Let’s have a parade for fuck sake. Why not call it treason. Why not. But he’s only joking says the WH ….
White House staff secretary Rob Porter, a top aide to President Donald Trump, has resigned, the White House confirmed Wednesday, following allegations of abuse from his two ex-wives …
“Rob Porter is a man of true integrity and honor and I can’t say enough good things about him. He is a friend, a confidante and a trusted professional. I am proud to serve alongside him,” Kelly said in a statement.
Love to Learn, Learn to Love.
Due to the fact that my hands don’t work normally,
certain modifications have been made to my bike.
Explanation of Modifications Made To HD Trike (2011), 103 cu in/1690 cc.
It is a Harley trike, 2011. I bought it second hand in the summer of 2014 but didn’t take possession until later in September as it took about 10 weeks for the modifications to be done. In fact, this is the beginning of the fourth year of my ride in this life. When I got the bike which had had one owner prior to my buying it, it had around 24,000 km. (15,000 miles) on it. Now the odometer is approaching 73,000 km., the equivalent of 45,625 miles. I am averaging about 16,000 km. a year, which is 10,000 miles.
I don’t know whether that’s a lot of mileage annually averaged, or not, given the fact that in 2015 and this year, 2018, I have ridden and plan on riding essentially all year round. In 2015, I shipped my bike down from Montreal to Charleston, SC, in mid-January. I then drove down in my Cadillac ATS, stored the car, and took off on my bike.
That time I ended up in Tampa where I stayed for about three weeks, hanging out, riding, discovering the area, meeting people, seeing the Lightning hockey games, some against the Canadiens. How well I remember the Habs being taken out in the playoffs by the talented Tampa Bay squad in six games. I remember one goal in particular in one of the two games that the Canadiens won – one win at home and one win which I was at in Tampa – scored by Max Pacioretty. A beautiful shot.
I also took in some Grapefruit League baseball, spring training time. I went to Lakeland and saw the Tigers and to George Steinbrenner Field 
either in or very close to Tampa, can’t recall, to see a game the Yankees were playing. I also drove to Dunedin, to see a Jays pre-season game but got so fed up trying to find a place to park my bike that I turned around and went straight back home, to Tampa that is, not to Munt-real, where it’s really too cold to drive a bike in winter.
I also went to Tropicana Field,
in St. Petersburg, across a 14 mile bridge from Tampa, to see a Tampa Rays Grapefruit League game . I had a handicapped parking vignette on my motorcycle but it had expired about a month prior to my going to that game. Fuckers gave me a ticket, $250 USD, which I unhappily paid with a note on the cheque thanking the municipality, or whatever it is, of St. Petersburg for its hospitable nature. In all honesty, I could have and should have taken care of the expired sticker but still.
Speaking of cold, one morning, while at a crumby Day’s Inn in Lake City, FL., I awoke one morning at around 4:30 and discovered frost on my bike which made me nervous because I never had left my bike out and uncovered in cold weather before, and I wasn’t sure that the engine would turn over. So outside I go to start it up.
Long story short, if started alright, first time, but due to carelessness on my part, the bike just took off, with me watching, prone on my on the ground where the bike had tossed me as it took off, as it made a right turn and headed for a little grassy knoll, missing all kinds of parked cars in the lot as well as not hitting anything except two picnic tables – one turned into kindling, the other into lumber
– and taking out part of a cord fence – not the one pictured here – in the process.
The motorcycle stalled out, thank God, and came to rest on the knoll. I got it out of there, and then went to inform the boss what had happened. He said that he’d have a look and get back to me.
“Really messed up”, or words to that effect came out of his mouth a little n
while later in the aftermath of his having surveyed the scene. He asked for damages in the amount of $175 USD, the equivalent of around $1000 CAN. 😆 which I happily paid.
Peace. Out.
View from, and of, the Country Inn (& Suites, may I add), Jacksonville, FL. Another nice run today, from Savannah, GA., to north Florida, a 180 km. (approx. 115 miles), a few stops along the way. Took close to three hours, actually. A light, light shower or two did nothing to dampen my spirits. Heading south is encouraging but I still wore my usual garb, seven layers, masked, helmeted, mitts included. You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to find mitts. My clawed hands make gloves an impossibility and ski mitts are way too thick. I am so careful not to lose my mitts. They’re gold in that they make travel which would without them be impossible, possible.
Just hanging out and relaxing at the hotel, taking it easy, thinking about stuff like freedom which is very important to me. I am completely and totally free, responsible only to myself; the downside is no partner, no kids, grandchildren, sisters, brothers. I will definitely die surrounded by my good and excellent friends but without family. Sometimes I wish I had kids but I opt to think that having taught for 34 years, that, in the words of good pal, Peter Marmorek, I gave at the office.
The up side is the liberty that I experience has allowed me to branch out and to live my life exactly the way I choose. As Johnny Jellybean used to opine, “you never know what lonesome is, till you get to herding cows”.
