2009 Triumph Bonneville: Heading West Just After Sunrise

My friend Paul Ruby and I were on the road early with plans to ride west towards Clearfield to find a new place to for breakfast. I have begun to wonder how many riders make a ritual of riding to breakfast. Something like private pilots and the 200 dollar cheeseburger. A short stop at the Sunoco station on North Atherton Street where Paul could get gas for his motorcycle gave me a chance to admire the Triumph Bonneville. Again. In the light from the rising sun it just seemed to glimmer. Really. Well, I did do some interpretation in Photoshop but the bike does look good. I've dreamt about motorcycles that look like this. And so far it has lived up to my expectations.

The Bonneville is at home on the highway. Every bike or scooter I've ever ridden seems to have a riding sweet spot. A speed where the bike is completely relaxed, a mid-ground where you don't notice you're going slow and you don't notice you're going fast. For the Triumph it's between 50 and 60mph. (In my decidedly non-scientific estimation). Riding my Vespa GTS250ie I find it right around 45mph. Your results may vary.

I pulled over just as we approached the top of Bald Eagle Ridge on Interstate 99. I made Paul back his motorcycle up so I could admire the unobstructed view of the road and sky. This motorcycle loves this kind of road.

Another stop for a picture along US322 as it begins to rise into the Allegheny Plateau. With the clouds passing over the hills and valleys this area looks as much like parts of Virginia and North Carolina as it does Pennsylvania. My thoughts travel momentarily to imagined rides on the Blue Ridge Parkway.

The weather has been unusually cool this summer and the feeling of fall hits me even though it's July. When I left the house it was 59 degrees Fahrenheit and I was wearing my winter riding jacket with a liner. I love this kind of weather but it isn't fondly embraced by riders who like to travel unencumbered by too much clothing.

My riding style generally consists of slow, slower and stop. Stop for pictures. Stop to look around and just breathe in the world. It took me awhile to tame the Triumph's desire to go fast. While it does not have a huge engine it is entirely within it's power to go fast. It's deceptive and I had to keep a close eye on the speedometer to make sure the State Police would not want to take a closer look at the bike too.

If you want to see pictures on a ride you just have to go slow otherwise you will rush by all but the biggest landscape views. And by slow I mean 35mph. It's easier at 25mph and easier yet at 15mph. With a little practice and experimentation with the gearbox I was able to find a photo speed sweet spot. I don't ride that way all the time but some places call out for attention. So it's nice to know how to make myself and the bike comfortable.

Paul pulled into a gas station in Coalport for fuel and a chance to show off his back stretching regimen. No matter how many times I witness the ritual something just seems wrong. If you ever run into Mr. Ruby as him to tell you about the time he was stretching his back in McDonalds with a pack of Boy Scouts present. Then you'll understand.

Adding fuel to the Triumph is easy except for the trepidation of splashing gas on the mirror finish paint job. I was extremely careful but without knowing how much gas was in the tank or how much it would hold I went slow. At two gallons I stopped and replaced the shiny chrome gas cap without so much as a drop of gas to mar the finish. Have I said how pretty this black motorcycle is?

The search for food was not going well. Phillipsburg was a bust as was Oseeola Mills, Houtzdale, Madera and Irvona. By the time we stopped in Coalport my stomach was done riding. I was on autopilot to a known breakfast way station near Prince Gallitzin State Park in Flinton, Pennsylvania. Sir Barney's.

Sir Barney's has standard, reliable breakfast fare which is exactly what I needed. Eggs, bacon, potatoes, juice and toast. It's like my riding security blanket. The only meal of the day I can count on to make me whole and not put me to sleep. Maybe that's why I tend to ride in the morning.

Riding with a trusted riding partner like Paul has it's advantages over riding alone. You get to experience things twice. Once through your eyes and once through someone else's. While I was happy as a clam to have food he was concerned with the lack of interest the wait staff seemed to pay us. We got everything we needed but we didn't get characters. There was nothing memorable about the people working there, no fodder for stories or humorous anecdotes. As Paul commented, "They're 9 to 5ers.".

Ours were the only motorcycles in the parking lot. The Triumph and Harley looked good out there. And I was glad to be able to keep my eye on things. I'm still a bit apprehensive with Craig Kissell's generosity in loaning me motorcycles. I imagine a phone call..."I parked it right outside the diner. I was only there for 20 minutes. It's a family place. I can't imagine who took it...."

