Trev Deeley and HD Nightster Special

I’m here at Trev Deeley enjoying the air conditioning and ambience. Always nice to see the staff.  

Last weekend when I stopped my new HD Nightster Special at home after idling in the heat and traffic all day, the radiator seemed to overflow with a cup of fluid suddenly boiling out under the bike.  I’ve never had a HD with a radiator.  It’s not a big deal on a truck but I phoned the incredible Trev Deeley service department.  

« Let’s be safe.  Bring it down on Friday.’

Now I’m waiting here hoping its nothing.  I loved riding the half hour here.  It’s such a joy to be on a Harley.  I traded in my big Electroglide for this smaller Nightster and am so thankful.  I’d hardly ridden the Electroglide last year finding to more like driving a truck in the city. It’s the ultimate highway machine.  I had a Vespa and was driving that any chance I had in the city.  Great little run about.  I saw a fellow with a 300 yesterday . He was going a cross Canada camping.  Not a freeway machine though it can do the work.  My Nightster though goes everywhere and is light in the city.  The Electroglide was 1200 lbs and the Nightster is 500.

I wanted to take the motorcycle on a hitch rack on my F350 . My hitch rack was rated to 500 lbs so I ‘ve ordered one from Amazon rated to 600 lbs with wider track to accommodate the bigger wheels.  The last one carried a KTM, a Honda enduro and last the Vespa.  Now I’ve given it to Dave for his bike.  Glad to pass it on.

Laura is with Madigan back home so I stopped by the HD jewelry. I bought her earrings a few months back and today was able to get her a bracelet and onyx ring. She likes HD fashion and when I’m here waiting for service I’m glad to have the time to get her something.  

I bought my first Buell Blast 600 here nearly 20 years ago.  I bought the Electroglide here too.  What I like about Trev is the honesty and service. The sales folk have been consistently knowledgeable and truthful.  I’ve had good deals on trade ins. But service parts and knowledge is what’s most impressed me.  

The fashion is just fine too. I’ve bought the best HD leather jackets and touring gear, gloves, helmets and boots.  

Living the life!. Loving my Nightster Special and hoping they’re clear the motorcycle for me to drive it home.  I bought a skookum dog carrier box here and Madigan loves to go with me for rides. He jumps up on the seat and is climbing into his box while I’m fastening it down.  I may miss the Electroglide on a long highway cruise but I’m just loving this Nighter for versatility and use.  It suits Madigan and I right now.

Older I’d rather ride long distance in my F350 with the Advernturer Camper on the back and use my motorcycle for day tours wherever we choose to camp. That’s the plan.  It’s the dream. Living the dream.  I’ve been blessed with boats and vehicles and thankful to be able to still ride.  Thank you Jesus!!!

Death

Death is in my thoughts.  I know I’m immortal.  Still these thoughts of finality come upon me.  Intrusive, limiting. I live, as if.  I acknowledge my chronic pain. There’s a fragility in my walk and a fear of falling .  The pain, soreness, stiffness in my back occurs with movement.  I’m doing various activities to live. What I once did for pleasure, like eating, I’m now doing with a conscious effort to gain longevity and to lessen pain.  Suffering is mandatory, they say.  Life is suffering unto death said Kierkegaard.  

Mahler laughs at the unseen world, as only a winner in this world can.  But I’m of an age where friends are dying, literally disappearing.  There remains only a sense that we will meet again in some otherworld beyond rainbow bridge, that mythical place where the pets are waiting to join one before passing on.  

My soul seems like an energy field of high vibration/oscillation shimmering.  In some way this ethereal self is linked with this body, shank’s mare.  The body is sad and the soul remains quizzical.  

I’m past retirement age.  I have no pension or wealth and the government corruption and evil, the mismanagement of resources, and the obscenity of their greed and stupidity has lead to immense loss and destruction of the middle class and aging.  I feel targeted as a group.  The government is at war with me and there is little help as the crunch of rent and cost of living bear down on me and all those I know.  The selfish are being rewarded. The criminals are being rewarded. The slackers are being rewarded. The hard workers, steady Eddie’s, responsible are being stripped of their earnings by the latest collection of thieves and thugs.  

The oldest law in the world is the Chinese law of the fish, there are big fish and little fish. The little fish must be fast and numerous.

I expect my back trauma has left me less capable of running or fighting. I’m fat and less inclined to discomfort. Even sleeping on the ground last year was painful.  I am accustomed to eating, heat and clothing.  

