good as i been to you

hardtravelin @ 2004-03-21T02:58:00

2004-03-21T08:10:41Z

Guess what? I'm going to stop being lazy and get a job. Wanna know why? Not because I'm bored, not because I'm broke, not because my mom said I should.

No, I'm getting a job for the sole purpose of getting some cash to buy a 1964 LINCOLN CONTINENTAL CONVERTIBLE.

hardtravelin @ 2004-03-17T14:39:00

2004-03-17T19:44:55Z

Ok, I'm a big Eric Bostrom fan. I've never really seen the guy bitch, and he rides his heart out. There's not much to really dislike. And now that he's on the Duc (Daytona aside), he should be strong.

That said, this is a bit crazy:

http://www.vondutch.com/store/ProductDetails.aspx?productID=9118&R=32

42$ for a hat!? Wow. I'm down for supporting EBoz, but that's a lot of cash to shell out for a hat that cost a couple dollars to make at most. Hopefuly I won't see too many of those out at the track. Racing is expensive enough as it is. 42$ hats? No, thanks.

hardtravelin @ 2004-02-22T01:46:00

2004-02-22T07:17:32Z

Stepped out the house stopped short, oh no
Went back in I forgot my kangol

holy crap! tonight was either going to be slick rick or hank iii...
slick rick or hank iii.... hmm. tough choice. but hell, hank's
young, and i've waited over 15 years to see The Ruler! plus you
never know when the man will be jailed and/or deported again. so
it was back to the ottobar...

damn if it wasn't worth the wait. the line went around the building,
and i nearly froze my ass off waiting to get in. the show was packed.
i timed it just right - got to see some djs spin some old school
hip hop, and then out came the man. fedora, suit, fur jacket, and
some ice 'to keep up with the kids today.' ha.

after a few songs The Ruler says 'now i'm gonna take you back to '84'
and a guy comes out with a platter filled with fat gold chains, including
one medallion the size of a freaking dinner plate. he did the show,
la di da di, children's story, mona lisa, hey young world, lick the
balls, something off of storytelling that i can't remember,
and maybe one other i'm forgetting. then, he put on the fur jacket and
disappeared onto the streets of baltimore.

and if you missed him, well, you blew it.

hardtravelin @ 2004-02-18T15:15:00

2004-02-18T20:16:14Z

'Ducati GP runner Ruben Xaus has been hospitalized after a big crash on the second day of the Phillip Island test.'

who would have thunk it?

hardtravelin @ 2004-02-15T03:42:00

2004-02-15T08:59:55Z

you know that scene in goodfellas where henry hill
finally crosses the line and paulie gives him
something like 3,000$ and says 'now i turn my back
on you. you're dead to me.'?

i never thought i'd find myself in a situation where
i would have to turn my back on a person. especially
a person that i once would have given my life for
without a second's hesitation. but now i know where
paulie was coming from. maybe it's old fashioned
to still believe in honor, truth, and respect. but
these were the values of my grandfather, and as such,
they are my values as well. and i know that if my
grandfather were alive today, he'd say to me, 'boy,
i think you've had just about enough.'

and i'm not sure i'd even try to argue with him.

hardtravelin @ 2004-02-14T16:04:00

2004-02-14T21:06:44Z

sometimes great advice comes pressed
right in the middle of a tiny heart shaped
piece of candy.

hardtravelin @ 2004-01-05T23:58:00

2004-01-06T08:12:09Z

I'm a-leaving' tomorrow, but I could leave today,
Somewhere down the road someday.
The very last thing that I'd want to do
Is to say I've been hittin' some hard travelin' too.

two days from now i'll be homeless and jobless and
travelin' down some road and seein' some things
i've never seen before. i've quit my job, served notice
to the landlord, started to put my things in storage...
i've made loose plans on where i'm goin' and what
i'm doin', but that can all change in a moments notice.
i feel most alive when i'm gettin' ready to set out into
the unknown. i don't know where i'm goin', but i have
a feelin' i'll know where i'm supposed to be when i get
there. i don't know if i have enough money, i don't
know where i'll stay, i don't know if i'll miss what
i leave here, or if i'll find what i lost out there.
who knows. doesn't really matter either way, because
there's no turnin' back now.

leave a light on for me. i'll be there soon.