So I keep my eye on things. While I'm riding and when it's parked. Maybe that's why Kissell Motorsports trusts me with their motorcyle.

By the time I arrived at the home of my inlaws we had ridden 100 miles. The Triumph looked as good in their driveway as it did in mine. I think it would look good in anyone's driveway. It's just a cool, classic machine if your interests lean in that direction. As much as I would have liked to ride all day adult responsibilities beckon me home. Besides, there still was another 70 miles of riding ahead to help ease the pain...

I am completely comfortable with the Triumph Bonneville. The transition from scooter to motorcycle was effortless for me. Muscle memories of shifting motorcycles in the 1970s returned and I was at home astride this machine. I can't say enough good things about the Triumph so I'll just stop for now.

I have one more post on the Triumph reflecting on a short ride alone through the countryside. Look for that soon.

The Evening Meal

A slow, relaxed evening at home. A big, heavy box on the front porch containing a hammock stand for a Hatteras Hammock went together quickly and I was finally able to test the hammock Hannah got us for Christmas. Last year. Maybe the year before. I'm not one to rush things. After sufficient testing Kim and I decided to get dinner from Duffy's Tavern in Boalsburg. Nothing fancy -- a couple take out cheeseburgers and fries.

A short ride to the tavern and I see these three Ducati's parked out front in the motorcycle only parking area. With the Vespa watching over the motorcycles I talked briefly with three young riders waiting for a table at Duffy's. Seems they will soon be trailering their bikes to the Jersey shore to ride along the ocean at sunrise. Sounds like a fine way to spend time with friends. A fine way to spend time on two wheels.

One more thing to add to my riding list...

I'm working on the next installment about my time on the road with the Triumph Bonneville. Look for it sometime on Thursday.

New Wheels in the Sticks: 2009 Triumph Bonneville

On Friday afternoon I rode out of the parking lot at Kissell Motorsports with the first motorcycle in the New Wheels in the Sticks project -- a black 2009 Triumph Bonneville. This is a classic motorcycle, the one I picture in my head when I hear the word motorcycle. It's what kids draw when they're drawing a motorcycle. It's connected to memories of movies and Steve McQueen. Triumph has long occupied a special place in my imagination. The motorcycle is solid with a strong, deep exhaust sound without being obnoxious. Mentally I knew I wasn't on my Vespa but it took a few miles for my body to realize this new machine did not respond in the same fashion as the scooter.

The pavement was wet from a passing shower and the road surface was slick under my boots. I traveled a quiet route home to experiment with the brakes, weight and handling. Back and forth on an empty stretch of road to check the braking response on the wet road. Another few stops to fully reset my brain to use my right foot for the rear brake instead of my left hand which was now on clutch duty. I spent about 20 minutes evaluating my skills and comfort on the Triumph before heading towards home. It is important for me to take the time to embrace a new machine before any serious or extended riding. I've met riders who have chosen huge motorcycles as their first ride. Or have gone through the Motorcycle Safety Foundation Beginner Riding Course on a 250cc motorcycle and turn around after the course and buy a Goldwing. I like to build up to things. Maybe I'm just nervous about the leap in size and weight from the Vespa. So I was careful and deliberate with the Triumph. Even though Craig Kissell said not to worry about the bike and that he would assume any liability for damage I didn't want to see him cry.

As I write this piece I keep thinking I should remain cool, aloof, objective in my reactions to the Bonneville on that first evening. I tell myself not to gush or say anything stupid. Nothing poetic. Just the facts. One of the first things I noticed was the spartan simplicity of the Triumph. I found myself looking for the clock, ambient temperature and fuel gauges present on my Vespa. I didn't realize how often I my eyes go to them until they weren't there. The Triumph has a speedometer, a blue light for high beams, a small amber light when the fuel is low, and maybe a red light for low oil. That's it. With fuel injection there is no choke or fuel valve. Press the starter button and it starts. Right now. Simple. And without saddle bags you don't have to worry about carrying anything that won't fit in your pockets. At first I was a little bothered by that but by the end of the weekend I really enjoyed not having to think about what I need to take along. My luggage consisted of wallet in my pants pocket, some change in another, a point and shoot camera in my riding jacket pocket and some index cards and a pen in the other. That's it. For recreational day rides where weather will not be an issue it was fine. If this bike were mine I would add saddle bags at least and perhaps a rear topcase. Otherwise how would I haul all the groceries around that I do with the Vespa? Groceries don't really fit though with my image of the Triumph. Yet.

