateur. He had probably more than 100 bikes in various states of decompose. Waterbuffalos, Suzuki ram airs, Honda scramblers, dirt bikes, dual sports, street bikes, you name it, he had it! In his pile were two or three old Yamaha 100’s. Unfortunatley, most of them were Twinjets and built more for street. The twinjet is one sweet looking maching. Looks just like POJ but they had a TWO CLINDER 100cc oil injected engine sits under the tank! He “lent” me a back wheel that turned out to be too small but still worked and a few other little bits and pieces.

Armed now with the major missing piece and enough bicycle parts that I thought I could get it “on the road”, I set to work. The end result was a ratty old bike with a teeny back wheel, a rats nest of wiring hanging out from under the seat, a CAR BATTERY tied on to the rear rack with an old bicycle inner tube, bicycle cables cut / bent / tied on to get working throttle and brakes, and positively no silencer. Quite the opposite, in fact… It had a pipe in the shape of a megaphone, and when I say POJ was loud, POJ was LOUD.

The maiden voyage… I don’t recall exactly how well it went, but if my memory serves me correctly it was something like this: Dump just enough gas in for it to run for about 3 minutes. There was no fuel petcock, so we had just jammed a rubber stopper in the hole and ran a line from the special crossover bungs on the underside of the tank directly to the carb. The needle in the carb didn work worth a hoot so as soon as you put gas in it, it started spraying gas all over the place out the overflow. Once the gas was in and leaking (pre-mix, of course, cause the oil lines were long gone even though the tank was still there), hook the piece of extension cord we cut up over the positive terminal on the car battery tied to the back. Wiggle said connection until the dash lights came on, and then kick the starter! It started relatively well- usually first or second kick. Drat. Forgot earplugs. Shut bike off by removing extension cord from battery. Find helmet / ear plugs or roll the bike outside so the echo in the shed wouldn’t cause my head to implode. Re-attach cable. Kick. Kick. Kick. Kick. Dump in more gas cause it all leaked out. Kick. Hey, its running! Click it into first, slowly let out the clutch, annnnnnddddd we’re moving!!! Give it a little gas and shift into second. What?! Neutral? Where’s second? Oh. Who the heck does the shift pattern ALL DOWN!?

At this point, POJ’s story gets a little blurry. Life, as it is said, is what happens while you are busy making other plans. I had grand dreams for POJ. Like a dying fire, they cooled and eventually went out with the onset of winter. It was a running bike, true, but it was ancient, heavy, loud, and unreliable. Turns out a fellow student at school was looking for something ancient, heavy, and loud. Well, he was really just looking for something that ran and he could actually ride. We eventually struck a deal- I gave him POJ in return for a ’76 Kawasaki KE175 that someone had taken great time to polish, shine, and update, then promptly blew the motor. I do remember taking POJ for one last spin on a VERY cold February evening.

The next evening I was pushing the Kawasaki into POJ’s special parking place on the dark side of the garage- the side where my Dad piled all of his really REALLY useless stuff. That’s sayin something.

I was getting pretty good with wrenches. My parents had sent me to live with a friend of theirs in the summers that had a lawnmower repair shop and I had a learned a thing or 3 about engines. Mostly 4 stroke lawnmowers, true, but a thing none the less! I was confident I could figure this bike out in no time. Heck, it was practically brand new!

Little did I know. I never did come up with a good name for the KE, but if I had, it would have been something like Money Pitt, Pushmehome, Purgatory, or something along those lines. I should have just doused it in gasoline, lit a match, and walked away.

Blast from the past!

In my continuing search for POJ pictures, my parents turned up a couple of semi-related bike pics. This is the bike I ended up with after POJ- a 1976 Kawasaki KE175. We had a love hate relationship that I may explain someday in my POJ story. The other bike is a '70's Honda XR100 ridden either by my little bro or a friend. It was a different friends bike, the helmet belonged to someone else, and I just cant tell. Sad, eh? We had a lot of fun on this bike. Clint would race CR250's around the track and WIN. That is until he snapped the rear shock IN HALF and ripped the muffler off a lap later. Enjoy!

Helllo? Is this thing on?

Huh. Didnt think so.

