those who served in Canada’s Bomber Command.
Category Archives: Personal
Snacking on the road
I like to ride long distances when I get out on the road. Stopping to eat in a restaurant is a real treat during those times, but it eats up time when I’d rather be out on the blacktop making distance. I like to get on the road early and put in at least a couple of hundred before breakfast.
So what do I do?
A&W.
You can get a pretty good eggs-over-easy and wheat toast at an A&W. It’s quick, it’s hot, and it’s hard to screw up eggs – although not impossible for some places. I don’t bother with the bacon or the potatoes. Who needs that deep-fried grease first thing in the morning laying like a lump in your stomach until noon?
Occasionally – but not often – I’ll get stuck and try an eat’n’puke, but for the most part I’ve learned my lesson and ignore them completely. My one exception: Tim Horton’s for breakfast, although, strictly speaking, Tim Horton’s is no eat’n’puke. It’s very good food. A late-afternoon stop for soup and a sandwich isn’t to be trifled with should I manage to find one en route.
My personal favorite snack bar is a CLIF bar. It comes in a foil pouch, and packs excellent taste into a small package. In texture, it’s much like a granola bar, although it’s soft, moist and very chewy. I’m not going to go into the relative merits of one bar over the other, since a simple search will pull up all of that information.
Added bonus: CLIF bars can be bought in bulk at any Costco. Each box will come with enough flavors to keep from getting bored with the taste.
When I want to spend time chewing, I pick up some dried beef and stuff it in a fairing pocket. Despite its salt content, I’ll snack on that for a few miles while giving my jaw a pretty good workout. Unfortunately, the salt content is a little high to make it a regular treat, so I don’t buy beef jerky all that often.
Most important of all is staying hydrated. Drinking plenty of fluids can’t be over-emphasized, and the best fluid is water, bar none.
Fire in the hole – epilogue
Quite happily, there were no injuries of any kind to anyone. Beyond that, there’s not much to report.
A little smoke filtered through to my place, but didn’t permeate every room, since I had closed all of my doors before exiting. I’ve already dusted and vacuumed furniture and floors and done all that I want to do, because I just can’t sit around. Officially it’s fall, so I call it my fall cleaning program, early though it is.
Professional cleaners will be doing their thing sometime today or tomorrow. Certainly, the walls and carpet will get some steaming when they show up. Whatever else they do I’ll leave up to them.
The neighbor’s place is another story. Unfortunately, no insurance is going to pay for the damage to her personal property, since she didn’t have any. I can’t believe that someone would live in a place and not have contents insurance, but to each their own.
We’re taking up a collection for her benefit, but it won’t pay to replace much.
Fire in the hole
Last night, the peace and quiet of my wonderful abode was disturbed by a fire alarm and the smell of smoke coming from next door. Accustomed as I am to cockpit alarm bells and horns ringing, and a requirement to solve the problem in order to have them cease and desist, I grabbed my goodies (e.g. wallet, keys, glasses and shoes) and hit the road.
Yeah, yeah, I know. That didn’t stop any warning bells or sirens, but what the hell, I don’t fly any more either.
Truth be told, I didn’t hit the road forthwith.
I felt my door to try and determine if it was warm or hot to the touch. Ditto the doorknob. Nope. Check.
Back to collect the above-mentioned wallet, keys, glasses, shoes and, oh yeah, a pair of long pants. Check.
The nights are cool up here now.
Close open windows. Check.
Feel the door for heat one more time, open it and stick my head out. Check.
HOLY SHIT!
The floor is full of smoke!
Look left. Good to go that way. Check.
Look right. Some guy has a couple of fire extinguishers in hand and is battling a bright orange glow coming from an open door. Check. And…
Fuck that!
I exit post haste, close my door behind me and head left down the stairs and out the fucking door. Check.
Ghosts from a past life
You know you’re getting old when some of the equipment you used to fly in another life is being prepared for a permanent aviation museum display.
I’m actually quite thrilled to have played a small part in helping to mature helicopter aviation in Canada.
During year two of my aviation career, I assisted in the overhaul and rebuild of this aircraft with two engineers, Gerry O. and John K. Upon completion of the overhaul, I did the test flights and associated engine break-in, and shortly thereafter I flew the helicopter to the east coast and onto a ferry to take her to Newfoundland.
I spent a grand three months touring the island on a forestry contract that never involved all that much flying for the forestry department. All the same, it was a marvellous adventure for a young man at the start of his aviation career, and one that I will never forget.
And now, back to regularly scheduled programming…
My feet have been itchy for months now as I’ve watched the summer riding season north of 49 hurry past me like closing time at one of my favorite bars in a past life. Now the rush is on to pick up something, anything, before the lights dim for one last time and I am swept out into the street like dirt.
Hell, I haven’t even gone for a ride yet, busy as I have been with other events in my life. Now that’s done, and I’m ready for a little adventure, a little dirt of my very own, that special odor that adheres to me from the road dust and grime that accumulates after hundreds of miles.
Asphalt perfume, I call it.
Wind. Sun. Pavement. Dust. Dirt. Gas. Oil.
It has its own special smell, hard to describe if someone asks.
All I know is, you can’t get it in a car or a truck with the windows open; you can’t get it in a convertible with the top down; and, desperate now, you can’t get it by rolling around on the ground on your favorite stretch of highway.
You’ve got to get out there and ride it.
Newspapers are slow to catch up
They’re learning, slowly:
the editor of the Los Angeles Times, Russ Stanton, said the paper’s online advertising revenue is now sufficient to cover the Times’s entire editorial payroll, print and online. – Jeff Jarvis, guardian.co.uk