![\"\"](\"http:\/\/pwoodford.net\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/08\/ducati-bag-150x150.jpg\" "\\"ducati")
Just so we’re all on the same page again: cultie=cult bike=Ducati. \u00a0That there is a Ducati bag I’m tempted to buy. \u00a0It would go on the little rack in back. \u00a0Of course I’d need a magnetic tank bag as well. \u00a0Oh, wait. \u00a0The cultie’s going to be Polly’s ride, not mine. \u00a0Time to stop thinking of it as my own (although technically it is, since so far all the money that’s gone into it has been mine).<\/p>\n
Polly’s three-day motorcycle safety class is this weekend or the next, so we’re getting close to the turnover. \u00a0I still want to take her out on some country roads before she starts riding it to work. \u00a0I’ve been putting around on the cultie a couple of days each week, ostensibly to keep the battery charged but really because it’s just plain fun to ride. \u00a0It’ll be a fine commuter bike … once it has a bag or two to keep stuff in, that is.<\/p>\n
Imagine my surprise, earlier this week, when the “good” motorcycle … the Goldwing … up and died on me. \u00a0I’d ridden it into town, and nothing was wrong. \u00a0But when it was time to go home I turned the key and … nothing. \u00a0Total electrical death. \u00a0After cogitating on my situation for a few minutes, I called my buddy Ed. \u00a0He knows everything there is to know about Goldwings and I thought he might have some miracle fix for me, some wire I could wiggle, some special way to turn the key. \u00a0Instead he grabbed a spare battery (he has spares for everything!), hopped in his truck, and drove down to the parking lot I was stranded in. \u00a0He pulled the old battery (which, oddly, showed a full charge), put in the spare, and I was back in business. \u00a0I bought a new battery Wednesday afternoon, charged it up that night, and installed it Thursday morning. \u00a0Half an hour ago I strapped Ed’s spare battery to the back of the cultie and dropped it off at his garage. \u00a0A friend in need, and one to whom I owe, at the very least, a steak dinner.<\/p>\n
Now it’s getting hot and I’m happy to have finished my morning errands and be sitting in our air conditioned home office. \u00a0I’m at the computer desk by the window, watching sparrows eat the bird seed I just sprinkled on the ground for the quail, ignoring the freshly-filled feeder hanging from the tree branch\u00a0three feet above them. \u00a0Hope they don’t gobble it all up before the quail find it.<\/p>\n
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With regard to my earlier post, Conduct Unbecoming<\/a>, it appears I’m not the only military officer outraged at the conduct of a certain group of swiftboating back-stabbers:<\/p>\n “If someone uses the uniform, whatever uniform it is, for partisan politics, I\u2019m disappointed by that, because I think it does erode that bond of trust we have with the American people.”\u00a0— General Martin Dempsey<\/a>, Chairman, Joint Chiefs of Staff<\/p>\n “This is an unprofessional, shameful action on the part of the operators that appear in the video, period … [attaching the title of special operator with any political campaign is] in violation of everything we’ve been taught, and the opposite of what we should be doing, which is being quiet professionals.” — Major\u00a0Fernando Lujan<\/a>, US Army Special Forces<\/p><\/blockquote>\n Glad to learn I wasn’t the only one paying attention to what they taught us during the first week of officer candidates’ school. \u00a0These guys<\/a> are contemptible little shits, Niedermeyers<\/a> to a man.<\/p>\n ——————–<\/p>\n For a long time now I’ve been following the libertarian blogger Radley Balko<\/a>, not because I’m libertarian but because Balko is one of the few people tracking incidents of police abuse, from the\u00a0use of tasers<\/a> on innocent or already-incapitated people, to the insane levels of law enforcement militarization<\/a> occurring in small towns across America, to surprisingly frequent police shootings of family pets<\/a>, to armed shakedowns on rural roads and the confiscation of travelers’ property and money<\/a>. \u00a0In happier days (so long as you were white, that is) you could teach your children that the policeman was a friend. \u00a0Today savvy people understand that you do not call the police for any reason whatsoever<\/a>. \u00a0Now, it seems, even if you don’t<\/em> call the police, they might just come into your back yard anyway and shoot you<\/a>. \u00a0You know, maybe these Second Amendment gun nuts are right, and we should all arm ourselves and deal with crime on our own.<\/p>\n This way lies paranoia. \u00a0Next thing you know I’ll be raving about black helicopters and FEMA camps. \u00a0Time to get back on a happier track.<\/p>\n ——————–<\/p>\n Donna’s in Los Angeles helping a friend set up and learn to use an embroidery machine. \u00a0She flies home Sunday. \u00a0In the meantime I’m feeding myself, so it’s a good thing I know a little bit about cooking<\/a>. \u00a0Last night I broke out a bottle of Patak’s hot curry paste<\/a> and cooked up some chicken to serve over rice. \u00a0One of my better efforts, it was. \u00a0I had to force Polly to eat some before I finished it all off, which I could easily have done. \u00a0Curry? \u00a0Food of the gods.<\/p>\n