Takes a 'Lickin and keeps on tickin

Update on my John Deere Liquifire project... Went and road the first sled for about 5 hours / 35 miles! The good: it ran great the entire time- started, worked great, didnt die, made it all the way in and all the way out. Did okay in the deeper snow too, but sure sucked on the hills and doesnt go to fast unless you're on the harder stuff. On hard packed roads it went like stink, 'round 80 mph!

The bad- headlight quit workin, seems like the head gasket might be leakin into the cylinder and it was real hard to start after I got it home. Think thats because the cylinder filled up with coolant. Going to have to check that out. Anyways, PICS!

Chapter 3: The Ressurection

We spent weeks working on POJ. Every spare minute I had was involved with tinkering on that stupid bike. The biggest problem was, of course, the fact that it was seized. I didn’t have money to spend on this thing, nor did I really want to at that point. It was just kinda fun be able to say that I had a motorobike! As brilliantly talented and gifted 14 yr olds, we came up with an excellent way of un-seizing the bike. We pulled the head off, soaked it in WD40, and then proceeded to spend the next 4 weeks jumping up and down on the kickstarter. Every now and then we would try heating up the cylinder with a little torch. Soak, Heat, Jump, Repeat. Can you see this going anywhere? We eventually gave up.

I guess at this point I should point out that as a younger kid, my Dad referred to me a lot as “tenacious”. At the time, I thought he was cussing at me or something, but I really don’t give up on anything to easily. After a short break from our hammer, I was back tinkering with POJ. I don’t remember how long it sat there in Clint’s garage, but it seems like it was at least a couple of months. Don’t remember what we were working on at the time, could have been the IT400 or we may have even had the El Tigre from Heck by then. Anyways, one night I went over and decided to putter with POJ.

I forwent the heat and hammer and just decided to jump on the kickstarter. Remember, it didn’t have a back wheel. It was sitting on the centerstand and I hopped on it pretty hard expecting resistance… and there was none. POJ tipped backwards, I went flying, parts were raining from the sky, but POJ was unsiezed! We whooped and hollered and thought we had made the breakthrough of the century. We were so excited we vowed to get it running that night.

Have you ever set something down, turned away, and turned back a few seconds later to find the thing GONE!? Removing the head on POJ was a pretty simple task: remove 4 cap headed extra long nuts, remove head, remove gasket. Viola, head is off! For some reason, the spot I had set the 4 nuts (on top of the woodstove) only contained THREE NUTS. No big deal, we got the thing unsiezed so how hard could it be to find a nut? Famous last words.

Granted, it had been several weeks since I had taken the head off and set the head bolts on the top of the stove, but the other three were still there, so the last one COULDN’T have been very far! It seems like I spent weeks searching the shop for that stupid little nut but now that I think about it it was probably only an hour or two. I did end up finding it- mixed in with a pile of parts that at one point had been a Suzuki Titan 500. At least, I’m pretty sure it came from POJ and not from the Titan… Either way, it fit, it looked like the others, and it worked.

I slapped the head on (upside down, it turns out, as I discovered 15 years later) and set about getting the thing to run. The fact that it was the dead of winter didn’t deter me- I had ridden bikes in the snow before, and I’m pretty sure at this point I had even invented my “ski-bike”. Imagine my chagrin when I suddenly and unexpectedly had a free motor with good compression- and no spark.

Electronics and I get along about as well as cats and water. It really doesn’t make much sense to me other than if you do it wrong, the smokes gets out and I’ll be darned if you can get the smoke back in. I didn’t realize this at the time, but a couple of years later I was tinkering with a Honda Twinstar that also had no spark. Very bad experience, both with stealerships and my fat fingers, that has led to a lifetime of angst for all things electronic. Don’t get me wrong, I can and do wire / troubleshoot / fix electronics, its just not my favourite thing in the whole wide world. The next few months were long and uneventful. I figured (rightly so it turned out) that the reason for the lack of spark was largely due to the missing key switch. There were 7 or so wires that were just hanging out of the battery area. I tried every combination I could think of with those five wires before I realized that one was a battery ground and one was a battery hot… Hmmm.. wonder what happens if I hook it up to power?

