The Great Motorcycle Pizza Tour

What I Did During Summer Vacation

noreply@blogger.com (Lucky) — Wed, 08 Jul 2009 17:24:00 +0000

Oregon had shamefully good weather the entire time we were there. I think I saw one cloud.

One.

I packed for cold, grey and rainy, and instead got warm and sunny. You might say "Lucky, you should pack better," but I say Oregon's weather should conform to my expectations.

After my last trip I proclaimed Oregon the best state in the nation. I haven't changed my mind. This time around, we took our time and thoroughly explored the places we've been considering moving to.

We arrived Friday night, and stayed with friends in Portland for the evening. We rented a car through Alamo, which wound up being a huge mistake and pain in the ass which will never be repeated. The car was filthy when we picked it up, and it got worse from there. Details later...

On the way to the coast, we cruised through Salem (woo! Capitol building!), stopped in Albany for coffee and missed Irondad by minutes. I blame poor cell phone reception and inattention on my part. From there, we went to Corvallis and met Stacy, along with her partner in crime (who had purchased a new Street Triple that very day!). Good folks! We had dinner at American Dream Pizza. It was pretty darn good. We stopped in Eugene to sleep.

From there it was straight on to the coast. We planned to rent quads and fool around on the dunes for a while, but the high winds convinced us that perhaps playing in the sand wouldn't be much fun that day. Instead we had lunch at the drive-in A&W in Florence.

Full of cheese and root beer, we rolled on up to Yachats. Along the way, we stopped and I claimed a chunk of the coast as my own:

Apparently, no one thought I was funny:

But, I managed to get out of that mess and landed back in Yachats in time to enjoy a cold one and a sunset:
The next day we checked out Devil's Churn, which was awesome and you should go:

After that we hit some of the other parks, and explored the town a little bit.

On Tuesday we left Yachats and headed north to get cheese in Tillamook on our way to Astoria. The low tire pressure light came on while we were in the middle of nowhere between Newport and Tillamook, and then we heard the THUMPITA-THUMPITA of a flat.

Awesome.

I started to change the tire while Lady Luck called Alamo's roadside assistance. The customer service person informed her that we would probably have to buy them a new tire. While she was dealing with that fun, I was trying to pull a bald tire which had the cords exposed and little pokey wires cutting up my hands. I managed to finally break the wheel free from the hub, and putting the spare on was relatively painless. The customer service person told Lady Luck we could bring the car back to Portland to get a different car. Nice.

Of course, I didn't trust the spare, (especially when the low pressure light came on again) so we stopped at a gas station to check the air in the tires. The spare was 20 pounds low, and I noticed the other rear tire was dangerously bald. Nice.

I filled up the spare, and we continued on. We reached Tillamook, and the low air light came on AGAIN, this time with a "DING DING DING." We got to the cheese factory, and I checked the tire pressure again. The spare was leaking. Nice.

This time I called the roadside assistance number, politely explained the situation, and asked when we could expect our new car. Three hours or so.

The Tillamook factory does not provide three hours worth of entertainment. We did buy a bunch of cheese, and lunch, and ice cream, and stuff to amuse ourselves from the gift shop. I got a "Sailor's Knots" deck of cards which came with a length of rope. I sat down to tie the first knot and discovered, upon completion, that it was a noose. Yeah.

Anyway, three hours or so later, the tow truck showed up with the supposedly shiny new car for us. It had decent tires, but that was the best I could say for it. The interior reeked of HORSE, there were wax pencil marks all over the exterior marking damaged spots, and it was, of course, filthy.

Nice. Seriously, fuck Alamo.

Anyway, with that fun behind us, we cruised on up to Astoria. Astoria rocks. We walked the docks in the marina, ate fish and chips from a dry docked boat, saw the Flavel mansion, had coffee from the best coffee shop on Earth (we order their beans here in Phoenix) and generally had a great time.

People in Astoria are friendly. Like, really friendly. Folks said "hi" to us on the street. The folks at the coffee shop can't wait until we move there. And they seemed genuine about it.

After two short days in Astoria, we went on to Portland. Portland is groovy. We got donuts from Voodoo Doughnut. We saw the pirate supply store. We went to Powell's. We hung around with our friends. It was good.

And Lady Luck and I decided we're moving to Astoria. Now we've just got to figure out how we're going to make a living there...

