Girl:  “I thought we were going to a costume party.”

Phil:  “It’s like I said, I love this film.  I’ve seen it over 100 times.”

Girl (protesting):  “Phil!”

Phil:  “I told you, call me Bronco.”

Girl:  “Sorry, Bronco.”

And ever since that day my friend Brandon has insisted that we, too, call him Bronco.  I think it is because he also has seen Heidi 2 over 100 times.

Anyway, this post is not about my friend Brandon, or about the movie Groundhog Day.

It’s about my new Ford Bronco II.  It is one sweet ride.

Project Bronco II

I found this a couple of weeks after the quest began, which was labeled as a Ranger quest, but I did also say I would consider a Bronco II.  Bronco IIs are, in some ways, better (more seating, more weight over the rear wheels) and in some ways worse (much harder to haul a load of gravel).  But this one met most of my primary criteria:

• It runs, pretty well actually
• Has working four-wheel drive
• Is not completely gutless (just somewhat gutless)
• It needs some work but is not a complete pile
• It has a fuel-injected 2.9L V6
• It cost $1500 exactly, so it met the requirement of being “no more than $1500″ just barely.

Getting it to pass inspection was a bit of a shocker, it cost more than I thought it would.  Minor fail.  And there’s a lot of work left to be done on this to even get it to looking decent, let alone being awesome.  But I can envision this thing, with a 4.0L V6 or 302 swapped in, a bit of a lift, slightly larger wheels and tires, painted bright orange.

We’ll see.

Since I realize there are hundreds of thousands of you loyal readers who probably did not catch the press conference, I will summarize it for you.  Understand, sometimes Tom didn’t do a very good job of saying what he really meant to say, so I might paraphrase a bit.

Holmoe:  “Let me cut to the chase.  With the University of Utah leaving the Mountain West for the PAC 10, or 12, whatever, we were pretty stoked because we thought that finally now we would have a chance at being second in the conference.  Then Boise State came into the Mountain West, and frankly, they scare the poo-poos right out of us.  So we are announcing today that, starting in 2011, BYU football will be independent.  I mean, it’s worked well for Notre Dame, so it should work for us too.”

Press:  “What about TV coverage?”

Holmoe:  “Since USC totally hosed themselves ESPN has looking for another overrated football team to make a really big deal out of.  They’ve chosen BYU, and we are really excited about that.  Really excited and happy.  Happily excited.”

Press:  “What motivated you to make this decision?”

Holmoe:  “The primary reason for us to do this is exposure.  For some reason we agreed to an exclusivity deal with The Mtn network a few years ago and hardly anyone can see our games on TV even if they live in Utah.  Now we will have all our home games broadcast on ESPN and will have rights to rebroadcast all of our games on BYU TV.  Since our games will be seen by a much larger audience, the broadcasting rights will be worth a fortune and we’ll be able to attract big-name schools to play us because of the revenue they can get.  And we won’t have to share the revenue with our conference either.  So, each game will be televised, to a larger nationwide audience, with big-name schools playing us, so that’s a lot more money, tons of money.”

Press:  “Uh, I thought the primary reason was for exposure, not money.”

Holmoe:  “That’s correct.”

Press:  “But it seems quite clear that you are excited about all the money.”

Holmoe:  “Well, as you know, being a private faith-based institution we hold our students to a much higher honor code standard than most other universities.  And, as you might also know, our football players are pretty much the same as they are at any other school.  That means we have a high incidence of honor code violations here.  Having all of that money should, uh, help to alleviate that situation, if you know what I mean.”

Press:  “We don’t know what you mean.”

Holmoe:  “Well, let’s just say that sometimes, a person might feel like a football player has violated the honor code in a way that is negative towards that person, whereas if that person was a bit better off financially, they might be able to better understand that, no, that really wasn’t an honor code violation per se.  I’m just speaking hypothetically here, but I think you understand where I’m coming from.”

Press:  “What about your other sports?”