After even more experimenting, cleaning points, trying 50 different spark plugs, and hooking a battery up to it, I finally hit on a combination that GOT THE BIKE TO SPARK!!! One of the extra wires had to be grounded, and two of them had to be jumpered to power.

The second I had spark, it took all of three seconds to screw the plug in, squirt some gas through the carb, and give it a kick. WOW, is this bike every loud. IT RUNS!!! Well, it runs as long as you keep squirting gas in it while its hooked up to the battery charger. Oh yeah, and theres still no back tire.

The latest project(s)... a John Deere Snowmachine.

Yes, I said snowmachine. In Idaho, we go "Snowmachining". In Canada, we went Ski-dooing. Washington- just sledding. Been playing with a trio of '76 John Deere Liquifires. Got enough parts between the three to build (hopefully) two useable sleds. Got one up and running and hope to have the other one moving during Christmas break!

One of the best things about starting something up that has sat for probably 10 years is the SMOKE. Dont know why, but man, do old vehicles belch a lot of junk out after theyve been sitting awhile.

































We were even lucky enough to get a SNOW DAY! Spent the afternoon puttsing around town on the one, enough to realize its got a ways to go.

Chapter 2: Along Comes POJ.

Have you ever been ice-fishing? Let’s just sum it up in two words: It Sucks. Yes, with a capital “S”. I have never been very fond of fishing, but Ice fishing? Where you get to walk out on a huge chunk of ice hoping that it’s not really going to break even though you keep hearing cracks like gunshots and friends telling stories of dynamite retrieving dogs that like to hide under brand new trucks parked on the ice? Did I also mention it’s usually quite cold when you do this? Basically, you go out on a frozen lake. Drill or hack a hole in the ice. Drop a line in and then sit and watch this hole. Yup, pretty darn fun.

For some reason, at about the age of 15, I actually thought this was “fun”. Let’s pretend your 15. You got up at 4:00 in the morning some freezing winter day during Christmas break cause the early fisher gets the fish, or something like that. You’ve been standing on a frozen lake in the middle of the Alberta Prairies, where the wind has likely been blowing about 30 mph all week. The sun FINALLY comes up. You’re bored. You haven’t had a single bite.

Obviously, it’s time to do something else. Not much else around but a couple of ancient run down grain bins on the side of the leg. Guess it’s time to go exploring! My friend and I wandered over to the shore which was part of an old farm yard. The grain bins were in pretty sorry shape. We peaked in one or two to find nothing of interest. One of them, on the other hand, had a great deal of interesting lumps of metal coated in a warm blanket of dust patiently waiting out the winter. Motorcycles! Hundreds of them! Parts hanging from the rafters! Extra motors lined up waiting to be installed in future projects!

Okay, not really. There were a couple of bent up frames, 3 or 4 engines that had seen much better days, several used tires, and one half of a motorcycle. Well, maybe more like two thirds of a motorcycle. This two thirds of a motorcycle was the one that started it all!

We spent a couple of hours in the shed, poking through all of the stuff and dreaming of all the things we could do. All these tires, a Hodaka motor that kicked over, bits of motorcycle frames, we could make a killer go-cart!!! The two thirds of a motorcycle we inspected carefully. It was ROUGH. It had no back wheel. Engine covers were off, engine was stuck, side cover was missing, tire (the front one, cause the back one didn’t exist!) was flat, center stand was bent out of shape, and lots of dings, dents, and rust.

It was OLD. Metal everything. We weren’t too interested, because at the time we were into the REAL dirt bikes- like the CR60, YZ80, and IT400. This old thing was a boat anchor. We thought we could do SOMETHING with it though, and all of the other parts had to be worth something.

Luckily, my friends dad was a realtor and he knew exactly who owned the property. We called him up and asked what his plans were for all of that junk, to which he replied, “Take anything you want!”

Didn’t need to tell us twice!!!

We zipped back out there later that day with my friends dads little pickup. There was a brief encounter with a slightly irate farm hand who was a little perturbed that we were loading a bunch of stuff in the back of the truck. We explained to him what his boss had told us, and I guess that was good enough for him because he left us alone to gather our junk.

