See ya there?

Also, this is the second most embarrassing thing I did today …

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Know what I sayin?

Do you remember that software app. a few years ago that would allow the user to “deface” the homepage of Websites?  What was it called? … can’t find it on Google … The only people who could see the damage were the ones who had the software app.  So, I don’t think it actually damaged the site at all like a hacker might … it just appeared to do so, for those who were in on the joke.  If your site had been vandalized in this fashion, I suppose you would never know unless you had the app. also. What was it called?

Ha! If PingWi-Fi.com was hit, would anyone know … what with our rust grafitti motif and all? …

I never pseudo attacked anyone’s Web site, but I did some tagging on Facebook the other day at Texas Tech University … my alma mater.  For the people on Facebook who were wondering what was up with all the “check ins” in Lubbock … well, I was having a little fun with my Team Leach buddies … and some of my other Texas Tech buddies … doing something similar to that mischievous app.  As I toured the TTech campus — a 1985 journalism grad on a 2004 Triumph (in Red Raider red and black, coincidentally) — I visited various key points around the campus just to “check in” on Facebook with my silly little defiant tagline:

“I am a product of The Mike Leach System.”

I used to say this about “the system” to make fun of some of the “football experts” who used the phrase because they didn’t understand the genius of Mike Leach and the little material he had to work with in Lubbock … or some of his brilliant, prolific passers and receivers (Kliff Kingsbury, Graham Harrell, Wes Welker, Michael Crabtree, etc.,) … yet he built the program to be a powerhouse.

Ha … now I use the phrase to poke fun at my alma mater who fired our winningest coach in history.

Actually, before Texas Tech did the unthinkable and fired Leach, I suggested to some of their communications experts that they should use the phrase to our advantage — tongue in cheek — in a TV campaign to piggyback on the coach’s national media popularity.

You know … kind of an “I am Spartacus” funny thing.  The humor/strategy was wasted.  And that window of opportunity slammed shut.

As you may know, Leach is a media darling with great personality profiles ranging from The New York Times to CBS’ “60 Minutes.” (Good luck at Washington State Coach Leach, btw.)

So anyway, just for grins I “checked in” and tagged The United Spirit Arena, the Jones AT&T Stadium, the Frazier Alumni Pavillion, Memorial Circle, The Mass Comm building and some other spots around the Texas Tech campus.  Each time, the same message:  ”I am a product of the Mike Leach System.”  Thanks to my Facebook friends who “liked” my shenanigans.  I think they understood what I was doing.

I am curious … does anyone at those locations look to see who and who many check in on Facebook?  How does one do that?  I have never tried.  I guess I am more of a tagger than a fact checker … in that regard.

Man, Texas Tech has grown … at least there are lots more cool buildings … Love the English building (my minor) …  I didn’t see many kids around the campus … but it was finals week after all.  I rode around a bit, and then at the suggestion of a local weather man, I hit the road before the “late morning rain.”

Ha … I don’t know what he calls late, but at about 9 a.m., as I headed south on 84 toward Post, the bottom fell out of the sky and landed on me.

Surely you are already sick of me singing the praises of my new passion (motorcycle) on here … This is a different tune.  Try making the five+ hour drive from Lubbock to Fort Worth, with 3 of those 5 hours being totally soaked, in a high 50s or low 60s degree downburst.  Not pretty.  Ha … my neck is sore from shivering at 70+ miles per hour.  Was I prepared with rain gear?  Now that is a silly question considering we are talking about “Mr. Fly-By-The-Seat-Of-Your-Pants.”  ”We don’t need no stinkin raingear.”

Interesting.  I so misjudged the drivers around me.  For some reason I thought they would have pity on this poor soul, who had a deadline, and therefore headed onward triumphantly through the rain.  Ha … oh contrare …. it was more like “we are going to see if we can splash, wreck and runover this dumb arse in the rain.”  People … gotta love ‘em.  (Prolly liberals in a hurry to get to a save the spotted albino honey badger rally …)

Deadline?

Oh … I left Santa Fe on Wednesday, and drove five hours to Lubbock — which by the way was a straight, somewhat scenic and uneventful drive on 285 … sunshine and beautiful clouds all the way … a good thing.

Then after virtually defacing the Tech campus (all in good fun) I headed back to Fort Worth to attend a dress rehearsal of my favorite opera — Puccini’s “Tosca.”  (My learned friends tell me Puccini liked fast women and fast motorbikes and cigarettes.  One of those killed him …)

Oh … because I travel so much, I have lots of hotel points, so I booked free hotel rooms in Santa Fe and Lubbock.  Both hotels had decent Wi-Fi for the record, but that was about all that was decent about the places.  Ha … guess I will have to spend my free hotel points a little more freely next time.  Lesson learned.  My biggest fear was that the new love of my life (yes the Triumph) would be taken — in every conceivable meaning of the term — in the parking lots.  I will not embarrass the hotels by mentioning the national brands … I know there are better locations for each of these brands.

One saving grace.  My hotel in Santa Fe was up the street, on Cerrillos, from a non-impressive little strip center with a restaurant called Tortilla Flats.  Kind of cliche, I thought.  But I tried it anyway.  I thought it had the appearance of of a place that could be a non-touristy place where the locals go for good Mexican food.  Ha … It has “Best of Santa Fe” magazine covers all over the walls.  Score … or was it … the first table of people I saw was a group of four or five Asian businessmen toasting each other … I dug deeper.

The chicken enchiladas plate was the biggest I had ever finished in a single sitting.  Excelente.  And when the volume of the dinner didn’t kill me … I continued to tempt fate and finished off both of the two sopapillas, which were about the size of my head … before I filled them with honey.  And the Wi-Fi … muy excelente!  I blogged, browsed, pinged, repinged and pinged again without a single glitch.

Tortilla Flats might pump up the decor a bit to match the wonderful food.  The Wi-Fi and the portions were more than deserving — seis pingalleros por mi amigos por favor!

