Friday, June 29, 2012

Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack

Keef...

We can't do anything
Any trick in the book
We can't go anywhere
As long as we care

We ought to be locked away

We ought to be locked away
Locked away...
Yeah.  What he said. It occurred to me while sittin' out on the verandah that I've said good-bye... pretty much a FINAL good-bye... to at least two wimmen in the past two weeks or so, neither of which was under the happiest o' circumstances (to say the VERY least).  That got me to thinkin'... is it me or them?  I mebbe shouldn't go there, for that way madness lies.

On another note... we did our semi-monthly run out to Cannon Airplane Patch earlier this afternoon for to go to the commissary and the Class VI store.  Mission accomplished and all that, sans flight suit.  On the way out and back The Tart was telling me the ambient temp was either 102 or 103, which is pretty damned hot.  The strange thing?  It doesn't FEEL like that, at all.  As a s'matter o' fact, we're just in from a two-beer, one cigar Happy Hour on the verandah and I swear... it's comfortable outside.  Warm, yes.  Unbearable?  No... emphatically so.  This is what we look like at the time o' this posting:


Hot.  But not unbearably so... note the humidity.

On yet another note... The Tart also tells me my average speed since she's been mine is 44.9 mph.  Really?  I've done one road trip to ABQ and the rest o' the time we've spent together has been in the local area.  That seems rather fast, no?

And on a FINAL note... there was a time when 100+ degree temps didn't bother me at all.  I'm speaking about that year I spent in the Mojave, during which time we'd take the mo'sickle out and tear us up some desert on just about any given day when I had the time to do that sorta thang, which was often.  Like this:

In the Mojave at a hare 'n' hounds race, c.1971.

OK... that was just an excuse to indulge in a lil nostalgia and self-promotion.  Coz we're like that.

8 comments:

  1. And you're entitled to indulge yourself!

    So, no goodbyes here -- Hi, Buck!!!

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  2. How many cubes that old bike have? 'Cuz me 'n little brother used to have a 125 that looked EXACTLY like that. Well, except... on ours the bars were pretty rusty.

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    1. It's a highly-modified Yamaha DT-1, Inno. 250cc's o' screamin' mean machine.

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  3. GOD how time flies! In '71 I was still a single & "dashing" 27 yr-old Capt fighter pilot in the good 'ole US of AF. Now I'm just an old fossil thats been married for 39 years..

    And by the way, weren't YOU the guy that just a short time ago were whining that I couldn't drag you out on the tennis courts in the afternoon heat? And now I read/see THIS about you cavorting around in the Mojave in the heat of the afternoon??? LOL. There's an old athletic saying that "Fatigue makes cowards of us all," well, so does age. LOL!!!

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    1. Riding fast mo'sickles and playing tennis are horses of entirely different colors, Virg. I agree on the age/cowardice thang, though.

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  4. My last motorcycle was a yamaha 125 (1974 or so). I loved that thing, and muddy valleys and steep cliffs gave me the dirt on my body that young men need. Alas, it whipped my ass, and my back still hurts whenever it feels like it thinks I forgot about it, and then wham. Been there, done that, is my motto. I don't need to be killed a second time to get the message, that 4-wheels is gooder n better.

    I hate to say this, but it is you. You see, some older men don't realize they are fossils. It takes women to remind you of that. Which is why I sort of enjoy molesting women (verbally only) in the stores, because I kind of enjoy them telling me how fossil I am. Then too, none of them could really satisfy me anyway. Not like those who did when I was 20...

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    1. I miss two wheels... a LOT. I'm still thinkin' about that Harley, though. And thanks for lettin' me know it's me. Feedback is good, even if I disagree, and I most certainly DO. How in the hell could it POSSIBLY be me? ;-)

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