At this point, I need to say something about garages. My parents, well, my Dad, has a thing for junk. He collects it by the ton. He’s very good at presentation though, so you don’t really notice it. Unless you happen to be a friend of his or even a friend of mine that has garage space or a farm where old dead tractors, combines, trucks, lawnmowers, etc could be stored. Needles to say, our garage was quite full of STUFF. Cant remember for sure but at the time I think he was working on restoring an old wood burning cook stove and the second Honda Odyssey, both of which turned out really nice and are even still in use (sorta) today. Between his projects, tools, spare parts, and the two cars in that garage, there wasn’t much room for any of my projects.

This wasn’t as big a deal as it could have been. You see, Clint’s Dad had a LARGE shop behind there house, and he never used it. At one point I think we had 7 or 8 sleds, 5 or 6 bikes, a fourwheeler, a boat, and several other assorted bits of machinery in various stages of disrepair. It was a great shop. Had a big sliding door, a loft for storing parts, and most importantly, a HEAT SOURCE!

My parents garage was stuffed full. I was not allowed to have a motorcycle. Hmmm… Two strikes against me. Just meant we had to haul all of the stuff over to Clints house and clear a spot for it in his garage.

It didn’t take long for us to come up with a very fitting name for the bike: POJ. Piece. Of. Junk. Pronounced “Podge”. It was trashed. Bent handlebars. Missing grips. No back tire. Engine seized. Airbox missing. Carb cover missing. Oil cable missing. Clutch lever missing. The bike was 30 years old, weighed a TON, the list could go on and on. I do believe its only saving grace was that it was MINE! Well, half mine anyways… I still wasn’t allowed to have a motorcycle, but it seems my parents were okay with me having HALF of a bike (maybe more like a ¼ of a bike, since there was only half a bike there!) as long as it didn’t come home.

Chapter 1: A New Beggining, An Old Story.

Its time. This is the story about me, motorcycles, and memories. We'll see how long I can keep this up for, but don't hold your breath- I don't do so well at continuing things like this.

A Brief introduction…

I like bikes. Really, I like anything with a motor. Sometimes as long as it has wheels the motor isn’t even necessary. My FAVOURITE thing, however, is when you combine two wheels and an engine. I have had a thing for bikes since around the age of 8, at which point in my life my parents informed me that motorcycles were the devil and I wouldn’t own one while I was living in their house. Turns out they were wrong, but we’ll get there in a minute.

I had ridden a bike or two- a neighbor had a PW50 that we would spend hours on going around and around and around and around their yard on. As I got a little bigger, I got more interested in 4 wheelers. Thankfully, the training wheels stage didn’t last very long, although I do have many fond memories of a certain Honda Fourtrax that we put several hundred miles on in, around, through, over, and across our small town- even somewhat legally. Well, it had a plate and was insured, anyways…

My motorcycling started in earnest when Clinton moved to town. Again, I wasn’t allowed to own a bike, but occasionally I was permitted to ride a friend’s around a bit. Well as it turned out, Clinton had the coolest little dirtbike I had ever seen- an early ’80 Honda CR60. Man did that thing go like stink!!! We rode it everywhere. In the alley, in his yard, in the church parking lot, in other alleys, out to the Ridge, out to the motocross track, on the south end of town when it was nothing more than a field, at Corner Lake, just everywhere. I got okay at riding, but I was kind of a chicken. I enjoyed tinkering almost more than riding. We soon outgrew the little 60, and Clinton bought a late ‘80’s YZ80 from my cousin. Now THAT was a fast bike!

The YZ opened up a whole new field for us. It was bigger, went faster, AND we still had the CR60, which meant we could BOTH ride at the same time!!! The CR was getting a bit small on me though, as I’ve always been about a foot taller than the average, and Clinton decided to buy a project bike. He hauled home a basket case Yamaha IT400. Took him a while, but after about a year, he got it together and running.

Imagine, if you will, going from a little YZ pushing maybe 26 horse power to a great big bike that was running around 60 horse power!!! It even had a speedometer so we knew just how stupid we were being.