The landlord complained I had two motorcycles at my place.  My Harley Electroglyde 1600 is the ultimate highway motorcycle. I drove 5000 km to Sturges South Dakota and back on it and have used it since for day rides in the country. It’s so big and heavy that I’ve felt unstable in the city with the poor kamikaze drug stoned drivers of Vancouver not signalling their erratic turns and stopping and starting. 

I have a Vespa 300 GTE.  It’s good for the city and sufficient for country  side roads.  I put the Harley in storage and continue to ride the Vespa year round.  In my perpetual struggle to find the right tool I’m trading in the Harley and the Vespa on a new Harley Nightster 1000.  I will have to pay more to do this, the value of my machines leasened by the dealer while the cost of their product is maximized. It’s sharp business policy. The inflation of today, causing my money to be only 2 /3’s the value of the American manufacturer’s money is challenging.  The point is the Vespa is adequate but I want the Harley and mine is too big and heavy and in my mind now too dangerous to run round to the store for mail and groceries.  The new Harley has panache. Laura calls it a spitfire. While I’ve been having trouble managing the big bike because of the stiffness in my back and the weakness in my body I foresee driving the new Harley another decade. 

 Yet I struggle with savings for the future now when I may be less capable and the costs may rise even further. I’m thinking about death and aging. I’m thinking about holding on or expanding.  I was all prepared to sail across the Atlantic but my deteriorating physical strength made the thought of sailing through another hurricane no longer challenging but purely daunting.  

I like being with Laura.  I like being around the guys. I like my colleagues. I rely on others in a way I haven’t in decades. I fear sickness and debility as I hear of more and more with sickness and surgery.  I see so many surviving and thriving but I don’t wish the torture of overcoming disease.  I do not fear dying, not knowing what it is , but imagining it a transition to a different world, with a new body, a passing What I don’t like is the idea of dying.  I fear further suffering.  Yet here I am already in the slipstream as my lumbar spine registers the turbulence approaching death. 

I have faith in God.  I am not God.  I can’t seem to call in place an extra 10 thousand to cover the cost of the change over to a newer lighter Harley. I can’t influence the landlord to leave me alone and not introduce restrictions whimsically and probably driven by fear of the beast government encroaching on all.  We are all on the same sea though different boats.  The landlord’s yacht is different from my little sailboat but there are constant warnings of storms and tsunamis so fear is palpable as everyone struggles to position themselves before the coming threat of war and disorder.  

The concern is that with my back pain and aging I can project the fear and uncertainty I’m feeling onto the whole.  This is not about God or the World but simply about my personal struggle.  I know the Harley represents ego.  It’s the panache of the machine.  It’s manly compared to my womanly Vespa.  It’s a risk when I could be banking money and thinking of the rainy day . Even that is questionable as banks fail and money is squandered in the billions by sociopaths in power.  I see the Harley as a get away machine.

  In the coming wars, there has always been fear of war since the Cold War , and now the Hybrid War of the Communist Chinese coupled with the divisive war mongering of our government forcing us to see our neighbour as different. The government has for three years been a constant Fauci Nocebo and the Trudeau divide and conquer portraying the black man as different, immigrant as different, the aboriginal as different, the female as differnt, the gay as differnt. Then with favouritism and attacks on all others ,  I’ve lost that feeling of safety in my home, that others are fellow Canadians like me, that there is law and order, when no , there’s attacks on the police by the Trudeau supporters, and criminals are celebrated, terrorists paid millions for murdering medics with the new golden calf statue of gold made to Floyd a violent gangster drug addict and abuser of women.  The Statue of John A. Macdonald founder of Canada I knew is destroyed.  It’s all symbolic. It’s all metaphor. It’s all worrying.  

Worrying is wicked.  I have faith in love and comfort and God, or creation, or something , a higher power, something more than me. I feel tiny and infinitesimally weak and alone though I know that’s just the squeak of pain. Pain is that which I can say in no other way.  I feel stabbed in the back and betrayed and that I’ve carried the world on my shoulders and don’t have help.

I fear this weakness. I fear even vulnerability with Laura given the betrayal of ex wives who were there for my strength and turned on me the moment of weakness. I feel like a Wolf among wolves.  If I’m weak, the pack will savage me. That’s been my experience as a caregiver.  When I was weak I was abused and taken advantage of. When I complained I was hurt more.  I was repeatedly told to be a man, man up. Get down off the cross we can use the wood.  I spent years suicidal and now they encourage euthanasia but with pretty names like MAID offered me.  The Feminist solution to the harshness of life. Kill yourself. IF you can’t pay the rent, leave, die.  Heres’ an addiction.Or consume for comfort. Or pray. I pray.

