Can't Get It Right

The tour went to the "D" last Thursday as Doke and I were in tourist mode, ready to give the city some of our hard-earned money. What better place to visit when in the "D" than the Motown museum, eh? My bus drives by it every morning but had never been to it. One would think the place would be hopping with a good portion of the work force off for the holiday. And it was!!! We ran into a handful of people with the same idea that early afternoon. So it's about 3 PM when we go to the front door and.....it's locked! There were no "back in 10" or "power out" signs or anything to signify why they were not wanting the public's money. It was just a shoulder shrug for us as we were local but one poor dude looked like he had driven quite a bit to see the place. He was on his cell phone trying to get some answers as we drove away. I'm sure the city's operators were anxiously awaiting his call.

Trail Head  

 

 

Fun With Scalpers



Twas three days before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse? Why wasn't anything stirring? It probably had something to do with most everybody I knew was out of town for the holiday and boredom was settling in Saturday.

I needed to get off the couch and do something, anything. The Christmas shopping was done two weeks ago so thankfully there would be no mall interaction. The frozen brown grass outside ruled out any winter activities and watching "Everybody Loves Raymond" re-runs (not everybody loves him)  just wasn't doing it for me. There was a ray of hope on the sports ticker; however, as the Spartans were playing hoops at two. My large melon had an idea; head to East Lansing and watch the game. The worst case scenario was there wouldn't be any scalpers with tickets and I'd go to an East Lansing watering hole to watch it.

Ah yes, the scalper. I learned about scalpers quite early in life. I didn't know what a ticket office was as my dad usually searched out the man pushing the grocery cart outside of Tiger Stadium. My favorite scalping story  involves a handful of my friends who shall remain nameless. They weren't looking for tickets though, they were looking for switchblades (silly kids). As I wasn't there, I'm going off of memory from the story so some of the details are sketchy. The story takes place in New York City sometime in the mid-late 80's. A group of friends go out there to visit a fellow Milford-ian going to school out there. I can't recall if the group was solicited or if one member went asking for them but regardless, an agreement was made for some switchblades in exchange for cash. The seller of said switchblades comes back with a paper bag that he gives to my friend and takes the cash. The group heads off, opens the bag, and in it is two Butterfinger candy bars. Waaa, waaaa....

Anyway, back to Saturday. As I've never been to an event where there weren't scalpers, it was of no surprise that I was met by a handful of very ethical individuals who were willing to give me the very best seats in the house, in their minds. How could so many people have the best seats in the house? In the scalping game, numbers are a good thing. As I was haggling with one guy (mind you, the game was just about to start), I gave him my final offer and started to walk towards another solicitor. My offer was accepted and off I went. While they weren't front row, center court, paying $10 for a pretty good lower level seat works for me so, as the poem ends......Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

Trail Head



 

Shout Out To The 45-15 Brethren

The 45-15 plan, going to school all year round but getting a three week break every nine weeks. The rationale for the plan was that students tend to forget a lot during the summer break, so a shorter time away from school might increase retention rates. This is what a majority of the Tipsico Lake Rd./M-59 corridor kids did at Highland Elementary to offset their learning deficiencies (ha) while the tough-minded, Hickory Ridge corridor kids went the standard 180 days with spring and summer break mixed in at Apollo Elementary. 

All kidding aside, this entry goes out to two of those 45-15-er's who were in the headlines recently. Jim was literally in the headlines as he made the cover of The Central Line, a publication created by the Professional Ski Instructors of America. That is him in the red cruising down the hill somewhere out west.

Gus, on the other hand, got himself a nice eight-point buck at his annual hunt in Wyoming with the Dunham contingent. The girth on that deer should feed the Gus posse for some time.

Nice job 45-15-er's; take a three week break for old time's sake!

Trail Head

EDITORS NOTE: Some information was brought to my attention after this was posted in that Jim did indeed go to Highland Elementary, however, he was not part of the 45-15 program there. I thought everybody at Highland was on that program so my bad. You learn something new every day.

Alive at 45 - Thanks To All!

Many thanks go out this holiday of all holiday seasons; the opening day of hunting season I guess is okay for some but of course the birth of the big head forty five years ago (less a few days) takes the cake of them all! And what a four day celebration it was!

The first thank you goes out to everyone at Mixx Bar on Wednesday night for the pre-birthday celebration. I wasn't expecting the gifts but am thankful for them!



fancy tequila, supposedly

The second thank you goes out to Doke for the Thursday, one night road trip to the Windy City. The north "Loop" walking bar tour downtown never fails to deliver and deliver it did. It started harmlessly at about 3 PM Thursday at a bar called "Chill" right in the heart of the Loyola campus area. There we encountered bartender Hattie; a North Carolina transplant who ten or so years ago packed her bags from Wilmington one drunken night (not making this up) and headed north to live the midwest dream I guess. So the birthday boy sought out his first celebration shot and Hattie presented this tequila that was, according to the bar owner, created with the help of Jack Nicholson and only available in three bars in the world. Whatever; just give me a lemon with that please. The owner seemed insulted by my lemon request as it was supposedly so outstanding that a chaser wouldn't be needed. And yep, I had the tequila face after downing said shot.