After the IT400, there was a rapid succession of different bikes, sleds, and other toys including quads and good old Honda Odyssey’s, which was actually my first ever set of wheels. So it was, that at about age 15, I finally managed to get my very own half of a motorcycle.

Dad don't know jack.

Our local radio station had a contest last week, where you could write in and tell them why your father dont know jack.If they liked your letter, you could win 2 tickets to the Jack Johnson concert coming to Spokane this summer. I'm not big on going to concerts and stuff, but it got me thinking, and you know what? I dont think my dad knows jack! Sure, he knows how to change a tire, how to build a shed, plant a garden, fix a broxen frost free hydrant, test top secret tractors, and on and on and on,but does he know how much he taught me? Does he know I was watching when he built that shed, when he prepared his Sunday lessons,when he changed that tire? Does he know how much I appreciate the things he taught me? The time he spent showing me how to mow lawns so I could go earn my own money? Like I said, I dont think Dad knows jack. Well, Dad, now you know. Thank you for being you and teaching me all those things. Happy Fathers Day!

Apples sure dont fall far from the tree...

Turn my back for a second and hes got the whole top end torn off. (okay, not really, but he was sure bent on finding a bolt that his wrench would fit on!)

An ode to Mothers!

No, not an odour, although Moms have certainly dealt with more than their fair share of those. Plus, I'm not a hundred percent certain that this is an ode but the word ode implies something lovely and melodic and worthwile to me, something like my Mother, but she is so much more. She put me on the course to becoming what I am. She kept me on that course and spurred me on. She kept on even when it wasn't apprecieated or even wanted, or even when she met with extreme resistance. She was there when it mattered most. She is still there now that I've grown and gone, continuing to help and guide, and sharing that same excitement for life to a new generation of children to her- grandchildren. Mom, you are appreciated by your children and their spouses and childern. THANK YOU for all you have done for me!

Toy Box Tractors

My earliest memory of Grandma, was, of course, the “Tractor Grandma”. It was the highlight of our trip to get to the end of the road, as I literally thought it was at the time, and get to grandmas house! It always seemed like the drive took days and days and days and the road got worse and worse and worse. When the car would finally start slowing down on that bumpy gravel road that went straight into grandmas driveway (hence, the end of the road), I couldn’t wait to check out the tractors, cats, and toys, in that order. Oh, there was the tree house, and grandmas fabulous angel food cake with the peppermint ice cream, and the treks with grandma down to the beach to play with the Tonka toys and peddle boat, but the best part about visiting the Tractor Grandma was listening to her stories. The story about getting pulled over on the way to mutual activities in Murray’s big Bronco, the story of getting the combining done right before midnight on Saturday so they didn’t have to work on Sunday, stories of the glue bait (thats not the horses name, but it was like 25 when it finally went to the glue factory!) and of course, the stories of the cats. Grandma, Happy 85th birthday!

Blast from the past: Dipstick the dippy kitty.

So its been forever and a day since anyone has posted anything really, you know, good. (aside from the totally cute pics of isaacpunch and kadepunch over on TNT.) Anyways, i was rifling through my blog and noticed I had started a blog about Dipstick, but never posted it. Turns out, if you start one, save it, and try to post it later, it posts it to the date you started it. That was, uh.... a long time ago. Right. Copied, pasted, and added upon for your reading enjoyment.

Dipstick is a cat. A very dippy cat. Dipstick came into our lives about 3 months ago (like I said, a long time ago. When Dippy was 3 months old, we still thought he was a GIRL.), when her mommy cat disappeared and my wife took pitty on her. She was one of seven, and the only one with her distinctive markings. Sarah carefully bottle fed her and nurtured her and i got the lovely task of changing the poo-papers and bathing her daily. Dippy was a big hit with Isaac, who thinks anything that moves is cool. Especially if it has two wheels. I tried to name her (him) something cool, like Rotax, or Honda, or even 460 Big Block. In retrospect, Dipstick is a very fitting name. In more ways than one. Maybe its the fact that she (he) is an aboslute moron. Or the fact that her (his) face and paws are white like they got dipped in something. Or maybe even because she's (he's) always dipping in the toilet for her (his) drink of water. Dont you just love snuggling up to a soft fuzzy cat? Why is your face wet?