Tortilla Flats

Oh, I mentioned the hotels had Wi-Fi hotspots … well, the  Lubbock hotel also had a near flash fire.  I plugged in the blowdryer … now that I have too much hair to drip dry … Ha … turned it on … and the fan didn’t work at all inside “the gun.”  But the internal heating coils did.  The thing was glowing like a West Texas branding iron in about 2 seconds.  Ah … now I see why someone had unplugged it … yet had not seen fit to tell anyone else about it? … People! (Probably a liberal wanting to keep the plastic out of the eco system …)

So, after nearly setting my hair and the hotel afire, I packed computer, cameras a a change of clothes and sped off, admittedly, singing “Tosca” under my motorcycle helmet … rivaling the 3 tenors … not!  Tosca is the only opera lyrics I know, unless you count the old Burger King commercials … “I’ve heard that Burger King has something new now — veal parmigiana.”  I digress …

Hmmm … what does one wear to the opera?  Or actually, what does one wear to an opera dress rehearsal? I pictured myself in a cape like Adam Sandler’s “Operaman” character.  Now that would have made a flashy entrance.  Actually, I would have rather have had the cape on the bike in the rain …

Here’s the good thing about being soaked on a bike.  If and when the rain stops, the air resistance at great speeds will eventually dry your clothing.  So, if you pull over and give in to the hypothermia, you are done for.  But, if you keep going, it gets better.

Note to self: no more scheduling opera dates, 500 miles away on a rainy day.

Well Tosca was everything I had hoped for. All of the crescendos and climaxes and arias and sopranos and tenors and costumes and sets were excellent … all like clockwork … lots of bearded dudes with period ponytails … women of girth … all the things you would expect.  But, the dress rehearsal almost added a new twist to Tosca.  My friend ever so slightly fainted at one point and fell a little bit into the lap of the girl beside her. (Fear of heights?  Love of opera? My aftershave?)  Thank goodness we were in the second row of the balcony and not the first, as originally planned.    No one wants to see Tosca’s plunge upstaged by some other aria flying from the balcony …

Good luck to the Fort Worth production.  Well worth the trip … for the most part.

Know what I sayin?

Light and Shadow

… Sitting in “the evil” Starbucks in Santa Fe … It seems to be doing great business.  The line is almost out the door … So the people who shun the green giant — only supporting local shops — must be losing the war. (I support them all, if they have Wi-Fi.)

This Starbucks got every-little-ting — a faster, more robust hotspot than most Bux these days. I am listening to The Flaming Lips channel on Pandora, and the stream hasn’t rebuffered once … As I blog and do the social media thing as well. Ping be all multi-taskin …

Perfect scores usually don’t happen at some corporate coffee counter, but this one stands out. Starbucks on San Francisco in Santa Fe - great Wi-Fi, long padded bench seats for lots of bloggers, great Kuchina watching — perfect 7 of 7 pings.

As I blog I am humming a song, and have changed Lionel Ritchie’s lyrics to “easy like Santa Fe morning” (with some funky sampling of Radiohead’s “15 Step” sampled in ) … Yes this is easy street.  I got to the plaza early and easily grabbed one of several parking spots specifically designated for motorcycles.  The Native American merchants are still setting up shop - blankets on sidewalks to show off silver, turquoise and onyx bling. Everyone of course is so laid back.

Burro Alley

I feel like I am a walking conversation piece, but I am sure it is just that easy-going Santa Fe vibe or medicine or whatever.  So far, compliments on the Triumph Speedmaster … The Nikon D7000 … Wait for it … And THE CHOPS! Oh those crazyhead chops …

No one complimented me on the large protrusion inside my jacket, though, as I rode.  I looked sort of like I had swallowed a midget.  Can you say midget? By the way, have your heard that little people in Florida are trying to repeal a law that prevents throwing midgets for comedic effect.  Apparently this used to be a trend, and some well-intentioned types put a stop to it in the name of good taste. Well … Now the .75 types are as up in arms as little people can be because jobs are scarce and they lost a good-paying gig.

Hey, there are worse ways to make a living than “gettin all throwed.” I digress.

Oh, back to the foreign object in my belly. Since I am on the bike and don’t want to tote around a big pack pack, I had my iPad tucked into the top of my jeans … Ha! Relax, it was only buried to layer one. Besides … Waiters do that! I still question that a person who serves food sticks his/her note pad inside their pants back there in crack city … Even if there is a sign in the bathroom that says he/she must wash their hands … Yes, I digress …

WT Prof., Walk Of Fame

So, not only was I tucking the iPad, I also had the Nikon body dangling around my neck like a hood ornament on a rapper, under my  jacket and there was an 18-105 zoom in my pocket … (I have another little song I sing to myself in such cases … It goes “pack mule, pack mule” … Sung to the tune of “fat man, fat man coming around the corner …”

You don’t know that one?

Ha! As I was riding, loaded, I coined a new term regarding my concealed journalism weapons — I was “packin geek.”

Yesterday evening, I hit town and climbed the stairs to the Marble Brewery and Coffeeshop.  More excellence … Am I totally just easy? Has the supposed magnetic energy field of Santa Fe affected the needle on the pingometer?

Marble has free Wi-Fi, so good that the waiter commented to me about how many laptops were on the balcony overlooking the plaza … Buddy, you have struck up the right conversation with the right person … Great hot chai tea, shuffleboard table and a balloon sculptor on the street below - 7 magnetic pings.

Skate Kid

Man what a fun trip! Can it be that the rugged rock faces and timbers and red strata vistas of New Mexico’s winding roads are even more beautiful on two wheels going fast?

I think so. FYI, I did I-40 from Amarillo (Old Route 66) west to Santa Rosa, N.M., and then headed north on 84 toward Las Vega, N.M.  Just before Las Vegas! You backtrack a little south on I-25 … Well worth the effort.  And I think the speed limit is just pretty much the honor system … I think I like this road better.  In the past I have gone further west to Clines Corners … But be forewarned, 84 is pretty much your own road on a week day.  That could be an issue if you break down.  I didn’t … Only slowed down a time or two to check out rustic old ranch structures, in shambles, but still enough sod brick left standing to require a closer look.

Take her easy … Oh by the way mi amigos … Photos added. but there was a delay because that nifty little 1stGen iPad tucked in me trousers is pretty much worthless when it comes to uploading photos, if your camera is not Wi-Fi enabled.  What was Apple thinking on that first model???

Know what I sayin?

It is difficult to return to one’s old stomping grounds without thinking of the old days.  There are reminders everywhere … the school, the cafe where high school kids congregated, the football field on the first street off the highway.  I remember all so well. Black and gold streamers, hanging from the goal posts,  blowing in the wind on an autumn night … the loud clang of the team’s victory bell when points were scored … the ceremonial walk off the field with your best girl after a hardfought victory … the words of the school song.

