Greetings campers and lug lickers
Found my way back to work this morning, but still trying to remember what it is I actually do here. The escape to the Cirque is total, but only temporary. Recapture is inevitable, with a couple more years added to my sentence just to teach me a lesson I never seem to learn. I'm sure somebody will remind me soon of some impending deadline, and then it will all come back to me in a flash of terror and frenzied paper shuffling. Oh, maybe that's them now. Phone is alternating between all three ring patterns, and none of those patterns are good news. At least for now that pounding is on my door. Better than in my head, competing with the voices. But I think I'll just sit here quietly in the warm glow of another excruciatingly enjoyable Cirque. To slightly twist the words of comic book guy on the Simpsons during the last couple crappy seasons, "Best episode EVER". Been to every one so far, and enjoyed the fact that nobody seems to remember exactly how many there have been. I can't even remember how I heard about the first one, or what possessed me to drive that far for a small, first time swap in the parking lot of a shop I had never heard of. Just one of those little golden moments in life I always hope is just over the horizon, and that time I actually found one.
Well, last year's act of musical desperation became this year's travel tradition. Before heading down the road, dug deeply again into that dark bottom drawer, where old music cassettes crawl away to quietly decompose. Kinda like keeping a dead raccoon in a drawer. Almost as scary as having a nuclear waste dump in the house. What's the half life of old hippie music? The only selection criteria was everything had to be reachable without me having to crouch (which means there's still more for next year), pre-MTV, or at least so obscure that nobody would have been deranged enough to make a video of it. Eliminated having to ask myself if any particular selection would annoy the spousal unit (had she been silly enough to hop in the car with me), because the answer was a resounding "YES" to everything in that drawer. LIstened to some things during the long drive that were still fun. Tunes/titles of several old heartwarming little love songs stuck in my head for the rest of the weekend that were easy to keep singing at swap. They seemed right on topic:
"I got what it takes, but it breaks my heart to give it away."
The "Can't live without 'em blues."
"Wahoo, Wahoo, WA-hoooooo",
And a swell little ditty called "Play Rocky Top, or I'll punch your lights out". Just threw that one in because I like the title. (Moments like this I really miss Beyer. I keep throwing these things out there at him, but he's not there to catch them now.). Hey, could have been worse. I once listened to an hour of Doors/Jim Morrison songs on the radio, all done polka style. I don't know why. Even I can still be appalled. The video possibilities of that combination are just too horrible to contemplate.
Can't remember ever being accused of driving too slow, but hours later, when I was passed by both a loaded school bus driven by an Otto wannabe, and a Toyota 4-door sedan driven by Grandma Nascar, I knew I was getting close to Greensboro again. It was good to be back. Another fun-filled weekend with annual cell-mate Trike Mike. Both of us spaced out at various times over the 4 day festivities, cursed at the electronic room keys, but eventually realized were trying to get into a room/floor from some previous year. A weird little homing instinct for the Battleground that we both seem to have developed.
Staring at the agenda well in advance, I often question why I sign up for the speakers portion of the Cirque. Sometimes even initially concerned/confused by the choice of speakers, and wonder if maybe Dale has been snorting Kroil again. But I always write out the check, and once settled into my seat I'm always glad that I did. No matter how hard I try not to, I still manage to accidentally learn something on a topic I didn't realize I was interested in. And no matter how stiff and formal the topics may sound on paper, this event always manages to devolve into a pleasantly informal 4 hour interactive comedy routine that should not be missed.
Immediately tuned into Taliah's comments about "blue" and "chrome", and of course to me that can only spell "Raleigh Pro". So your mission Mr. Phelps, should you decide to accept it, is to introduce her to Raleigh Pros. Or intoroduce her to a new friend who owns one. Or send her one to paint. How many postcards/prints do you think she might sell just within this little group? I know I'D use a pile of them for Xmas/birthday/thank-you/love-you/hate-you/get-bent/Thank-you-Dale cards. There's a huge market there, just waiting.......operators are standing by.
Glad to see a few of the long suffering spouses/significant others making the pilgrimage, if for no other reason than to confirm for themselves that their respective companions really do just spend the weekend playing with bike junque. Some of the spouses won items at the dinner raffle, and my nature being what it is, couldn't help but wonder if the fix was in. I'm sure it wasn't, but would have been a fiendishly clever strategy to make the event more enjoyable for them.
The unselfish generousity award has to go to everybody involved in the charity auction. It does sort of pervade this group anyway, and continued into the swap. One case in point, while pondering a particular item I received some helpful info from a newly met swap bud. That would be enough, but when I asked his opinion about the price his answer was a simple and direct "if you put it down on the table, I'm gonna grab it myself". Now that's an honest answer, at his own expense. And perhaps some sort of award should go out to Dale's wife, for letting us borrow him for so long, so often.