Gonna Have to Stop In Medford

noreply@blogger.com (Lucky) — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 15:48:00 +0000

Well, it looks like we'll be hitting Medford while we're in Oregon, because I need to track this guy down and shake hs hand.

The Triumph Demands Proper Footwear

noreply@blogger.com (Lucky) — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 15:21:00 +0000

One of the laces on my boots broke the other morning.

Since I was barely half-awake at the time, I just strapped on the closest pair of shoes, put on the rest of my gear and hopped on the Triumph to ride in to work.

On the way home again, I remembered why I always always always wear boots on the Triumph.

The Triumph runs hot. When the bike is warmed up, the temperature gauge generally indicates about 100 degrees celsius, or higher. During the cooler months, I can sort of get away with not wearing boots. During the summer, however, the heat coming off the motor burns my damn legs.

I had two nice red patches just above the tops of my socks last night where the Triumph had cooked me. Good times.

I didn't manage to get new boot laces last night, so today I rode the Vespa in. So far, so comfy.

Countdown to Oregon

noreply@blogger.com (Lucky) — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 20:12:00 +0000

I think it's safe to say I won't be getting much work done this week.

Lady Luck and I are flying into Portland on Friday night. We haven't decided yet whether we're staying in Portland a day or two, heading south right away, or west to Astoria and then south. I assume we'll get that figured out tonight or tomorrow.

I was hoping the Lady Washington was going to be in Portland while we're there, but it doesn't appear to be. Oh well.

Anyhoo, I expect we'll be hitting Albany, Corvallis, maybe Eugene depending on how far south of Yachats we want to end up.

This trip is half vacation and half deciding where we want to live when we finally blow this hole, so if you've got any advice on places to check out, that'd be awesome. I'd also love to hear about the reality of living in a given city.

Welcome Makers!

noreply@blogger.com (Lucky) — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 15:01:00 +0000

It seems I'm getting a fair bit of traffic from the Make Magazine blog.

Hello new readers! Thanks for stopping by!

The Hut? Seriously?

noreply@blogger.com (Lucky) — Fri, 19 Jun 2009 16:29:00 +0000

So, Pizza Hut is changing it's name to "The Hut" in order to fit with their new, less-pizza-focused brand direction.

Perhaps it's because I remember the movie Spaceballs, but I refuse to eat at a place called The Hut. Of course, I refused to eat there anyway, but run with me for a second.

So you've got a brand KNOWN for pizza. You are, in fact, so well known that Mel Brooks created a anthropomorphic pizza villain named after you. Your pizza creations have inspired frozen pizza makers to stuff their crusts with cheese. You even have a worthy adversary in Papa Johns. How many people can say they have a worthy adversary??

And so you decide to branch out into other foods rather than, say, increase the quality of your pizza offerings?

Just how much reefer were those execs smoking? Clearly, they need a firm hand, which is why I'm leaving work right now to enact a hostile pizza takeover and turn things around over there....

Or, you know, not.

In Case You Havent' Seen Anything Cool Today

noreply@blogger.com (Lucky) — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 22:55:00 +0000

Ride To Work Day, and Stuff!

noreply@blogger.com (Lucky) — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 15:01:00 +0000

ARGH! I had this nice post all written up, and it got lost somewhere in the ether.

So, here's the abbreviated version because I don't want to type it all up again: Ride to Work day today. First time I've actually ridden on the designated day. Bad things prevented it in the past. I'm half expecting something horrible to happen to me on my Ride Home From Work (Trademark T.G.M.P.T.) today.

Also, this blog has been in existence for four years now, as of last Monday. Go me. To celebrate, beer tonight.

That is all.

Meeting Outsider Artists and Other Persons of International Renown

noreply@blogger.com (Lucky) — Fri, 12 Jun 2009 14:13:00 +0000

So the race between Chris Cope and I was to see who could post the quickest about the drunken midget who offered to take our photo at the bar.

Chris won. He doesn't need sleep.

Chris is on a great American road trip, and we managed to talk him into coming down to Phoenix along the way. Last night, we took him to Pizza Heaven and enjoyed a pepperoni and jalepeno pizza before heading over to our most favorite bar in Phoenix for beer, bad pool and brilliant conversation. I haven't laughed so much in ages.

Anyway, it was great to meet you Chris. You're welcome to visit again any time.

