Frenchy's Rant

September 6th, 2005.

A day that will go down in history, mostly as the day that followed September 5th. It’s also the day that this silly little blog debuted. A dopey writeup about, of all things, Gilligan going to the great S.S. Minnow in the sky started this long, strange trip into the so-called blogosphere, a trip that has lasted for, oh… let’s see… exactly 369 posts so far.

This post will make the 370th, a good round number for what, after some deep thought and careful soul searching, I’ve decided will be the finale of Frenchy’s Rant’s. That’s right. The fat lady is singing the French National Anthem. After this post, the Rant will be officially closed. I might keep up the photo blog, since it’s much easier to stick a bunch of pictures on a page than it is to find the time to sit down and try to compose the jumble of fragments that tumble around in my tiny brain into somewhat coherent thoughts and stories.

It’s been interesting, it’s been a lot of work, it’s been a lot of fun, it’s been sad at times, funny once or twice, but mostly it’s been a labor of love. People have passed on, many motorcycle trips have been taken, work has happened… the assbags at Google Adsense banned me… blah blah blah… and through it all, you – the Faithful Fifteen readers of this blog – have checked in from time to time, and wasted a few precious minutes of your life reading my inane blather.

For that I can only say… YOU SUCKERS!!!

No, seriously, at this time I would sincerely like to say a heartfelt THANK YOU! Thank you for reading, thanks for caring, and special thanks to the minority of you that have actually taken the time to post comments. Negative, positive or otherwise, I read and posted them all.

Since this blog started with a sort of obituary, I think it’s only fitting to end it with one too.

(Miami, Florida) — Frenchy, author of the mostly unknown and obscure blog called Frenchy’s Rant wanted it known that as of this post, his merely yawn-inspiring blog has come to its merciful end. True to the style of the Rant, Frenchy’s final post included a GFY award, but this closing honor was bestowed without a recipient.

It can only be assumed the award was meant for all of humankind.

During it’s short life, the blog excelled at mediocrity, set the bar low, and consistently missed the mark. Many readers stopped by once, few returned. Fewer still made the Rant one of their favorite insomnia cures.

No funeral or service is planned. However, a party will be held to celebrate the memory of the Rant. Email frenchys-rant@att.net for more information. Additionally, in lieu of flowers, Rant readers are requested to gather in a place that will hold them all, such as a phone booth, hoist a Guinness toast and wonder, “Frenchy Who?“

Just before the 2008 WWE Hall of Fame show. Still smiling, after WAAY too many days of television.

There is a lot of blogworthy stuff going on these days, so I’ll make this quick.

The next day we woke up.

It was cold, but clear.

We rode to the Blue Ridge Parkway, where it was colder and not so clear. I stopped in the Visitors Center to get a Passport Stamp, and the ranger actually laughed at me when I told her we were going to ride the Parkway.

It didn’t take long to find out why she was laughing.

We rode 75 miles with visibility often as low as twenty feet. In misty clouds that mercilessly pelted us with drizzle, rain, and other forms of liquid hatred, making helmet visors steamy films of uselessness. We had to stop a few times to, as Denis put it, “unpucker.”

At times I couldn’t see anything but the yellow line on the road.

The temperature at the summit was 36 degrees. There the rain mixed with sleet. Piles of old, unmelted snow lined the sides of the road. My heated vest, which had been intermittent the whole ride, died for good at that point.

It was one of the best days of riding I can remember.

I know everyone is waiting impatiently for the conclusion of the Tennessee ride nail biter, and I promise I’ll conclude it as soon as possible… It’s been a busy few weeks of racin’, wrasslin’ and liver punishin’… and fun always gets in the way of bloggin’, as it should.

So, before I have another Senior Moment and forget the rapidly dimming details, I wanted to take this opportunity to officially introduce the Faithful Fifteen to Tom, who, after a long night of sake served in large green bamboo containers at Haru in New York City last night, will forever be known as Zamfir, Master of the Tape Room!

Remarkable resemblance too! Sake is dangerous stuff, eh Zamfir??