It’s not just the Harley. That’s the symbol of every limited decision,  Should I save and trust the bank and have a place to stay in some care home as more and more elderly I know are homeless.  I imagine jail is there.  I ‘ve a fear of those who lived to fight and hurt physically while I’ve served with specialization and skills , decades of learning.  A desk jockey.  While collar.  Thrown to the masses I’m wasted.  The Harley is escape.  I have a chance of getting away in a high speed chase, better than I would on the Vespa.

I think the Harley ward’s off attack.  I’m old and as so many of us old men say, we have no second round. So attacked we will kill immediately and the best defence is an offensive .

I always know where the sharp weapons and bludgeoning instruments are in a room . I’m always caring keys as weapons. In my world everything is a tool and a weapon.  

The idea of death is peace.  I am not afraid of death but long for it.  It’s just the getting there.  I wonder how much more humiliation I will have to face.  

It doesn’t take a Harley to ask these questions. With cost of living rising I find myself asking whether I ‘can afford’ a steak or should I return to the monastic vegetarianism and cheap living I once knew in spiritual pursuit.  It’s insane the way I think.  My anxiety is for the future which may not come as all I really have is today.  

Carpet diem! Or ODAAT.  Now is okay.  If I keep my head in the same room as my ass is I’m okay. I can work and help others but then I’m downsizing. I ‘m approaching a future where possessions are no longer beneficial because the cost of storage is so exorbitant. I once had houses and acreage but now I’m preparing for the smaller lesser world of the old. I’m trying to clean away excess so that if I was not here family or friends would not be faced with ‘stuff’. I’m giving away stuff but acquiring as quickly. I’ve a storage locker where I have the two or three tools that match the tool I bought last week. I’ve duplicates and yet nostalgia and sadness overcome me as I surrender and let go of the past. 

My back hurt comes from carrying all the memories and love of ages.  I’m  old and weary with good life and good times.  I’m letting go.

I talked to men this week who can’t ride their Harley’s any more.  “My knees, won’t let me.” A big fellow told me as I sat on the new Nightster imagining new adventures wondering if I had time.  I will have to customize it and have to find a way to load and tow it. I’m facing the decision of the toy hauler and trailer. Every change in one physical piece of my life occasioned downstream changes in the projects.  I ask myself now if I still have time Will I have the money. Will I have the energy.  I emptied a closet and was fatigued and sore.  

I have worked more years than most I know. I started work at 12 and have an SIN since I was 16.  Everyone I know is wanting my support and pity and help and understanding and I’ve been channeling and caring, lifting and giving, working long hours, so much for charity, so much underpaid, so much more than was required.  I’ve given mor and more and now like all caregivers wonder about reciprocity. I know I will be loved in life but here I fear I’m only loved because I’ve been strong and wealthy and young. 

Of course I miss my mom and dad and grandparents and aunts and uncles.  Of course I miss my teachers and mentors and all those who have been there .  I have tried to teach reciprocity and karma and yet more and more I live in a world of takers. Sharks , bullies. Their fear and need is palpable,  

We are a consumer society.  The harley will give me as temporary joy. I’ll need a new fix in time, For now I’ll be able to find what gear I have left over from when I had the roadster or buell or KLM or Honda. I gave most of it away but May have some leftover gear from.All the bikes before the bagger.  I might just get by with a back park.  Shopping they don’t have bags and we have to bring our own.  I use the bike for shopping because the cost of fuel for the truck is exorbitant. There will be less cost for licensing only smaller machine and the gas costs have been escalating to match the lie and thieving of the elite bum we have for leader.  Spend thrift trust fund snowboarder. I envy him his irresponsibility. 

I stopped being adolescent when I became a doctor.  I’ve seen way too much disease suffering, loss and death. I’ve had blood and depression and anxiety flung at me weekly. I’ve got suits but nothing like the suits those parliamentary sorts wear, the office money men who are effete and clean and not like me. I’m front row on life and death, dirty with reality.  I’m up to my eye balls in viruses and Bactria. I’m even working virtual in the depth of angst.  I am constantly offering diagnosis understanding  medications and education toease the pain of others.  

