Mmm...I feel it. The day after soreness that comes with a long grinding ride. The sore legs, the burning butt, the aching neck, yep, they're all present and accounted for. Even my shoulders are lecturing me about overusing them.
Today's post is short and sweet. Yesterday, I rode hard, I rode long. I got lost and then found. I suffered. Two and half hours, 1900 calories burned later, this was the result.
If you are wondering where I got my calorie burned information I have included a link on the side, So Ya Wanna Burn Some Calories? I don't guarantee the accuracy, but I'm sticking with my 1900 calories burned!
You know you have them. We all try to show our intelligence by droning on and on about a foreign film involving a dog, an orphan and an umbrella. Yet, we secretly pop our popcorn and watch in delight at that Sandler comedy, or a sci-fi explosion of computer graphics, or the films that utter, "Do ya feel lucky punk?..."
I was flipping through the channels when I came upon this film. Busy folding fresh out of the dryer clothes, I initially did not pay much attention to it. It was in the middle of the movie so I did not quickly get what the plot was. Suddenly two cars were screeching through a multi-level garage! Now how could I resist the sight of two very cool looking cars getting sideways as they circled their way up this garage?
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you The Fast And The Furious: Tokyo Drift...
Here's what you need to know. This is the third installment of the Fast and Furious franchise. It's about a teenager who gets in trouble racing in America and to stay out of jail he is sent to live with his father in Tokyo. In Japan he ends up involved in drift racing and soon becomes an enemy with a guy with connections to the Yakuza. Unfortunately our hero also falls for the antagonist's girl friend. Soon they are racing to decide who will leave town for good. Hero wins, bad guy is banished from Tokyo.
Yup...that's about it. Oh yeah, I could see that Tokyo Drift was definitely based in reality. Yet, I could not take my eyes off of it. Fast cars, the bright lights of Tokyo (definitely played up in the film!)...I barely noticed all the scantily clad females! Really Andrea, barely noticed...
The fall out of Tokyo Drift is that I seem to be flooring it a little more often in the trusty Xterra. The curves of highway 17 through the Santa Cruz mountains are carved with a little more speed. I can see parents' concern over this film, as the action, other than the crashing, mangling, and dying parts, looked kind of fun! Boys and their toys.
Oh yes, after viewing Tokyo Drift, I put on Au Revoir, Les Enfant to confirm my sophistication and intelligence. Uh, yeah, that's what happened, right after the ninth viewing of cars screeching and crashing.
All I can say is, buckle up Soraya and Brandon and hold on tight!
Hmmm, you know you are getting old when an eight-year-old boy, who really doesn't care that much about music, asks you to change the music you're playing in your car. What the?!!!
There I was driving Brandon around in my car back from the orthodontist and Cold Stone Creamery and out of nowhere he asks if my car can receive Live 105. That would be the Bay Area's alternative and modern rock station. You know, the one whose target demographic does not include your's truly.
Buddy...you're gonna sit there quietly and listen and like it. Rock on little dude!
So let us review a sampling of the songs blaring out of my car's stereo...
Buddahead - Holding Me Back (2004)
Counting Crows - Accidentally in Love (2004)
Elvis Costello - Every Day I Write The Book (1983)
Joe Satriani - Why (1997)
The Spencer Davis Group - Gimme Some Lovin' (1967)
Boomtown Rats - Rat Trap (1978)
Eric Johnson - Your Sweet Eyes (2005)
Rush - Time Stands Still (1987)
Coldplay - White Shadows (2005)
Joe Jackson - Steppin' Out (1982)
Billy Paul - Me And Mrs. Jones (1972)
Okay, so maybe my music needs a little push in the updating category, however, I'm the Captain damn it!!! When I'm driving the car, it's my music!
There...I've said it...now back to Elvis Costello and the Attractions...
"I wouldn't sell my bike for all the money in the world. Not for a hundred million, trillion, billion dollars!" Pee Wee Herman Pee Wee's Big Adventure "He was very sickly until he started riding around on that bike." "Yeah...well...now his body's fine, but his mind is gone." Mrs. & Mr. Stoller Breaking Away
I love bicycles. Although there was a period in my life where there was none to be found, bikes have always seemed to play an important part in my life. I can remember every single bike I have ever owned. They have been markers, land marks in my life. Even the absences are marked by two-wheeled transportation.