I'll eat when I'm hungry, drink when I'm dry
And live my life on the square
And even if the flesh falls off of my face
I know someone will be there to care

hardtravelin @ 2003-12-03T00:16:00

2003-12-03T08:25:12Z

If I'd lived my life by what others were thinkin', the heart inside me would've died.
I was just too stubborn to ever be governed by enforced insanity,
Someone had to reach for the risin' star,
I guess it was up to me.

been asleep since sometime yesterday now. the cough it ain't so bad,
and i could've easily made it to work, but i know i would have quit
or been fired if i did. in any case, i might still. if i go back.

don't know if it's the combination of the sleep, sweat, and sickly sweet
smell of deodorant, but i don't feel like the same person that
fell asleep yesterday. don't make no sense, but don't mean it's any
less true. my head is swimming, and what i do know
is that this state will soon find itself in my rear view mirror.

and the dreams....

sure hope i can remember this feelin' when i wake up.

And if we never meet again, baby, remember me,
How my lone guitar played sweet for you that old-time melody.
And the harmonica around my neck, I blew it for you, free,
No one else could play that tune,
You know it was up to me.

hardtravelin @ 2003-11-16T20:26:00

2003-11-17T05:07:59Z

William Zanzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll
With a cane that he twirled around his diamond ring finger
At a Baltimore hotel society gath'rin'.

William Devereux Zantzinger, 24, killed poor Hattie Carroll at 1.40am on
February 8, 1963, at the Spinsters' Ball - an annual charity event sponsored
by post-debutantes - at the Emerson Hotel in Baltimore. That year's event was
to benefit the Baltimore League for Crippled Children and Adults.

Zantzinger attended the function with his 24-year-old wife, the former Jane
Elson Duvall. The couple had met at school - Sidwell Friends School,
Washington DC - and William Zantzinger had gone on to the University of
Maryland. His father, Richard C. Zantzinger, was prominent in the Washington
real estate business and a Maryland socialite; he'd also served a term in the
Maryland legislature and been a former member of the state Planning
Commission.

The Spinsters' Ball had begun at about 10 o'clock on the Friday night and was
due to run until about 2am on the Saturday. Two hundred people had invitations
to attend. The Zantzingers drove there from West Hatton, the 630-acre family
farm at Mount Victoria in Charles County, which produced tobacco, corn and
grain. When Billy Zantzinger, a high spirited young man who loved partying
and, especially, horse-riding and fox-hunting with the Wimoco Hunt Club,
turned up at the Ball, he was pretty drunk. "I just flew in from Texas! Gimme
a drink!" a laughing Billy shouted, by way of announcing his arrival. At well
over six feet tall, in white tie and tails, a carnation in his lapel and a top
hat on his head, he cut a striking figure. He carried a cheap wooden cane with
which he pretended to be Fred Astaire; when he wanted a drink, he used the
cane to tap smartly on the silver punch bowl; when a pretty woman whom he knew
waltzed by, he'd tap her playfully, all in fun, no offence, of course.

By about 1.30am Billy had had more than enough to drink; his initial high
spirits had darkened and his behaviour, particularly towards the hotel staff,
began to degenerate. Ethel Hill, a 30-year-old black waitress of Belkthune
Avenue, Baltimore, was clearing a table near the Zantzingers when she was
approached by Zantzinger himself. He asked her something about a firemen's
fund, then, as the police reported it later, she was struck across the
buttocks "with a cane of the carnival prize kind". She tried to move away, but
Zantzinger followed her, striking her several times across the arm, thighs and
buttocks. Mrs Hill wasn't seriously hurt, but her arm hurt, and she ran, in
tears, back to the kitchen. In the next few minutes, the cane would be used
again, first against a bellhop, then to yank the chain around the wine
waiter's neck; as Billy's wife, Jane, tried to calm him down, he collapsed on
top of her in the middle of the dancefloor and began hitting her over the head
with his shoe; when another guest tried to pull him off, Zantzinger thumped
him. Then, apparently retrieving some of his dignity, he dusted himself down,
and decided he needed a drink.