I’ve come to work forever and was glad to until I saw that my leadership were shirkers and cowards and that they were offensive abusers of those like me who are the back bone of society. Yet this new managerial class, the new communists, believe that the ‘workers’ like infantry men are expendable. They call us all deplorable. They waste us.  They think ita’s all about them and their ‘intellectual thinking’.  We think too but we do. We are the workers.  Boss man elite effete idiots, those lying scoundrels buying silences and censoring the world, claiming to be doing the evil they do for the benefit of others, narcissists and psychopaths among them. The names on Epsteins’s list remain hidden proving by default that the leadership are a collection of pedophiles, traitors and sociopaths till proven otherwise. Arendt was right. Evil is banal. Where is Bonhoeffer when we need him. Where is  Solzenitzen when we need him?

My minds slips. It’s a loose transmission. When I ride my harley I can’t think of anything but the road. Moving meditation. Medication for me . Wind therapy ,  If  I know I can die a horrible or instant death in a brief distraction. I can live however glorious and free if I pay attention. I don’t feel that way on the Vespa. It’s like a bicycle. Not a rocket ship with power galore.  I am longing for my new nimble machine like a stallion, My old harley spending so much time in storage, rarely ridden these last few years, well I’m glad to see passed on to someone who will enjoy it’s promises as I have . I’m just ready for a younger lighter bike I can ride on to death with.  I really miss my sailboat too. Over the years I’ve been blessed with all these loved  vehicles of life.  

I’m enjoying my family with little ones who are enjoying the world with toys.  I had dinky toys and now I have had the real things. What comes next is levitation and space ships.  It’s all possible. With God life is omnipotential.  Life is infinite.  My soul is laughing .  My body is even laughing at the thought of this new ride together.  All of us meeting one day at Rainbow Bridge.  Thank you Jesus. 

