92 Men on a Dead Man's Chest! Yo, Ho, Ho and a Bottle of Rum for Lunch!

Here they be, the Sidi Crossfire TA boots.
They fit veeeeeeeery well, and feel as snug as a bug in a rug, even though my rugs don't have bugs as far as I know.
As soon as I break them in a bit by wearing them around the house for a while, I'll be using these on my Sunday Pachaug rock pile rides.

-John

It's 91 Degrees Inside my Freezer

I just received a Facebook friend request from somebody I don't know, but I don't want to accept it.
Why?
It's supposedly from a young lady (judging from the pic, she's around 20 years old) wearing lots o' makeup (too much, in my opinion) with some kind of emo hairdo.

I clicked her user name and wanted to read some stats about this mystery person, but her page was as blank as could be, with none of the pertinent info filled-out.
I couldn't even send her a message to ask who the frig she was - when I clicked the SEND A MESSAGE button, I wasn't even able to create a message to send.

My cranium got suspicious, so, I think I'll let sleeping dogs lie.

Off to jerk for another freebee Saturday. :)
-John

I Got a 90 on my Hearing Test!

It's Goober from The Andy Griffith Show, an old TV comedy from the 1950s or 1960s.

This pic is in color, so it probably came from the 60s.

I think this pic depicts the mental state a lot of riders are in.

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I get a kick out of how other riders, who own and ride the very same model of motorcycle that I do, expect the opposite from the bike that I do.

On one of the message boards I belong to, one for my WR-250R dual-purpose bike, there are lots of posts and comments from too many other riders who are, basically, complaining about the very features that makes a dual-purpose bike a dual-purpose bike.

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What IS a dual-purpose bike, anyway?

Well, I know I went over that in my very first or second post, but, it bears doing again.

I'm sure you know what a dirt bike looks like.

I'm sure you know a typical dirt bike isn't street legal.

I'm sure you know what a typical street bike looks like.

I'm sure you know a street bike ain't made for off-road riding.

If you want a dirt bike that you can legally ride on the street, straight off the showroom floor, you buy a dual-purpose bike.

This is a bike that is intended to be ridden off-road and also on the street.

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Now, this is where the differences of opinion start, because what your idea of a dual-purpose bike should look like depends on a couple of key things that have to do with you and your gray matter between your ears.

Do you expect the bike to basically be a street bike in dirt bike clothes that can run with 100mph traffic with ease and have a seat made for simply plopping your ass down on it for hundreds of miles at a time, with a big fuel tank to allow such fuel range?

Or, do you expect a dirt bike that has the required parts (like lights, a horn, mirrors, etc.) on it that will make the bike genuinely street legal, letting you hang a license plate on the back so you can ride down any road without fear of getting a ticket for non-registered motor vehicle use?

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Myself, my idea of a dual-purpose bike always has been the latter - I want a dirt bike with street-legal running gear because I plan some real dirt bike riding to go along with my street riding.

The Yamaha WR-250R is exactly this.

It has compromises (like extra weight from EPA crap and taller gearing and cheaper suspension) that both cut costs and make it a better bike on the street compared to a off-road-only dirt bike, but it is, as looking at it can plainly tell you, a dirt bike in it's basic design.

It is plain to see to even the casual motorcycle observer, that it's designed like a dirt bike.

What is it about other riders riding this bike that cracks me up?

When they start putting on the 50lbs. of soft luggage, 3-foot-tall windshields, steel racks over both fenders, heated grips, complain the seat height is too tall, complain about vibration through the seat and grips, and, probably the No. 1 sacrilegious modification they all seem to do to the bike, modify the seat into something twice as wide as it once was, removing the ability to move back-and-forth easily on it, both while seated and while standing, and they always end-up making this creation of a seat shaped to hold their ass toward the rear half of the seat, something that is a big no-no while cornering off-road.

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That last one is a clear sign that, if these guys are even riding the bike off-road, they're doing it while sitting down all the time, which means they're doing it at a snail's pace.

Sorry, folks, but riding the bike at a snail's pace ain't cutting the mustard.

That is something you do when you're scared and uncertain about what you're doing.

I will joke to myself, when I see pics of other WR-250Rs that have a ton of touring-rider-type shit thrown on them, that they really want a 250cc street bike.

Well, that's just fine and dandy if that's where they want to ride, but openly wondering about and complaining about the seat which allows good rider movement while hustling the bike off-road is only gonna' make me roll my eyes and puke.

And laugh at the guy.

He deserves it because he's basically wondering why a cow says "Moo!".

Or why Santa drives a sleigh and delivers toys.

It's because that's the way it is supposed to be, and you're missing the intended purpose, Lenny.

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-Off to jerk,

-John

Get Yourself a Life for 89 Cents!