I can also remember a few specific plays from the gridiron.  One was funny at the time.  We used to say so cavalier that a player had “got his bell rung.’  Today of course we know the concussions in football are a very serious matter.  So, one play that stands out was the night I got my bell rung.  Ha … I took a hit on a punt return, I think.  And I can remember going into the offensive huddle and asking another player — Les — if we were on offense or defense.  That is important to know.  He told me we had the ball and pointed where to line up.  Ha … the quarterback threw me a pass, and I caught it, although I am sure I had no idea which way to run.  Probably didn’t matter, because although I caught a lot of passes, I made very few yards after the catch.

I remember a second play like it was yesterday.  In those days, I was prone to muscle cramps toward the end of games, and was either too uniformed or stubborn to sufficiently hydrate the day before or the day of a game.  So, it became all too common to see me clutching a calf and massaging a muscle in the fourth quarter.  On this second memory, a short pass play was called, and the quarterback was just firing the ball to me as I turned around, just inside the goal line.  His timing was perfect.  Just as I whipped around toward him, the ball was in flight.  All I had to do was “look it in.” I prepared to receive the ball, when two knives were stabbed into the back of my legs … well that is how it felt.

My legs buckled under my weight … Ha! … all 135 pounds of me, and I fell backwards to land flat on my back.  Apparently my focus was a little more intense in those days, because as I fell, I stretch my arms up to where my chest had been a moment earlier and I caught the pass.  Touchdown!  I clutched the ball to the ground.  The whistle blew.  And I grabbed my calves trying to convince the muscles to unlock.  Nothing like a good old muscle spasm to cut short your TD celebration.

But you know what?  I bet no one on the planet but me remembers either one of those moments, no matter how vivid they are too me.

However, there is a moment from my shortlived football career that all of my teammates remember. One did.

Yesterday, I hopped on my Triumph early and drove 15 miles to the nearest coffee shop … The Love’s Truck Stop, just about a mile West of The Cadillac Ranch on Interstate 40.  I had just sat down with a cup of coffee and purchased Wi-Fi Internet service when in walked one of my old teammates.  Jerry is a couple of years older than me.  When I was a blocking dummy (a member of the JV practice squad, he was on varsity.)  You’re right.  It is surprising that an older kid would remember something a younger junior varsity player did.

But you see, the event was monumental.  Ever guy who shared our locker room that year — I am willing to wager — remembers this moment … decades later.

Let me introduce a major player in the story — the coach.  We had a “tough-as-nails” coach, Coach D.  Coach D was loved by most and feared by all.  Respected by us and our opponents is an understatement.  He was demanding.  He was strict.  He was a disciplinarian.  He was somewhat of a perfectionist and he could be extremely intimidating. You might say he had a bit of a temper and a fiery disposition. He ate, breathed, slept football … that is if he slept … I am not so sure.

It is also important to realize just how important Friday night light football is in Texas — which makes the football coach a very important, powerful, totally respected member of the community.  I think you see the picture …

Well, one fine day in the locker room Coach D was drawing X&Os on the chalkboard before practice.  Specifically he was addressing the varsity, although all players were sitting in the locker bench seats and also lying on the floor around the room. I was sprawled out on the floor with the younger guys. And I was trying to be attentive although the instructions didn’t directly pertain to me.  LOL … During the strategic talk … Yes … I dozed off. I am told it was one of those bouts with unconsciousness where pretty much everyone saw my eyes closing and then watched the full-scale head jerk down as my neck relaxed and my chin hit my chest.

Bad idea!

Another thing about Coach D. … he didn’t miss much. Oh, he saw it develop and unfold to his disbelief.

“PING-EL!”

My German surname echoed throughout the dressing room and on into the adjoining gymnasium, just as a chalk-laden blackboard eraser hit me in the head.  No doubt my face must have looked like a kid who had buried his face in a bag a powdered sugar donuts - covered. Ha! To make matters worse I tried to be clever and said “Sorry … Uh … Coach … Uh there was something in my contact lens.”

Ha! Good comeback … NOT!  Have I mentioned I am not the best liar?

How embarrassing … And even today the legend lives on.

As for me, I respect my elders. I told Jerry that I remembered the day my knee was swollen from taking many hits, while I was being a “blocking dummy” during football practice. Even though Jerry was an upperclassman and wasn’t required or expected to, he took my place for a while and let the guys practice blocking and rolling up his leg for a while.

As for me, I tallied my second and hopefully last spinal chord injury that season. I finished out the year, despite the injury, then retired my football cleats to focus on basketball. I mean, I could read the writing on the chalkboard, so to speak.

Great to see an old friend, no matter how humiliating the memory. LOL … Later I remembered how funny it was when we used to imitate Coach D. pronouncing Jerry’s last name in his own way: “Come on ‘R-Toe!’”

In the coffee shop, we kicked around old times, talked politics, discussed careers, real estate, promotions, hunting for arrowheads and our lives after gridiron glory days.  He also introduced me to some other locals who sat down for coffee.

Probably shouldn’t have talked politics so much.  It got heated a time or two.  But we cooled down, and I really enjoyed my new acquaintance, Mr. Lamb. As he was walking out, I noticed his handmade leather belt was imprinted with his last name … except that the letter “B” was backwards … or bass akwards as we say in Vega. Mr. Lamb told me the leather crafter made a mistake, so he bought the bad belt and another one that was correct … but the “typo” belt had become his favorite because it had a good story … I like this guy!

Well, after about two hours of “old home week” I remembered that I had bought an hour pass for wireless Internet there at Love’s.  Never sent a single e-mail, tweet or even a Facebook status update. but you know what? It was some of the most enjoyable money I have spent on Wi-Fi in quite some time.

Love’s, I shall return.

Know what I sayin?

Helmet

Well this is fun. Something cool came from something crappy. My motorcycle helmet was stolen from my bike — one day after I gushed over my new bike in the blog.