Holmoe:  “Our other sports will be playing in the West Coast Conference.  They have several advantages for us.  They are nearby.  Their schools are all faith-based institutions like ours.  They are so small and desperate that they would accommodate our playing schedule which excludes Sundays and General Conference weekends.  And USU is not in that conference.”

Press:  “But, couldn’t USU be invited into that conference?  I mean, being faith-based isn’t a strict requirement for the WCC.”

Holmoe:  “Based on, er, conversations we’ve had with the WCC, I don’t foresee that happening.  Ever.  Or at least as long as BYU is in the WCC.  We plan to hold them down, I mean, play in a different conference from them, as long as possible.”

Press:  “How long has this deal been in the works?”

Holmoe:  “We’ve been working on this for several years now, at least the past five years we’ve been working on it, trying to figure out how to get BYU into a BCS game through some other means than raw merit.  This deal should help with the money, or exposure, we need to do that.  You know, the way USC did all those years.”

Press:  “But, we thought this was primarily a reaction to Utah leaving the MWC, Boise State being invited into the MWC, and BYU not getting invited to the PAC-10 or the Big XII.”

Holmoe:  “That’s correct.”

Press:  “But you just now said you’ve been working on this for several years.  What gives?”

Holmoe:  “We have ways of, uh, knowing what the future holds.”

Press:  “You mentioned the deal with ESPN.”

Holmoe:  “We’re really happy and excited about that.”

Press:  “Yes, you said that.  But ESPN has lots of channels in their network; is it contracted which of the ESPN network channels you will be on?”

Holmoe:  (silence)

Press:  “So, do you know which ESPN channels you will be playing on?”

Holmoe:  “Well, which channels do they have?”

Press:  “Well, ABC, ESPN, ESPN2, ESPN U, ESPN 3, ESPN ‘El Ocho’, for example.”

Holmoe:  “Well, I would imagine ABC, pretty much all the time…”

(looks at the ESPN guy who is shaking his head)

Holmoe:  “Well, maybe not ALL the time…”

(ESPN guy is still shaking his head)

Holmoe:  “Well, I think ‘El Ocho’ is guaranteed, and the other channels based on merit, you know, if we are playing really well, and there aren’t any other games to show then…”

(ESPN guy nods head)

Holmoe:  “Yeah, something like that.  But probably mostly ABC or ESPN.  Or SpeedTV.”

Press:  “So, now that you are independent and Utah is in the PAC-10, who is your big rival?  USU?”

Holmoe:  “No.  Not USU.  Absolutely not that despicable USU.  Probably Notre Dame, they are our big rival now.”

Press:  “But they don’t really consider you a big rival.”

Holmoe:  “Oh, they are.  You will see.”

_{Note:  Holmoe did not actually say any of these things, in case anyone is wondering. In particular, if Holmoe’s attorney is wondering.}

First off, I bought the Z because I like hot cars.  I like horsepower, speed, handling, and great looks.  I didn’t buy the Z to impress anyone or to try to be cool.

I know that sounds like an excuse, but after a number of comments from friends hither and yon, I really did think inwardly about why I bought that car.  I can honestly say that I did it for myself, not to impress people or try to be someone I’m not.  I’m relieved to find that out.

That being said, one of the first things I learned about the Z was this:  You get noticed.  People look as you drive by them on the freeway or as they drive by you.  They will comment, “Nice car, man,” or some such, when you park near them in the parking lot, or you’ll catch them walking around your car looking when you come out of the convenience store.

Not most people, but some people.  This never happened with my Grand Prix.

Another thing I noticed:  It’s kind of a chick car.  I had it parked there at the Roosevelt Car Show next to my brother’s Mustang GT and I spent a fair part of the day sitting there while people walked by.  When people were walking up, girls would walk to the Z and guys would walk to the Mustang.  Guys would look at them both and comment to each other on how they liked the Mustang better; girls would comment to each other on how they liked the Z better.  In the latter case, some variant of the word “cute” was overheard a number of times.  This was pretty much a universal thing.

