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By motomynd
In case you have ever wanted a new way to measure the fine line between adventure and death, here it is: If the left front fork seal of a motorcycle bursts, you live; if the right fork seal fails, you die.
Now, to muddy that clarity with the rest of the story.
The Saturday before tax deadline was a beautiful, sunny day here in North Carolina, which made it perfect to ride one of the motorcycles 140 miles on my favorite back roads to check on the house in Virginia. Most of these roads have a 45 to 55 mph speed limit, and there are many, many wonderful curves and corners posted with a maximum safe speed of 35. And quite a few posted 25. Being able to carve a motorcycle through a corner at twice the recommended speed without technically breaking the speed limit is motorcycling nirvana.
The first 30 miles of the ride were fantastic. Then I started noticing a strange aimlessness about the bike—the front end seemed to want to wander. The wind was gusting a bit, so I blamed the randomness on that. Finally it was so noticeable I climbed off the bike and checked what I could. Tire pressure was right. The almost new tires still looked almost new. The front suspension also looked shiny and new from where I had it rebuilt less than 1,000 miles ago.
Back on the bike and up to speed, I told myself it was just one of those weird days one has when riding. Sometimes you feel so flat you are almost bored, other times so edgy you are jumpy, and on those all-too-rare, too-perfect days, the bike feels part of you. I wrote this off as an edgy day—and stayed on the throttle.
Coming into a fairly sharp curve to the left, I passed an idyllic scene: an 1800s-era farmhouse with old folks on the front porch in rocking chairs, and younger folks in the yard watching youngsters playing with what looked to be an antique toy wagon. As I sailed past at something approaching 60 mph, I smiled at the setting and at the opportunity to downshift the bike, nail the throttle, clamp my knees tightly against the gas tank, and lean the bike hard left into the curve.
To my surprise, the bike went right. Way right. Off the road, into the yard and straight toward a row of trees.
For those of you who have seen my email, you may have noticed there is a tagline at the end that reads: “When in doubt, hit the throttle and hang on.” Sadly, that isn’t the way I have actually lived all of my life, but I have done it often enough to stay alive. As of today, that seemingly trivial motto still bears fruit.
Before I could consciously do the math that would tell me stopping before the trees was not an option, and without realizing my right wrist was twisting hard on the throttle, I heard the motor screaming at the rear tire for leverage. The front tire plowed right, the bike leaned hard left, a right foot stomped hard into the turf, the handlebars shuddered as the front tire snapped around, and a branch smacked across my full-face helmet. And then as if by magic the bike and I were back on pavement less than 50 yards from where we left it. We were centered in our lane, if not fully back under control, just as a heavily loaded logging track roared past us in the opposite direction.
After stopping at a service station a couple of miles down the road, I was able to autopsy the situation. The recently replaced left front fork seal had imploded and dumped fork oil on the left side of the front tire. When I leaned the bike hard left, that oily section of rubber didn’t bite into the pavement, so the front wheel slid to the right and took the bike—and me—with it. The cause and the results are basically the same as when a car tire “hydroplanes” on wet interstate. Finishing my assessment, it occurred to me that if youthful dirt-bike riding instincts had not kicked in, someone else could very possibly have been doing a much different type of autopsy.
So there you have it: if a left fork seal fails in a left-leaning curve, then one unexpectedly careens through a front yard. If the right seal fails in a right-leaning curve, one slides in front of an oncoming fully loaded logging truck. The difference between adventure and death lies in the secret of the fork seals.
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Copyright © 2013 by motomynd
| Please comment |
Sharon commenced on my notice for this on Facebook:
ReplyDeleteLoved my dirt bike, but the street motorcycle, Honda 300, was the most fun.
Might she have some bike tales to tell...for Motomynd.com?
DeleteWhile any writing or photo contribution to www.motomynd.com will be greatly appreciated (and someday hopefully greatly rewarded), the underlying theme of the site seems to be trending toward "old bikes, old roads" so anything along those lines will be even more greatly appreciated.