I was livid. The nerve … and to steal it at my home away from home — Starbucks, duh. Thank goodness the guy who almost ran over me in the parking lot later, as I rode home helmet free, wouldn’t stop when I chased him. He might have felt wrath intended for someone else. LOL

… As I posted on Facebook: “To the thief: If I see the helmet on you, you will need protection from my steel-toe boot … a little lower:)”

No, I’m not bitter …

So … about the good part. I am preparing to ride to Amarillo and needed a new helmet. The Amarillo highway goes on forever, so I wonder if I will make Amarillo by morning. (How many song references can you correctly identify in that one sentence? I digress …)

Safely, I drove my crossover Toyota over to a motorcycle shop that has a good selection of helmets.

As I walked in the door, the sound system was playing Blue Öyster Cult’s “I’m Burning For You.” (I always note life’s soundtrack …)

I looked around a bit, and the very next song was “London Calling” by The Clash.

Yes .. back to back Blue Öyster Cult and The Clash!

Oh … why is that significant to me? Well … you see, I have interviews of the two lead singers for those bands on this very blog. Ha … in fact, Buck Dharma of Blue Öyster Cult is even one of my connections in the LinkedIn business group. (I think that is pretty awesome to have a rock star connection on the most conservative of all social media sites …)

Blue Öyster Cult

The Clash

So .. back to motorcycle helmets … I am standing there marveling at coincidence, when the store manager comes over to help me. He is a nice guy and he recognizes me because I just bought an extra helmet in his store for potential passengers of the female persuasion, about a week ago.

If you know me … you know sometimes I just sort of blurt out either what I am thinking or sometimes a bizarre, out-of-context question. Mr. Motorcycle approaches me and wanted to talk motorcycle helmets, and I fire back, “Are you into music?”

Indeed he is, he informed me. So I told him about The Clash, BÖC and of course this Website, the common denominator in my random comment.

Les Lewis, Cycle Gear

This is where it got good. He is not only a musician, he is from Amarillo. Oh we talked and talked …

Cycle Gear

My new friend, Les, from Cycle Gear in Fort Worth, once played with the two best vocalists to ever come from Amarillo. If you know music somewhat, you know the name or more likely the voice of Amarillo’s J.D. Souther. He sang a duet with James Taylor that was a hit … Note: J.D. is the better of the two voices, I don’t care how much you like Sweet Baby James.

Back when I was in Amarillo, my old buddy and fellow journalist at The Amarillo Globe News, Charlie Bates, used to refer to J.D. Souther as “The Other Eagle” because of his work with them. Souther dated Linda Ronstadt, for goodness sakes. I guess J.D. only had one hit on his own — “When You’re Only Lonely.”

Met J.D. once, at Farm Aid in Austin … about 1985. He was producing a Lubbock act — “The Nelsons” who had a big hit on the then fledgling MTV (R.I.P Donnie Allison …)
I said Souther was one of the best to come out of Amarillo … in truth, J.D. may have been the best voice … EVER … in pop music. Certainly top five! Listen for him. He does back up vocals on lots of classics, you know.

So, circa 1965 or so, my new motorcycle friend Les was playing keyboards in an Amarillo band called The Cinders, with J.D. Souther. Cool, cool!

But there’s more. If J.D. Souther (who also teamed up with some Flying Burrito Brothers, Byrds, Poco types in the Souther Hillman Furay Band) is the best voice ever from Amarillo — then #2 is Michael Tomlinson.

I talk to many people, all the time, who are familiar with J.D., but Michael T. — not so much. Ha … My kids and my “ex” know of him. I made them listen to “Years” on ever roadtrip we ever took that came within 400 miles of a desert … because of the song’s romanticizing of the arid lands. (Note this rough recording doesn’t do the studio version justice … look for it on iTunes.  You’ll thank me.)

Les either knows or played with Michael T. or both, as well.

We went on for about a half an hour. He knew Amarillo’s bad boys Baby, from back in the day. (Brits John Waite and The Babys had to change their name at one time to avoid infringing on Amarillo’s Baby name.)

He knew of my old co-worker Gary Grice and Blackstone. Who were Blackstone? They were a long-haired, wiry bunch of hard rockers from Amarillo who won the battle of the bands at the old Texas Jam, blowing away the bands from the bigger metropolitan areas. (There’s some Amarillo rock history …)

He knew of The Undertakers — an Amarillo band that used to travel in a hearse to their gigs. Hmmm …. somewhere I have a 45 single of The Undertakers doing Ray Charles‘ “Unchain My Heart” … I digress …

But sadly, my new friend did not know of The Daydreamers. I think The Daydreamers may have opened for The Undertakers somewhere along the way. But only a few people in The Panhandle will remember those guys. They played the dance/prom circuit up in the northernmost part of the state … farm towns … small schools. I remember seeing photos of them in their matching gold silk shirts, with the big blooming bell sleeves … and gold corduroy sleeveless vests in other shots. I saw them play a few times in the old Vega High School gym — just off old Route 66 — when I was a little bitty kid.

But there is one more thing … I think I have mentioned on this blog that I did my first TV reporting gig at 12 — as a junior reporter for an Amarillo TV station. What I don’t think I have mentioned is that tv reporting was not my first gig in show biz.

You see, when I was about 5, and my sister “Luke” was 6, we road in the parade of The Oldham County Round Up to help promote a high school dance. The band played some songs that were popular at the time — “Little Red Riding Hood,” by Sam The Sham &The Pharaohs … and “Peter Rabbit.” (No idea who recorded a song about a rabbit … or if it was “code.”) But i know this. My sister was dressed as Little Red Riding Hood and I was wearing a rabbit suit in the August heat … in a parade … in the back of a tan colored 1964-ish Chevy El Camino … with vinyl records and signs all over the sides. So, my first promotional gig was to promote The Daydreamers.

My oldest brother was the bass player. I never learned to play, but no doubt he and my other brother Steve (who played in a band as well) set the beat … fueled my passion for music for years.

What a great day for a motorcycle ride.

Know what I sayin?

Before this blog, we compiled another road trip site called The Wi-Fi Guy, and as with any successful endeavor, there were discussions on how to keep the momentum … how to keep the content fresh … how to remain relevant and so on.

Among the more interesting was an idea proposed by a woman who specialized in motorsports PR. “How about doing your Wi-Fi blog and travels on the back of a motorcycle?”

I liked the idea, but at the time, I was the motor for the bike I rode. (Small detail …)

Flash forward a few years. This blogger has driven an SUV to every major city in the contiguous United States — getting complaints from a few tree huggers about guzzling gas along the way … and made a few flights overseas … the most recent of which was topped off with a spree on a motorbike in Thailand. It got me to thinking … Ha! … and itching … for a bike.