Vancouver Motorcycle Show 2019 Tradex Abbotsford

The weather was so fine I could have motorcycled to Tradex Abbotsford, an hour’s drive out of Vancouver.  The Vancouver Motorcycle Show is a great event for all riders and wannabe riders.
Laura said, “I remember when we rode on the Harley here  years ago I was frozen when we arrived.” Many years there’s been snow and ice on the road making the trip on the bike out of the question. I’ve had my Harley Electroglide, which I rode across country and back  to Sturgis ,in storage at Trev Deely for the winter this year.  However  I”ve been enjoying the KTM 690 enduro which is lighter and handles better on the slippery roads in winter rains.
The Ford F350 truck,  feeling neglected since hunting season, was thankful for the drive. Gilbert could come along that way too.  It turned out to be the busiest show in years with trucks and cars backed up to the highway.
“Do you think the Seattle Motorcycle stunt riders were the draw this year?” Laura asked as we slowly moved along in the steadily moving line. There’s lots of parking at Tradex but the volume just has to get through the gates
“That probably has something to do it.  But I think the diabolical cost of gas taxation and vehicles has far more young people and women choosing motorcycles and scooters. Remember when we were in Italy and you commented on all the young women on scooters .” I said.
“The girls like the crotch rockets, too “ i said.
“They sound like bumble bees,” Laura said. “I’ve always like the rumble of the Harley.”
Motorcycling in America had once been for the fat old guys like me,  the stereotypical ‘bagger’  rider.  We’re still the Harley Davidson customers given the size of the bikes, the luxury cruisers and the prize tags associated with these high end machines. The HD Sportster Class has always been the attraction for the intro or  young rider. I liked when Bueill was designing the racers and the companies were linked .But now the girls are loving the 500 ccc and 800 cc Harley Davidson’s so suited to the city and surroundings.
"600 cc is all the bike you need even for the BC mountains," a lifelong motorcyclist friend told me years ago.  My brother Ron had ridden across Canada on a 150 cc back when the Japanese motorcycle invasion occurred at the same time as the British music invasion hit the west.  Yamaha and Honda bikes were all the rage with everyone wanting the big 250 cc’s.  I ‘ve loved the 250 cc’ motorcycles I’ve had and still think they’re the best off road size allowing you to take to the deer trails and go where no road goes.  The 600 and above makes a whole lot of sense when you want to take a passenger or some luggage.  I loved my Buell Blast 600 cc.  Suzuki’s 650 is the most popular in this range.  Kawasaki makes some nice bikes too.
My favourite bike was the Harley Davidson Roadster, one of Sporster class, 1200 cc , just like the WWII Harley and Triumph 1200 cc war bikes. I bought mine at Barnes.  That bike took Laura and me motorcycle camping all over BC and to round ups.  We road to Kamloops on the high way, did a hundred miles on logging roads to hot springs and ended up one time driving up to Alkali lakes for meetings, rodeo dances and sweat lodges. I loved camping near Powell river in the pup tent we took to put up beside the Harley,  calling Dad in Winnipeg on my cellphone with Laura beside me to have a chat while the rain was beating down on the tent outside.  Gilbert road on the back of my Electroglide to Sturges North where we camped in the pup tent and  loved hearing Burton Cummings in Merritt.
There’s a lot of truth to the saying that a man remembers his life by the vehicles he has . Women I know judge time by their children.   I bought my present  cruiser, 1600 cc Harley Davidson Electroglide to drive across the US and back thousands of km to attend the annual Sturges Motorocycle Ralley in North Dakota.
This years’ show was all about motorcycles.  Every shape and size.  Last year there’d  been a lot more quads.  The Slingshot three wheel car like a bat mobile though was all the rage.  I must admit I loved the Harley Fat Boy. What a beautiful bike.  The other one I truly loved was the new KTM 790 Adventure. I’ve got the 690 and love it but that extra hundred cc would be great on the highway. It’s heavier though so there’s a trade off. Last year the BMW and Triumph bikes stood out but this year the Ducatis were all the rage.  Aprilia bikes are becoming more popular too which isn’t surprising since they’re favourites in Europe.
I loved seeing the guys from the Christian Motorcycle Association and Gospel Riders. Both Laura and I loved meeting guys who had travelled around the world on their motorcycles.  Laura had read Jeremy Kroeker’s first motorcycle travel book and loved meeting him at the show.We got his latest book , Through Dust and Darkness, the stories of  his travels in the middle east.  I dream of riding my KTM down through South America liked my Turkish friends who rode their BMW’s to the southern tip and back.  They’re now having children in Germany but following their journey gave me a lot of joy that year. Right now I’m following Grace Macdonald’s Sidney to Paris journey on her KTM 690.  It’s an exciting fun read.  Vicarious enjoyment. Biker porn.
This year there was a lot of accessories as usual.
“It looks really good on you,” Laura said when I tried on a new leather vest.  When a beautiful girl says an article of clothing looks good on a fat old guy its a guaranteed sale.  I liked the neck closed protecting one from the wind compared to the standard v neck leather vests. The guy beside me getting one, said. “These are Vancouver Vests and those neck vests are  California weather .”  We laughed.
Laura and I had our standard hot dog and coffee at the show. We walked around and looking at the bikes and great people watching.    Then we were back with Gilbert.
On the way home we visited Victor  who showed us his continued work on changing his Sportster into a Trike to accomodate his hip injury. It’s an amazing skookum job.
Then it was back home for pizza night and TV.  Laura and I, a couple of wild bikers with Gilbert the biker dog, watched outlaw chases from the comfort of the couch. .

I dropped my motorcycle

I ride a Harley Electroglyde 1600 CC with full luggage. I dress in all the black harley gear with the hot black half helmut.  Outfitted and ready to go I look like Steven Segal.  Really.  I'm a big guy. It's a big bike and I look good.

I'm a little concerned about my cockapoo's effect on my image. He rides in the seat behind me.   He'd just been to the salon.  Normally a bearded Grizzly Adams kind of mutt after being shaved he's kind of cute and adorable.  He's my side kick, my bud, my room mate, my friend.  It's not like I can leave him at home. He likes to be included.  We get along.

But I worry about my image. Without him I can really pass as bad ass.  But with him sitting up in his box all perky and freshly shaved, well, I don't know.

It didn't help that last night when I was stopped at a turn I just dropped my bike.  I've done it before.  It's not like I'm going forward and I slide out. There's no drama.  I'm just not paying attention and slyly the 1000 pounds of bike takes that moment to lie down on it's slide.

My Harley is really like a horse that way.  Sometimes a mind of it's own.  Some days I expect to find it chewing on grass rather than parked on pavement.

The dog wears a harness on the bike and has a short leash that holds it into the box with the harness. So he wasn't even flummoxed by this chain of events.  Harley wants to lie down. I'm now leaning sideways. And master is upset about something.

It's embarrassing.

I really don't think about image that much but when my bike is lying on its side the one thing that is happening is I am embarrassed.  I feel like a fool. I feel ridiculous.