Working behind the bar was Hattie Carroll, a 51-year-old black woman who had
worked at the Emerson Hotel for six years as an extra employee for special
functions and "ballroom events". She was a member of the Gillis Memorial
Church and was active with both the church and in local social work. The
mother of 11 children, Hattie Carroll lived with two of her daughters, a
14-year-old and an 18-year-old, her other nine children all being older and
married. She suffered from an enlarged heart and had a history of
hypertension.

Zantzinger went up to the bar at just before a quarter to two and ordered a
bourbon and ginger ale. Hattie Carroll was busy when he barked out his order.
"Just a minute, sir," she said. As she did come to serve him, she fumbled with
the glass, and Zantzinger shouted at her, "When I order a drink, I want it
now, you black bitch!" Hattie said she was hurrying as best she could, but
Zantzinger struck her across the head and shoulders with his cane. She shouted
for help and slumped against the bar, looking dazed. "That man has upset me
so," she told a fellow worker who came to help her. "I feel deathly ill." Her
speech was slurred and she collapsed. A hotel official called for an
ambulance, and for the police. When the wooden cane was found later, it was
broken in three places.

The ambulance took the unconscious Hattie Carroll to the Baltimore Mercy
Hospital. The police arrested Zantzinger and charged him with assault. As they
escorted him out through the hotel lobby, the policemen were attacked by
Zantzinger and by his wife. Patrolman Warren Todd received multiple bruises on
his legs; Zantzinger received a black eye.

Zantzinger and his wife were taken to the Pine Street police station, where
Jane Elson Duvall Zantzinger was charged with disorderly conduct and her
husband with the same offence, plus two charges of assault "by striking with a
wooden cane" Ethel Hill and Hattie Carroll. Mrs Zantzinger was released on
providing a $28 collateral.

William Zantzinger was held overnight in police custody. He appeared in the
Central Municipal Court the following morning, still wearing tails and a
carnation, though without his white bow-tie. He pleaded not guilty to the
charges. Judge Albert H. Blum had left instructions that he was to be notified
if Hattie Carroll's condition worsened, but at 9.15 that same morning, while
the hearing was in progress, Hattie died, never having regained consciousness.
The suspected cause of death was a brain haemorrhage caused by a blow to the
head. News of her death didn't reach the court, however, and in the meantime,
Zantzinger had been released on $600 bail. When the police were told of Hattie
Carroll's death, a warrant for his re-arrest was issued, this time on charges
of homicide. When the police from Charles County went to the Mount Victoria
farm, some 70 miles south of Baltimore, neither of the Zantzingers was at
home. The police therefore put out an APB, and Zantzinger was soon apprehended
and charged with first and second degree homicide. It was the first time in
the history of the state of Maryland that a white man had been accused of
murdering a black woman. Charles County in Maryland was first settled in the
1600s and the white landowners set about making fortunes for themselves by
setting up huge tobacco plantations and working them with black slaves.
Despite emancipation, conditions changed little over the next 350 years: "In
Southern Maryland," it was written in the Maryland Writers Project guide to
the state, published in 1940, "the Negro lives under much the same conditions
his ancestors knew . . . " Segregation was strictly enforced well into the
1960s - indeed the schools weren't fully integrated until 1967. At the time of
Hattie Carroll's murder, which Bob Dylan read about on his way home from the
Martin Luther King March On Washington, feelings of righteousness and
indignation were running high. On trial in Maryland was 350 years' worth of
history, tradition, no matter how bloody or obscene. It was a case of white
against black, rich against poor, master against servant. Zantzinger's defence
requested that the trial should not take place in Baltimore, where
anti-segregationists had been active for some time, but in the more "neutral"
territory of Hagerstown. And so it was. Zantzinger's defence was a simple one
- he was drunk at the time, so drunk that he didn't even remember hitting
anyone, his wife, a policeman, let alone a black barmaid. Furthermore, the
defence contended, Hattie Carroll was, after all, a large woman, an overweight
woman, who had a history of high blood pressure. She could have suffered a
fatal stroke at any time. The fact that she did so after being beaten about
the head by William Zantzinger's cane was just one of those unfortunate
coincidences. He was just a victim of circumstances.