So, One’ (pronounced “Oh-Nay”), queen of all motorsports PR, this blog’s for you. (I guess you could call her an “One’ percenter” … motorcycle club joke …)

Like I was saying, in this and an earlier blog, Thailand gave me a fever I couldn’t shake … motorcycle-itis-is-is.

It was a gradual affliction. First, there was that local Thai guy and his girl back in Ayutthaya, at my favorite coffee shop, who always wanted me to see their Harley-Davidson, one of very few “hogs” in a city of hundreds of thousands of bikes.

That brings up a big issue — American-made versus Asian bikes … or “rice burners” as the nickname goes … Your thoughts? … More on that later.

Oh, the Thai guy on the Harley also gave me some sort of Thai charm … some sort of good luck blessing from an ancient king, and he offered me a ride on his bike. Riding double, of course, is taboo among two adult males in the world of cycles. So, I pocketed the charm and passed on the “pump seat.”

A few blogs later over in Thailand, the PingWi-Fi team accidentally stumbled upon a coffee shop called Classic Bike Cafe … it was the joint that had the 1976 Honda parked out front (if you were following along at home …)

Classic Bike Blog

So you see, everywhere I turned, the motorcycle monkey was on my back.

Ha … you may even recall a few months earlier, a few thousand miles away in New Zealand, one of my overseas friends started calling me “Easy Rider.” So … maybe this “sickness” actually started there. (BTW … wonder if the German word I learned — “schlomper” also can be used for riding on the back seat of a motorcycle???)

I had been back from Thailand for only a few weeks when I got on-line to look for a bike.  As alluded … what to get?  Everyone knows Harley-Davidson is considered most cool … granted.  Others maintain the Asian bikes outperform hands down.  Indians are cool. So much politics … I just want to have fun.  I remembered a guy in my church who is a card-carrying Triumph fan … a Triumph Rat they call them.  That seemed like a great option to avoid conflict.  I mean … a Triumph was good enough for Steve McQueen in “The Great Escape” … so who am I to argue.  I mean with the British bike, the only argument is Beatles or Rolling Stones?  (Correct answer is The Clash … I digress …) My friend in Taiwan rides a BMW … go figure.  I Googled Fort Worth Triumph and the first bike that popped up was “the one.”  I knew it when I saw it and went and bought it.  Used … affordable … low mileage … ha … in the colors of my alma mater.

I have joined the ranks of the Triumph Rats. Ha!  Before this, riding the elevator with a Hells Angels Motorcycle Club member at the hotel in Winston-Salem was my best motorcycle memoir. (See blog in the archive here …)

Steve McQueen Triumph Edition

Anywho … I am so out … or actually my secret is. I have joined the two-wheeler crowd. As a few of the more loyal readers have noticed, there have been hints here and there …

Here’s the rest of the story. I have been thinking of doing some Texas road trips on the bike, to find more and more Wi-Fi hotspots, of course. Fun + economical.
So … what would be the perfect event for a test run of Wi-Fi 2-wheelin? Hmmm … there is that Sturgis Bike Rally thing … but I think everyone goes there … certainly the real bikers do but maybe not so much the wannabes like me.

Colt McWiener?

Hmmm … what else would create a really macho, outlaw persona? … I know … this is perfect. How about the Wiener Dog Races in Buda, Texas!?! LOL … say no more … “I am there.”  Speaking of going to the dogs … I even had special PingWi-Fi t-shirts printed up for the event … in shall we say, the “most interesting” shade of orange:)

Bwienies Noches

Photo Finish

“I’m a cowboy.

On a steel horse I ride.”

– Bon Jovi

Ha … I hate Bon Jovi … but that is a catchy line.

Biker Weenie

The ride to Austin and on to Buda was … well awesome.  I backtracked here and there … which was a longer drive … but so much freedom … solitude … beautiful wildflowers … Hill Country peaks.  Ha … added bonus … one wrong Farm-to-Market road and I found the coolest little classic Corvair auto on the side of the road.  (My brother had one in college … so a special memory … and uncanny … saw someone dissing Ralph Nader on tv that night for misrepresenting, dissing and killing the car in the name of misguided consumer safety … Yes, I digress …)

Funny … I feel like/am such a nerd with my helmet on among rebel motorcyclists … where just the opposite … among cyclists, I always feel pressured because I don’t wear a helmet. Go figure.

You may not know this … but other than the fact that I now ride a motorcycle, I am “Mr. Safety.” I assume every car on the road is out to kill me — not nearly as intelligent as a terrorist, but potentially as deadly —  and I avoid chance meetings in every way when I drive or ride. So it is quite ironic that when I barely cheated death on the inaugural Wi-Fi ride, I was sitting still.

How to set this up? As I mentioned, the most practical reason for for my new motorcycle diary was pure economics. Take a look at the number 4 on your local gas pump. I rest my case. But as you may know, in addition to great mileage, the bikes have small gas tanks. That means lots of stops … about every 150 miles or so. So, on my backroads journey, I rumbled into what looked like the more modern gas station in one town. Turned off the bike. Inserted nozzle, and pumped away. Guess what. The nozzle auto shut off was broken. OMG … I looked away for a second then felt a splash when gas started spouting out everywhere. Do you know what can happen when $4 gas flows freely on a hot motorcycle engine. I thought I was about to confirm your fears … It singed and steamed and scared the wits out of me … Do I just get away?  Do I push the bike from the pumps to reduce the potential?  Do I go get a slushie? … Thank goodness, the gas did not ignite.

When I was finished being freaked out … I was like so mad. I went into the station and asked if they knew the nozzle was broken, and I asked if they had a water hose I could use to wash off the hazard. And I told the guy on break to put his cigarette out … (yes … I loved that part …)

“I can give you a cup of water,” the nonchalant gas clerk said as she grabbed a plastic yellow bag. (i thought what is the bag for? … remember … I had just come from a dog race, pet parade, etc. Ha … just how scared did she think I was, if you know what I mean?) It wasn’t for me. She put the bag on the bad pump … and left me to simmer …

Thank goodness there was no wiener roast that day. (Apologies …) And oh … the place where I almost met a fiery death — Burnett. How apropos! No doubt, the Thai charm tucked away in my bike probably saved the day … LOL.