Oh-oh.
Looks like Mr. Serious Geek found himself a real hottie from that dating service called Nerdfinder.
Hmmm.
I wonder if her mom knows that she goes around putting lipstick on cheeks like that.
On the first date, even.
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Gonna' be a typical chance-of-rain-at-any-given-moment kind of day as far as weather goes, so it looks like I'll be choosing to drive the ol' clam of a trusty ol' Ford Ranger into jerk, today.
Oh, well.
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I'm gonna' take a break from spoutin' off about motorcycle message boards today.
The reason they seem like a big enough deal to me to spout off about in the first place is because that's the kind of shit I bought my first PC for in the first place:
To read about motorcycles and find out what other motorcycle riders were doing and communicate with them.
I mean, there's soooooo much silly shit being written about motorcycles by complete idiots, I'm just trying to give the dimwitts their just-deserved 15 minutes of fame by bringing it to your attention.
It's like a public service, free of charge.
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Things are going well as far as my own motorcycle riding goes.
My street-going WR-250R has 6,500 miles on it after 13 months of ownership, and is running like a top.
My firebreathing WR-250F has only a fraction of that mileage on it because it gets ridden on a trail loop for about 40 miles on Sundays, but makes up for it by being ridden over muuuuuuch more rough and rugged natural terrain.
That bike is, as I continue to point out after my Sunday Pachaug rock pile rides, very impressive with how it works.
I am soooooo glad I bought it.
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Yes, natural terrain.
The word natural is derived from the word nature, and when I'm out riding in the Pachaug forest on Sunday afternoon-into-dusk, I'm out there in the midst of nature.
It's natural out there in the middle of the woods.
Quite a contrast from the man-made and manicured flat and grassy clearings, picnic areas, and gravel parking lots near the main entrance of the Pachaug forest.
To a lot of people, that stuff is as nature boy as they care to get, and is all they know about the woods.
When they think of off-road in their minds, that is what they picture.
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Nope.
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That ain't nature.
Get your ass out into the middle of the woods, where the sun is blocked by all of the greenery on all of those trees, the mosquitoes will spike you if you aren't constantly shooing them away, all manner of critters critter around you, and, quite frankly, is a place that would own your sorry ass if you were suddenly faced with having to stay out there for a week straight if you hadn't brought a gaggle of camping supplies with you.
Or even just over one night.
Yeah, that's right, nature boy.
You self-righteous environmental fuckhead.
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I could go on and on about how the typical environmental propaganda that's brainwashing people (that includes kids in grammar and high school this very moment) is so misleading.
There ain't any shortage of trees.
Mankind ain't on the verge of killing the planet, no matter what he does.
It's OK and just fine and dandy to exhale and put carbon dioxide into the atmosphere, people.
THAT is a natural occurrence, and it's been going of for an awful long time.
Don't let anybody fool you by trying to make you feel like you need to pay or do penance or even feel bad for being alive on Earth.
You don't need to recycle everything in sight.
You don't need to fall in line with what everyone else is doing.
Be VERY suspicious about anything to do with environmentalism, greening, new-age, or anything coming out of the mouth of a media star or top-ranking politician.
You're being fooled.
You're being lied to.
You are, slowly, but surely, being made to believe any and all supposed problems on the planet have to do with you and me simply being alive and existing.
We're all suspected terrorists, too.
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Sounds like some pretty mad-assed rant, huh?
Well, think about what's on the TV news and what young people are being taught and what is being pushed as "normal".
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Off to jerk,
-John

Farmer Jed on His 88 Acre Spread

After a long day of milking the hay and cutting the cows, farmer Jed likes to head on out to the pasture and pretend he's riding at the front of the pack.

Look at that right wrist action - stretching the cable.

Jed's not messing around on his XT-500.

He lays 'er over in the berm, and feels the trials tire squirm.

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I might be getting old because I actually forgot to post an entry yesterday morning before heading off to jerk.

Hmm.

Happens to the best, I suppose.

Sounds good, so I'll go with that theory.
But, even worse than that, when I sat down last night at 10:00pm to write this, I lost my Internet connection for some flippin' reason.

So, here it is, a day late.

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You know what's really funny (or annoying, depending on what word you choose to use)?

When some meathead on a motorcycle message board writes in, asking the other members to stop what they're doing and pool all of their resources to help solve the dinwitt's dilemma that he's writing in about.

Here's an example that will illustrate the typical pinhead's mega-emergency question, complete with sucky spelling, non-existent punctuation, and shitty grammar:

PLEASE HELP!!!

Guys I have a problem with my 1998 kx125 I'm going on a ride this week end an I need to find out whats up with my bike. The oil drain plug sum how fell out when i was comin back from my friends house and now i cant shift through any of the geers what should I bee looking for the kickstart moves down do i think the top end is ok for now my friend said it could be the shift forks where are they at Please help!!! i need this bike fixed like now!

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Even more insulting than having to read through this mess, the retard will go back and forth with a couple helpful members who will actually give the sap some helpful advice, and then, POOF!, we'll never hear from him again.

And, we'll never know how his heart-stopping problem turned out.

That's just plain wrong.

My guess as to what happened?

