working on an EPK for Ginny Owens for her new album “Long Way Home” to be released in October. What a great album! You can hear a few bits over at her My Space site.
If you get the chance, I suggest picking it up (when it gets released).
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took off tonight around sundown. the sky had that bright pink and peach color that slowly saturate into a big blue mess right before the stars poke through.
just up the road, on the good side of town beyond the ghetto that lies inbetwixt, are these wonderful roads. they roll past the mcmansions of the fat-walleted, nouveau riche. up the green hills of ‘brentwood’ and through the valleys of ‘forest hills’.
the houses and empire-building yards cease to amaze me but i love the smell of the freshly cut grass and trees hanging over the road. the sun has begun it’s nightly hiding game and everything starts masquerading; shape-shifting into imaginative, impossible structures.
soon the contrast changes and the road, stripes and my headlight illumination are all I can see with any detail. everything drops into washes of amber color from the street and landscape light. not long after, that goes away and i’m left a few degrees colder with farmland stretching further than i can see.
i stopped at a coffee shop to give my eyes a rest. they had started to dry out and it was time for a break.
as i sat and sipped my, as per usual, 2% cappuccino i watched the people around me. they moved through the bookstore, a random copy of this or that under their arm.
before long i had to get back out. traffic was light and i was back onto the rural roads within moments. those are the best. summertime changes all the smells of the countryside. some are welcoming, others are wince-able.
as i left the overgrown farmland behind i could feel the temperature raise. sidewalks and more concrete began to appear in view. the extra clothing that i wore to keep me warm outside of town was now noticeably wet under me riding jacket.
i hadn’t noticed out in the cuds, but now it seemed as my visor was a patchwork of slime and legs. the unfortunate remnants of insects that got behind on their flying skills.
rolling up to home i pulled the clutch early to tone down the engine. pulling the bike backward and into the garage, the door winking closed, i said ‘thank you’ for another ride and a safe return home.
upstairs to greet me is my wife and a glass of wine. next on the agenda: sleep.
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COMMENT:
AUTHOR: Ryan
DATE: 7/29/2005 12:01:04 AM
I can’t being to describe how amazing that was, J.
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COMMENT:
AUTHOR: Anonymous
DATE: 7/29/2005 06:56:43 PM
Full-face visors and helmets keep one from tasting the true flavor of the country.
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COMMENT:
AUTHOR: Ryan
DATE: 7/29/2005 08:31:17 PM
Full face helmets and visors allow people to write as brilliant and eloquently as J’s post.
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Found this on my laptop the other day. We actually, kinda, sorta look menacing.
While we’re not quite the Sopranos, we’re more like their lesser-successful cousins.
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18299. That’s what the odometer on the bike say today.
Those miles feel like a million. Not like I’ve actually ridden a milliion miles, but that they’re worth that much. The feeling of the road passing underneath your feet. But your feet are now replaced by the wheels.
I feel like I’ve seen locations around middle tennessee that can’t be described with words. They are emotions manifested in low lying fog. Of recently wet pavement. The smell of grass just being cut. Wind in my face, against my chest and whipping my pantlegs into a frenzy.
I made my first mistake today. The bike started acting funny. It was loosing power in higher gears and there were these gasps of coming from the engine. I pulled off onto a gravel driveway as the engine simply died. All electical was up but no engine.
I tried to restart it a few times only to hear it try and lug over but, nothing. *sigh* I sat there thinking that maybe I had flooded the engine trying to restart it. Cars were passing by as I tried to make it look like I was just taking a break. I contemplated trying to push it down the road, but that would be more than a mile in either direction.
I waited a bit longer then turned the fuel to the engine off, then back on. Nothing. I flipped it to the reserve tank… bingo! The bike sprang to life. That cheery vibration of the pistons jumping. I kicked it into gear and buzzed on down the road… to the gas station.
Here’s a little technical info about the Honda VT750. It, according to the manual, has a 3.43 gallon tank (including 1.06 gallon reserve). When I got to the gas station, I put in 2.9 gallons of gas. You do the math.
My body may tire of being out on the road, that odometer clicking, but the bike wants to keep moving. More riding tonight.
Last thought… why didn’t I get a bike sooner?
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COMMENT:
AUTHOR: Anonymous
DATE: 7/24/2005 01:08:21 PM
Ah yes, the reserve. My first vehicle, an MGTF had no gas guage, just a little blue light when there were two gallons left. I used to carry a yardstick to check the fuel.
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it’s early. the sun isn’t even sure it wants to get up yet. I’m ready to get out on the trail.
shower time.. then a ride!
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COMMENT:
AUTHOR: Anonymous
DATE: 7/24/2005 01:42:06 PM
Out here in Arizona it’s ride first and then shower (you’ll need it). A splash of water to wake up, then the smell of mosquite after a summer rain, and the roar of your engine. It doesn’t get much better.
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