The three judges weren't impressed. Zantzinger was guilty, they concluded, but
not of first-degree, nor indeed, second-degree murder; they found him guilty
of manslaughter and deferred sentence until August, when Zantzinger was sent
to prison with a six-month sentence. With time off for good behaviour, he was
home in time for Christmas, and though the sentence outraged the black
activists in the area, and moved Bob Dylan to write his song, most of
Zantzinger's friends in Charles County thought that the whole thing had been
blown out of all proportion, that Billy had got a bum rap. He didn't have any
difficulty at all settling back into Charles County society.

He ran the tobacco farm for awhile, then went into real estate. He moved
up-county, to Waldorf, then to a two-acre property in Port Tobacco where he
lives today. He had three children, divorced his first wife and married a
second time. For a while he ran a nightclub in La Plata; he also opened a
small weekends-only antiques shop and, as W & Z Realty of White Plains,
Maryland, set himself up as a valuer and auctioneer. He was active with the
Chamber of Commerce and in 1983 was elected Chairman of the board of trustees
of the Realtors Political Action Committee of Maryland. Billy Zantzinger was a
popular local personality - everybody liked him, liked his open sociability.
When reporter Peter Carlson asked after him in Charles County, he found that
Zantzinger still had a whole bunch of friends:

"He's a very likable person; Billy is Billy . . . he's a free spirit type of
person," said Senator Jim Simpson, a friend for 15 years. "He'd give you the
shirt off his back. He's always smiling," said Mike Sprague, who told Carlson
that he thought the Hattie Carroll case had been distorted by the media, and
by Bob Dylan's song: "They made it sound like he was Rhett Butler, riding
around on a white horse with a whip. He was just an unfortunate victim of his
times, because in the '60s, with integration going on, that played well." One
other thing caused Sprague to laugh - the fact that Carlson pointed out to him
that William Zantzinger's name was frequently to be found in the local
newspapers, in the lists of local residents who didn't pay their property
taxes. "Billy has been toasted for delinquent property taxes just about every
year," Sprague told Carlson, "but there are five pages of people who do that -
Billy just happens to be one of them."

However, on April 24, 1991, a front-page story in the Maryland Independent
written by reporter Kristi Hempel, revealed that though Zantzinger had been
regularly collecting rents on some beat-up old wooden shacks in Patuxent Woods
which were homes to several negro families, he hadn't actually owned them
since 1986, when the county had foreclosed on him because of his failure to
pay his property taxes. Indeed, not only had Zantzinger continued to collect
rents for the next five years, he'd actually raised the rents to $200 per
month, despite the fact that the hovels had no running water, no toilets and
no heating; Zantzinger had even, in the Spring of 1991, taken one tenant, John
Savoy, a 61-year-old negro who lived on welfare, to court for non-payment of
his rents. And Zantzinger had won the case, the court ordering the hapless
Savoy to pay his supposed landlord $240. But Kristi Hempel's story stirred
things up for Zantzinger, and re-opened a lot of old wounds.

