So for those of you who read my blog, whether it be on my alternate site, my home PC site or my blogspot site you will have probably noticed that I tend to be direct, to the point and rather outspoken when it comes to issues that really concern me. So to help my readers better understand me and where my motivation comes from I guess I need to give a rather long and dull explanation of how I got to where I am now.
It all started in 1975 when some idiot at the Wisconsin Department of Motor Vehicles gave me my motorcycle permit. I actually failed my first motorcycle permit test but passed the second one by actually practicing my pushing skills. Yes, in those days you had to be able to push the bike you took the test on in a figure eight, due to some insane thought by the DMV that bikes were unreliable and you would eventually have to push your machine somewhere or other. But I digress...
So this idiot gave me my bike license and then it was on. I learned on a 125cc Honda TL125 that I bought for $125 and I was hooked. I convinced my dad who loaned me he money, that I ostensibly needed it for my summer job in Illinois 22 miles away. That summer and the next I learned how to go fast and that rainy streets were slippery and that helmets do save lives. So of course by late 1976 I needed something faster and so I purchased a 360 Honda and began to learn my limits on the faster machine. Of course this wild and crazy behavior led to me wanting more excitement and I ran into the Navy recruiter at school who convinced me the real excitement would be working on aircraft in the United States Navy. A few videos and that recruiter had me hooked. I knew that due to my eyesight I wouldn't be flying those super cool, neato and nifty F-14's but by god, I could be around them and learn electronics/avionics courtesy of the taxpayers.
So after graduating high school I headed off into the USN and from there off to many nifty adventures in places such as Bermuda, working on P-3C avionics. Needless to say I was somewhat disappointed by doing shore duty on an immobile island with only about 50 total miles of roads (okay maybe 75-80 miles of roads). By that time I had progressed to owning a super neat 1978 Honda 550 Four K, the tiny cousin of the almighty Honda 750. Of course in Bermuda I was separated from my sweet 4 cylinder speed machine and relegated to finding and purchasing a nice, very used Honda CB125T. A very small, but fast enough for an island with a 20 mph limit, machine. I promptly got a speeding ticket for doing 35 in a 30 zone (57kph I believe). This was th first of many lessons I had in "if you wish to play, you must be willing to pay.
So moving on with this saga, I returned to the USA only to be assigned to VS-30 (Dirty 30) in Jacksonville, Fla, Cecil Field. Lucky me, off I went to get some real excitement onboard the USS Forestall (CV-59) on a Mediterranean cruise. Alas to my dismay, I was working on lowly S-3 Vikings and not super cool, neato F-14 Tomcats, but I was happy to find that our Wing was assigned the last 2 F-4 Phantom squadrons still in existence. I had learned another valuable lesson and that was to accept your fate and enjoy the moment. After going through fire fighting school and seeing "Trail by Fire" for the 20th time I went out with VS-30 to see the world. In the meantime my beautiful 550 Honda was in my brother's watchful hands. He never became a bike nut, which is probably good, since one speed freak in the family is probably enough. But once again I digress...
My time on "the boat" taught me that you don't always get paid enough for what you do and that living on the edge is the best high you can ever hope to experience. Working the flight deck was considered, at the time, to be the most dangerous occupation in the world and by god, I loved it! The smell of jet exhaust and the absolutely mind numbing sound of takeoffs never ceased to give me a smile. Sure you could get sucked into a jet engine, blown off the deck by jet exhaust or just make a stupid error and get run over by a taxiing aircraft, but it all seemed so normal. I never considered for a moment that it could get me killed because at the age of 22 I was invincible. But I did learn another valuable lesson and that was, after hours of thinking about it in my rack, that I was somehow really making a difference in the world while the folks I went to high school with were just people who didn't count. They just went to work, paid taxes and folks like myself and 4900+ others on the boat were putting our asses in danger every day so they could drive their cars to work and grab a cheeseburger without ever thinking about the evil Russians (it was the cold war), or thinking about their freedoms at all. I don't mean to demean those who have not served at all, it is a personal choice, but in my mind you folks don't count as much as those who have, (absolutely no offense intended).