Evading Enforced Squishiness

noreply@blogger.com (Lucky) — Wed, 03 Jun 2009 23:03:00 +0000

This morning I split lanes on the freeway for the first time. It wasn't impatience, or a desire to go fast that inspired me to dart between the cars in front of me.

It was a desire to avoid become the jam in a car sandwich.

As I've mentioned previously, there's some gnarly road construction going on along my route to work. Traffic in this particular stretch is bad anyway, and now it's extra exciting.

So I was puttering along in tightly packed traffic, and things sped up a bit. I, naturally, also sped up. Then the car ahead of me slammed on its brakes. So I also applied maximum braking to avoid giving that car a Triumph enema. And then I heard something no biker ever wants to hear: squealing tires getting louder behind me.

I did not check my mirrors. I did not check my blind spots.

I did let go of the brakes and accelerate between the yellow Jeep and white whatever-it-was which were still braking. Instinct told me I didn't have to be faster than the bear, just faster than the others also running from it.

I felt kind of bad cutting around the Jeep, but mostly relieved I didn't get smooshed. I didn't hear a crash, so I assume the skidder got himself under control again.

Needless to say, the adrenaline rush didn't make it easy to maintain a reasonable pace on my way in to work.

So, since I've now had two close calls along that same stupid stretch of road I'm going to go ahead and start using a different route in the morning. Seems prudent.

New Budget Ural

noreply@blogger.com (Lucky) — Tue, 02 Jun 2009 16:22:00 +0000

So I'm probably the last guy to discover this but Ural is releasing a new "budget" model, the Ural-T. Looks like it comes in flat black with red pinstripes. It's missing a lot of the amenities those of us who like Urals drool over - such as the spare tire, shovel, fuel can and gun mounts - but those can be added later.

Of course, I want the Gear-Up. It comes stock with spare tire, luggage rack, shovel, fuel can, gun mounts, aimable spotlight AND on-demand two wheel drive. But if that's not cool enough, check the "Death Valley" movie here.

It will be mine.

One Leak Closes, Another Opens

noreply@blogger.com (Lucky) — Sun, 31 May 2009 03:11:00 +0000

The plan for today was to get the air filter installed in the Triumph (finally), go buy a new vacuum cleaner, and work on my new, super-secret business plan of utter genius.

But before starting any of that, I sat down in my reading room with a copy of Living Aboard magazine. I've been amused with the similarities between boaters who live on their boats, and hardcore bikers. Sorry to use the cliche, but we both do more with less. Also, as I learn more new and interesting and entirely unrelated things (my true hobby: learning new stuff), I'm amazed at how much everything is the same.

So, I was reading about some lady trying to repair the ten foot hose between the head and the storage tank on her boat, when I had a revelation. I realized that the tool I used to adjust the valves on the VX800 would probably fit in the horrible little spot where the troublesome bolt is.

Naturally, I bolted from the reading room straight to the garage. Lady Luck asked where I was going as I passed by, and I muttered something coherent like, "I'm a GENIUS."

Out in the garage, I dug out the valve adjustment tool, and finessed it into the space between the front and rear cylinders on the VX. It popped, more or less, right on to the bolt. Alas, there wasn't room to move it, because the carburetor was in the way.

So, I pulled the carburetor off, and tightened the bolt right up. I then spent the next three hours getting all the parts I've pulled off the VX back on the bike. Once everything was assembled and tight again, I poured a couple liters of water into the radiator to see if the bike can hold its water.

Well, the original leak I had set out to fix, no longer leaks. HOORAY!!

Of course, there's a new leak, mocking me. It's on the bottom of the motor, on the clutch side, and I can't figure out if it's a case of a missing bolt, or if something horrible has happened.

So, take a look at this picture and tell me what you guys think. The coolant is leaking out of the hole on the top of the photo, slightly to the left of center.

Whaddya think? Stuff a bolt in there? Weep inconsolably and scrap the bike?

Update! Well, if I'd been paying attention, I'd have noticed the hole is on the water pump housing. So, probably a bad mechanical seal. Yay for new parts!