The dreadful living conditions of the tenants in Patuxent Woods were widely
held to be shameful, not only to Zantzinger, but to all of Maryland;
Zantzinger was denounced as an exploitative villain, who should be called to
account at the earliest possible opportunity; but there were those who knew
the way things worked who predicted that Billy, who still had plenty of
friends and high office relations in the politics of Maryland, was likely to
go unpunished. One person, however, who was determined that Zantzinger
wouldn't get away with it, was 40-year-old Connie Dunbar, who'd worked with a
church-based group called SMASH, Southern Maryland Area Self-Help, set up to
try to help improve housing conditions for the under-privileged. When weeks
went by with no apparent action against William Zantzinger, Connie Dunbar
organised a protest demonstration to demand immediate action. "If Zantzinger
gets away with this," she said, "we may as well pack up and move out, because
that means that everybody else will get away with it."

Some time later, when Zantzinger still hadn't been arrested despite continuing
protests from Connie Dunbar and SMASH, Washington Post reporter Peter Carlson
went to see Mac Middleton, president of the county commissioners. "There's
this eagerness to bring this man to justice," Middleton told Carlson, "and I
can understand it. To the people in the housing advocates community, the guy
is like a mass murderer walking around loose . . . They see him as somebody
who abused people even before he lost the units in Patuxent Woods. He created
that slum situation out there and then he lost it, and he continued to profit
from it. They see him as someone who has lived off poor people, particularly
poor black people . . ." Is that perception accurate? Carlson asked. "I think
it's accurate," Mac Middleton replied.

On June 5, 1991, Zantzinger was finally served with a summons, charging him
with "deceptive trade practice" - one count of making a "false and misleading
oral and written statement", a misdemeanour rap which carried a maximum
penalty of a year in jail and a $1,000 fine. The trial had been set for
September 20, though the case didn't actually come to court until November 18,
by which time Zantzinger was facing 50 misdemeanor counts of unfair and
deceptive trade practises. He pleaded guilty, and in return the prosecutors
agreed to drop one misdemeanor count and two counts of felony theft. As is the
custom with American courts, sentencing was deferred. Under state sentencing
guidelines, Zantzinger was facing a possible jail sentence of 25 to 50 years
for the offences. On January 3, 1992, William Zantzinger was sentenced to 18
months in the county jail and fined $50,000. The fine was no problem, of
course, and Circuit Court Judge Steven I. Platt recommended that corrections
officials allow Zantzinger to serve his sentence in a work-release programme,
working outside during the day, but spending his nights in jail. Platt also
sentenced Zantzinger to 2,400 hours of community service, spread over 300 days
during the five years following his release (probably in nine months' time)
for local groups that advocate low-cost housing.

"I never intended to hurt anyone, ever, ever," Zantzinger said, pleading for
leniency; "it's not my nature."

"Mr Zantzinger, I wish you the best of luck," said the judge, as Zantzinger
was led away in handcuffs.

hardtravelin @ 2003-11-15T01:05:00

2003-11-15T09:08:20Z

drunken conversation. 12.53a, saturday, november 15th.

'is tomorrow the 15th?'
'yeah'
'oh, i have to go to jail'
'oh yeah?'
'yeah, for two days. i better remember'
'yeah.'
'i have to be there by 10. steve, you need to take me to jail by 10 tomorrow.'
'ok'
'no, seriously. i'm not kidding. don't forget.'

hardtravelin @ 2003-10-31T11:14:00

2003-10-31T19:16:56Z

"Nicky is growing up very fast this year – I think from now on I would like to stay in front of him.”

not a bad comment about our boy from the champ, eh? i'm not sure he's ready
for the race win, but i wouldn't be surprised if it happened. valencia is a
good track for the guys that like to slide...

the stairway.....to hell!

2003-10-29T09:08:21Z

hardtravelin @ 2003-10-27T21:42:00

2003-10-28T05:43:46Z

Most of the time
I'm clear focused all around,
Most of the time
I can keep both feet on the ground,
I can follow the path, I can read the signs,
Stay right with it, when the road unwinds,
I can handle whatever I stumble upon,
I don't even notice she's gone,
Most of the time.

