The Captain’s Log

Cover your eyes and keep reading. I was in the shower this morning with a headful of shampoo lather when the water temp went from pleasant to “drop the lobster.” I immediately thought, “What a great test of spirituality or humility or patience or something desirable like that.”

I couldn’t quite get my brain around what I was testing, but I knew I was having an okay day because it didn’t completely derail because somebody in the house flushed or ran the tap too hard rinsing their toothbrush. I stepped back and waited, enjoying the rising steam and keeping my feet clear of the spatter, rather than ranting like a, well, dropped lobster.
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I was wondering the other day how different things would be if the concept of inheritance no longer existed. What I mean is, when you move on from this life, your leftover wealth gets distributed among the entire tribe instead of to your immediate relatives.

Wow. Wouldn’t that change things? What would the great names be? Carnegie? Rockefeller? Forbes? How would you become great if you couldn’t pass your loot along to, say, Paris Hilton? What would happen to us if the incentive to make way more money than we can spend in a lifetime went away? I imagine some people would still do it because that’s what they enjoy. But I’m wondering if a whole lot of others might snap out of their collective stupor and maybe do something else.
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Just to prove how jaded I am, I completely forgot to mention in the last entry’s laundry list of happenings that Dr. Dizzle and I made a pilgrimage to Somerville, MA to see a premier of Klunkerz, introduced by one of the forefathers himself: Gary Fisher.

I don’t think I’ve seen Gary face-to-face in maybe a decade. I stayed at his house for a few days way back when I was writing a feature story about him for Mountain Bike magazine that was perhaps a bit more honest than it needed to be. In other words, it never got published. Despite his jet lag from flying in from the premier in Scotland the night before, Gary managed to recognize me. There was a line of autograph seekers behind me, so I left it at “Hi, how are ya?” and took my seat. He did manage to tell me that he’d ponied up a ticket so Charlie Kelly, the godfather of all mountain bike journalism, could join him. That was pretty big news, if you know the history.
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Wow. After January dragging on for so long, February sure got by in a hurry.

Several people have written wondering if there’s something wrong with me because of the lack of blog entries. Actually, that mostly happens when things are right with me. Writing is therapeutic for me, helps me get connected and purges whatever demons are conspiring to twist my head into an unhappy shape. So when you don’t hear from me these days, it’s most likely because I’m firing on all cylinders, getting lots of work done and having fun. Sucks for you, but I’m quite happy with the arrangement.

To sum up, January included:
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