Tour Heads West - Anyone know how to get red clay out of cotton?

The bike tour headed west this past week as this large headed scribe ventured to what I think could be classified as the granddaddy of them all (so far) in terms of mountain biking utopia, Sedona, Arizona. As the old saying goes, pictures don't do it justice but got some good helmet footage as well to hopefully show the vastness (first time ever using that word) of the place. It's broken up into about 10 short parts. The music covers up my gasping.

Some funky trail/loop names as I pedaled: Chuck Wagon, Mescal, Cockscomb, Canyon of Fools, Rupp, Yucca, Dawa, Girdner, Adobe Jack, Jordan, Javalina, Grand Central, Ridge, Old Post, Skywalker, Carroll Canyon and Crusty. All were well marked and only had one instance of needing to backtrack because I was in my A.D.D. world with the music player going, not paying attention. The elevation took its toll on day one as the city is a little over 4,000 feet above so extra climbing was a treat; not. The payoffs were worth it though as what comes up, must come down; into some beautiful views. 

I brought back some of the red clay/rock from Arizona as my shirts and black riding shoes are a reddish/orange hue. The socks made it to the trash can at my hotel. If anyone has the secret to get red clay clean, give me a shout. 

Trail Head

Way Back Machine Visit to the Beginning

I’m putting together a family wall in my house and looking over the pictures I compiled. It got me thinking of the many things that could/could not have occurred to have this large headed writer exist/not exist in this wacky world we live in today. With that, the Way Back Machine takes us back to the 1930’s in Detroit when four individuals came together and through a chain of events, created me.

Frank Reeves was working the beat as a Detroit cop when he met Eva Heisenleder (just a hint of German in that name), got married, raised two boys, Hugo and Joe, and called Bordeau Street around Grand River and Livernois in Detroit home.

Grandpa Frank

Aunt Freda, Hugo & Joe

Not too far away, Byron (Barney) Meece, working in the local tool and die world, was courting Evelyn Cowger. They too got married, raised a girl and boy, Donna and Howard, and called Montrose Street around Greenfield and Plymouth Rd. in Detroit home. Barney built his own house. That alone gets you classified as a man's man. 

Grandpa Barney

Barney & Evelyn

Howard & Donna

Donna

Barney & Donna

Donna

Fast forward 20 or so years when Hugo was at a party around his neighborhood (details are sketchy but this is the story I was told) and came upon Donna. I guess he waited until his wedding vows to not lie as he told my Mom he was younger than he was right off the bat. After some courtship (and truth telling), the two married, created their own family and after a few glasses of wine on what was probably a cold, winter evening in 1967, the two got frisky and conceived me.
Thanks to all involved for making it happen!

Trail Head

Donna

Hugo

me, sis & bro - doing a really bad 'see no evil, hear no evil, speak no
evil' (how could I see the camera with my hands over my eyes?)

Monday Moonlighting

Yep, I moonlighted at my second job last night, filling in for the concert review writer from the local paper to cover the Winwood show at The Fox. I wish as what a gig that would be; having rock star access to any show and giving your two cents on what you heard. I think there is only one main reviewer in the metro Detroit area (and he's a good one) so it sounds pretty much like a lottery ticket job. One in a million. 

Back to the show. First of all, it was an older crowd; MUCH older. I was the baby in the house at 50. My apologies to any elders we may have nudged fleeing after the show. When its time for Timmy Leaves to leave, he does so get the hell out of the way fella in the walker!   

A perfect venue as The Fox is as nice as they come. The main act did not disappoint as the White Ray Charles can play him some organ/piano/guitar/bass, etc....  A simple stage with four or five throw rugs flanked on the stage with a group of five, sometimes six band mates, all right near each other. Other than some 70's lights that went for a bit, it was as simple of a stage as they come. No dancing and long stories; just some great music. Winwood plays a 'jillion' instruments and was close to being outdone by a band mate (don't know names) who also had the organ/piano, rocked some flute and handled all of the horns. 

Leading off with "I'm a Man" had me wanting to stand and get funky but restrained to some toe tapping and large melon bobbing. Close your eyes and it was Ray Charles up there abusing that organ. 

Those wanting their Blind Faith fix got it with "Can't Find My Way Home" and "Had to Cry Today," the latter witnessing Winwood doing his Clapton guitar impression better than Clapton himself.  

The Traffic fans also got their fix with "Dear Mr. Fantasy," "John Barleycorn Must Die" (awesome flute), "Low Spark of High Heeled Boys," and my favorite of the night, "Empty Pages;" the toe tapping of all toe tapping songs.

The "Back in the High Life" album (yes, have it on vinyl) could be a concert by itself but surprisingly only heard "Higher Love" from that collection. "Roll With It" from his other solo album again had the need to bob and tap. 

Last, but not least, the group closed the night with some Spencer Davis Group's "Gimme Some Lovin" and the contingent in the crowd rose EVER SO SLOWLY and exited. 

I wanted more as the catalog still has pretty much an entire second show that could have been played: "While You See a Chance," "Medicated Goo," "Walking in the Wind," "Split Decision," "Back in the High Life," "Spanish Dancer" and "Talking Back to the Night" to name a few.   