As Hunter S. Thomson used to write: “Nigger” and that didn’t make him a racist anymore than it makes me one for thinking “nigger” at times when a black man or woman appears in my line of sight. I don’t know why I think like that but according to some niggers that I know and really love, that doesn’t make me a racist. I know what’s in my heart and it is love for Albert, Joan, Phil, Willie, and even the grandson, Cameron, who pissed me off, not to forget about Hilton, (RIP) who got this whole beautiful trip, started. Joan was Hilton’s sister, Albert is her husband, Cameron is their grandson, and Phil is Joan’s brother.
Willie, featured above on his bike, referred to himself as an “old nigger” with only me driving around with him in his Mercedes. He also said that if he was involved in a traffic stop, he would ensure that he kept both hands on the wheel, to avoid getting shot, I suppose. Not to forget my good friends Bonita, Annell, Angela, and Charlene, courtesy of the Comfort Suites, Charleston. Annell and I are pictured here with my bike.
Get over yourselves.
That’s enough truth for today.
Music today features Jimi Hendrix’s “Are you experience Different?” Well, are you?
This shot is from Tampa, “winter” 2015.
Annell and I in front of the Comfort Inn and Suites, Charleston, SC, Oct. 30/17
Arrived about an hour ago, pretty cool out there right now, 16 degrees C. with a significant wind which makes biking extremely tiring but I did make it. It took me nine days to do the 1200 miles (around 2000 km.) as I can handle only a 300 – 350 km. ride each day, about 200 miles. Today was really weird. It took me five hours due to the fact that I stopped more than usually, to add layers of clothing*; did about 300 km (approx. 200 miles) a day and I had to lay over twice I think it was, due to inclement weather.
*My seven layers – short-sleeve T, two long-sleeved tops, two sweaters, my leather jacket and a terrific windbreaker which made a huge difference. Actually.
Charleston
Riding my trike … I am really enjoying the bike. Man, I’m telling you. The only real problem is weather. There is the odd issue with the trike, but thank the good Lord that thry’ve only been minor so far. Before leaving Montreal on Saturday, October 21st, I had been having trouble with GPS which kept falling off the wind screen due to the vibrations of 103 cu in (1690 cc.), 1100 lb. beast. That problem was regulated as can be seen below:
I was very lucky weather-wise. It rained twice only during the nine days, once while I was traveling, light rain, short duration and last night. The seven layers I wore kept out the cold but there is still the wind with which I had to contend on today’s ride from Fayetteville to Charleston. Go figure. You would think that the further south one travels it should get warmer unless of course higher elevations come into play further south which was not the case today. The Carolinas are flat, man, some land here is actually below sea level which partly accounts for severe flooding which threatens this part of Ameri-ka.
I actually had to stop twice just to add clothing, my mitts (can’t wear gloves since Scleroderma has done a number on my hands), and an extra sweater.
I have reached far enough south that helmets are not compulsory. I have ridden without a helmet on my last bike trip to the southern states in winter/spring 2015, but only in the cities and towns in Georgia, Florida, Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana.
This is from Lake City, FL on a previous trip. I thought that I would see some Detroit Tiger spring training games in 2015 but the Tigers’ spring training site turns out to be in Lakeland, not Lake City.
[I remember actually making shrieking “Yahoo” or some facsimile thereof, when I crossed the massive, huge and large Mississippi River delta back then.]
On the highways, parkways, freeways, turnpikes, inter-states, expressways and throughways I always wore a helmet. My friend Albert’s neighbour in Summerville, NC, told me when I was staying with Albert and his lively wife, Joan, in 2015, that if you’re driving a motorcycle at a speed of 35 mph or more, it wouldn’t matter if you were wearing a helmet or not, you would be a vegetable or dead. Sounds like an old wives’ tale to me.
This pic is from 2016, in Halifax, Nova Scotia.
Albert on the left and Willie, the latter over 82 by now, and still riding.
Joan
Willie and I after a ride. What a cool guy. A retired teacher.
He toLd me that he had me in his heart. Likewise, I’m sure, Willie, man. One of the coolest people I have ever met. You’re gonna have to trust my judgement on that.
The taxi driver, Bunmi, drove me home from B & E Stadium in Baltimore, MD, where I had gone to see the Ravens crush the hapless fish 40 to a big fat nothing. He’s an amazing guy as was Mohammad who drove me to the stadium. I asked Bunmi if he wanted to have a look at my trike when we got to the hotel where I was staying in Lutherville, about ten miles north of Baltimore. Trump country, by the way. 
So we go round back and when we’re done looking at my motorcycle, I ask him if I should remove my GPS so that it didn’t get ripped off, something I have never done. He goes :
“Take it with you, man. Where do you think you are? Canada?”
Lutherville
I meet many people who want to know about my bike. They also ask me if I drove all the way from Quebec – I have Quebec plates on my bike, “Je me souviens”. The older men, my age and a little older, seem particularly interested, their spouses, not so much. “For ged aboud it”.
The cops came to see me when I was living in Brighton, England, way back in 1971 when I was only 23 years old … I don’t remember why the cops stopped us but they did, in the middle of the night, and they became suspicious when we told them we were headed for Brighton. Turns out we were traveling in the wrong direction. When we were stopped, we only had tastes of some hash … In the end, my friend didn’t score. All I could get then was grass which cost more in England then than it did in Montreal. My friend managed to score a 1/2 kilo in Amsterdam and got busted with it.