From there the tour headed north to Mike Ditka's restaurant and who was there in attendance? None other than the owner himself. That is the second time I've seen him there so a gold star to Iron Mike for making sure a place with his name on it is doing it the right way. The place is A#1. 

While it was probably a blessing in disguise, I was surprised that when I threw out my "What do I get for my birthday?" line, a handful of bars advised I would get a "Happy Birthday" and a smile and that would be it. What's with that? But yes, it was probably for the best. One bartender advised she made the best Long Island Ice Tea in the city so I had to see for myself. It was quite delicious and of course it was probably just a coincidence that the evening got a bit blurry after that; you think?

Al C. dialing it in

The third thank you goes to north Dunham Beach resident Al C. for the lake float on Saturday. After returning home to the Motor City for a rest, it was just too nice of a day Saturday to lollygag and I didn't want to watch the Spartans lose again (they lost, surprise!). While the fish were nowhere to be found, the Dunham Lake experience is, as Seger says, good for the soul. The sun was out and it was just us and the birds.

The last thank you of course goes out to my parents for having that extra glass of wine that chilly February night 45 years ago. Thanks.....man!

Trail Head

Iron Mike

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

stressful

even got a mountain bike ride in!

 

November Bonus

It was a "turn back the clock" weekend as it felt like May. With that, the summer toys got another chance to play. My fellow Badwater fishermen had double digit pike production at Pontiac Lake while I had a goose egg at Proud Lake on Saturday. Besides a couple of duck hunters, I had the lake to myself so fish or no fish, fishing in shorts in November is a pretty cool thing.

A fine executive decision was made Sunday as rather than watch the woeful Lions, the motorcycle got dusted off and the back roads of Oakland, Genesee, and Livingston counties came calling. A hundred or so miles later and you have a soul that has been cleansed.  

Trail Head

Proud Lake



Lake Ponemah in the background

Pontiac Lake

 

Creative Ways of Losing - Defibrillator Prospects

Just when you thought there was no way State could lose a game more creatively, they topped themselves Saturday evening. I am hoping the two fellas seated in front of us for the game (pictured below) didn't need the defibrillator afterwards as I have never witnessed anyone get so irate over EVERY SINGLE PLAY! They weren't even happy when State scored a touchdown. There wasn't a thing you could have presented to them that would have brought on a positive outlook. An entry by the big guy upstairs onto the field through a light in the sky at halftime would of had them complaining about how "JC" didn't get his landing down good enough. It was a scene to behold. Yes, State managed to allow a team to drive 80 yards with a minute remaining and no timeouts; and yes, they are probably going to end up playing in the Vagisil Bowl, but fellas, come on, smile and enjoy the ride.

Losing aside, a great day it was. We thankfully didn't get shot at on the ride to East Lansing but I wasn't overly concerned as there was quite a police presence on I-96 and quite honestly, the wacko can go pretty much anywhere he wants, so we did what Americans do, we lived free! Upon arrival into town, Mark and I took a tour of our old stomping grounds and posed in front of our old residences from back in the day. Mark's old place on Lilac Street appears to be holding up better than the bunker on Spartan Street that I'm standing in front of below. My guess is the occupants of said homes were probably scratching their heads watching a couple of yuck yucks posing in front of their house (ha).
I'm obviously biased but State's campus still is A#1 as far as atmosphere.
Sparty On!
Trail Head

grump #1



grump #2
 



Rick, Chuck, Mark



the Spartan St. bunker

Mark's old crib on Lilac St. holding up well

the mighty Red Cedar

last Thursday night loop for the season

Although I'll probably be wearing gloves and scraping my car windows on Sunday, it's not Sunday yet! With that, the wacky Michigan weather gave the riding tour one last evening loop for the year tonight at Maybury Recreation Area. With my fellow riding brothers on hiatus (insert reason - ha), part time Molson Bike Tour rider Judy, who is part of the SOLAR (some kind  of acronym there) club, advised a few members of that club were riding so I joined them for the pedal. The whole SOLAR intention sounds pretty cool, getting people together who like the outdoors whether it be bike riding, kayaking, backpacking, skiing, etc... although I was joking with them that there is probably some hidden cult mixed in there somewhere. A nice night it was.

Back to the chill coming for the weekend. Will the furnace be turned on at the Highlands Estate? Doubtful. Hoodies are available to all visitors. Ha.

Go Tigers!

