Tag Archives: motorcycling

A Breakfast Fuss for the Rest of Us

The Mexican Omelet at Mo's Grill in San Francisco. Studies show that you are 30% more likely to have heart disease from viewing this picture.

The Mexican Omelet at Mo’s Grill in San Francisco. Studies show that you are 30% more likely to have heart disease from viewing this picture.

I’ve never been much of a breakfast eater.  You could probably say I’m Break(fast)ing Bad.  I think it stems from the trauma of watching my granddad soak saltine crackers in his coffee then place them on his Corn Flakes and peaches.  The result is I don’t really care for breakfast foods.  I do like your Euro-breakfast foods with their breads and meats and cheeses and Nutellas.  But American breakfasts are ho-hum, which is one step below hi-ho.  There’s nothing exciting about pancakes and I never cared for eggs partly because they come out of a chicken’s butt.  But like most things that come out of a chicken’s butt, I guess they taste okay if you put enough cheese and hot sauce on them.   Asian breakfasts with their mystery slimes are right out.

I grew up eating sugary cereals and Pop Tarts for breakfast and heading off to school in all my ADHD glory.  I never ate breakfast in high school, though I probably would have if I were in a club with Molly Ringwald. Continue reading →

We Are GAMEY

Supercool photo taken by Thing 1.

Supercool photo taken by Thing 1.

The Red Bike Gang rides again.  You will recall from a previously posted post you probably haven’t read that the males in our family all own red motorcycles and have a nasty habit of annually riding them about the countryside within a 4-day travel radius of the greater Southwestern Michigan area.  This year is no exception as the five of us spent last weekend astride our semi-hoglike two-wheeled vehicles hell-bent for scenic overlooks and home-style diner food.  This is our story.

As the title indicates, during this trip we were GAMEY: Great Apostle Motorcycle Expedition Yahoos.  Our stated goal was the Apostle Islands in northern Wisconsin, where there are 22 islands named for the twelve apostles of Jesus to evidently include some of his lesser-known followers like Stockton and Basswood and Raspberry. Continue reading →

Hoosier Daddy

Last week was a rite of passage for me.  No, it was not breeching, smarty pants.  Nor was it completing my Rumspringa, something you are sure to Google and to which there is no end in sight.  What I did last week was take part in the compulsory and sometimes traumatic Western middle-age ceremony known as “Dropping Off Your Firstborn at College.”

Wow, does the time go fast.  It seems like just yesterday I was cleaning up the pasty Vaseline and baby powder concoction Thing 1 spread liberally about herself and her childhood bedroom.  Now here I am launching her three states away with the freedom and independence to do the same in an Indiana dorm full of strangers. Continue reading →

Tim and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week

I’ve had better weeks.

Perhaps you have heard the phrase, “First World Problems.”  It is a euphemism for such life difficulties as, “My lettuce turns brown too fast” or, “The escalator is broken again” or, “Which government agency should I use to harass my political enemies?”  I won’t say whether I have any of these specific problems or not, but I will say that after this week I am seriously looking at some lovely sand-front property in northern Mali.

Early this week I fought “The Battle of The Siding” which is a lot like “The Battle of The Bulge” except that nobody died and there probably won’t be a movie made about it starring George C. Scott, although one with someone like Bill Pullman is a distinct possibility. Continue reading →

Tale of the GOATmen

Today I attempt a “travelogue,” an effort to treat you with my exploits in travel.  This is not to be confused with a “pecan log” which is a treat you purchase while you travel past your local Stuckey’s. (Ha! Just kidding; there’s no such thing as a “local Stuckey’s.”  All Stuckey’s are somewhere else.  “Local Stuckey’s” is an oxymoron–like saying “jumbo shrimp” or “distinguished senator.”) Continue reading →