Frenchy's Rant

With another great riding season safely tucked away in the history books, it’s time to plod forward into Fall. Somehow, Summer snuck out of town when nobody was looking, and now there is early morning frost (!) on the motorcycle, and what leaves remain paint the gray New England sky with frozen fireworks.

And of course, as the brilliant frozen fireworks display slowly fades away for another year, the lawn slowly disappears under remnants of Ma Nature’s spectacular show.

Soon enough, the lawn will disappear under a blanket of snow, and bare branches will scrape the sky. This time of year is difficult for me, as I wind down from the frantic pace of trying to cram the most excellent of everything into each day. A mild depression usually sets in, as I reflect on everything I did, and everything I still want to do. Without another great ride to plan, there seems to be nothing to write about, which is why this new blog doesn’t get updated as often as it should. The words that came so effortlessly now don’t seem to come at all. This winter promises to be especially depressing, as I’ll celebrate the dreaded arrival of the Big Four-Oh.

Ugh.

Yeah, it could be worse, it always could. I’ll enjoy the change of seasons as best I can, staying warm by the fire, planning new adventures, and of course toasting each day as the Best Day Ever, safe with the knowledge that as sure as the snow will soon fall, another riding season is just around the corner.

Just another week almost in the books, almost time to flip the calendar over once more, and  nothing really mind-shatteringly exciting has happened lately. Right now I’m in Detroit for a two day photography class that I’ve been looking forward to for a while. Hopefully, if the teacher is really good with us slow kids, I’ll learn enough to take some good pictures, and maybe even post a few. Big thanks to friends Tom and Jen for being such kind and gracious hosts to me in their home town last night. Good times!

Also have a few more ideas rattling around my tiny head, looking into starting a videos section on the blog, so not only will I be able to bore what few readers I have, now, with stupid videos to accompany the yawn inspiring blogs, I’ll be able to bore the illiterati too. A clear and sound marketing strategy for a blog that will continue  me no money whatsoever.

And other than that, the days are just, well, days speeding by on the old treadmill, typical factory-type work in the never-ending merry go round of television production. Even still, even though sometimes I feel like I’m caught in an endless loop, I still see it this way: any day spent upright on the right side of the grass is the Best Day Ever.

How long has it been now?

Fifteen years?

Sixteen?

I sat down this morning and tried to figure out exactly how long have I been a part of the never-ending carnival of insanity known as freelance television production. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t even know, the past however many years have blurred by so fast there’s hardly even time to figure it out.

This strange career started innocently enough as a part time job as a cable-coiler at the Boston Garden during Celtics games. The job paid $50 a night, $25 of which was spent on parking, and at least $15 on gas. I probably took home about $200 for the entire season. Back then I wasn’t a very good businessman, but back then that’s what you did to pay your dues.

During that time, my ‘real’ job, my day job that paid the bills suddenly disappeared, as the cable company I was working for was swallowed up by a larger cable company. I decided to try my hand in the murky waters of freelancing until I could find another ‘real’ job.

That was fifteen years ago, or maybe sixteen; in a time before cell phones, before Facebook and blogs, before the Internet, before everything was soullessly digital.

For a ten day span in late September, area Walmarts in Oklahoma City experience a massive drop in sales. This yearly phenomenon can only be attributed to one thing – the Oklahoma State Fair!

During these ten days, the fairgrounds become the biggest congregation of mullets, torn-sleeve flannel tank tops, and fried food connoisseurs in the country. When the State Fair gates open, the Great Unwashed collectively turn off Man vs. Food reruns, put down the crack pipe, collect all fifteen kids together, grab a fresh can of Skoal, load up the pick-up truck, and leave the trailer park for some good old-fashioned family fun.

Sometimes things look better in the morning. My rear tire didn’t. It looked a little… tired. I guess all the playing around and fun we’ve had on all the awesome two lane roads with a slightly overloaded bike does have consequences after all.

Who knew?

I check the tire pressure. It is fine. The tire was starting to show some definite signs of wear, but wasn’t worn down to the cords, and seems to have enough life left in it to get us home, though it would be destined for the used-tire depot-in-the-sky before the next ride.

Within five hundred miles of home, we could either cut across to the boring superslab, or continue exploring the nooks and crannies of California’s beautiful inland two lane roads. The highway would be safer, in the event the rear tire decided to give up the ghost, at least we’d be close to civilization. But back roads are fun.

Guess which option we chose.