The fool couldn't figure out how to even get the engine taken apart, sold the remains of his once-proud KX to a fellow retard for peanuts, and took up another hobby that's more to his liking and I.Q.

Something like shooting heroin.

Yeah.

That's where it's at.

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Off to jerk,

-John

Wow! I got an 87 on My IQ Test!

Here's a pic of Mr. Serious Geek relaxing at home, pretending he's on the starship Enterprise, traveling throughout the galaxy with Spock and Captain Kirk by his side.
Could you imagine going over his house for a visit?
I'd rather not.
My brain could not stand anything as traumatic as the thought of that much geekiness oozing out of the walls.


Yes, folk, geeks are everywhere.
To me, there is more to the collection of geeks in the world than the stereotypical one pictured above.
Everyone can conjure-up an image of some Star Trek fanatic with the taped-together eyeglasses and the WD-40 pocket protector full of pens.
Probably the second most popular classification of geek that I'm familiar with is the motorcycle geek.
Yes, people, there are lots and lots of those around, and since I work at a motorcycle dealership, I see and hear a lot of them.

What is a motorcycle geek?
It's basically the kind of retard that will mess his shit right up royally, yet have no clue as to how it got so royally messed-up.
On top of that, he'll explain his royally messed-up shit to somebody at the motorcycle shop, looking for advice on how to get his pile working correctly, again.
When he's given some very sturdy advice on what to do, he'll discard it, thinking that it's just waaaaaaaaaay too much like work, or too expensive-sounding, or both.

Because, you see, this is the kind of flaming retard that is, basically, better off far away from this activity to start with, since these idiots are the type who will set out to ruin the sport of motorcycling for those with a real brain in their heads.
How can I say such a thing?
Well, have you ever held a conversation with the moron doing donuts on the school front lawn?
Or riding his motocross bike up and down his street, racing traffic?
Yeah, that's right.
These guys are all severe retards.
These are the guys that could never be troubled in a million years with even wanting to learn how to maintain the bike and learn how to ride one well and enjoy doing it with like-minded riders.
Frig, no.
They prance around with the bent handlebars, the loose, floppy, and jangly clutch levers, dry and creaky control cables, squeaky suspension pivots, bald-o tires, pointy-toothed sprockets with matching drive chains, and cracked engine crankcases.
The really disgusting part is that, in their squishy matter between their ears, they think that there's nothing wrong or uncommon about all of this.
This is how it should be, and it's simply what's going to happen over time.

Correction, you idiot.
This is what happens with YOU in charge of things.

When i first started riding dirt bikes, I started reading Dirt Bike magazine.
There's a monthly column in there written by a guy called Mr. Know-It-All.
Mr. Know-It-All's column is a question-and-answer session, where people write-in, asking Mr. Know-It-All for advice on how to fix their shit that they have messed up.
Mr. Know-It-All basically treats them with a healthy dose of disgust for their actions, telling them that they deserve what they got, and it's now time to man-up, bite the bullet, and pay the piper for their serious geekiness with motorcycles.

A typical situation is a fool asking Mr. Know-It-All how on Earth can all of the bearing of his KX-250F rear suspension be worn out already?
It's only a 2008 model, for chrissake!
Of course, the Mr. KIA will give them an answer with the solution, but as the old saying goes, there's no free lunch, and these morons are served a heaping helping of here-you-go-you-dillweed pie.

Back then, it was a great column, and it was, along with my own real-life experiences that I was going through at the same time with guys I knew and rode with, what helped me realize how most riders got themselves into trouble with their shit.
It simply is a case of not wanting to know, expecting a free lunch, not lifting a finger, yet complaining when the inevitable happens.

Tough shit, chump.
You asked for it.

Off to jerk,
-John

86 Ways to Pick Your Nose

Catchy title, ain't it? :)

Just got back in from washing the WR-250FY after my usual Sunday loop through that wonderful smattering of public Connecticut land known affectionately by me as the Pachaug rock pile.
The trails are rocky, in case you don't understand.

It was another good one, and I rode the bike well, considering my advanced age.
Those Bridgestone M22/M23 tires are magic, once again, and the WR-250FY continues to delight me, once again.
I am so glad I bought it - it's a fantastic bike.

I saw three other riders out there, all on 2-stroke motocross bikes:
A 1983 Suzuki RM-125D (even though the guy riding it said it was a 1982. Well, not with the dark blue seat cover it had, buster).
A CR-125R, which looked to be around a 2ooo model.
And last, and certainly least because it was a Kawasaki, a KX-125, approximately a 2000 model, as well.

They were just three guys out enjoying riding dirt bikes on parts of the trails that I use, although being out there with non-registered bikes like they had is a no-no.
I didn't say anything about this to them, and I'm sure they're aware of the situation - they just want a place to ride, and I've been in those shoes many times.
The tree police, AKA DEP, probably wouldn't give a shit about that, though, and would be more than willing to issue a ticket to each of them for doing that.
Good luck, fellas.

Time to dig into the pizza that's baking in the oven.

-John