The first bicycle I owned wasn't even two wheeled. It was a little red metal tricycle. I remember it as a unsatisfying replacement for that more coveted Big Wheel. I would pedal it around our court all the while wishing that it was one of those sleek plastic sleds. As I graduated from three to two wheels, I remember it sadly rusting in the corner of our side yard. It lay neglected, as I began to grow up. Next in line was a sparkling blue Schwinn. I was in my early elementary days and my parents gave me this bike. Unfortunately, once again, not quite the cool model. Although it was a Stingray, the really cool versions were the Orange Krate and the Lemon Peeler. These were definitely derivative of the 1969 film Easy Rider. Slicks on the back, chopper-style front wheel, handlebars and fork, the "bitchin'" gear shift on the top tube, I would have been the man riding this!
I could have been so dangerous on this! If only fate had been kinder to me.
My elementary years passed and dirt bikes became more in vogue, I bastardized that poor Schwinn into a pseudo-BMX bike. There seemed to be a theme developing at this moment. Although my parents were loving and generous parents, they came up short in the cool category when it came to my personal transportation. Soon after numerous off road adventures, the Schwinn joined the tricycle on the side of our house. In sixth grade I got my first taste of true speed. I wanted a ten-speed, as all the big kids were riding them. Thus I entered into the Jeunet phase of my bicycling life. An authentic French ten-speed! Thank you Mom and Dad for scoring on this one! On this French green beauty I had my first taste of freedom. With those ten gears I could zoom through out the neighborhood and beyond. Across busy Ygnacio Valley Road I would pedal as the Jeunet would take me to middle school miles away from my home. Sweet freedom. Suddenly high school hit and it was definitely not cool to ride a bike. It was a teenager's first duty to be cool and fit in (And still is by the way.) Thus, I was bikeless. I traded my bicycle for a 1960's station wagon, lovingly named the Millinium Falcom (yep, I was a Star Wars geek.) I lost all interest in cycling. Youth is definitely wasted on the young! I was no exception to that rule.
Obviously the attempts at cool didn't bear fruit. I should have kept cycling...
When I went away to college a friend of mine suggested that I get a bike so we could cruise around the town of Northridge. Unfortunately, as I was a dirt poor college student, I was only able to get one of those giveaway bikes from a stereo store. Yes, the auto kept sneaking in my life, so I bought a stereo for my car and got a bike with it. Okay, so the bike may have weighed a hundred pounds and it was more suitable as a couch, but the late nights in the San Fernando Valley pedaling around I will never forget. The warm breeze flowing through my hair as we cruised through the empty streets was magical. Stopping with my friend to look at the stars in the middle of the night, amazing, truly amazing. A few years after graduating from Cal State Northridge came the yellow Performance "mountain bike". Although heavy and an ultra-beginner model, this was the one. This was the cause of all my two-wheeled addiction. I took a bike off road for the first time in many years and rediscovered a piece of me that had been missing. The freedom, the innocence, the giddiness...it all came rushing back on the first crunch of the dirt under my tires.
Quickly I left the Performance and purchased my first real mountain bike, a Specialized Rockhopper with front suspension! Welcome to the landslide of bikes. The Rockhopper maybe lasted a year and soon I bought my first "racing" bike, an aluminum hardtail GT Zaskar.
Zaskar love on top of Mt.Tam mid-90's
At this moment I must pause. This also began the time where I could not just throw my former two-wheeled flames into the rust heap. They began to flourish in other people's possession. I don't think I could bear thinking that my trusty steeds would end up in a junk yard. My Rockhopper became my friend Karen's stationary bike.
After a couple of awesome years on the Zaskar, I moved up to full suspension. My life needed to go boing I suppose. Enter Mr. GT LTS. (The Zaskar was sold as parts to the local bike shop so it could be reincarnated.) Now just about the same time as the entrance of the full suspension LTS, road biking returned into my life. I was submerged into the biking lifestyle and I needed to train when not on my mountain bike. Who the Hell did I think I was?! I don't know, but along came the orange bullet, the LeMond Alpe d'Huez. She seemed so light next to the two-ton LTS. Yeah, the LTS could rip down a rocky mountain trail, but when it came to the pavement the LeMond was a rocket.