I only rode about 15 miles that first evening but enough to know that I really liked this motorcycle and was looking forward to an early departure the next day. I liked the upright riding position. I like the smooth even power that the fuel injected engined delivered. And I liked the way it handled on the road. And as if the universe was testing the Triumph and my riding skills I had to make a sudden evasive maneuver to avoid plowing into four chickens crossing Main Street in Boalsburg. Anyone can dodge deer and elk. But chickens, that's real adventure.

I'll be posting more pictures and reflections of a longer ride on the Triumph in a few days. Stay tuned.

New Wheels in the Sticks

Kissell Motorsports owner Craig Kissell has given me the keys to the candy store. Or so it seems to me.

Craig has offered me whatever I want to ride from his fine establishment and treat them like my own. At least temporarily. A chance to try some other machines in the sticks. Or maybe he was getting tired of seeing the Vespa all the time in pictures. I've been turning things over in my head since we first discussed this back in February and just recently decided to give it a go. Over the coming weeks and months you'll be seeing periodic posts bearing the title New Wheels in the Sticks with stories and photos reflecting my experiences with motorcycles and scooters that are not my Vespa GTS250ie. I'm not sure what to expect but am open to the adventure.

A few words about Kissell Motorsports.

You can find the dealership in State College, Pennsylvania on West College Avenue. It's the kind of place that has a lot of things I like.

Unless I have a specific reason to be there I tend to follow the same pattern in the store. Walk in and absorb the energy, scan the place for familiar faces, and then walk over to the Vespa section. After almost 5 years on a Vespa scooter they have not lost their luster. And Piaggio continues to deliver interesting machines. And colors. Like the Vespa GTS300ie in this picture.

On to the Triumph section, a quick look at helmets and then either a visit to a Kawaski KLR or off to the back where the pre-owned machines live. I'm predictable.

Things get dicey from this point. I glance furtively at the Ducati's for fear that I will be identified as unworthy of entering that section of the store. The Ducati's sit there oozing power. They are seriously imposing. I believe this to be true. I also believe that doughnuts or ice cream are fine for breakfast. I need to make some adjustments and modifications in things.

So Craig and I have worked out an agreement and we are embarking on a new project. Not only is he supportive of me riding his wares he's leaving it up to me to write what I think. I almost feel like a junior moto-journalist. More likely a moto-essayist. As I embark on this journey I'm curious as to what I will find out about myself and motorcycles. And how my obsession with the Vespa will fare in comparison. I'm also going to use this project to reach beyond what I usually do on the scooter and talk to people who ride other things. Find out what makes them tick.

The journey has begun. This past Friday after work I picked up a 2009 Triumph Bonneville. A not so secret love. I'll be posting reflections from four days of temporary ownership soon. And I'm already thinking about what I want to ride next.

Swear an Oath

I swear I will turn off my cellphone when I get in the car.

As much as I grumble about others using their cellphones while driving I use mine too -- kidding myself that it's safe because I have it tucked into the visor on speaker phone.

I read an article in the New York Times this evening that was a bit sobering. The article is called Drivers and Legislators Dismiss Cellphone Risk.

Read it. And better yet turn off your cellphone I guess. I know how easy it is to rationalize it being safe or necessary. A real time saving multitasking life extending invention. I've said those things. I don't believe them anymore. So I'll make a change.

I swear.

Revisited: Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

How many riders have a copy of Robert Pirsig's Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance on their bookshelf? How many more, like me, have struggled with the text, the philosophy, and failed to make it to the end of the book? The pages turn easily for me when Pirsig describes the ride, the road and the people he encounters. But I bog down in his discussions of the metaphysics of quality. And I wouldn't finish despite thinking it was a great book. Until now. Until I happened upon Mark Richardson's book Zen and Now.

It felt good to read that Richardson struggled with Pirsig's book just like I did. Many attempts at it, a bit farther through and then bogging down. Zen and Now is Richardson's excellent riding story and interpretation of Pirsig's book. After I finished reading it I picked up Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, read it from cover to cover, and got it. Knew what it meant and decided again what a great book it is.