And yes I found Wi-Fi on the bike trip. The City of Buda had free Wi(ener)-Fi at the dog races … at first … But soon after I tweeted that … the network was down? Over at the hippie swimming hole that is Barton Springs in Austin, the City of Austin had also provided a free hotspot to go with the ice cold water. Pretty cool. At the Wenzel Meat Company sandwich shop in the cultural district of Burnett, there was a network called “Linksys” … but I am sure it was not a sausage joke. Note — they only had deli sandwiches although I was after a buffalo burger. Settled for bison jerky … awesome!

Kava

Admittedly I am biased, but for several days in Austin I parked my bike in front of SquareRüt Kava Bar on South Congress. They have about as good free Wi-Fi and ample comfortable seating as I have found. And then there is the fact they are the only place in Texas — the only kava bar in the Lone Star State — where you can belly up to the bar and drink South Pacific kava from a coconut shell to chill out your inner warrior.

I ain’t lyin … Scott Pingel and Tracy Moreno’s SquareRüt is almost perfect — 6 of 7 pings on our fuel-efficient scale. Live music … tribal refreshment … cool decor … fast Internet … Bula! I deducted one point from their score because Scott kicked my arse in “corn hole” (bag toss, tailgate party game) … Always, always let the media win.

“Pingel” … not to be confused with Pingel Enterprise performance motorcycle parts … I don’t want no more trouble with name issues, after what happened with Ping Golf.

Pingel Motorcycle

I don’t have a bucket list, but if I did … just scratched one off.  I have dreamed of a bike since childhood.  Why not?  And it is a learning experience. Who don’t need learnin? … Learning all kinds of things … the etiquette of the motorcyclists’ wave to one another … the fact that if you are moving too fast and downshift into first, you will slide around a little … and don’t pour gas on a hot motor … things like that.

So  what the heck …. Let’s do some Wi-Fi touring around Texas on the bike.

Know what I sayin?

The End

Today … a blog about nothing.
I like to enter contests, especially ones where the players conjure names for new products and such. For instance, Advertising Age magazine once had a monthly contest — TNT, or The Next Trend — a few years back in which readers would submit names and made-up ad campaigns for imaginary products.

By the names and occupations of the winners listed, people from major ad agencies up and down Madison Avenue would enter. There was some pretty creative caca.

Ha … Perhaps most significant about the contest, it probably was an indication of people with too much time on their hands. But I liked to think of it as a good mental exercise for communications professionals to hone they skills.

Another justification in my mind is that one must “wear the bad idea jeans a lot, before they come up with the ones that fit.” Decipher that. I digress …

Anyway, so, I entered a few times — 3 to be exact. Must have caught the Ad Age judges on off days, because I won the darn thing twice. (They put my name in the magazine, my company name (so the employer could see who was slacking) and sent me a t-shirt. You probably know, I luvs me a good t-shirt …)

Hmmm …. what were they? Oh … one TNT contest I tried challenged the creative types to name and describe the latest in a series of trendy NY restaurants to be opened by a celebrity. In the contest, they suggested Madonna as the financier of the bogus eatery.

My winning entree … er … entry? A trendy, hip, vegan kinda eaterie called, “Like A ‘Virg-etarian.’” Ha … Ad Age ate it up. Go figure. Like I said, must have been a slow week.

Crud! What was the second one? I cannot recall, and my elaborate filing system seems to have swallowed up the hard copy. Let’s just give the benefit of a doubt and say the one I can’t find was better.

We touched on this contest habit in a previous blog, as some of the more dedicated readers can attest:

PING LINK

Anyway, on a similar note, a friend on Facebook recently invited her network to submit potential names for a female rodeo team. That is sort of like a contest … a gooder! Yeehaw! I thought this sounded like fun, so I went to work in my normal creative process.

First — word association. I listed some cowboy, cowgirl, ranch, farming type phrases … words of which we might play off.

• Rode hard, put away wet. (scratch that … great ranch phase, too many connotations)
• If you feel froggy, jump. (nope, think this is used as a precursor to a fight)
• Mad as a young pig, pinned under a gate. (hmmm … only knew one guy who said this …)
• Grab it by the horns. (ha … that’s what she said …)
• It’s a good day to die. (oh, wait, Little Big Man said that and he was an Indian)
• Put some giddy up in your get along. (just what does that mean?)
• Move ‘em out, head ‘em up, move e’m on (theme from “Rawhide,” potential copyright infringements to consider)

None of these seemed to apply, so they were culled.

Then I thought of the friend specifically … I had known her since about second grade, at which time I think she could already outride any kid in the class. Come to think of it … my first memory of her is hearsay about her  and her horse. I heard second-hand the story of my oldest brother driving down the country road one day — between our farm and town — when he saw a little girl lying in a ditch. She had been thrown from her horse, I am told, and I think she may have suffered a broken limb. Yes … My brother helped her, driving her to her house. (Is that about right, Beck?)

Ha … another catch phrase comes to mind — “You ain’t rode, if you ain’t been throwed.” So, Becky was riding at an early age, in the truest sense of the term.

Fast forward a few years, and picture a lean, toned Becky … in a sleeveless western shirt … dusty … roping, branding in a cloud of smoke, herding, driving, what have you. If it involves horses, cattle, and now even buffalo, Becky has done it.

You know, come to think of it, Becky always reminded me of that blonde character in F-Troop. You remember F-Troop right? Remember “Wrangler Jane”? Ha … That’s it! I suggested to Becky that her team should be “The Wrangler Janes.” But alas, no cowgirl love for my idea … they chose another name.

Darn it … I hate to lose. So, for my own satisfaction I have been on this for a few weeks, wanting to better my entry in the contest to name the women’s rodeo team.

Well … you might say the “gate” of opportunity has closed, so my additional effort has been in vain. However, if you and some of your friends out there get together and decide to punch some dogies for fun and profit, in a competitive way. I have (what I think is a) stellar name, totally up for grabs.

I must have blown a gasket thinking about all of this … because my final answer came to me in a dream. I sat up in bed. I thought I had come up with the perfect name for a roping, riding outfit of competitive horsewomen. I shouted out the name (not because I really thought anyone needed to hear … more likely … it was one crazy dream …)

“Montana Wildhacks!”