Just a few random things

noreply@blogger.com (Lucky) — Wed, 27 May 2009 20:45:00 +0000

The dude on the 883 sporty said "Hi" this morning. He is now OK.
Last Friday it rained. Because it does not rain here, I didn't bother with my rain gear. Therefore, I got soaked. Of course, if I had worn my rain gear, it would not have rained and I would have been soaked anyway from the suffocating heat inside my rainsuit. There is no victory in the desert.
I was the only motorcyclist parked in the garage at work on Friday. As such, I took over the Fearsome Accounting MC's turf and marked it as my own with a big "No Wussies" sign.
The "No Wussies" sign was actually just my Triumph, parked all alone.
It was still awesome.
We're headed for Oregon again. We'll be up there in the end of June and beginning of July. It will rock and I can't wait.

More Plans for Oregon

noreply@blogger.com (Lucky) — Tue, 19 May 2009 18:38:00 +0000

When I get to Oregon, I will be starting my very own sidehack-based guerilla drive in.

I've even got a 16mm projector already.

Hate To Admit It

noreply@blogger.com (Lucky) — Mon, 18 May 2009 18:04:00 +0000

Have I mentioned recently how much I hate SUVs?

Because I really, really do. I've never ridden in an SUV I've liked, much less driven one worth the effort of getting in.

For about six months back when I was in college I owned a Ford Bronco II. I think it was a 1986, but I can't remember for sure. It was a fun truck to drive, when it actually ran. Reliability-wise, it was a complete P.O.S. I had to walk backwards around it two times and knock on the hood thirteen times under the light of the waning moon just to get it to start. You don't want to know what I had to do if I wanted to go on the freeway.

It was two-tone ugly brown, with rust in all the right places, and a fading Megadeth sticker on the back window. The radio didn't work, the doors didn't lock, and it couldn't climb steep hills without belching black smoke out the leaky exhaust and some fancy footwork between the clutch and the gas pedal. I've never owned a more terrible car.

But it was fun because it was a truck, not a souped up station wagon status symbol. I could actually haul stuff in the back.

Ignoring the bad driving habits of their latte-swilling, cellphone-yapping, utterly oblivious drivers, modern SUVs, to me, seem to be too much car and not enough truck. Are you REALLY going to take that Escalade/Navigator/Expedition up an unmaintained dirt road to go camping?

Due to a fluke NRA-convention in town this weekend, my usual car rental establishment was sold out, so I had to use another. We were planning to go camping near Flagstaff, and we don't really like to take the Mustang on long, mountain drives anymore since it's reaching the age where breakdowns are more and more common. Anyway, I wanted to rent a full-size car, because if you're going to rent a car, why not get something nicer than what you usually drive?

Well, the rental place was out of full-sized cars (and I'd really been hoping for a Dodge Charger, too), so they upgraded me to a full-size S.U.V.

The truck they gave me was a Nissan Xterra. When I saw the ugly behemoth waiting outside, my heart sank a little.

I climbed up into the damn thing, got situated with the mirrors, put it in gear and, accidentally, tore ass getting out of the parking lot and into traffic.

It had a V-8 in there. Who knew?

I hate to admit it, but I warmed to it's monster-truckiness pretty quickly. It ate up the mountain grades to Flagstaff with no trouble, and there was room to spare even after loading all our camping gear in - and we travel heavy.

But the best part was getting out on to the previously-hinted-at unmaintained dirt road. I was chasing another truck with our camping buddies in it, and they were in a hurry. We slid through curves and powered up steep, gravelly hills without complaint.

Later, I discovered the switch to engage 4WD, which made the dirt roads even MORE enjoyable.

Man, I hate it when I have to concede that maybe, just maybe, not all SUVs are ALL bad.

All the same, we're not going to buy one.

Harley Hecklin'

noreply@blogger.com (Lucky) — Thu, 14 May 2009 19:32:00 +0000

So there's this dude that used to park his Sportster next to me every day at work.

Generally speaking, when I see another biker in the parking ramp, I say "good morning!" or "have a good one!" depending on if I'm arriving or leaving.

Sportster dude hasn't replied once. I guess he's too cool for me.

Except he's on an 883 and, as everyone knows, that's a girl's bike. [At least, that's what I think if you're on an 883 and you're a douche. If not, you can ride a bright pink 883 with barbie dolls for spokes and still be the manliest man on the block.]

I haven't seen him for a while, but I have daydreamed a bit about harassing him a little the next time I do see him. For example, "So! Riding the wife's bike in today, huh?" Or "So are those things highway legal?" Or "Planning to join the Shriners?"