DeleteYou know Moto, I got shot with a 45 when I was 16. You would think that a person would be very grateful to be alive after coming so close to death. However, I spent a good part of my life after that doing crazy, dangerous stuff---I was well into my 50s before I stopped. What event triggered the crazy in you? (Glad you can read this.)smile
ReplyDeleteKono, so there is apparently a fine line between being glad you are still alive, and thinking you may now be invulnerable? Or immortal? If it isn't too much of a deep, dark secret, please do give us the details about your being shot - and how it affected you later in life. Did it change you at all, or did you just shake it off and keep on being you?
ReplyDeleteAs for me, I have actually always the careful and cautious one in the sometimes crazy crowd I was on the fringe of, if not fully a part of. It was the many trips accompanying others to hospitals, or attending their funerals, that kept me in check and turned me away from "living crazy." When I was just getting serious about racing dirt bikes, a buddy broke his neck, and a great rider I revered broke his back, so that soured me on pursuing that course in life. Then I got into street bikes, and a 400-foot slide down the interstate in the dark put me off them for years. Then there was the friend who drowned in a white-water accident because he chose to roll right in a Class V rapid while I decided to roll left, the adventurer associate killed by bandits, and the climber friend killed in a freak avalanche. I don't know if you believe in omens, and warning shots, but I guess I do, because I looked at all those incidents and decided maybe I should go a different direction. Or maybe I'm just chicken.
The car racing was mostly in an old Volvo that would barely do 120, so I don't know if you could call that dangerous. Although I did hit 200 mph or more dialing in some other cars, and spun one at about 160. But somehow that didn't feel all that risky - and I did keep it out of the wall.
When I almost got killed down in your neck of the woods, decades before you moved there, that wasn't a choice to do something crazy. I was just sort of along for the ride when things took an unexpected turn. There was some dangerous stuff involved in getting out, but it was less dangerous than staying, so again, can't say it was a pursuit of danger so much as a quest to stay alive. Ditto for a sketchy time in Africa: If you are in a helicopter doing good samaritan work, and someone shoots it down, are you looking to live on the edge, or are you just trying to do something good and happen to be really unlucky? Again, lots of danger - and some gunfire - involved in getting out, but still much less dangerous than being taken hostage, so more of a practical choice than seeking an adrenaline rush.
Long, murky and inexact answer to your question, but I can't think of an event that "triggered the crazy." (Very nice phrase you came up with, btw.) In fact, I don't think there has been much crazy, just an abundance of calculated risk. The one thing I can come up with, is I remember reading that sons tend to be just like their fathers, or just the opposite. I'm the baby in my family by 10 years, and my dad was well into his 40s when I was born. By the time I was old enough to really know him he wasn't nearly the man he was in a younger day, so I probably saw his overly cautious outlook on life as living in fear. While I never consciously decided not to live in fear, I may have subconsciously chosen to lean toward it instead of away from it - so I wouldn't be too much like my dad - and that may be the trigger you asked about, mundane as it may be.
Moto my friend, I'm willing to bet no one but you can read your account and not think you have a crazy side. I have never had a death wish, but looking for that thing that tests the boundaries of the norm is what places us in the path of danger. The normal person would not have been racing bikes or cars, hiding in jungles, or being shot down in a helicopter. I also knew where the line was, but like you I was willing to walk closer to that line than most people. It's like a man who cheats on his wife, and says I didn't intent for it to happen. However, he put himself in the position where it could happen. Walking up to that line doesn't mean anything bad is going to happen---but there is that chance.
ReplyDeleteIt's not all bad I made it to 70, but I have to admit, your line is out beyond mine. I'll tell you about getting shot while living in Texas another time. Keep the sun in your face an the wind to your back.
Comrade Kono, for the guy who actually got shot to say his line is not as far out as the guy who only got shot at, says something interesting about your perspective. That comes with a smile, btw.
DeleteHelen Keller offers a great quote on living an adventurous life:
"Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing."
If those living "beyond the line" are merely heeding the advice of a deaf-blind humanitarian, maybe that says more about the perspective of those who play it as safe as possible, rather than those allegedly pushing the boundaries.