So if a Mustang is more of a guy’s car, maybe I should’ve bought a Mustang instead.  Except my wife really likes going out on dates in the Z.

A good thing I learned:  If you buy a sports car, you need some time to get used to it.  Learning where the clutch engage point is, how long it takes for the engine and transmission to warm up, how strong the brakes are, etc. took a while.  The friction limits for turning are particularly important.  I’ve almost gotten myself into trouble trying to turn with too high a g-load.  After a year of driving and about 15000 miles, I’m still learning, so if you buy a sports car, be prepared to settle in and get to know her slowly.

300 horsepower can get you into trouble in a hurry.  This is a long-term relationship, not a fling, so get to be friends first.

Now that I’ve had the Z for a year, I can tell you about some of the bad points:

• The blind spot.  Holy cow, do the 350Zs have a blind spot.  That spot off the left rear corner is completely out of my vision.  This is especially true a) if the sun is shining into the driver side window, or b) if it is dark.  Now you know — 350Zs have a serious blind spot.  If a Z is merging onto the freeway and he cuts you off, just know that he probably can’t see you there and it was most likely unintentional.
• Alignment.  You have to be very careful with a Z’s alignment so you avoid tire problems.  This means I end up having the tires rotated a lot – every 3000-5000 miles.  It’s annoying.
• Expensive repairs.  Since I bought it about a year ago, I’ve spent over $4000 in repairs.  Here’s what I paid for:
  • $1100 – New tires.
  • $2600 – New fan, water pump, and thermostat.  (Yes, really.)
  • $100 – New battery.
  • $300 – New serpentine belt and tensioner.

Of course, those are minor in comparison to the good points, some of which are:

• Handling.  The Z is like the ideal child:  Whatever I tell it to do, it does.  Immediately.  Turn here?  Okay.  Stop here?  No problem.  Jump into that small opening in traffic?  Yes Daddy.
• Power.  The Z has a weight-to-horsepower ratio of just over 11 (lower numbers are better).  Compare that to 19 for my wife’s Durango and my old Grand Prix, or 18 for my CRX.  Or compare it to 11 for a Mustang GT, 7.5 for a Corvette, or 9.2 for a Porsche Cayman S.  The Z can push you back in the seat and as you climb through the gears it just keeps grabbing at the pavement and lunging you forward.  I have no idea how fast it will go.
• Sound.  The Z comes with an excellent sound system:  The Nissan VQ35DE, an awesome 3.5L multi-port-fuel-injected V6 with variable valve timing.  If you romp on it hard enough to cross the variable timing threshold you will be rewarded with an awesome sonic wonder as the engine climbs toward the 6600 RPM redline.  And if you don’t like that sound system, or are in a place where you can’t really experience it, the Kenwood/MTX/Rockford Fosgate setup in my Z is a pretty decent substitute.
• Look and Feel.  It looks awesome from nearly every angle.  It feels awesome when you are sitting inside it.  The ergonomics would make Steve Jobs proud.  And when you strap into those bucket seats and close those high-sided doors, it feels like your car is giving you a big old man-hug.  Sorry, but it is true.

So, am I glad I bought it?

Yes.  And no.  But mostly yes.  I love driving it.  Love love love driving it.  Even when I’m not speeding, which truthfully is most of the time, I really love to drive it.  I love to look at it, and then drive it some more.

I love the thought of owning it.  The reality of owning it is less great.  It’s expensive to maintain.  My other car was fully paid for, and when I sold it there wasn’t a thing wrong with it.  Now, every time I make a payment on the Z or have to get something fixed, I think about how the Grand Prix was running excellent and was fully paid for.  Maybe I should have just stuck with the Grand Prix instead.  Inside my mind, it will forever be running perfect with no flaws.

But it will never be as much fun.

