The motorcycle trip my son and I have been planning has undergone a metamorphosis. Gregory’s been looking for a motorcycle, and now he’s found The One: a 2014 BMW K1600 GL (that’s it on the left). It’s in San Luis Obispo, California.
The plan now is for me to drive my truck and trailer to Las Vegas on Sunday. Greg and I will drive the rig to San Luis Obispo on Monday, check out the bike that afternoon, spend the night at a hotel, then strap it to the trailer and haul it home to Vegas Tuesday.
My Goldwing will be on the trailer when I drive up Sunday; it’ll stay in Greg’s garage while we’re fetching the BMW. I’m hoping Greg and I will be able to go riding afterward, Wednesday to Friday … we don’t have a destination in mind, but we’ll think of something. Maybe an overnighter to Flagstaff, the Grand Canyon, parts of Route 66. I’ll trailer myself and the Goldwing back to Tucson Saturday.
We’d originally planned to ride through Yosemite, but the road will most likely still be closed for snow. We can try again in September; it’ll be open then for sure, and it’s a ride both of us want to take.
My motorcycle buddy Ed, he of the detached retina, has suffered a setback. He was recovering slowly at home from eye surgery, but during a follow-on checkup a new retinal tear was discovered and he had to go under the eye knife (gaah!) again. This time his eye is wrapped inside the socket (shudder), and will have to stay wrapped until the retina heals, if it will.
Not only is Ed uncomfortable, he’s worried he may not get his vision back. I’m worried too … I’ve been helping him write up the story of how the retina detached while riding home from Bike Week in Daytona, trying to keep it light, but honestly there isn’t much light in any medical emergency. Still, things could be worse: two days ago one of my wife’s dearest friends took herself to the hospital because she felt shitty. Surprise! She has advanced-stage leukemia. When it rains. …
The finish line of my one-man “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” marathon is in sight. I’m a little more than halfway through the final season, trying not to watch more than one or at the most two episodes each night, stretching it out. I started taping and watching “American Gods,” but am quickly losing interest. I’m not entirely sure what people see in Neil Gaiman; personally I think he’s coasting on earlier successes. It has become fashionable to say one hates “The Americans,” but I still love the series and never miss an episode, even when they’re draggy. “Better Call Saul” is, I think, working too hard to be a prequel to “Breaking Bad”; I liked Jimmy McGill better in the first two seasons, when the stories didn’t converge. “Fargo” is as good as it’s ever been, but unobservant dope me didn’t realize Ewan McGregor was playing both Stussy brothers until the loser one shaved off his moustache in order to pass as the successful one.
We pay Comcast a hunk of money every month for basic cable and HBO. Add Amazon Prime and Netflix, which we pay for as well, and our entertainment budget is stretched to the limit. We just can’t afford Hulu on top of everything else. Therefore, I didn’t get to see their adaptation of Stephen King’s “11/22/63,” and I’m missing their adaption of Margaret Atwood’s “The Handmaid’s Tale.” I loved the Stephen King book, and I think I loved the Atwood, but just to be sure I’m reading it on Donna’s Kindle. I thought I read “Handmaid” in college, but since I graduated 15 years before Atwood wrote it, maybe I just thought I’d read it. In any case, I’m interested in the book’s history at the hands of those who would ban or even burn it, and once I finish it I’ll write a review it for my banned book column.
Now, though I’m ashamed to admit it, I’m about to crack open the sixth Jack Reacher thriller, “Without Fail.” I started out strong on these novels, but by the third one I was beginning to see how hackish and cheesy they were, and after the fifth I needed a break. People keep telling me how good they are; if number six is as awful as the ones just before it, I will officially wash my hands of Lee Child and his taciturn hero.
Our pool guy flaked out on us months ago. We tried to keep the water healthy but it got away from us and the pool filled with algae. We’ve hired a new pool guy. He drained and refilled the pool, cleaned out the gunked-up filter our old guy apparently lied about servicing six months ago, patched up the grout around the tiles, and repaired a crack in the pool deck. It now looks as good as new, but of course we’re out another hunk of money. You can be sure we’ll use the hell out of it this summer!
That’s the haps. More soon.
© 2017, Paul Woodford. All rights reserved.