Most of the time
It's well understood,
Most of the time
I wouldn't change it if I could,
I can't make it all match up, I can hold my own,
I can deal with the situation right down to the bone,
I can survive, I can endure
And I don't even think about her
Most of the time.

Most of the time
My head is on straight,
Most of the time
I'm strong enough not to hate.
I don't build up illusion 'till it makes me sick,
I ain't afraid of confusion no matter how thick
I can smile in the face of mankind.
Don't even remember what her lips felt like on mine
Most of the time.

Most of the time
She ain't even in my mind,
I wouldn't know her if I saw her
She's that far behind.
Most of the time
I can't even be sure
If she was ever with me
Or if I was with her.

Most of the time
I'm halfway content,
Most of the time
I know exactly where I went,
I don't cheat on myself, I don't run and hide,
Hide from the feelings, that are buried inside,
I don't compromise and I don't pretend,
I don't even care if I ever see her again
Most of the time.

hardtravelin @ 2003-10-27T15:00:00

2003-10-27T23:03:04Z

Have you ever lain with somebody when your
hearts were beating in the same rhythm? That's
true love. A man and a woman who lie down
with their hearts beating together are truly
lucky. Then you've truly been in love, m'boy.
Yeah, that's true love. You might see that
person once a month, once a year, maybe once a
lifetime, but you have the guarantee your lives
are going to be in rhythm. That's all you need.

-Bob Dylan
Malibu, January 1978

hardtravelin @ 2003-10-23T23:25:00

2003-10-24T06:41:35Z

May 17, 1966.

if there is any one concert in history that i
could have attended, i would have been at the
Free Trade Hall in Manchester, England on
May 17, 1966. that version of desolation
row, alone, easily tops anything i've ever heard
at any concert i've ever attended. something
magical lives through those tapes, even nearly 40
years later. damn.

Yes, I received your letter yesterday
(About the time the door knob broke)
When you asked how I was doing
Was that some kind of joke?
All these people that you mention
Yes, I know them, they're quite lame
I had to rearrange their faces
And give them all another name
Right now I can't read too good
Don't send me no more letters no
Not unless you mail them
From Desolation Row

like the liner notes of the cd state:
Something indeed has happened here...

I don't believe you
(She acts like we never have met)

I can't understand,
She let go of my hand
An' left me here facing the wall.
I'd sure like t' know
Why she did go,
But I can't get close t' her at all.
Though we kissed through the wild blazing nighttime,
She said she would never forget.
But now mornin's clear,
It's like I ain't here,
She just acts like we never have met.

It's all new t' me,
Like some mystery,
It could even be like a myth.
Yet it's hard t' think on,
That she's the same one
That last night I was with.
From darkness, dreams're deserted,
Am I still dreamin' yet?
I wish she'd unlock
Her voice once an' talk,
'Stead of acting like we never have met.

If she ain't feelin' well,
Then why don't she tell
'Stead of turnin' her back t' my face?
Without any doubt,
She seems too far out
For me t' return t' her chase.
Though the night ran swirling an' whirling,
I remember her whispering yet.
But evidently she don't
An' evidently she won't,
She just acts like we never have met.

If I didn't have t' guess,
I'd gladly confess
T' anything I might've tried.
If I was with 'er too long
Or have done something wrong,
I wish she'd tell me what it is, I'll run an' hide.
Though her skirt it swayed as a guitar played,
Her mouth was watery and wet.
But now something has changed
For she ain't the same,
She just acts like we never have met.