(Moment of silence)

It was an excellent show.  Those guys are some pretty bad dudes and can still rock at 60+ years old (!).  Also, they are by far the best heavy metal band who regularly pronounces the word “way” as “wee” and gets away with it.  Examples:

• “I realize I missed a day, but I’m too wrecked to care anywee” (Blackout)
• “Where the children of tomorrow dream awee in the wind of change” (Wind of Change)
• “Love, our love just shouldn’t be thrown awee” (Still Loving You)
• “Baby our love will find a wee as long as we believe in love” (Believe In Love)

And of course, the prime example:

• “You better get out of their wee-eee-eee, wee-eee-eee, wee-eee-eee, get out of their wee!” (Bad Boys Running Wild)

Tesla 2010

Tesla opened for the Scorps.  Actually, Jackyl opened for both of them with a very forgettable performance.  All I remember from them is that the lead singer cut the seat of a stool in half with a chainsaw and it still took him four tries to break the stool.  Or was it five?  Who opened for Tesla and Scorpions again?  See, I said it was forgettable.

I guess that’s unfair. They did have some fans. See the big guy standing up on the right? The guy that was standing up the entire show? Who would basically just jump around and make those devil-horn signs with his hands all night? He seemed to like them. I also think he might have been on crystal meth, but that’s a different story.

Anyway, Tesla put on a great show and sounded really awesome.  I wish they would have played longer, but hey, they had to make time for, whatever that band was that came before.  Modern Day Cowboy was especially excellent.

But, of course, we were all there to see The Scorpions one last time.  They were outstanding.  Not the best concert I’ve been to, but top honors in my list are currently co-held by some pretty stiff competition.

Scorpions 2010

Here’s the setlist, borrowed from the review written by a friend of a friend at the local paper:

• Main Set:
  • Sting in the Tail
  • Make It Real
  • Bad Boys Running Wild
  • The Zoo
  • Coast to Coast
  • Loving You Sunday Morning
  • The Best is Yet to Come
  • Wind of Change
  • Raised on Rock
  • Tease Me Please Me
  • Another Piece of Meat
  • Dynamite
  • Kottak Attack (Drum Solo)
  • Blackout
  • Big City Nights
• Encore:
  • No One Like You
  • Rock You Like a Hurricane

So, it was a pretty good set, but they missed a lot of songs.  Here are some of the songs they forgot to play:

• Holiday
• Don’t Make No Promises
• Falling In Love
• Can’t Live Without You
• Arizona
• China White
• Coming Home
• Still Loving You
• Don’t Stop at the Top
• Passion Rules the Game
• Believe In Love
• Crazy World
• Send Me An Angel
• Alien Nation
• Wild Child
• Turn You On
• Lorelei

See, that’s only another 17 songs, which would have put the running time at about three hours, which seems about right.  My voice wouldn’t have lasted that long, or my hearing, but what the heck.  It’s their last tour, after all.

I guess the reason I get so melancholy and nostalgic about this stuff is that nobody is replacing them.  Van Halen, Def Leppard, Journey, and now the Scorps — all these bands are either mostly or completely gone now.  All that great music they wrote.  There are no good new bands filling in, nobody writing good new music to take up the mantle of these iconic hard rock bands from the 80’s.

Lucky for me, the good bands from days past wrote enough great music that it should get me through the rest of my life.  Hopefully.

Rudolf, Klaus, Mattias, and company:  Thanks for the memories.  We will miss you.

But Rangers and Bronco IIs are primarily what I am questing for.  Now that I’ve got the 350Z and I’ve sold my Grand Prix, life is mostly great except I’m concerned about winter.

Fact is, there are just too many people around here who are praying for snow all the time.  I’ve been trying to tempt them into grievous sin in order to keep the roads nice and dry but they aren’t giving in.  I don’t want to risk trying to drive the Z in the snow, with all that horsepower going just to the rear wheels.  So I’ve been looking for a little truck or SUV.