As I was saying about "interesting comments"....<smile>
DeleteEd and Motomynd, this blog owes much to you (and occasionally to a few others) for making the comments sometimes even more interesting than the main article.
ReplyDeleteMoto, I love Helen Keller's quote. I've always believed if you were not having an adventure---you should be planning or on your way to one.
ReplyDeleteYeah, I hadn't planned on getting shot either. Most of my friends are dead also.They died from one mishap or the other. I should be dead a hundred time over but keep walking away with very little damage to show. One day I won't. It may surprise me, but I'll have no complaints.
When my daughter got married, my advise to her was live life to it's fullest and make memories because one day that is all you will have.(I don't see you or I being bored with our memories.)
Ed, the word "adventure" could use a little discussion. Do you think a person's attitude might be an essential ingredient? Could the way a person regards an activity—even one that other people might consider ho-hum—make that activity an adventure for the person with the "adventurous attitude"? For example, going to one's job each day. Could that ever be an adventure to your way of thinking, or are you talking about something else, like where the activity has to be off the usual path or really different (in itself, not just in a person's attitude)?
DeleteJust trying to understand what is, or might be, an "adventure."
Jesus, Moto! Congratulations on still being alive.
ReplyDeleteThe Keller quote is so good that I'm going to put it on my refrigerator for a while.
I've always been a slightly unreasonable risk-taker. Started high-diving at 12. Was a public menace on the road 16-25, until it finally occured to me that I wasn't the only one at risk. Then discovered skiing and mountaineering... At first I blamed it on childhood polio, which gave me something to prove. That was settled to my satisfaction by my late 20's, yet I doubled down on the climbing. I was finally forced to admit that I'm merely an adreneline junky. With the wisdom of old age, though, I now only ski too fast.
I'm just back from celebrating 70 on the Green River. The trip was a commercial with Holiday Adventures (an old and VERY classy whitewater business, BTW.) It turned out to be Esther, me, a friend, three guides, and seven apprentice guides. It was a hoot. I haven't spent so much time around merry young adventurers in a decade.
Some of the guides were especially interesting. For instance, Susan, a senior apprentice, is a beautiful, intellegent, and uber-competent 30-year-old. She wangled a job in New Zealand out of college, then spent a summer working in Antarctica before travelling the world. Now has a charitable foundation dedicated to bringing Chilean kids to the U.S. to paddle whitewater - and vice versa. The trip was the final exam for her Utah river guide's licence.
She is only the most rootless of a group who seem to get by just fine with no long-term plans. Makes me wonder what I'm doing with my life.
Kono, that is excellent advice you gave your daughter. Has she heeded it? There are few sadder sights in life than bored, overweight people in their 30s and 40s trying to muster excitement by exaggerating their meager high school and college memories. For them, ordering a different flavor latte, or buying a new computer game, is the biggest adventure they undertake, and that won't be much to look back on later in life.
ReplyDeleteToo bad Chuck is off on an adventure instead of sitting at home where he can add to the discussion. He will no doubt have great sport with us upon his return.
I'm happy to say she has Moto. One of the few times she didn't have to find out I was right the hard way. She married a man that likes to travel, ski, and all the outside stuff. They have no children and made damn good money so, they work hard and play hard. She is a treat to be around. I don't believe her memories will be boring.
DeleteKono, it must be great to know the hard-earned lessons of your life paid off not only for you, but for your daughter as well. Congratulations on that!
DeleteI hope I speak for Chuck and the others, don't like doing that, when I say if it doesn't excite the hell out of you and scare you at least a little then it was like any other day. I guess if your job was bomb disposal, then each day could be called an adventure. I've made bombs---taking them apart is harder.
ReplyDeleteNot all adventures have to give an adrenaline rush but they have to excite you enough so that twenty years later to remember how it felt. If i'm wrong you fellow travelers may slap my hands.
Adventure can be doing anything new and interesting.
ReplyDeleteAdventure can be taking a stupid risk.