Fun with bikes!

Part of the Chantry Family Reunion- thems that gets bored with reunionizing sneaks away and makes a bunch of noise in the neighbors field! Even Olly was trying to air Bubbles out! If you look real close, you'll see my new helmet that Sarah got me for my birthday. Just came today!

Wierd.

You tell me. Think these two are related?

Scout Camp and sore feet

Well.... I'm tired. We had fun though! We left Newport around 5:00 and started hiking about 7:00. We hiked about 3 miles in, and by about 10:30 we gave up and set up camp right on the trail in the rain and the dark. It definately wasnt the best campsite, but everyone sure slept well! We woke up in the morning and broke camp. We stashed our packs and gear along the trail and hiked another mile up the trail which was covered in deadfall and broken trees- made for a fun hike! We didnt make it to the top of Hall mountian which was our intended destination. Made it back down safe and sound and stopped for ice cream in Metaline Falls! I dont know about Coreys car, but everyone in my car was out like a light for most of the drive home!

A Sampling

Digitals of the family pics steveo took for us today. Came out pretty good, hope the real ones come out better!

The last free weekend...

The last free weekend until August. Serious. We had fun though! Sarah, Steve, Eric, and I all went on the 'shortened' Selkirk loop. We left Newport around 10:30 and headed north on Hwy 20 to Tiger, then cut across the Tiger Hwy to Colville and ate at Ronnie D's! Experianced minor misting and rain on that leg. Enough that we had to stop at a thrift shop and by Sarah some new pants (that were dry) and a pair of rain pants. From there we headed south on 395 through Chewelah and on to Spokane. Between Chewelah and Spokane we experianced mondo mega super duper major amounts of rain. By this time I had about 3 inches of water in my boots. We stopped at another thrift store (spokane discount) and bought more rain gear and some dry shoes. Next stop was the General store, where we picked up a helmet for Sarah. After a quick stop at Arby's, we headed back up Hwy 2 to Newport. I think the trip was somewheres around 340 kms in about 9 hrs. It was a BLAST! Once we made it to Spokane the weather was pretty good too! Enjoy the pics!

Breaking it in.

They say if you ever get a new helmet, the very first thing you have to do with it is drop it. That way you're not affraid of scratching it. If thats the case, Isaac, Kade, Sarah, and Dipstick did an EXCELLENT job of breaking in Sarahs new couches. Dippy has been sent flying across the room twice (i'm not kidding.... she used a 700 page book each time, and had to glue the book back together the second time) for trying to claw it. Isaac and Kade have both applied liberal amounts of slime and slober, and Sarah, well, I havent been able to get her off of them yet. I guess thats a good sign?

A Definition of Abnormal.

This is a pictorial. You tell me. Is this normal?

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The Guys' Rules

At last a guy has taken the time to write this all down. Finally , the guys' side of the story.We always hear "the rules "From the female side. Now here are the rules from the male side.These are "our rules !Please note.. these are all numbered "1"ON PURPOSE!
1. Men ARE not mind readers.
1. Learn to work the toilet seat.You're a big girl. If it's up, put it down.We need it up, you need it down.You don't hear us complaining about you leaving it down.
1. Sunday sports. It's like the full moon or the changing of the tides.Let it be.
1. Shopping is NOT a sport.And no, we are never going to think of it that way.
1. Crying is blackmail.
1. Ask for what you want.Let us be clear on this one: Subtle hints do not work!Strong hints do not work!Obvious hints do not work!Just say it!
1. Yes and No are perfectly Acceptable answers to almost every question.
1. Come to us with a problem only If you want help solving it. That's what we do.Sympathy is what your girlfriends are for.
1. Anything we said 6 months ago is inadmissible in an argument. In fact, all comments become null and void after 7 Days.
1. If you think you're fat, you probably are.Don't ask us.
1. If something we said can be interpreted two ways and one of the ways makes you sad or angry, we meant the other one
1. You can either ask us to do somethingOr tell us how you want it done.Not both.If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.
1. Whenever possible, Please say whatever you have to say during commercials.
1. Christopher Columbus did NOT need directions and neither do we.
1. ALL men see in only 16 colors, like Windows default settings.Peach, for example, is a fruit, not! A color. Pumpkin is also a fruit. We have no idea what mauve is.
1. If it itches, it will Be scratched.We do that.
1. If we ask what is wrong and you say "nothing," We will act like nothing's wrong.We know you are lying, but it is just not worth the hassle.
1. If you ask a question you don't want an answer to, Expect an answer you don't want to hear. 1. When we have to go somewhere, absolutely anything you wear Is fine... Really.
1. Don't ask us what we're thinking about unless you are prepared to discuss such topics as motorcycles, tools, and golf.
1. You have enough clothes
1. You have too many shoes.
1. I am in shape. Round IS a shape!
1. Thank you for reading this.Yes, I know, I have to sleep on the couch tonight;But did you know men really don't mind that? It's like camping.