Here are the basic requirements:

• Must run
• Four wheel drive must work
• Must pass inspection, or be able to pass with minimal investment
• Must not be completely gutless
• Must not be a complete pile
• Ideally should be fuel injected, not carbureted
• No more than $1500

I found a candidate not too long ago.  It was a 1990 Bronco II with a little bit of extras done to it for only $1300.  It looked like just what I wanted.  Here’s the chronology of events:

• See the truck online for sale.
• Text the owner to say I’d like to look at his truck.
• He texts me back to say after work will be fine.  He lives in Salt Lake; I live in Spanish Fork and work in Lehi, so I want to go see it before I head the opposite direction home.
• As I’m preparing to leave I call to make sure he is around, nobody answers.  I tell him to call back within the hour because after that I’m heading home.
• An hour and 15 minutes later he calls to say, “Now is a good time.”
• When I get home I text back and say, “Sorry I missed you; maybe tomorrow.”
• The next day I try to see if he will be home that night for me to look at it.
• About midday he says, “Sorry, I just sold it.”

Dang.

The next one was a slight deviation from my quest:  a 1990 GMC S-15 Jimmy for $1000.  The ad online says, “It runs great, no problems.”  I stopped by to look.  It was admittedly in pretty straight condition — good exterior, clean interior, good upholstery.  Then I noticed the front right tire is worn down to the cords on the outside edge of the tire.  Bad suspension?  Bad alignment?  Who knows.  I open the hood and it is a carbureted V6.  Hmm.  Then I asked, “So, how does it run?”  “Oh it runs great.”  “No transmission problems?”  “No.  Well, it won’t stay in first gear.”

That doesn’t sound like “no problems” to me.

I took it for a test drive.  GUTLESS.  You have to start in second gear all the time, which makes matters worse.  Feels like it is about to fall apart all the time.  Moving on.

The next candidate is a black 1990 Ford Ranger extended cab.  Stopped by to take a look the other day.  Paint job is the old driveway special (several cans of spray paint) over what looks like some bondo work.  Interior is THRASHED.  This one is at a dealership.  The dealer says, “I just took it in on trade.  It runs, but it makes a weird noise when it runs.  I have no idea if the four wheel drive works or not.”

Still, that one has some potential.  But an engine that makes a weird noise makes me pretty nervous.

The next candidate is another black 1990 Ford Ranger, which is also red and white — it was wrecked and had some body panels replaced.  Sounds like it runs pretty good and that the four wheel drive works.  I’ve heard this before though.  Will have to take a look shortly.

A running, four wheel drive, non-pile Ranger or Bronco II for under $1500?  It sounds like a grail quest.  I’ll keep you updated.

It was fun, too, even if none of us won anything.  It was fun just being there with my dad and brother and having people walk by and wonder why I parked my 350Z there.

My 2003 Nissan 350Z, looking her best.

Here’s my car parked in between my brother’s Mustang (background) and my dad’s Econoline (not pictured).  I washed and vacuumed and scrubbed and detailed that car for about three hours before the show, and I must say it looked really fine.  Oddly, right after the show ended, it rained for about 30 seconds, just long enough to get my car dirty again.  Oh well.

My dads 1961 Ford Econoline van

Dad just started working on this 1961 Ford Econoline van. It is pretty sweet. I love the all white paint with the black accents and the very subtle gray pinstripe all around. He’s got a 302 in the doghouse inside the van and plans to redo the interior next.

The story on those wheels is pretty cool. He was looking for those exact wheels by American Racing, Torq Thrust IIs, and looked all over for the sizes he needed (two different sizes, front and rear). The fronts, 14×6s, were nearly impossible to find. Then he called one place who just happened to have two of them left, along with six of the size he needed for the rears. So he took two of each, and the dealer was thrilled to get rid of his two 14×6s and even himself out with four remaining of the other size.

My brothers 2009 Mustang GT, my 350Z, and my dads Econoline

In the foreground is my brother’s 2009 Ford Mustang GT. He’s added a Roush bodykit and Shelby Super Snake wheels and a lowered suspension so far. He wonders if it is weird to have Shelby wheels and a Roush body kit, but I think it is cool to make your own Mustang that has your favorite components from each builder.

Original Roosevelt City Fire Truck

My dad is mayor of Roosevelt, so I went with him to drive this to the show. If you lived more than a half mile from the fire department and had a fire back then, there was really no point in calling the fire department. It’s a neat truck though.