Adventure as I mean it at the moment is interesting, strenuous, and potentially risky - but the risk can be controlled with enough skill, thought, and attention.
On the subject of what makes an adventure, if I remember correctly the Norwegian polar explorer Roald Amundsen said something along the lines of the difference between an expedition and an adventure "is just bad planning." Having been on the wrong side of the equation a few times, I have to add that luck factors in as well.
DeleteI do agree. But, good planning is not all it is cut out to be. My daughter goes on vacation with a loose lief notebook. She can open it and tell you what is going to happen from hour to hour. When we go together, she doesn't do it, because she knows I don't want to know what is around the bend---I want to find out for myself. I guess adventure is stepping into the unknown and coming out the other side happy and surprised. Living like that can place you in danger, but it makes life interesting. It goes without saying, I try to limit the dangerous aspects as best as I can, and still hold on to the surprise part.
DeleteI'm sure Moto, that heading out across that field was one hell of a surprise. But, then you wrote about it and as you did so, I'll bet you had a smile on your face.
Kono, adventure is indeed stepping into the unknown, and your point about not having things too rigidly preplanned is a good one. However, I prefer my adventure at a level where I come out happy that I made it, not surprised that I made it.
DeleteIn a previous post you mentioned "setting a line" out there beyond the norm. Here is a guy who at age 80 is still setting his line way beyond just about everyone else on the planet: http://www.adventure-journal.com/2013/05/the-man-who-skied-down-everest-climbs-it-at-80/ Compared to him, I've never even had an adventure. Thus humbled, I'm going to drink a Scotch and go to bed feeling like a wimp.
Interesting quote from an interview with Kevin Spacey, in answer to the question: "Do you miss the movie world?" [He's in London, the new artistic director of the Old Vic.] Spacey said:
DeleteI don't pine for anything I'm not doing. I love where I am now, I don't wish for greener pastures. This is just perfect.
Attitude?
Morris, your post reminds me of a very interesting radio program I heard recently about the book 'A Mindful Nation' by Congressman Tim Ryan. Mindfulness - which basically means to focus all of one's awareness on the present, instead of being distracted by thoughts of the past and future - is a concept rooted in Buddhism, but which Ryan and many others espouse as a non-religious means of dealing with stress and staying focused on urgent tasks at hand. Kevin Spacey seems to have the concept well in hand, as does, I assume, an 80-year-old man climbing Mount Everest.
DeleteYes! And excellent interpretation and connection.
DeleteNow that you mention it, the element of surprise is a critical part of adventure. One reason I've taken few guided trips is that they are all about avoiding surprise. Even walking out of a train station at night, in a strange country, wondering how to find a bed is a little adventurous.
Delete"I come out happy that I made it, not surprised that I made it."
DeleteYou cannot tell me once you got stopped and looked back on what you had just survived...you were not surprised you made it. It does not sound like a lot of planning but a lot of good luck, which we are all happy about.
Not that I've been there, but I can't credit being surprised at having made it. Human expectation being what it naturally is, the true surprise would be NOT making it, although—we're talking about dying, right?—I don't believe we would experience it.
DeleteThis back and forth makes me wonder: Does emotion define the level of adventure? Or does injury, or death? Or do the latter fall into an entirely different category?
DeleteExample: Two people run through the woods, with bullets flying all around them. Neither gets hit but both hear the whine of the near misses and see dirt kick up around them. Is it fair to say they share the same level of adventure? Repeat the scenario, and this time one gets hit, but they both make it to their vehicle, head immediately to an emergency room, and both are fine two months later. One got hit, the other didn't, but is the level of adventure different, or still the same? Was the level of adventure defined by the running from the gunfire, getting into the situation that provoked the gunfire, or in being wounded?
Moto, I believe the problem with your bike and the two men being shot at was not the adventure. Your ride was the adventure and I don't know what the two in the woods were doing before the gun fire. Adventure is the fun of surprise, the danger is not something you look for--it is something that finds you. A person can have an adventure without danger, but if there is an unknown factor in that adventure then you are open to possible danger. This is not fun or wanted. Sh-- happens.
