TSCLT 7.0: Hemis, Harleys, Hooters-n-Harridans

Johnny's summer so far: Days that are nice enough to golf, I have too much to do. Days I have nothing to do and could play golf, it's raining.

Why does the Sweet Baby Jebus hate me so???
 
No, I have a throttle locking screw on it as is, so no cruise needed.


The good thing is, hills and such require no more throttle in most cases. It just goes. But you turn it off, and it loses speed quickly. I like it.


The data port is under the seat. That must be why they told me to remove it, first thing.


I prefer to think that Babhe Jeebus is loving, but that Allah neither knows nor cares about rain. I knew there'd be pussies at the gathering last night, and I wanted to save their loves with my loud pipes, but there was a nasty line of t-storms on the radar and I wussed out. Good thing, because there was localized flooding - just not my ass.


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Throttle lock will work.

Our weather is pretty much the same everyday. Hot with a chance of afternoon/evening T'Storms.

I have a major clean-up of my work bench scheduled for later today. I've got two hundred rnds. of 5.56 queued up for reloading and the bench is so cluttered I can't gitter done.
 
My workbench is a clusterfuck.


In other news, a guy I'd known for a long time, a helpful guy, offed himself yesterday. Depression, finances, and a general feeling of hopelessness. He left a note.


I'm sure his kids are thrilled. I get the decision, but better to tough it out, or, shock of shocks, ask for some fucking help!!!


It's never Litsters . . . . :(


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Barring a terminal illness I never understood why some folks take that path. More than a few I've known and known of seem to have been saying, "I'll show you." Yeah, right. I feel sorry for the people left to pick up the pieces.

What's that old saying? "An orderly desk (workbench) is the sign of a sick mind."
 
Johnny's summer so far: Days that are nice enough to golf, I have too much to do. Days I have nothing to do and could play golf, it's raining.

Why does the Sweet Baby Jebus hate me so???

I found myself out of work but flush with cash several years ago. I holed up in a rustic hotel for a couple of weeks with the idea I would write. Earnest Hemmingway would have written the hell out of that room.

Nothing.

The busier I get, the more ideas I get.

When I find myself with time, none of the ideas I remember seem worth a damn.
 
Why would there be a sharp nail protruding from the backside through the front of the kick panel below the cabinet? Not fun to find with my fingertip while scrubbing the floor with a sponge.

It bled enough to be clean and 99% alcohol will probably stave off infection, but WTF?

Until I pricked it, I didn't realize that I routinely hunt and peck the bird at litsters.
 
Okay, so I've paid my fucking state taxes - again. Re-registered the car online. Made the sacrifice and went to DMV to update my DL endorsement. Almost 2 fucking hours.


It's enough to make your asshole hurt.


Suicide is, to me, barring terminal illness, the most selfish and inconsiderate act any human can do to another one - the survivors. No matter the explanation, it's always insufficient.


And except for (most) Litsters.


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Last of the bike projects for the weekend is installed - the speedometer/tachometer combination gauge. The computer took care of making sure the odometer is correct, by following a few simple instructions.


With that said, to celebrate a dry (if hot, headed to hot as fuck) day, I'm take it out and learn where the shifts are RPM-wise, and what to listen for.


This is the gauge that should come with it.


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I prefer the speedo only in the binnacle and shift by ear, as Hog intended.

But the different color gage lite settings are pretty if you like having farkle to go with your signal lite hoods and highway pegs, etc.

First thing I do with my Harleys is take extraneous stuff like highway bars off, but that's me.

One thing I do like about the Heritage is the stock handlebars. I always put them on my Road Kings.
 
Well, this afternoon's ride ended with some stop-n-go shit on the beltway, of all places. No good reason for it.


No matter. Everything worked fine, as intended.


The gear indicator gizmo is nice, but I still count them in my head. Nice to know that it and I agreed.


The ride back along Plantation Row was lovely this afternoon.


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Sitting at 94 F here and the chance of T'Storm's seems to have evaporated.

I plan on heading out to the range tomorrow to watch the 3-gun match. See who's been practicing. :)
 
Wat won't be there. He's ashamed at how little he's practiced.


But it's a good thing that decent techniques keep the deterioration in check. Cheque, even.


Went out to dinner with the gang. Spent some time with another mentoree, I think. Hasn't asked yet, but might. Watched another one go home to work on himself. Hope he doesn't wind up like the guy who offed himself.


But one never knows . . . .


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Happy Saturday!!!


It's early enough and cool enough this morning. Yet. Giving it time will bring on some more heat, hard as that is to believe. It's July, so what does that mean?


The cats are fed and peaceful, and the coffee is good.


Allah, please help that poor bastard who offed himself. Between you, I hope you "get it" because I surely don't . . . .


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I have close to no idea what-all goes into creating something like that, save for lots of time and devotion to tedium.


And I imagine that engine runs almost never at all.


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Mornin' all.

Cool (relatively speaking), quiet, and fresh coffee.

Saw some similar metal work at Bike Week over the years. The detail on some of those rides is jaw dropping.
 
I have decorated this-here acorn nut, and I have seven more to do just like it.


Maybe that's the real reason that guy killed himself this week. He was doing a custom bike.


Actually, I think he was driving a mini-van last I knew.


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I have close to no idea what-all goes into creating something like that, save for lots of time and devotion to tedium.


And I imagine that engine runs almost never at all.

I like the mixture of the rust and chrome.

No run engines do nothing for me.
 
Be it cars or bikes or whatever, trailer queens do not a thing for me, either.


Like my rifles (albeit not lately), my shit is shooters, and my shit is drivers.


My bike was clean as it's ever gonna be when I drove it outta the dealer.


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Suicidal people don't want to die, they just want the pain to stop.
Some are too proud, broken or ill to ask for help.
Some have asked and been told to 'get over it'
Some have gotten and are in counseling getting help when they die.
The only thing they all have in common is that they are sick.
So light your josh, candles or say your prayers but let them be at
peace and please understand they aren't hurting anymore.
 
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