Trail Head 

me

Stress-free Friday

A much deserved vacation day was in order this past Friday. Working hard at the office with two west coast Tiger games sprinkled in (don't get me started on Papa Grande) emphasized the need to get away for a breather. And what better reward than a trip to the water, more specifically, the branch of the Huron River down near Dexter. It was just me and the fish out there and that was just fine with me. As bassmaster John O. once told me when asked if he ever played golf, "I love everybody who golfs and urge them to play whenever they can because they are out on the golf course and not getting in my way fishing." Amen to that philosophy brother. No legal fish to report Friday but with that being the worst news of the day, no complaints.

Trail Head   



don't think that tail is going to stretch to 14"

 

 

 

 

Hardcore Mountain Bikers - too much Red Bull?

I had a revelation this mountain bike riding season, hardcore riders are, well, too hardcore. They have the matching spandex outfits and talk about their loop times afterwords instead of admiring that pack of wild turkeys at mile marker two.  This theory was confirmed when I recently made a comment on the MMBA web site. The site has an area (http://mmba.org/forum/) for riders to enter the trail conditions for pretty much every riding location in Michigan. With that, I made a comment on the conditions at Highland Recreation Area. That is when all hell broke loose.

My comment (my page name is "largemelon") was a simple one:

 

The tree roots are the worst I've seen in quite some time. I would be happy to help but I think it's time for some re-routes.

 

That is when page name "irishpitbull," probably reading my comment after his fourth Red Bull, came back with:

 

As a guy that does this trail 3 times a week and has years of experience doing trail maintenance. I see no area that need reroutes. This isn't road biking. If you want flat and smooth go somewhere else and leave highland alone.
I was out there last night and the trail was perfect, the TC's do a great job here. Will be out there again tonight, for a night ride.

  

 

 A little while after this, page name "c0nsumer," on his fifth Bull, jumps onto the pile:

 

Are you sure you don't want to cut out those unsightly roots and remove those trip hazard rocks? Or maybe just paint them orange to make them more visible?

 

The "irishpitbull," not to be outdone, shoots back:

Orange cones over the rocks, you wouldn't want to hit one of those. The trees are pretty close to the trail also, can we pad them?

Late to the party, but still heard, two weeks later, page name "BusDriver" decides to pile on with:

ROFLMAO, With all due respect melon, that's help we can do without! You must have never ridden Oleta River SP in FL!
Hats off to the TC's at Highland, you guys rock!

I'm not up on my acronyms for the ROFLMAO reference (some kind of laughing and ass in there somewhere) but wow, relax fellas. It was just a general comment. I respect the passion but stop and smell the roses every so often and leave that riding timer in the car. The only person that cares about your riding time is you so why do you always bring it up in the parking lot for everyone to hear? It's great you beat your best time but did you see that pack of deer drinking out of that stream? I didn't think so.

Thankfully, the hardcore riders are a minority and the mountain bike scene was an enjoyable one this year. Hardcore nation, I'll still be out there waiting for the "on your left" call from you as you pass me once again. Ride on.

Trail Head

Nashville - No Music City Miracle For The Lions

The tour headed south this weekend for some self abuse supplied by our beloved Lions. And they delivered in grand fashion! But before we go into that debacle, we need to rewind to Friday evening as two fellas from the "D" rolled into the Music City. I had read about the many live music bars in the area but seeing it in person was quite impressive. Bar, bar, bar, bar, bar.......  There had to have been fifty or so (more?) on the two streets where it all went down. No cover in most places with band tips welcome. Good music too. We met up with Jim's friend Cat and her husband Stephon and checked out five or six clubs. We even made it past midnight; look out world! And yes, we did pay for it Saturday morning as the train slowly got moving.

Rather than work the tourist route and seeing the Opry scene Saturday, which didn't have me that excited anyway, Jim worked his magic and we ended up going out on his friend Russell's boat on J. Percy Priest Lake, a reservoir just outside of Nashville. Out on the boat (very nice boat) was Cat, Russell's girlfriend Nicky, me, and five guys with various scars in their backs with a story behind each one of them. They may be in wheelchairs but damn can they water ski. A great day on the water it was; however, it felt weird being out there without a fishing pole. Something missing here!

Tennesseans are quite the hospitable bunch. One of the guys on the boat, Rocky, has been a Titan season ticket holder since they moved to the area and invited us to his tailgate. He had the rock star location with some good eats and was only about a quarter mile walk from our hotel. Luck again was on our side as we exchanged the four upper level tickets for some handicap access on the club (fancy) level; no extra charge and no bathroom lines! Woo woo! 

If only the Lions could have finished off what would have been a victory, although an ugly one, for the ages, the weekend would have been complete. I am happy to report we did stay until the end of the game as 50,000 or so Titan fans almost missed the best comeback ever. Detroit was represented well as Honolulu blue and silver was abundant in the city all weekend with no donkey behavior to report.
Nashville, thanks for the scene.
Trail Head

 

 

 

no, we didn't need to dial 877-GRUMPYS

 

Rocky setting up the tailgate scene

 

Cat and the Jager girls

 

 

Lion pride

heard Johnny Cash WAY too much on Sunday