Editor’s Note: We like the name Montana for anything rugged and western, and we are reminded of the dying words of the second in command of the rogue submarine in “The Hunt For Red October” when the Russian dissident, gurgles blood from a fatal shooting and says, “I wanted to go to Montana and be a cowboy.”

OH … and as you may know, Montana Wildhack is the name of a fictional character in a Kurt Vonnegut science fiction novel. So maybe none of this makes sense … except to us.

Know what I sayin?

The Nelsons -- Donnie and Don, "The Other Dream Team"

How often do two of your favorite worlds collide before your eyes, with a positive result?

Ha! I was in a rock ‘n’ roll/basketball nirvana yesterday at The Dallas International Film Festival’s red carpet as Dallas Mavericks brain trust The Nelsons took center stage. What’s that got to do with rock ‘n’ roll? … Now, now … don’t get your tie-dyes all in an iWad … just hang on.

First off, Donnie Nelson was featured as the coach in a film, “The Other Dream Team,” directed by Marius Markevicius which highlights the miraculous bronze medal performance by Lithuania’s Olympic basketball team in the 1992 Barcelona Games. Lithuania defeated the powerhouse Russia, at a time when the tiny country had just won “free agency status” (independence) from the dreaded “bear.” Soviet troops didn’t leave Lithuania until 1993, controlling the country from 1944 until Luthuania declared itself a republic in 1991.

http://www.theotherdreamteam.com/

Here’s the rock part — lacking funding for things like jerseys, hotels, Gatorade, Dr. Dre headphones, and/or any other hoop dreams necessities, the Lithuanian Olympic bid was funded by Jerry Garcia and The Grateful Dead. How cool is that!?!

"The Other Dream Team" - Marius Markevicius, Jon Weinbach, Donnie, Don

There is even a very cool Grateful Dead/Lituanian t-shirt to commemorate the event — a t-shirt the team members wore on the Olympic winner’s stand as they accepted their medals. (Where can I get me one?)

Don Nelson, Hall of Fame

Anywho, the PingTeam chatted up the basketballers on the red carpet, even pulling aside recent Basketball Hall of Fame inductee, Papa Don Nelson for a little one-on-one discourse about the game we love.

And as for Donny — he must have been in a t-shirt state of mind — telling great stories about meeting with The Grateful Dead … and he complimented The Ping for his t-shirt. “Nice t-shirt. Glad you wore your Lithuanian green.”

Well, he may know his film and basketball, but the green shirt clearly states “Aoterroa,” (the name for New Zealand in the Maorian tongue …) Ha … you should see what the New Zealanders have done to basketball in their Kiwi “net ball.” New Zealand Net Ball … I digress …

Oh well … No blood, no foul!

Know what I sayin?

And … more from the red carpet at DIFF:

"I Am Gabriel" - Gavin Casalegno, Elise Baughman, Morgan Taylor

Khadijah Karrien -- "Kissed By The Devil"

"Tchoupitoulas" -- Bill Ross, Turner Ross

"Bail Out" -- Dennis O'Neill, Vanessa Leinani

"Kissed" -- Karrien, Eric King, Sharise Chasi, Denise Lee, Gwendolynn Murphy

DIFF Staff, Zombie Enthusiast, Josh Skrobarczyk

"Dirty Energy" -- Bryan Hopkins, Lance Cheung

Anirban Roy - "Audacity"

"The Other Dream Team" gang

"Dragon Age: Dawn Of The Seeker" - April Bennett, Chris Moujaes

Ernest James -- "Jeff, Who Lives at Home"

Derek Rock -- "Paper Thin"

The guys who have lived through it will tell you, “War is hell.”

South Korean filmmaker Kang Je-kyu brings it … brings hell to the big screen in a big way … a long way … an epic two-hour+ kinda way in The Dallas International Film Festival’s Centerpiece Screening of “My Way.”

But “My Way” is so packed with action and twists … and even a love story … I think Je-kyu actually has a bloody mini-series on his hands. (I find my self wanting to pronounce his name “GQ” … come to think of it, he was a sharp dresser on the red carpet … I digress …)

The film is beautiful, and it is atrocious. It is poignant and it is gory. If you like war genre, this is a title for you. However, if you are squeamish and/or sensitive, you might want to stick with chick flicks, this time.

Oh my … This movie is intense. Here’s one of the more mild examples. There is a great segment where a sniper is picking off infantrymen one by one, and Je-kyu juxtaposes metallic-sounding plinks, searing bullets zipping by at lightning speed and then he slow-motions the trajectories so that the projectiles become things of wonder. Then they speed up and you can’t tell where they are coming from.  War is hell and in my opinion for reality on film, it must be chaotic. Score.   You know it is a good battle scene when you realize you have been ducking your head a bit when the bullets start to fly. Wow.

Take two … My Way is quite a history lesson too. Or at least it was for me. I knew little if anything of the Koreans’ being forced to fight first for Japan in WWII, and then the Soviet Union in WWII … and then Nazi Germany in WWII … at least in the case of one of the two main characters — Tatsuo (Jo Odagirl) and Joon-sik, (Dong-gun Jang) a Japanese and Korean pair who are enemies, competitors and somehow comrades.

I mean, war sucks … then multiply that times a million when you are forced to go fight for your enemy … or die an agonizing, dishonorable death.

There is a beautiful element to this saga too. It’s not only a marathon shoot-em-before-they-blow-you-up film, it is the story of two marathon runners and their life during wartime.

I would recommend this film to anyone who likes old war movies. The subtitles are no problem. Hell translates well into just about any language. And for the buffs, I thought I could detect homage to the great war films in the style and content of the scenes — “The Longest Day” … “Seven Samurai” … “Saving Private Ryan” … “Stalag 17” … “Bridge On The River Kwai” … I think the opening boy-in-the-car scene might be directly attributable to Spielberg’s “Empire Of The Sun.”

Keep you head down, tracer pings are flying around like free bullets at a target range. We liked the way Je-kyu did it. The way he did “My Way,” — 6 pings

Know what I sayin?

QWERTY - Pupkin, Sebastian, composer Ricardo Veiga

Word nerds, rejoice.

There is a magical place where ESPN covers Scrabble tournaments … a place where pencil-neck geeks put fear in the hearts of the office stud … a place where the oppressed librarian-kinda-gal gets 15 minutes of fame.