Richardson decides to ride the same route, visit the same places as much as possible as Pirsig and his son did that summer in the summer of 1974. His book not only provides the kind of vicarious experience that a good writer and rider can produce it does an amazing job putting the Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance in a context that means something to my life and riding. Many riding books and stories push me as a reader to the sidelines as the author plays out the story on a stage. Richardson does something different. He brings me onto the stage and I feel as if I am part of the trip.

I don't often recommend books but this one is special. Check out Richardson's Web site for more information or click the Amazon link below to buy it. (If you do I may make my first 25 cents from Scooter in the Sticks!)

Kick Starting the 3 Prints Project

Some of you might have wondered what has happened with the 3 Prints Project. Due to circumstances beyond my control, my dog has been eating my prints, there was a storm, no a flood, a tornado, locusts, it's not my fault that I haven't been shooting any film.

Well, I have shot some but have not ventured into the darkroom. Summer is a busy time for me and I just haven't had time. And once I step away from the routine I am one difficult boy to get back in gear. But Gordon and I have continued to meet almost every Sunday morning and I am ready to start up again. So perhaps this time next week there will be more real live silver prints. None of this digital nonsense...

It is nice to take the scooter out on a sunny morning for a short ride. This one to the Pump Station is really short since it is less than a mile from my house. But after photo talk, bagel, juice, tea and a scone I had plans for a short ride before tackling some garden work.

No Vespa pictures on the ride. As lovely as things were the sunshine leaves me cold photographically sometimes. I did marvel at this lone tree though. I have a lot of lone tree pictures.

This evening I had to ride into town and parked in this lovely Motorcycle Only space. Not usually my first choice of parking in town but always nice to have. And on a Sunday afternoon there are few machines to crowd me.

All that's left to do this evening is drop my Ford Ranger off for the Pennsylvania Safety Inspection. The last time my truck visited the mechanic it cost me $2800 dollars. I expect to get off cheap this time!

Evening Rapture

It's not always about the Vespa and riding...

An evening in the garden with Kim. Both of us with small digital cameras sketching the surroundings. We can both get lost in the image making process. It's interesting how differently we see the same place.

This season has been exceptional for plants. The temperatures have remained mild and there has been plenty of moisture for growth. Our garden quickly becomes a jungle of plant growth if neglect it long.

Bluebells have appeared likely seeded from birds that visit. As the light fades the flowers glow.

Last night we visited the People's Choice Festival in Boalsburg, Pennsylvania. After all the artists and crafts people closed up shop for the night we remained to shoot more pictures. Kim has been experimenting with a new Panasonic Lumix camera. Her photographic approach is less constricted than my own. She isn't concerned about all the "rules" that I learned over the years that can choke away creative exploration. She had a show recently of collage and photography and sold more photographs there that I have in my entire career. I can learn a lot from her.

The Vespa did enter the picture late in the evening when we decided some ice cream was required. A ride in cool night air under a full moon. And a return home with Moose Tracks and Peanut Butter Cup.

Evening rapture...

What Price Freedom?

Independence Day.

I’m on the road going nowhere for no reason other than my own enjoyment. Despite the fuel sipping economy of the Vespa I know in the long run this probably isn’t a sustainable model. Someday it might not make sense to burn gasoline for recreation. Maybe.

On Independence Day I wondered if riding was an expression of freedom or merely a distraction from the real meaning. Military themes and observances are common here. A monument in remembrance of one of the first unit organized in the Continental Army. Maybe this has something to do with the meaning of Independence Day.

Tanks and other implements of war stand as silent reminders to the price paid for the landscape in which we can express our independence.  The price is hard to comprehend.

Markers stand among the gravestones in the older cemeteries indicating those citizens who served or fell in wars and conflicts throughout American history. When I think of July 4th I often imagine the battles so many endured or died in to gain and protect our independence. At times I feel I am not living up to my responsibility to protect it. It seems like there is a responsibility that comes with independence off the battlefield that makes demands everyday. It’s probably more than imagining I can do whatever I want.

Probably.

Riding stirs my thoughts and I wrestle with the meaning of Independence Day. As I write this I believe the meaning is clear. Freedom is change, or rather the courage to change. That was true in 1776 and remains so today. The world changes. Independence might be more a flow than a point. Maybe it mirrors what I like about riding --- the journey is the important part and not the destination.

Here’s to all of you and best wishes for your own celebrations of Independence Day and hopes that it stays with you every day.