DeleteInteresting scenario! I'm sure that emotion is essential. In fact, look at these dictionary definitions I just pulled off the web (mostly from Merriam-Webster):
Delete"An unusual and exciting, typically hazardous, experience or activity."
"An undertaking usually involving danger and unknown risks."
"The encountering of risks <the spirit of adventure>."
"An exciting or remarkable experience <an adventure in exotic dining>."
Certainly the ones with the word "exciting" assume emotion. And "hazard," "danger," and "risk" would suggest some degree of apprehension or fear.
The amount or degree of emotion experienced probably depends on the experience of the person involved, too. In your scenario, one of the hypothetical people might have been in combat and been shot at before, and the other never before in a situation remotely like the one described. Their respective emotional response would likely be significantly different. The latter might be "scared shitless," for example.
I think it's fair to say that what Person A finds enjoyably adventurous, Person B might not, either because B has "been there done that" or is relatively averse to risk-taking or doesn't enjoy the level of excitement that A requires for something to feel adventurous.
I myself am "relatively averse to risk-taking and don't enjoy high levels of excitement." It's an adventure to me when my wife asks, "Will you do something for me" and I (as always) say, "Yes, of course. What is it?" It's an adventure because I have no idea what she's going to ask me to do for her, so there's some level of the unknown and surprise involved.
Breakfast cereal is an adventure to me. I almost invariably put four or five different diced fruits on my granola mixture. Note the word "mixture." My highly piled bowl includes three or four different cereals and four or five different fruits, and each mouthful is a surprise of (usually) pleasant tastes.
Note, however, that I'm not entirely a wimp, without courage. I did have the courage, after all, to admit what sorts of domestic activity constitute an adventure for me. You may laugh now.
I also find blogging quite a continual adventure. As you know, I write most of the posts myself, and it's often a surprise—sometimes a big one, and quite exciting—to learn what it is I'm going to write, or even write about.
DeleteAnd it's usually a surprise (almost always pleasant) to see what I'm sent by a contributing editor or columnist.
Danger? Well, we know that some people who have voiced their unpopular opinions have been harmed by individuals who hate those opinions and anyone who holds them. (I have written about this, even shared a fantasy or two I've had about it. E.g., "Ask Wednesday: Homicide detective on a case.")
Risk? Well, yes. Am I even going to come up with an idea? Am I going to be able to say anything that pleases me about it? Is contributing editor or columnist X going to come through and send me something? Is one of the interviewees I've got questions out to going to respond in time? (I'm often disappointed that the answer is "no" when it comes to interviewees.)
If I decide to write a sestina (a 39-line poem) for tomorrow's post, am I going to be able to do it?
For me, all these risks are quite exciting, usually pleasant to face and meet, and highly rewarding.
Again, you may laugh now.
You guys, I think, have it right: the element of surprise, unknown factors, and adventure are linked - and where you have one, you have the other.
DeleteMorris, as for your bowl of cereal, I think it would be more of an adventure if you chose what to put in your bowl by a roll of the dice, or had your wife choose. If you made a list of acceptable ingredients, and she chose at random what you started each day with, and you ate it blindfolded...
Kono, your earlier question about my comment: "... I prefer my adventure at a level where I come out happy that I made it, not surprised that I made it." Note the words "I prefer." In the moto detour the side trip through the yard was not my preference, but looking back, I'm actually not surprised I made it. This is not meant as a statement of ego or endorsement of my limited riding skills, it is just that now that I stop to think, it never occurs to me things could end badly. Until they do.
Which takes me further back to the comments about the difference between being shot and being shot at. You were shot and hit. I was shot at, but it never occurred to me I could be hit. I just assumed I would run, duck and dodge and it would work out. Same as when instincts took over, the right wrist got on the throttle, and the bike found its way back to the road with it and me unscathed. If things had ended badly in either case it would have come as a complete shock, because all ending well just seems the way it should be.
Anyone else have a comment on that? Have any of you actually gone into something just knowing it was going to end badly, and yet you went into it anyway? And did it actually end badly, or did it work out?