It'd be fun, except he knows which bike is mine. Besides, I think he started parking with the "Hell's Clerical Staff" gang in another part of the garage where all the cool guys with obnoxious pipes and stupid/no helmets park. I think the Speed Four made his girly little bike cry.

Return of the Triumph

noreply@blogger.com (Lucky) — Wed, 13 May 2009 16:45:00 +0000

The shop finished up my bike yesterday.

Or so I thought.

See, I called (note, they did NOT call me. Nice!) to make sure it was done, and they said it was. I went straight from work to the shop to settle up and get my key back. While I was there, I found out the air filter had NOT been replaced, because they had to order one.

Y'know, like the brake pads.

I took the Triumph home, but I've got to go back in a week or so to get the air filter installed.

I'm a little confused as to why they didn't just order the air filter at the same time as the brake pads. I mean, it's not like I surprised them with the request for a tune-up AFTER I asked about having the brakes done.

Whatever.

Anyway, they washed the bike, so it'll be all pretty for the next couple of days. They also adjusted the freeplay in my clutch, which has totally messed up my clutch control. Right now, when I accellerate it sounds like REEEEEEEEE-rrrrrrrrRrRrRrRRRRRR (pause) REEEEEEEE-rrrrrrRrRRrRRRRRR (pause) and so on. You'd think I was a noob.

Plus I've got new brake pads, which means every stop takes an extra long time for now. For those of you who don't know why - new brakepads take a while to "break in" and conform to the grooves in the rotor. During the break in process, actual braking power is significantly reduced.

The important thing, though, is that I've got my bike back. As much fun as scooters are, I was suffering from attitude-withdrawal.

Don't Tell Anyone

noreply@blogger.com (Lucky) — Mon, 11 May 2009 19:40:00 +0000

I've been riding the Vespa ET4 to work. It kicks ass. It's still for sale, but my stable is running out of motorcycles in rideable condition.

The Triumph is still in the crappy shop, because they had to order brake pads. Seriously? At a dealership? I'm annoyed because I've had to call the shop every day in order to get a status update. Maybe I'm crazy, but I don't think it's so much to ask for a quick call to let me know they're going to have to keep the bike a while longer.

I'd be a lot happier to get that call than to find out they're keeping it when I call them to make sure it's ready as I head out the door on a sunny afternoon to go pick it up because they said it was going to be done first thing in the morning.

So, no Triumph for me until tomorrow night.

Also, Lady Luck reported that her Vespa's check engine light came on briefly during her ride home. So, it's to the shop with that one. It's due for service anyway.

That leaves carpooling, mass transit, or the ET4.

The ET4 won. It's the happiest solution for everyone involved.

An Explanation

noreply@blogger.com (Lucky) — Fri, 08 May 2009 19:51:00 +0000

So, no, the Triumph didn't actually kill anyone. Nor, so far as I'm aware, has it ever demanded human sacrifice.

Nope, the gory red mess all over the ground in my photos from yesterday is coolant. See, this cute little plastic connector must have developed a crack, which then leaked, which then led to a catastrophic failure (of the connector).

All your intrepid reporter knows is that I got off the bike seconds before my nuts got steam-grilled (or "White Castled").

See, I was on my way home when I noticed the check engine light was on. I thought "Aw, hell," and assumed I'd make it home and take the bike in to a mechanic at my leisure.

Well, then I noticed the temperature climbing all the way to 119 degrees Celsius. This is also when I noticed my radiator fan wasn't running.

So, I pulled straight into a McDonald's parking lot and shut the bike off. As I said, I had time to get off before the steam started pouring out from under my seat and the bike gushed coolant all over the parking lot.

It was pretty awesome to watch, really. Sometimes, when things are just fucked, all you can do step back and and enjoy the show.

Anyway, I got the local Triumph shop to come get the bike (none of the non-Triumph shops, most of which were closer, would take it.), and it's being operated on as we speak.

I'm a little ticked about the breakdown, but massively relieved it happened in such a convenient area.

Why I Never Turn My Back on the Triumph

noreply@blogger.com (Lucky) — Thu, 07 May 2009 15:28:00 +0000

The Triumph demands bloody tribute.