Deconstructing the Harley Image

My friend Paul doesn’t always live up to my expectations of a Harley rider. There is no black leather or biker look – at least in my own image of what that is. There are times when he does live up to it though. At 7:45am on Saturday while I was getting the Vespa ready to ride into town to meet Paul I watched a rumbling Road King pass by the house, it’s rider in a black T-shirt, shaved head, no helmet, jeans, and black leather engineer boots. I’m standing in the driveway pulling on overpants and a windbreaker underneath my armored jacket being the sissy. The temperature was 67 degrees. Cold for me on a bike. Or scooter. But that was a Harley rider. Paul is like that too. He under-dresses in my opinion at times. Just not in a manner that fits my image of a Harley-Davidson rider. We stopped on the way out of town so he could add another layer. A red windbreaker. I found out yesterday that the jacket belonged to a woman he is dating. Just happened to be in the sidebag.

We planned to ride from State College to Belleville for breakfast via the scenic route over Pine Grove Mountain. Paul was on his new Harley Crossbones that he bought on eBay. That’s not how a person should come to Harley is it? Shouldn’t there be some sort of ritual involving beer and blood or something? I guess I am remembering the brother of my best friend growing up back in the 1960s outside of Pittsburgh. He dropped out of high school, got himself a girlfriend to impregnate, kept a chopper in his dingy apartment, got arrested for trying to buy morphine (again) at a local pharmacy with a fake prescription and generally involved himself in a slow but steady decline. He’s in a nursing home now at age 60 after some acquaintances pitched him down some stairs for some breach in etiquette. Perhaps my vision of the Harley has been perverted. Maybe I have attitude. I still like some of them though. The lingering effects of Then Came Bronson perhaps.

Saturday morning was lovely with temperatures hovering just under 70 degrees. We stopped a few times to make pictures but I generally am not motivated photographically when the sun is out and the skies are blue. Paul took charge since he was in the lead. Whenever he pulled over to shoot something I pulled out the camera and snapped a shot. Like the one above just outside McAlevey’s Fort.

The lake at Greenwood Furnace State Park reflects the serenity of the day. The road was as peaceful as that picture looks disturbed only by the rumble of my Vespa and Paul’s Harley.

We stopped at the Belleville Livestock Auction facility to see if the little diner there was open for breakfast. It wasn’t but I had the opportunity to photograph Paul in a heroic pose more in keeping with part of my Harley vision. Something better aligned with the Marlboro image too.

But then he goes and wrecks it by saying; “Take my picture with straw on my head.” I oblige but what the hell is that all about? Isn’t he afraid his Crossbones will be repossessed?

On to Dairyland in Reedsville for breakfast. I make the obligatory photo of my Vespa in front of the big cow. I feel like a tourist. Everyone is watching me. I imagine them thinking “how cool is that fellow…”

Breakfast is good. The standard scrambled eggs, home fries and toast for me. I passed on the bacon for some stupid reason I regret now. But it was fine. While dining a fellow who saw our cameras stopped to suggest we might want to photograph an Amish barn raising about 5 miles down the valley. I’m thinking he’s setting us up; it’s a trap where our machines will be appropriated. Another Amish criminal sting operation. That’s where my head is.

Paul doesn’t take his Harley ownership lightly. He keeps the machine sparkling and he displays the requisite number of skulls on his clothing. But something still feels off to me.

Sure enough there actually was a barn raising. From the safe distance of the road I make a few pictures. Paul on the other hand rides his Harley down the farm lane and right up to the barn to talk with the Amish workers. He’s fearless that way. I suppose that’s why he’s on a Harley and I’m on a Vespa.

While he learns about post and beam construction I talk with the milk cans. Actually I thought this sort of operation was illegal now in Pennsylvania. In days gone by the bulk milk trucks would pick these things up and take them to the milk plant. But as I understand things the milk has to remain refrigerated from farm to plant. Maybe these are just for decoration.

It was a fine morning ride. Sixty miles or so for breakfast and a barn raising. A good day and a good ride with a friend. Even if he doesn’t fit my vision of a Harley rider.