I'm leavin' today,
I'll be on my way
Of this I can't say very much.
But if you want me to,
I can be just like you
An' pretend that we never have touched.
An' if anybody asks me, "Is it easy to forget?"
I'll say, "It's easily done,
You just pick anyone,
An' pretend that you never have met!"

hardtravelin @ 2003-10-20T15:33:00

2003-10-20T22:35:21Z

an R6 track/race bike, or another YZ250F to go
play around on...

that is the question...

i need to sell my TZ125, too. i think i'll get
it ready to go to make room for the new bike(s)...

hardtravelin @ 2003-10-20T00:55:00

2003-10-20T08:02:18Z

there are perks to having a bartender roommate, and tonight i
experienced those perks. heh. thanks steve!

erik, chelsea, mike, victor, and i all headed down to the bar.
did up a few boddingtons, we met tina, talked to chelsea's
sister in san diego, came back, now callin' it a night.

i have the opportunity (even if it is a small one) to land my
dream job. gotta do a kick ass resume/cover letter tomorrow.
should've done it today. work tomorrow. crap.

He woke up, the room was bare
He didn't see her anywhere.
He told himself he didn't care, pushed the window open wide,
Felt an emptiness inside to which he just could not relate
Brought on by a simple twist of fate.

hardtravelin @ 2003-10-19T00:33:00

2003-10-19T07:36:37Z

Can Nicky Hayden score a podium before the end of the season?
Yes - 5997 (31.97%) No - 12763 (68.03%) Total - 18760

wonder what those 12763 people are thinking now? nicky should
be changin' some minds right about now.

awesome race. first podium. rossi is a madman. bayliss looked
good until he knocked himself out and did his best ragdoll
impersonation.

hardtravelin @ 2003-10-15T19:29:00

2003-10-16T02:42:44Z

spent too much time on the 'ol aeroplane today, but
it was completely worth it.

this trip was all about that new perspective that
clears the fog a bit. let's you know what's important
and what isn't. shows the mole hills as they are,
rather than grand mountains.

anyway, how could i possibly worry when i was just
yesterday walking the same stretch of road that one
mr. robert zimmerman walked decades ago?

i walked about 15 miles from hager city, wi to red
wing, mn yesterday. through the fields, watching
honest hardworking people at work. watching the
mighty mississippi roll by. living just a bit
simpler life for a bit.

pics are up here.

hardtravelin @ 2003-10-09T11:37:00

2003-10-09T18:39:08Z

leaving for wisconsin tomorrow. just checked in and printed out
the boarding passes for both legs of the flight. that's a pretty
slick option. no lines, just straight through security, and if i
check a bag, i can do it curbside.

can't wait for the trip!

hardtravelin @ 2003-10-06T10:51:00

2003-10-06T17:51:13Z

got my tickets, and i'll be headed to minneapolis/wisconsin this friday. flyin back here wednesday.

going to go spend some time with dear friends. i still feel bad for having left them labor day weekend, so hopefully this trip will make up for it a bit.

if the lucero show happens sat night, that will be icing on the cake. hope it does. i've got a lucero project in the works. pics (if it works out) coming soon...

69!

2003-10-05T06:07:17Z

holy crap! that race was amazing! nicky was right there. he's comin'. so close. tamada rode a sick race, and i felt bad for giberneau for bein' sick and losing out to tamada at the end after they came together. he rode his heart out.

but damn! nicky rode well. i wanted to see him on the box. i was screaming every lap. his fastest lap was 2nd to last, and i just heard the post race interview and he admits he was riding squirrely. crap was i sweatin' watching that! can't wait for malasia and philip island! crap crap crap!

go nicky!

It goes on.

2003-10-03T22:21:10Z

Robert Frost wrote these here words, and they've stuck with me over the
years:

"In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life:
it goes on."

perhaps no truer words have been spoken. it does go on. and you either
learn from your experiences, or you don't. you either move ahead or
make the same mistakes again and again. you either admit your faults
or lie to cover them up. at the end of the day, you have to be able
to look at yourself in the mirror and live with whatever choices
you've made. a true friend will be there through thick and thin,
good and bad to help you along this here journey we call 'life'.

and through it all, it goes on.