Mr. Winwood, if you're reading, if you want to play the second set, we're having a music festival in August here locally; about a 100 or so good people. My contact information is on my profile here. See what you can do. Thanks for the entertainment.

Trail Head

Cord Woes

I bought a new cell phone last week. And yes, I'm still 10 years or so behind the latest technology in that I'm typing this entry on my Vista computer with a printer that hasn't printed in a decade and a hamster on a wheel in the back making sure the blowers run every so often. I more or less bought a slight upgrade from the current, basic phone I have now. Simple Simon here has simple phone needs; getting me absolutely useless information at a second's notice and the ability to determine what band is playing a certain song with a touch of a button. I guess the ability to call others is a nice to have as well.   

With the new phone comes a new charge cord. One would think the same company that produced my previous phone would have the same type of cord for all their phones. But no. Into my drawer of cords I went as what you see pictured are all different cord types. Not one matches the new phone. A new cord for the truck and one for the office and we have two new members to the cord family. How nice.

Million dollar idea; phase out the current cords and make everyone adapt and buy your new cord. I didn't think there were so many different ways to charge something but I have eight different pictured so I guess there are at least eight people sipping a fruit drink on a deserted island, laughing their asses off in that they found a group that was willing to give their cord a try. Those cords now reside on the Island of Misfit Cords (Rudolph reference) as they go to gadgets that are obsolete; some of which I still attempt to use.

Keep running Mr. Hamster. 

Trail Head

Velodroming in the D

I had my first velodrome experience yesterday in seeing the new one recently built in the D. Fifty degree (roughly the angle of the backslash '/' symbol) banking in the turns is not going to allow much slow down time to check the music in your earbuds as you'll be face planted into the wood panel track if you are lollygagging during said ride. I told nephew Jackson that I prefer pedaling in the uncertainty of the woods versus working on my ability to turn left, then left, then left, then left again...   Jackson, always quick with a reply, noted, "You are still in the woods, you're just riding ON the wood as opposed to riding IN the woods." Well put Urban Rider. 

For a gray, overcast day in February when the ability to ride outdoors is taken away due to Mother Nature, the place in midtown does the trick in getting the pedal fix though. Jackson is in the attached video, still working on catching up to this scribe's 2017 riding totals (ha). He passed me and then some.

Drome on!

Trail Head

O.C.D. and proud to be

Yes, I am O.C.D. with a splash of A.D.D.; and proud of it. Some of the positives of being O.C.D. are: 

• you are never late (but incredibly early sometimes)
• your laundry is always clean
• the lights and appliances are never on when you leave for vacation (although you will turn around half way to the airport to check again to see you did indeed turn them off)
• you never lose your keys (although it will kill you that one time they are misplaced)
• the garage door is never left open when you go to bed (although you will check it five times before actually slipping under the covers)
• work at the employer is always meticulously completed (although you'll have a hard time delegating the trust in someone else doing a similarly thorough job)
• everything else in general (self, home, landscape, transportation, toys) is well maintained; although the neighbors are going to get a talking to if they aren't keeping up with the lawn cutting

The last topic leads me to a good news story of the O.C.D. world. I sold my '03 Silverado to nephew Jackson back in 2015 and he recently posted pictures of the old lady stretching her legs at a local rally. Besides a needed tweak to the transmission, she is still riding (and looking) tough. There is nothing wrong with treating your ride right and coddle her I did. It wouldn't surprise me if she makes it to 2023.

O.C.D., that is me!

Trail Head 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VevGV-3mkiA

'03 model in 2018 - like a rock 

(very small) Fish On!

While the tradition of ice fishing on Super Bowl Sunday has been sporadic in recent years as Mother Nature can do that to a sport that relies on, you know, ice. Gus has been reporting good production locally but we made sure this year that ice would be present; north. More specifically Lake Skegemog in Williamsburg, Michigan. The same lake where the ultimate fishing prize is attained every second weekend of June (usually by the Seadogs), the  Mother Cup. 

This scribe is here to tell you there are just a few more fisherman out on Skegemog Super Bowl weekend versus June. We would maybe see five other boats fishing in the summer besides our crew of six or so boats. There were at least 100 shanties out on the ice; and one pickup truck! The ice was about a foot deep so the truck was in no danger of being submerged (and looked like a truck that wouldn't be missed if it were to go down). I brought my manual ice auger but thankfully it wasn't needed as Al purchased a power one. Key move as I wasn't in the mood for practicing my CPR skills if someone was going to try to manually dig. A proud AARP group we are.

Production-wise, the pictures below tell the story. One of us could have had a nice perch snack based on the production of us ALL combined. Good camaraderie, as always, with the group. Once the batteries died in the radio, it was time to sing and one fisherman, who shall be nameless, belted out some Amy Winehouse. He made the claim that it was a first Amy Winehouse song sang while ice fishing. And he was correct. And guess what song was stuck in my head while driving home this morning on a snowy two track freeway for four hours? Could not get that song out of the melon but made it home safe so thanks for the ride Amy.  

Trail Head

Al and Doke supervising

the Dining Hall - this is no rookie operation

Gus' tool that he uses on unruly fisherman

home base

ice block created for Gus' hole

lot of these

Gus' Alabama tear drop rig - we tried it all

more baby perch

my quota (my tip-up bait was bigger)