Moto, by now you should know, there has been a number of times I have said to myself, “This is not going to be good.”
DeleteThis is a easy one however. When I lived in Washington State a friend of mine owned a little piece of land where he had a camping trailer and site, by a pond. The beavers had built a dam above him and most of the water in his pond had dried up.
We walked the mile or so through the woods and came upon a beaver dam that was at least 12 or 14 feet high and 20 feet across. The water behind the damn spread through the woods so far it was impossible to tell how large it was.
Lee turned to me and said, “Well, can you blow it up?”
I crawled down the bank and checked out how the dam was put together. The main supports were three logs. Two were about 29'' across and the main one, on the lower part of the dam, was 36'' or larger. It was going to take a lot to blow that dam.
When I came back up, I told Lee, “This is a bad idea. It will take a lot of explosives to open a hole. And, then there will be a wall of water heading down stream. It may take out you dam or who knows what will happen.
He insisted losing his dam was better than no water. So the next day I packed the base of the dam with what I felt was more than enough to do the job. I had 100 feet of electrical wire. I ran it out as far as I could and parked myself behind the largest tree I could find. I had a 12 vote battery out of my car and I touched the wires to the poles.
It sounded like the world blew up. There were tree trunks falling out of the sky from about 40 or 50 feet high. I hugged that tree I was behind like it was the most beautiful woman in the whole state. At last the bombardment ended. Then I could hear the roaring sound of the water. When I got back to where the dam had been, it looked like a flood gate had been fully opened.
I got my wire and battery and ran down the hill. I got to the camp in time to watch the top half of Lee's dam ripped to pieces. Other than that it didn't seem to do as much damage as I had feared it would.
The next afternoon we went back to the beaver dam. There was a strong smell of rotting fish in the air. Once beside the hole, where there had been a dam, we watched a 5' stream of water, not as large as a creek, flowing down the hill. There was a mud flat as far as you could see and most of it was covered with dead fish.
I turned to Lee and said, “We're going to jail.”
He tried to tell me no one would find out. But if that smell got worse I was sure a game warden would come to see what had happened.
The next afternoon we went back. We stood on the side of the mud flat, expecting to be knocked over by the smell of rotting fish. There was not a dead fish to be seen. Instead, the mud flat was covered with every paw print know to man. There was not one inch of mud that did not have a print. The animals must have thought God had sent manna from heaven. That part was for you Morris.
As with most things that don't turn out will, I only blew something up once more. It did not turn out well either.
Kono, great story! But to me that is an example of an adventure that turned out just fine, instead of not well. What am I missing?
DeleteSo what else did you blow up? I am asking for myself and all the other inquiring minds who I am sure want to know.
Motomynd, My morning cereal could be "more of an adventure" if someone prepared it not from a pre-approved list of ingredients. How far do I want to go to make "more" of an adventure I already find profoundly delightful?
DeleteEd—no, wait a second....
Motomynd, may we not just call you "Paul" here as we're calling Konotahe "Ed"? Your last character report acknowledged that you are Paul Clark, which is a mighty fine handle. Of course, I'd say that even if it weren't. But it is, so I'm just being honest as well as diplomatic.
Ed, who was this friend of yours whose remarkable bidding you were so ready to do, and did do, even with grave misgivings?
Motomynd (pending approval of suggestion above), the first (and so far only) thing that I did that I felt wasn't or probably wouldn't turn out well needs a brief setup first: I fell asleep driving home from work (a 35-mile trip) in June 1990. I was on I-40, heading west, and had just gone under the Exit-273 overpass. I woke up doing 55 in the fairly wide median that you may be familiar with there. But the curve was to the right at that point, so I was heading toward the oncoming lanes. I probably jerked rather than carefully turned the steering wheel to the right. The possibility of simply slowing down to a stop in the median didn't seem to have occurred to me. Anyway, I was headed back toward the ongoing lanes (two) when I realized that I could be "creamed" from behind and (I think) I looked around to see what was coming. Didn't seem to be anything imminent. I think the right front tire probably came unseated from the wheel when I hit the edge of the pavement. At any rate, after I traversed the two lanes diagonally and sort of slid to a stop on the shoulder/verge, and after I stopped shaking and managed to get out of the car and stand on my wobblies, I saw that the tire was unseated.