So following that wonderful lesson I got home with a wad of cash big enough to purchase another shiny new bike, a Honda CB900F. At the time this was a bleeding edge sport machine with a top end of roughly 138mph. Fast enough to kill you, but as I would soon learn, not nearly fast enough for that adrenalin rush I now needed on a daily basis. Another lesson learned here was that waiting for something good was worth it but there was always something better out there. Waiting all those months to buy this bike taught me the value of hard work and patience. I paid cash and rode out of the dealership with a new helmet, nice gloves and a custom leather jacket that I had mail ordered months earlier, on a bike that I was totally unprepared to ride. I promptly got a ticket and then another and another but I never slowed down because I always considered speed limits an unnecessary government restriction. Lesson learned here? Only that I needed something much, much faster. But I did begin to understand the law and why we have those restrictions. They are not for those of us who can easily ride a machine as safely at 120 mph as those who can barely operate a car in their driveway, they are there expressly for those who simply shouldn't ever leave their driveway. The ones who want the government to protect them from their own incompetence. This was the beginning of my understanding that government regulation is for the weak-willed sheep who have no desire to improve themselves, whether it be driving a car or life in general.
So I got out of the Navy and eventually ended up at Underwriters Labs in Northbrook, Illinois. It paid well and I was comfortable but that lasted only about a year. You see, the motorcycle bug had me and I needed to go fast, really fast. I needed the rush that a 9-5 job just didn't offer. So I went out and bought myself a shiny new VF500F. What the hell you say? Yep, it was quick, handled well and was perfect for racing on a track, the place I would really learn about life. You see I knew I still had to keep working, so the 500cc bike was a compromise, but well worth the time spent on the track. After a few months of spending my time at the track I began to see the world in a whole new light.
You see, racing anything is all about coming to the realization that you are not the best, you don't have the most money and that life and luck are damned unfair. There is always someone a little faster than you. Perhaps because their daddy is bankrolling that killer motor or because they are younger and more "invincible" than you. It doesn't matter why but the fact is that racing teaches you just how goddamned unfair life can be. Make a mistake and you end up dead, miss a shift and you lose a race, pick the wrong tires and you come in third, not first. It is a great teacher, this going fast and wanting to go faster, thing called racing. It teaches you that the governing body really can't control the outcome. You have to make things happen and that their is no such thing as a level playing field. In short, you are totally responsible for the outcome at the end of the day, much like the outcome of your life in general. In racing there are no special favors for the poor, you run what you 'brung' is the saying.
After a year in racing I hooked up with an endurance team and got to race Suzuki GSXR1100R machines at speeds that finally satisfied (almost) my adrenalin addiction. Zooming around at Daytona at over 185 mph was a wonderful, peaceful, calming moment for me. I didn't quit smiling for weeks afterwards. I had finally achieved my goal of scaring the hell out of myself while a the same time being in that zone you get when everything in the world is right. The fence posts and barriers go by in slow motion and you can see the grass gently moving in the breeze and there is an eerie silence even though your ear-plugged ears are bombarded by the scream of the engine at 10,500 rpm and the wind pummeling you over the windscreen. At moments like that I would realize that I had earned this, I had worked for this and that no one, no group, nothing in the universe could take away my achievement. I later realized that these lessons apply to everything, from work to school to the first time whatever it is you are doing goes just right. It is always okay to ask for help when you absolutely need it, but it is always so much better when you get there on your own.
These lessons are but a few reasons I came to realize that no one, or no group or no governing body determines your destiny. You are the only one who can determine that and to depend upon the government to help you along diminishes you as a human being. That which you do not achieve on your own is merely a shared experience. That which you achieve by yourself can be shared by others, but only those who have gotten there by also following their own path can truly understand the realization of the experience.
Getting there on your own is what being a conservative is all about. Doing your thing, whatever that may be, is important. It doesn't matter what it is, whether it be laying bricks, painting a portrait or playing a musical instrument, but it is better when you do it all by your self.
I am sure I digressed more than I should have, but screw it, I think I made my point and I really, really miss riding fast and taking chances...but once again I digress...
So listen to the song and try to understand.
You may now return to your regularly scheduled surfing,
Tim