First Ride on a Vespa

Essa went for her first ride on the Vespa yesterday afternoon. Kim called to tell me the ashes were ready to be picked up at the vet’s office and wondered if I might be able to swing by on my way home. Before going on with this story I need to say something about Centre Animal Hospital. They have been a blessing during the past week and have provided outstanding care for Essa for as long as we have been going there. When Dr. Deb Smart performed emergency surgery at 3am on a Sunday morning about 6 years ago to deal with a gastric tortion volvolus she gave us six additional years with our dog. And she was with Essa at the end. We could not have asked for anything more from a veterinarian or a clinic.

Essa’s ashes were delivered in a small wooden box with flowers carved in the lid and a small brass plaque etched with “Essa”. The box was inside a plain brown paper bag with a heart drawn on the side along with a paw print made from one of Essa’s paws. Seeing that drew a sad smile. As I carefully place the bag in the rear bag on the Vespa I said out loud, “You’re going for a ride pretty girl.” I’ve said the same thing countless times as she climbing into a car or truck but she never had the pleasure of a ride on the scooter. As I traveled home by a loping route through the valley I imagined how excited she would have been in a sidecar, Doggles in place, taking in the air and smells from a complex world.

We stopped along Spring Creek at a place Essa liked to swim. It’s been a long time since she was in the water due to weakening legs. But I could see her leaping into the stream and paddling around forever if I didn’t make her leave.

I realized as I made my way home that the dog traveled these routes with me before. In the truck searching for rocks for the garden, in the car on an outing to make photographs. This was her world as well as mine. And now it was hers for good.

Kim and I aren’t sure what we’ll do with the ashes. We’ll probably spread them in the places she loved. For now she’ll sit alongside her departed companion Iggy Pup until they make their last walk together.

Dog of My Dreams

Essa McCloud

July 4, 1993 - June 22, 2009

Early this evening our dog Essa passed quietly from this world. She was quite simply the dog of my dreams and I will miss her. Stoic through chronic conditions of old dog age she was gentle and loving to the end.

Already I feel the absence of our nightly walks. Standing at the end of the driveway looking up at the stars I can feel her in me. She taught me how to be thoughtful and as author James Thurber noted "Dogs are obsessed with being happy". I witnessed that in her. And that happiness rubbed off on Kim and I.

I made this picture yesterday afternoon. Essa was bright and happy despite severe spinal arthritis, kidney and liver disease, and the march of time on her body. Her fire burned bright despite these setbacks.

Not long afterwards she collapsed in the yard and we took her to the emergency veterinary clinic. A night in the clinic followed and then to our vet where for a time there was a glimmer of hope that she would rally and improve. By morning though she was fading. Lying on the floor of a kennel with closed eyes I did not see her get up again.  Her body had enough living.

Kim and I stayed with her awhile in the morning and afternoon and planned to return in the evening when we got the call -- a sudden decline and she was dying. Essa passed away just minutes before we arrived. The vet told us she was quiet and didn't suffer. He body gave up just before her 16th birthday.

There was a skylight over the place where she died and as I looked up at the blue sky I imagined her flying free now unencumbered by her failed body. It's selfish of me but I wish she had stayed a bit longer.

The house is quiet and the empty place she once occupied is palpable. For those of you who have had dogs living in the home you'll understand.

I know the sadness will pass and the good memories will take it's place. But right now that's hard to believe.

Remember Father's Day

The morning brought heavy rain and the Vespa stayed in the garage. If the weather had been perfect for riding I still would not have ridden because I had breakfast plans with my oldest daughter. An  pre-Father's Day event. After breakfast in Bellefonte we drove to Saint's Cafe in State College for a cup of tea and something sweet. I find I continue to be powerless to not eat things from the chocolate family.

I thought a lot about Father's Day today and my daughters Hannah and the youngest Aleta (in faraway NYC).  For those of you who are fathers you know what's involved. For those of you who still might become one someday my only advice is the same I give to new riders --- pay attention, things happen fast. Looking at Hannah I find it hard to account for the time. How did she grow up so fast? I remember my father telling me about being a father when I was just 10 or 11. He said that when your kids are young they think you're pretty smart. At about 16 they begin thinking you are not real bright and that it will continue until they are in their mid 30's. And then you get real smart again.

I won't engage in conjecture on where my daughters are in this continuum.

The cake goes too fast as well. Pay attention and savor each moment with it. So on Father's Day maybe it's a good thing to pay attention. And as riders let's all pay attention so that we can return home to those we love.

I've been blessed as a father to two wonderful daughters.