After a couple of years bouncing around on my LTS it was time to retire it. As it was replaced by a lighter, newer bike, the Santa Cruz Superlight, the LTS suffered the greatest insult. It became a hand-me-down to Andrea. This was my insidious plot to drag Andrea into my bicycling obsession. It failed. Soon the LTS was collecting dust in the corner of our garage.
Miles and miles of adventures I had on the LeMond and the Santa Cruz. Of the last eight years, seven were spent primarily on my Santa Cruz. Through the joshua trees of the Las Vegas desert, threading the thin trails of the Tahoe basin, climbing the cliffs of Santa Cruz county my mountain bike and I rolled. Rarely did my Lycra covered butt press against the LeMond's saddle. However, as the years passed and time became scarce, I was finding less time to spend pedaling my hours away. Before I knew it, I had owned my road bike for a decade, and yet it was becoming my constant dance partner. Who says you can't mature and be beautiful as well?!
April 2007. Why the endless rant about the bikes in my life? Andrea gave me a new road bike for my birthday. A fabulous carbon fiber beauty. But with this changing of the guard, I realize it's time to say goodbye to another two-wheeled companion. Soon my orange LeMond Alpe d'Huez will be just memories of wonderful miles gone by. My bicycles no longer become scraps on the junk pile, nor are they forced to toodle along a trail filled with seniors and children. Now, sadly they are retired, retired to the rafters of our garage to mingle with the dust and cobwebs.
I will occasionally look up to my bikes hanging from the rafters, remembering wonderful times gone by. These are my bikes, thanks for the memories.
There is not a lot I can say that would truly express the love, gratitude, amazement, respect and all the other superlatives that would go with these two people I have known for my entire life. They have been there for me during the good times and during the way too many, er...times of opportunity...yeah, that's what I'll call them! Happy 58th anniversary Mom and Dad.
58 YEARS?!!! Great Gorilla of Manila! I hope I live to 58, let alone stay with someone, anyone, for that long! C'mon Andrea, you know you've wanted to throw me to the curb every now and then!
A brief list of some of the very cool things about my parents, is the following:
Hey they put up with a knucklehead like me. That places them tops in my book by default!
They met at work...do I smell an office affair?!
When all my aunts and uncles were in arranged marriages, my parents married out of love! Way to go Dad you old romantic!!!
They eloped. How cool is that?!
That they didn't give up after having two daughters. (I am very happy about that decision. Oh...and it's great that they gave me a little sister...)
They still have our little art projects from elementary. Can we say smashed ceramic holly berries? Reader's Digest Santa? Egg carton pilgrims?
Dad loves the A's and da Bears...and that Mom shows an interest in the A's...cool, very cool! We were watching the A's at dinner when the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake hit.
My dad kisses my mom good night every single night!
That they really do practice turning the other cheek.
They haven't totally replaced their kids by dogs...
The list could be endless. They are fabulous parents, a person could not have asked for better. I certainly have lived a charmed life just being their son.
A coworker, whom I have great respect for, was told that she has a year to live. Her future was to shine brightly, now what?
This is the toughest and yet most rewarding part of my job. Dealing with the people's lives, both the joyous times and the devastating moments. I am in a position that I feel that I can help or fix everything, yet I am powerless.
To me, this was just another day. Yeah, yeah...44 years ago I was brought into this world. From what I understand it was after several false alarms and trips to the hospital. Throughout the day, those around me kept trying to remind me of the passage of time and I truly did appreciate it. (Well, maybe everyone except Brian who gleefully reminds me each year at this time, that we're the same age until late August.) But as I've grown older, I have become to enjoy it as a day of solitude and reflection.
I love celebrating others' birthdays. Mine?...it's just another day. Granted, I try to do little things for me. That's how I like to celebrate, or more like recognize. I don't want anyone to buy me anything as I am not a big believer in receiving gifts for me. Giving...cool. Receiving...I'll pass.