Random Car Crash

noreply@blogger.com (Lucky) — Tue, 05 May 2009 15:09:00 +0000

I witnessed a car crash the other day. A single car lost control and wrecked, without hitting anyone else, in dense traffic.

There is a bunch of new roadwork being done on the freeway I use to get to work. I hear they're extending the HOV lane, which is a good thing. As it is right now, there is a nasty bottleneck just before the HOV lane opens up. It's kind of fun because I get to accelerate hard when I finally reach the HOV lane, but losing the bottleneck would be more fun overall.

Anyway, the road has been squeezed down until there is just room for three lanes. Traffic gets bunched up pretty tight because 98% of drivers on the road don't understand how to merge.

I was riding in the center lane behind a black Chrysler 300 and very much looking forward to enjoying the thermos full of coffee I had in my courier bag. In the right lane, just barely ahead of the Chrysler was a white compact car of some variety.

I couldn't see the driver of the white car, so I don't know if he/she was on the phone, drinking coffee or fiddling with the radio. However, I did see him (we'll assume it was a guy for ease of writing) turn on his left turn signal and start drifting towards the center lane. He was NOT far enough ahead of the Chrysler to actually change lanes without giving us all a basic physics demonstration (two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time). He noticed at the last second that he was about to damage a car a whole bunch more expensive than his, and abruptly swerved back into his own lane.

Which is where things went all to Hell.

His dramatic swerve sent him hurtling towards the breakdown lane. Naturally, he did the thing people do when they panic and over-corrected. His over-correction was enough to break his back tires loose, and he started fishtailing in perfect weather on a clean road.

Frankly, I was impressed.

He continued over-correcting, and the fishtail got worse and worse until he'd spun all the way around. At this point, his car careened into a concrete barrier on the right side of the road. It made a mighty crunching sound, and sent car parts flying across the road. Parts I had to dodge.

Incredibly enough, his car was still spinning around at this point. Traffic had not yet stopped, and I found myself faced with flying car fragments and a newly-bashed, white, compact car sliding towards me.

I didn't really have time to think, but swerved left and grabbed a big handful of throttle to get away and past the car.

Luckily, it worked. I managed to avoid the tumbling, scattered car parts AND the still-mobile wreck.

So far as I could tell, everyone else managed to avoid his sphere of destruction. I would love to know what happened, exactly, to cause that crash. I'm going to leave it in the "doesn't know how to operate vehicle at speed" category for now.

Hugs for Helmets

noreply@blogger.com (Lucky) — Tue, 28 Apr 2009 20:49:00 +0000

I hate getting hugs from people I don't know. But I like seeing people I don't know getting hugs.

In Praise of Helmets

noreply@blogger.com (Lucky) — Sat, 25 Apr 2009 03:50:00 +0000

Good thing for helmets, this was a perilous week for my skull.

As I rode to work the other morning, I spotted a plastic cup flying around in the drafts from traffic. I was briefly reminded of the flying plastic bag in "American Beauty." Seconds later, it flew up into the air and smacked me in the face. A plastic cup at 70+ miles per hour, incidentally, makes quite an impact. I was glad for full-face protection.

Moving on, this morning I rolled to a stop for a red light just a little bit a white cargo van in the next lane. The passenger window was down. Seconds later, I heard a dog barking at head level. I ignored it as well as I could, though I had a bit of a headache and "yapping dog" isn't my favorite sound when I feel like the helmet is the only thing keeping my head from popping.

Then the driver of the van pulled up a bit so his damn barking dog was right next to my head. I gave the driver my best "do you really want to fuck with a biker before he's had his coffee?" look, and scooted forward a bit so his frickin' labradoodle or whatever it was wouldn't rupture my eardrums.

One of the advantages of riding a motorcycle is that the rider isn't looking through a window at the scene - he or she is right in it. Sometimes, though, that's not really the greatest thing.

It's all just part of the adventure.

Another Short Observation

noreply@blogger.com (Lucky) — Mon, 20 Apr 2009 20:16:00 +0000

There are no cool ringtones.

Seriously. All of them are annoying. The ringtone I use on my phone is the least annoying one I could find, but it's still annoying. Because of this, I keep my phone on vibrate 99% of the time.

A Saturday Observation

noreply@blogger.com (Lucky) — Sat, 18 Apr 2009 18:50:00 +0000

It is strange hearing the birds around my house mimic car alarms.