That place is in film, “QWERTY” to be exact. If you are considering Googling that, it is the name of a fun little film — our most recent selection from the offerings over at The Dallas International Film Festival … and of course a set of letters from the left side of the keyboard.

A self-confessed word nerd, I put QWERTY high on my list of films to see at the festival, but then was even more persuaded, after meeting director Bill Sebastian and leading lady (on film and in his life) Dana Pupkin on the red carpet the other night. (See red carpet photos below …)

Hoping to communicate on some higher level of nerddom, I asked the director just how many people knew the significance of QWERTY and then the follow-up question - “Is QWERTY WYSIWYG?” More Googling …

Also in the film, liked all the shots of Chicago … especially “The Bean” or Cloud Gate stainless steel sculpture. And then there is the token insane Christian guy (played by Bill Redding,) who befriends the troubled romeo type (Eric Hailey). The homeless, crazy guy sort of sets up his own “Occupy QWERTY” on his new friend’s patio.

Best line, paraphrased: You can stalk me. They used to call it courtship.

The film is a love story. It is “Rudy” with a dictionary. And it has references to Star Trek and Star Wars … I think that about sums it up.

In addition to Scrabble, the film brings a few anagrams to mind. You know … rearranging letters of words, to make new words. Well, “g-e-n-t-l-e p-i-n-k, likes this movie and awards 6 pings.

Cunningham, Brandon Dickerson, Jeremy Sisto - "Sironia"

And on the same day, I saw the other film I had been waiting for … a Texas music thang — “Sironia.”

First off, where the hell is Sironia? In 9 out of 10 cases, if it is a Texas town I haven’t heard of, that means it is near Houston. However, if my research is correct, Sironia is a fictitious town near Waco. (Actually there really is a bar in Waco called Sironia.)

The film — a film after my own heart — features a boy-like aging rocker (Dallas rocker Wes Cunningham) … used up, road hard and spat out by the flesh-oriented rock ‘n’ roll pop machinery, he and his wife (Amy Acker) escape to small town Texas. But there is trouble in Sironia, as rocker boy tries to make a living.

The film has potential. I would love it I am sure — like all of the Dallas, hometown big, big Wes Cunningham friends and fans in the screening — LOL … if I knew Wes Cunningham.

More on Wes Cunningham of Baylor

(Spot on … he so sounds like David Garza!)

But, the film is not wonderful. It is pretty good.  Interesting — it is a “Texas film” but there is also Hollywood influence — both in the credits, the plot and the over-done, cliched Texas sister-in-law. (I took this as logical ambition … to give the film appeal outside The Lone Star State … but winced every time she spoke.)

The film’s appearance is “big time, decent budget” looking. Someone spent some time and money … and made a nice little film.  It’s funny too … with great lines about “mutton busting” “deer blinds” and such … open season onTexas fodder.

Like I said, man I wish I knew Wes Cunningham’s music … and I wish the film would have done more to capture his energies and abilities … long before the credits  – where he actually rocks out a bit and looks comfortable performing. I believe this is a new direction for him (acting) and I think we will see bigger/better things.

Sironia gets 5 pings from the 7-string, twangy instrument we use for rating things.

Now … dang it … Now that I have made it through an entire review without mistakenly typing “Siriana” … I gotta let out a little steam. EVERY DIFF film presentation begins with a polite little reminder to turn off your phone — the smart phones and the dumb ones.

However, last night, for the entire movie — and actually for part of the commercial clips prior to “Sironia” — my movie-going friends and I got to hear the annoying theme song from sub-par game show “The Price Is Right” for two hours, if my math is correct. No … it wasn’t someone getting calls, intermittent calls … somehow the device was stuck on the brass fanfare intro of the theme song … “dah-dah_DAH — dah-dah DAH, dah-dah_DAH — dah-dah DAH repeat …

Typically, I am amazed at how rude people behave in a movie. This time I was flabbergasted that no one grabbed the phone and threw it against the wall … especially me. Ha … I exercised restraint and didn’t even let my Turret’s Syndrome take over …

Why? Ha! Because for the first hour of the Price Is Right marathon, I secretly wondered if somehow I was responsible. Just before the film, I posted a blog rather quickly and rushed to shut down my computer, go shoot the red carpet, and grab a seat for Sironia.

“Had I not shut down the MacBook Pro properly?” “Was the browser running amuck all over YouTube and ‘looping’ viral clips of Bob Barker and the scantily clad spokesmodels?,” I asked myself.

What to do? I leaned over to my backpack. It was stuffed with a motorcycle helmet and a laptop … and didn’t seem to be making any noise, but I wasn’t certain. What if it is me? Do I risk opening the case and blinding everyone around me with the bright lights of my computer screen, as I open it? Will the somewhat faint theme song blast loudly in the theater if I open the laptop?

Bless the heart-of-Texas hearts of the Sironia film team … Because I have to have been negatively influenced by this dilemma as I was trying to review their film. About three quarters of the way through the film, I thought I had made peace with the situation and had just learned to ignore the dumb phone … I had a plan, I would just grab my bag as fast as I could when the film ended … and run … hoping no one knew that I was the Price Is Right fiend. But that was also the point where the emotions were at a climax … the poignant points were most pointed … The filmmaker inserted strategic points of silence for effect. In those quiet moments … those sweet, sweet cinematographic moments of genius … The Price Is Right seem to ring out through the theater.

Well Praise The Lord and pass the popcorn. It wasn’t me! It wasn’t me. At the end of the movie, just before the house lights went up … the woman beside me … the woman who had watched the movie wrapped in a blanket — not unlike a fatboy Chipotle burrito — unfurled her blanket and through the denim side pocket of her shirt … I could see the light of her phone. Was it a Price Is Right game she had downloaded … stuck on pause? I don’t know and I don’t care. It was the most torturous, and embarrassing film experience ever. Praise The Lord it wasn’t me.

Check your phones. Good Honk!

Know what I saying?

More from DIFF:

Matthew Heineman, "Escape Fire"

Kang Je-kyu, "My Way"

Daniel McQueary, "Alfred Thinks We're Aliens"

Gracie Whitton, "Trespass"

Major Dodson interview, "Alfred Thinks We're Aliens"

Cunningham, "Sironia"

Tanner Fontana, "Crescendo"