The bad that might have happened—the bad that I was imagining, that is—was that I would be hit by a car or truck from behind. There was no collision, and as I recall traffic continued along as though nothing had happened. (Maybe everyone else was asleep too?) I don't remember how I managed to alert my wife to the situation, to come rescue me, and so on. Perhaps someone did stop and let me use their cell phone. There were cell phones in 1990, weren't there? I don't remember arranging a tow or anything, or whether I put on the spare myself. I do remember getting a doctor's appointment for one week later and his diagnosing chronic fatique syndrome, probably due to elevated titre of Epstein-Barr virus (or bacteria or whatever it is). And I remember some of the long, restful days of the 6-month medical leave of absence from IBM....
I don't think the fish thought it turned out all that well. The animals however were happy. How does that old saying go: "At breakfast the chicken joins in, by happily giving her eggs, but the hog has to be really committed." You like sayings Moto, here is one I like, don't know where it came from: "My mind is a graveyard of dead dreams"
DeleteAnd Morris, Lee was a close friend that taught how to live off the land in the state of Wash. We spent a lot of time in the woods. This was before my protest days.
Sorry Moto, you asked about the second explosion.
DeleteAnother friend, who hear about the dam, had a stump the size of a VW on the hill above his house. I told him also, I didn't think it was a good idea.
The stump was about 250 yards from his house and he hid behind his tractor parked in the pasture over a 100 yards away. I put all of the explosives I had left under the stump. After the explosion, there was no stump, only a 4x4x6 hole in the ground. Because of the angle of the hill, pieces shot away from me and toward the house and tractor below. A large piece landed on the hood and almost killed him. Most fell short of the house but a fairly good sized one hit the edge of the roof and took out part of the gutter and there was even pieces in the front yard.
Lucky for us or me his wife was not home. I can't remember us ever speaking after that. My guess was his wife said he could not play with me anymore.
Also, Morris that cheap Boone's Farm wine will make a person drive crazy and then forget all about it every time. I hope you upgraded to a better class of wine after that. (smile)
DeleteBeing familiar with driving I-40, but not with pyrotechnics, I am struggling to assess which would be the most exciting adventure: falling asleep on the interstate, or blowing up stuff. Both are great stories, and I am happy to hear them from a nice, safe distance.
DeleteHa, Ed, I can tell you that I not only do not need to drink any Boone's Farm wine to nod off at the wheel, I also do not need to have CFS (chronic fatique syndrome). I still nod off a little occasionally, but so far have always snapped-to before running off the road or colliding with another vehicle. I stay awake better if my wife is with me, doesn't fall asleep, and is able to poke me in the ribs every so often.
DeleteAnd, Motomynd, although I'm pretty sure that if I'd have been present for Ed's two pyrotechnic fiascos, I'd have been excited enough to wet my pants, I can't say that I'd have gotten any more excited than I found myself in the middle of the median doing 55 going toward the oncoming stream of cars and trucks....
In fact, how could one compare the excitement of two separate incidents if one has not experienced both, let alone not experienced either? I'm not even sure that someone who had experienced both could reliably compare them if each incident's excitement level was pretty high. I mean, in the case of my freeway excitement, I've pretty much forgotten the raw feeling altogether, which makes me suspect that it might be more difficult to recall really unpleasant sensations/feeling-states than we might assume.
Is it even that easy to recall a really pleasant sensation/feeling-state? For example, how does your memory/imagination of sexual orgasm compare with the real thing? I'm finding I can't begin to remember/imagine how I know the real thing to be. But isn't that the secret to why we want to repeat that real thing from time to time?
Adventure looks like a rich topic. Anyone want to take it out of the comments and into a column?
DeleteChuck, I referenced you in my post, and wouldn't you know you would pop in before I had time to edit and send? Glad you had a great trip and so enjoyed your 70th!
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