No one cares. The universe is not watching only me at that moment.

I think women are giggling somewhere too.  That's the problem guys who have been divorced have. They here their ex enjoying their discomfort somewhere.

It's shame.

I looked at Gilbert though and he wasn't bothered by it.  Probably thinking it was planned.

Meanwhile I can't seem to get the bike up. The trick is to stand with your back to the bike and holding onto low use your legs to push yourself back up. I've done it once before when my last bike decided to lie down when I'd stopped at an intersection wet leaves on the road.  That bike was only 500 lbs but before I'd hardly got off too gorgeous young college girls had run over and helped me get the bike up right. They'd had a heck of a good time helping out Grand dad.

Now this time, a terrific guy jumped out of his car and offered to help. It's nothing for two people get the bike straightened up.  It's more about balance and push than lift.

I thanked the guy profusely. He really was an angel.

I looked the bike over. Not even a scratch.  No oil leak.  Gilbert entertained.  Ready to continue.

I drove on.

Thinking about Winnipeg.  Because of the snow in that city everyone every year it seems helps someone else get their car unstuck. Often a half dozen guys and sometimes girls are pushing someone out of snow drifts they've slid into. It's so easy to get stuck in Winnipeg and no one judges.  Everyone just pitches in and helps. No one is hurt and the event is as close to an old time barn raising as a group gets spontaneously.  It comforts you and reminds you of community.

Too often I read the news and forget that the vast majority of neighbours are good neighbours.  This young guy literally jumped out of his car to help and with the bike upright was waving as he jumped back into his own vehicle.  He didn't need or expect anything for his helping. He was just being a good neighbour, a good Samaritan, a good guy.

There's not much snow on the Coast. We live rather isolated lives and the sense of community in this affluent port city isn't the same as it is in a place like Winnipeg where winters make you rely on your neighbours.

As silly and ridiculous and embarrassing it is for a hip slick tough old biker dude to drop his Harley Davidson cruiser motorcycle, it was really good to be touched by the neighbourliness of that fine gentleman.

It was also good to know that Gilbert my cockapoo was safe in his box and wouldn't fall out. If anyone asks I dropped the bike on purpose to 'test' the safety of Gilbert's bike.

Yea that's what I was doing.

Right Steven Segall!  (and not a word out of you Gilbert the Cockapoo)

