I bet you didn't know that I live on Yamaha Drive.
Eh? You didn't, did ya'?
This is the view from where I surf the Internet at home.
This is just one of five sticker shrines I have, and there's s story behind each one of them.
I could write a book, I think.
Getting ready for jerk...I mean work...is a very important part of my day, a routine that has been honed to perfection over the years.
You can't just jump out of bed and go to work.
Uh-uh.
Not me, anyway.
I need to first browse the various motorcycle message boards and forums out there that I'm a member of to read what kind of silly shit somebody is writing about their motorcycle.
You know - things like, "I'm about to change the oil on my 2007 DR-Z400SM, but I can't find the oil drain plug. Can you guys help? I've got my wrench in my hand and my buddies are waiting for me in my driveway!"
Yes, that happens, folks.
In order to tackle the biggies like that, I need to get myself into the proper frame of mind to handle such a technical question.
Brushing my teeth and putting on my thinking cap always does the trick.
Do you like my hat?
It's very warm and comfy, like me.
It's made with real rabbit fur.
Bugs Bunny, I think.
Poor Bugs - it was fun knowing ya'. :)
After a vigorous mental workout like that every morning, I can go on out into the working work with confidence.
One thing I need to do first, though, is to loose my bookworm geek glasses and put on my contact lenses, which could pass for an ant's bathtub.
Cute little buggers, ain't they?
That's right, I'm a bookworm geek in secret, and nobody knows it.
Except for you guys reading this blog.
Don't tell anybody, OK?
I have a reputation to protect, one that took years to build up to the high point that it's currently at.
I'd hate to have it come tumbling down like a house of cards.
Mums the word.
This hat was signed by none other than James Stewart, himself.
That's right, people, THE James Stewart.
Can't you tell from the signature?
It was given to me by a very nice guy named Ron.
Thank you, Ron buddy.
I owe you a big one.
I have never worn this hat because I'm not worthy. :)
Here we go: More of my coworkers at the shop I work for.
The guy on the left is Bob.
Bob is one of the techs downstairs in the Service Dept.
Bob's a great guy to have working on your motorcycle because he has a whole lotta' experience holding things like wrenches and wire snippers (which are often called dikes, and I'm not talking about Hellen Degeneres, or however her name is spelled).
Bob was once a top VolksWagon (aka VW) tech, the guy who specialized in solving the big electrical issues for the cars that would come into the VW dealer he worked at.
And there were a lot of em' too.
German engineering?
Down the toilet, people.
Why do you think they got the shit kicked out of them in World War II?
Huh? :)
The guy on the right is Brooks.
That's his first name.
Brooks is the Parts Dept. Manager for us, and as you can see, he's busy managing some parts for Bob.
What Brooks likes to do is to come in early and get the important stuff done right away so that by mid-day when we're all deeply involved with work, he'll sneak out without anybody noticing so that he can go home to work on his pitbike track.
What's a pitbike?
We'll cover those in a later post.
Yes, I know it's shocking, and that innocent-looking face has easily fooled you.
But really, people, didn't your mommas warn you about guys like him?
Sakes. :)
See these impeccably-folded towels?
I could never, ever, ever fold them as neatly as this.
In fact, I'm so impressed by this, that I have deemed them untouchable.
Whenever anybody reaches for them, I leap out of my chair and cry, "No! DON'T TOUCH THOSE!!"
Even after I explain that these are a national monument, I am not quite sure they understand.
So, I must constantly guard them.
Here's our friendly UPS driver coming in for the afternoon pickup.
Handsome devil, ain't he, ladies?
See that reflective strip on his jacket?
Well, that ain't really a reflective strip reflecting the flash from my ancient digicam.
No, no.
It's really being made to glow from the warm energy emitted from this man.
Sorry, he's a happily married man (or so he says he's happy), although I know that wouldn't stop some of you.
You homewreckers.
The door to his right has a little sign on it stating that it is the Love Shack.
Never go in there unsupervised.
Fair warning, because all is fair in love and war, which are often indistinguishable, anyway. :)
That handsome UPS man will bring us products (yes, products, people) like these.
Hey, wait a minute.
I thought this was a motorcycle shop.
Where's the motor on these things?
Sheesh.
Some guys will sell anything. :)
We'll sometime get things like this, too.
I'm still trying to figure out exactly what it is.
It looks like a pad for a toilet seat.
That's my best guess, anyway.
Aaahh, yes.
Munchies.
Completely irresistable by most people, but somebody like myself who believes you are what you eat and believes that what you eat can have either a positive or negative effect on your concentration and mental and physical ability, I'm able to walk right past these all day long without giving them a second thought.
Picking up that deadly Twinkie does nothing for me.
I don't need all of that sugar and Twinkie Cream floating around in my bloodstream, getting in the way of the quality of the work I put out.
I scoff at you, Mr. Twinkie.
Oh, god!
And this guy is the one handling the parts you may be ordering through us?
Tisk-tisk.
I sure as hell hope it's the end of the day for you, buddy.
Yes, as luck would have it, it is the end of my looooooong and very difficult work day.
Since the weather was shit this morning, I drove my trusy 2004 Ford Ranger XL into work.
The only thing I'm wondering now is whether or not I'll get stopped by a cop on the way home for swerving around while driving down the road because I'm DWT:
Driving While Twinkied. :)
-John
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