Two great loves of my life... Mountain biking Wilder Ranch's eucalyptus grove
My big gift to me was I went for a mountain bike ride in my favorite place, Wilder Ranch in Santa Cruz. Although this park does not have the most challenging trails, it is what is truly great about mountain biking. Beautiful narrow trails through the redwoods, the ocean air filling my lungs, a red tailed hawk circling low above me...perfect.
At the top of the trail is a eucalyptus grove. These meager bunch of trees overlook the mighty Pacific. On quiet days the distant roar of the crashing waves can be heard echoing through the canyon below. This is where my ashes will some day be scattered. Although illegal...hey someone risk it and dump charcoal-Neil here later...okay?
Go ahead Joe...no one will ever know...
As I zipped through the Santa Cruz mountain forest on my bike, I felt an odd sensation. The calendar tells me that I'm older, yet I still feel like I'm years younger. The mirror doesn't lie, but how come the heart and the mind do?
Interesting...but all in all it was a good day...
For Brian... Ha!!! 44 my butt!!! This photo has been edited for your television screen. My censor felt the original was too risque!
My glutes are screaming at me. They are stating, very clearly, that I over-did it in a little over 48 hours. They are lecturing to me that I am not a spring chicken anymore.
Friday night...an hour and a half of ice skating. I thought it only made my ankles sore. That was until the next morning.
Saturday morning...my legs are tired! What the? I guess skating does use my legs differently! Off for a nice two hour road ride. Ugh...it's that climb up in the Saratoga hills again. But it's good to get the legs stretched.
Saturday afternoon...I'm beat, but Soraya and Brandon are begging me to take them hiking. Okay...kids getting fat playing on the computer, or I take them for a death march...death march it is! We trudge along for a little over an hour, through the lower hills. Over hill over dale. My legs are definitely aching!
Sunday morning...against my better judgment I go cycling again. I keep reminding myself that the Tour cyclists do this for 21 straight days! Okay, I was delusional to even think of myself in the same manner as a professional bike racer. By the way...I nearly biffed it nine miles from home. My rear wheel was slammed out of line. I limped slowly home, two and a half hours after I had departed.
It's April and that means it's opening day for Major League Baseball. This year I'm kind of excited about it. I think as I get older, I tend to reminisce much more about baseball. I remember warm summer nights swinging at the ball, swallowing up grounders and running the bases.
Thanks Mich for being the only other true A's fan in the sea of orange and black...
So Soraya decided that she wanted to go ice skating with friends from school for her birthday party. Egads...a herd of prepubescent females amped up on sugar and pizza. It was going to be a long night.
From what I gather, running an ice skating rink is not a profitable business. The "party room" that the girls were in, also served as a meeting room for the staff at the rink. Cupboards filled with notes and personal items lined the wall. A sad lone balloon was tied to each of the foldable chairs that surrounded the dingy wooden tables, sans tablecloth.
As they ate their pizza, the girls realized that they could spy upon the kids practicing hockey on the rink below us. They scrambled to the window to peer down on the players. This is when I really knew that change was inevitable for Soraya. The girls began doing "I Dream Of Jeannie"-ish dances, laughing trying to get the boys to look up.
Dear Lord...things are a'changin'...
Luckily, we all hit the ice and they instantly changed back to being little girls. Thank goodness for that. While the girls giggled and clasped hands as they made their way around the rink, I helped Brandon as he clung to the rail against the wall.
The skating ended with only one accident as one of Soraya's friends took a header into the ice. The rest of us just had tired legs and very sore ankles. Unfortunately, the night was not over. Two of Soraya's invitees were staying the night...
Now for those of you who have participated in sleep-overs, the word sleep is a misnomer in the phrase sleep-over. There is very little sleeping going on. And for a very tired Neil who had worked the day and went skating with them...a plethora of giggles throughout the night was not good.
Luckily for me, I bravely sold out and put Andrea in charge of the girls. I could see Andrea's blood pressure rising with every outburst of laughter that generated from Soraya's room. The topper for Andrea was when the small tribe ambled out of the bedroom, at midnight, and asked Andrea if they could get something to eat.