Thanks also to a couple people who steered me towards items they knew I could use or might be interested in. Thanks for the assists. Always good to hunt in a "pack". And just to prove Harvey Sachs wrong in his too optimistic perception of just what it might take to embarrass me, I am now the proud owner of one of those aforementioned 3-prong giveaway TDC freewheels. It's gonna take a lot more than that to embarrass ME, pal. I'll admit though, I certainly wouldn't install it on anything. But it does present an opportunity to annoy my LBS, when I go in there doing my best innocent act, and ask if I can borrow the removal tool. Or can they order one for me. Gotta keep messing with their minds. Something I can hold under their noses while they're holding pepperoni pizza under MY nose. Just a little game we play. They've learned to expect nothing less from me.
As at Westminster, several incidents occurred while moving other people's bikes that might cause embarrassment. May have to ask Roy to print me up a couple signs that read "NOT MY BIKE", or I could have a lot of explaining to do someday. On the other hand, fun to see the bewildered look on friend's faces when they see me roll by with something totally out of character, and rust-free.
Was recently watching my nearest neighbor wrestling with new deer fencing he was installing around his garden. (Yes, he's a hopeless optimist, despite my best efforts to convert him). From a distance the plastic mesh fencing is virtually invisible, so had I not known what he was doing, I could easily think maybe he was doing something like Tai Chi, or fighting off a swarm of biting flies, or just having a seizure. There are some moments when I can't help but apply that same perspective to this event, and wonder how certain moments must look to someone who is not directly involved. At the very least, ignoring for the moment some of the more bizarre antics, remember that nobody looks good in spandex shorts. NObody! Parents shield their children's eyes as they walk through the lobby infested with CRers, wondering if there is another hotel nearby (imagine their surprise when they discover we've occupied them all.). Non CRers, especially those of the opposite/contradictory gender, bolt out of the elevator, hurry to their room and quickly and loudly throw the deadbolt locks. Quite a contrast to us leaving our doors wide open, inviting any and all kooks in. And does the kitchen counter in the lobby make a suitable/appropriate work stand? I would think not, if for no other reason than if the bike falls off, it's gonna get hurt. Thank you Dale, for allowing the auction to be moved from public view and scrutiny at the hotel, to the privacy of the shop. It's probably better for everyone.
Glad to see a few intermittant faces return, and meet a few new people. Great seeing y'all again. Wish you could have been there Russ. Never enough time to spend with everybody. And always fun to play with other people's quality junque, pet other people's bikes, and see people go home with new toys. Can't see all the deals, but particularly glad to see a Raleigh International go home with somebody who will really enjoy it and give it a good home. I'm happy for them both.
Yeah, okay, I coughed up real money for some old logo Campy hoods that were nicer than the ones I have tucked away. It was either buy or do something disgusting to them so nobody else would touch them and he would have to come down on price. I wouldn't do that to a pal, but then Elman turns around and outs me to the group. Thanks. What a pal. Wait 'til next year. And found a last minute bargain on a new Phil Wood BB that will add a little class to one of my heaps, and also eliminate that particular irritant in the eternal cosmic struggle between good and evil, Campy R/NR triple cranks. (Thin cups? Thick cups? Matching spindle? Ebay prices? Game over. Except that now I have to find the proper tool...... The fun never stops). Sometimes just have to pay the price to eliminate the excuses for not finishing a project of two. Those and other new little toys will keep me amused for a few days, scattered across MY kitchen counter (complete with safety net), at least until the spousal unit returns from a biz trip. "But this is the way we do it at the Cirque" just ain't gonna cut it as a legitimate excuse. FINE, I'll just put them under my pillow. No wonder I can't sleep at night.
Oh well, back to real life, and the perils of ebay. T-town is soooooo many months away. 'Til then, I guess I'll just have to ride. The phone ringing and door pounding are becoming angrier, and just received hate email from a co-worker wondering when I'm gonna finish........... (10 more minutes. You only needed it last week. Chill. Quit whining.) Maybe my co-workers would like to hear The Waybacks singing "Cluck old Hen" and "The Mental Health Song". Or maybe not. Another reason to keep my door closed.
So let me just turn up the volume on the banjo, mandolin, fiddle, bagpipes..... sing along with me now.... "Any old bike I'm ridin on Is home sweet home to me."
Larry "Kid GB" Osborn Unhappily back in my cell, tunnelling out of Morgantown WV