Vancouver Weekend in May

 Tom met me at the office on Friday and helped me carry boxes to the storage locker with the truck.  There we just had to check out the Kodiac 4x4 450 quad.   We both rode it around just for the fun of it, ostensibly charging the battery.
I actually found my Pfaff heavy duty sewing machine which I’d bought for offshore sailing. I’ve decided that sailcloth tape and hand stiching will be sufficient. No need to carry a sewing machine offshore. Laura meanwhile told me all about her sewing with a young family. My friend,   Anna who I'd thought might need a sewing machine,  has a sewing machine.  It’s way too heavy to send to my back east  family.  So Laura’s getting it and plans on moving her old computer monitor to make room.  She really only uses her new iPad.  The Pfaff will replace the monitor in the little apartment. Something new for cat George to reflect on.
That night Tom, Laura and I had succulent steaks at the Cactus Club. I used the $100 gift certificate I’d ‘won’ at the Turning Point Gala.  We love Cactus Club.  The steaks were mouth watering. Tom had driven in from Chilliwack to help me move office boxes to storage and return my truck.  He’d been using to unload clutter from his sailboat Naomi.
Laura, I and Gilbert drove him back to Chilliwack.  The river was running fast beside his place. The forest air was so sweet to the nostrils.  Both Laura and I were inhaling the fresh air while Gilbert was rushing about markieng everything in sight with his scent.  A late night drive back to Burnaby.
Then a day of reading.  Really.  I made bacon sandwiches then in the evening I ordered pizza.  With netflix we watched the Bruce Willis and Halle Berry movie, Perfect Stranger. What a fabulous mystery thriller!  Great Canadian Pizza too.  Lovely down day.  I got the guitar out and played and sang songs from the 60’s and 70’s.  The neighbour tonight said how much he’d enjoyed listening.  Laura liked it too saying she knew the words to so many songs. I  enjoyed bashing the guitar and bashing through  the songs.  It’s been too long.
Sunday, church at St. James Anglican. Pentecost. The choir exceptional.
After that we drove home, the three of us in the top down Miata. I swung by the new office on Renfrew.  I loved that the Serenity Store was next to it but one of my patients told me the Italian Sporting Goods store was also nearby. Sure enough, “Home of the Hunter’ was just just 3 doors down.  More ’synchronicity’.  Now if a patient cancels I can go down stairs and check out the latest in hunting and camping gear. There’s also a tattoo parlour beside the coffeeshop.  I don't know if I'll have time for tattoos between patients though. Driving up Hastings, I saw too that the new location for the walkin clinic/methadone clinic I work at is beside an East Vancouver "make your own wine" and up the street from a 'medical marijuana place'.
We then drove  back to do more reading and watching tv. I walked Gilbert a couple of times.  Not much more than that.  Pretty laid back.  I did enjoy looking at flowers. In the wee hours of Sunday morning the rains began.
It was a long long day at work, today, steady. There’s the chaos of the move.  Boxes and files everywhere.  My lawyer friend also dropped by to store some stuff at my office while she was in the neighbourhood.
The move is occurring first week of June.  The pictures and diplomas from the office are all boxed up.  Lots of the books boxed up too.
Angel will be sorting and setting up the office while I’m in Ireland for an autism conference.  I was referred an autistic patient and realized how little I knew about autistic adults. Unlike the traumatic brain injury I am familiar with, it seemed to me that a person with autism had something different from rewiring and possible more akin to a different operating system.  I’m interested in the gentleman and hope to learn more. Of course I wanted to go to Ireland too.  A chance to see where my grandfather met my scottish grandmother.  My mother’s family.  My brother and sister in law have been. I’m picking up where their exploration of the old country left off.
Just watched an NHL Stanley Cup playoff  hockey game.  Anaheim beat Chicago in over time.
Perhaps if the weather is good tomorrow or the next day I can ride the motorcycle into town. When Gilbert saw Laura’s motorcycle he jumped right up on the seat expecting her to take him for a ride.  He’s a character.  I do love his company.  Everyday he comes to work and so enjoys being a part of the office, the official greeter and therapy dog. Some days he stays home and works as a guard dog but he's more of a softy. He really gets into his role as therapy dog.
I barbecued pork chops on Sunday.  Tonight I made sandwiches with left overs. There was just a little ice cream left and some blueberries. I enjoyed these and Gilbert enjoyed licking out the icrecream container, then licking my bowl. And yes, he enjoyed some of the pork chops too.  You don't have to go calling the SPCA to say how I starve and abuse my dog.  He’s sleeping now.
We were down at the sailboat . I had to pump last nights rain water out of the runabout.  When we go down to the sailboat,  Gilbert loves running full out up and down the dock.  He also had me throwing ball for him.  Now he's tired out.  The  Little guy has had long day.

Westcoast Motorcycle Ride to Live 2013

it was a rainy day but Gilbert and I didn't let that stop us from joining the West Coast Motorcycle Ride to Live. We were up at 6 am and thanks to the Harley Electraglide down at Trev Deely with time to spare for registration and getting into line.  We were at the national Ride for Dad when it began and this local Ride to Live is still raising money for Prostate Cancer and research.  I like that the Police, Military, Fire and Rescue riders all join in.  I saw Gospel Riders and Sober Riders so it was a great community event with hundreds of motorcycles.  A lot more women out on bikes than ever before.  And all sizes of bikes with the smallest being a Honda 90 trail bike.  Harleys, Dukatis, BMW's, Victory's, Yamaha's, Honda's, anything with 2 wheels and some with three. I missed the opening prayer but enjoyed the incredible singing of Oh Canada which brought a tear to my eye.
The parade lead from Trev Deely to Port Moody with escorts a staggered motorcycle rows of two. Very impressive.  Gilbert was a champ.  He saw his neighbourhood friend Emory there too.  The two of them were the only dogs I saw.  The ride from Port Moody went on to Canadian Tire in Mission, then Fort Langley and back to Cloverdale.  The rain was only a drizzle but it required more attention driving.  I loved the camaraderie.  I followed a couple of bikers, one on an orange harley and the other with his son wearing the Baptista jacket on a Ducati.  I'd told them I'd got lost a couple of years before  and they actually waited when I was cut off from them by a change of lights. That sort of behaviour characterized the ride.  Everyone friendly and communicating and respectful of the road and other drivers.  Great country riding too.  Fun to be part of a rally and seeing all the other bikes flying the Ride to Live flags.