Slinkies.

Some people are like Slinkies. They're really good for nothing, but they still bring a smile to your face when you push them down a flight of stairs.

Common Sense:

Your fences need to be horse-high, pig-tight, and bull-strong.
Keep skunks and bankers and lawyers at a distance.
Life is simpler when you plow around the stump.
A bumble bee is considerably faster than a John Deere tractor.
Words that soak into your ears are whispered...not yelled.
Meanness don’t jes’ happen overnight.

Forgive your enemies. It messes up their heads.
Do not corner something that you know is meaner than you.
It don’t take a very big person to carry a grudge.
You cannot unsay a cruel word.
Every path has a few puddles. When you wallow with pigs, expect to get dirty.

The best sermons are lived, not preached.
Most of the stuff people worry about ain’t never gonna happen, anyway.
Don’t judge folks by their relatives.
Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.
Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and think back, you’ll enjoy it a second time.

Don’t interfere with somethin’ that ain’t botherin’ you none.
Timing has a lot to do with the outcome of a rain dance.
If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin’.
Sometimes you get, and sometimes you get got.
The biggest troublemaker you’ll probably ever have to deal with, watches you from the mirror every mornin’.”

Always drink upstream from the herd.
Good judgment comes from experience, and a lotta that comes from bad judgment.
Lettin’ the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier than puttin’ it back in.
If you get to thinkin’ you’re a person of some influence, try orderin’ somebody else’s dog around. Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly. Leave the rest to God.

What is it with me....

It seems I cant leave anything alone. For instance, about 2 months ago, i bought a motorcycle. Yes, i know, what was i thinking? I actually paid money for a motorcycle? Well, its been a great two months and me and "Alice" have had a lot of fun. She recently developed a habit of smoking when She first starts up. Well, I says to myself, i can fix that. So, 45 minutes later, it goes from this:




to this:

So, in the meantime, I think to myself, this is a perfect opportunity to install my new 12 volt conversion kit, 12:1 high comp. piston, longer duration cam, and oversized carb. All this on the bike that was bone stock, and i was going to keep it that way because its such a high demand collectors item. (said tounge-in-cheek...) Well mom and dad, at least you know where i'll be when you get here....

Jetskis are for sissys.

http://webpages.charter.net/450f_rdr/K_W_hydro.wmv The title says it all.

Leaving the Lights on.

Whats with men and their garage? It seems like almost every man I know has a fascination with garages, a fascination akin to what most people consider the infatuation that men have for power tools. Okay, maybe not ALL men, but a lot of them.

A mans home is his castle? Uhh, no. Theres someone else in charge there. Don't get me wrong, bieng in charge is not all its cracked up to be. I would hate to be the one that has to get me to take out the garbage, vacuum, put up the backsplash, finish the basement, or whatever the case may be. The garage however, is MY castle. You can always slink away to the garage in dull moments, moments of happines, and sometimes moments of anger. Sometimes you can even sleep in your garage! I have yet to experience that, although I'm trying to talk Sarah into living in a big garage someday...

The trick, then, is to find ways in which you can cross the border from one kingdom to the next. Luckily, taking the garbage out leads down a path that goes right past the garage! I also like to hedge my bets: if I ever DO make it out to the garage, I "accidentally" leave the lights on. A staple in our house is, "I'll be right back, I have to go turn the lights off in the garage. See you in an hour"