Early 30s Ford Coupe

I want to say this is a ‘32 Ford but I’m really not sure. I do know it belongs to my dad’s friend Mike Mahoney, who has like 30 cars.

Another early 30s Ford Coupe

Another Ford coupe, ‘31 or ‘32 (I really should learn to tell the difference). This one belongs to another of my dad’s friends, Dennis Peterson. Dennis restored this car himself, repairing all the rust and pounding out all the dents and smoothing out the whole body by hand. He is incredibly talented. He also did all the body work on my dad’s Econoline and is currently working on another project which will be pretty awesome when it is done.

Early 70s Dodge Dart

When Dad and I brought the fire truck into the show we followed this ‘70 or ‘71 (again, can’t remember) Dodge Dart. I wondered to myself if it belonged to my cousin Joe Gardner. I was right. As long as I can remember Joe has restored a number of really cool Mopar cars – Chargers, Challengers, Darts, Superbees, etc.

Award-winner for Best of 80s and Newer

This mostly stock gray 2007 Mustang GT beat my brother’s 2009 Mustang GT somehow, which goes to show that the people who judge the shows don’t always know what they are doing. I mean, it’s a nice looking Mustang, but doesn’t have nearly as much done to it as my brother’s does.

White 3DCarbon Mustang GT

If any Mustang there was better than my brother’s, it was this white 3DCarbon Mustang pictured here.

Award-winning 30s Ford Coupe

This blue ‘31 or ‘32 Ford coupe won some award, maybe for best 30’s car? Or most unique? Can’t remember. Take a look at this engine though, for a clue as to why:

Now that is a sweet engine.

Flathead Offenhauser

The roadster carrying this sweet litttle Offy won Best In-Progress Car. Which seems kinda like a weird award, since pretty much all the cars there would be considered “in-progress.”

Beautiful 50s Chevy

This is a beautiful car. Look carefully and you can see the well-done ghosted flames along the side. It won Best 50s Car and, since the owner drove it all the way from Riverside, California, it also won an award for furthest distance traveled to attend the show.

Best Of Show 2010 - 1937 Ford Coupe

This 1937 Ford Coupe from Vernal, Utah won Best Of Show and definitely deserved it. Which is much better than the week before, at another car show in Vernal, where this car was beaten for Best Of Show by a bone-stock straight-off-the-showroom-floor 2010 Camaro. This car is a beautiful work of art from every angle and no detail is left undone.

Just check out the beautifully done interior:

1937 Ford Coupe custom interior

1931 Ford Vicky

This beautiful chopped and dropped ‘31 Ford Vicky had to sit next to the ‘37 Ford above, so it had a rough go. It definitely deserved to win something, so I’m glad my dad chose to give it the Mayor’s Choice award.

As everyone knows, the purpose for Facebook is to help you connect with old friends, like that girl who wouldn’t go with you to Homecoming, you know, to see if her life is in the crapper and she got what she deserved for snubbing you.  So I’ve been using Facebook for it’s designated purpose, and I’ve found a bunch of the people I went to high school with, who, inexplicably, all seem to have great lives despite the fact that I pretty much never had a date in high school.

Since the reunion is tomorrow, many of them have been asking me whether I’m coming to the reunion.  When I say, “No,” they want to know the reason, and so I tell them, “Because.”  This reasoning seems to work well when I’m explaining to my son why he has to mow the lawn, but it doesn’t seem to be working with the old high school friends.

So, in order to avoid explaining this a hundred times, I decided to just write a simple blog post about it.

I actually alluded to this in another post some time ago, but basically the issue is this:

I’m not a fan of high-school Matt.

I’m a fan of perpetually-29 Matt.  That guy is happy with himself, he’s confident, he makes loud noises on a guitar when he feels like it, drives a pretty cool car, mostly wears T-shirts to work, and has great taste in music and movies.  He’s got a wonderful wife and a great family that are awesome to hang out with.  He’s a pretty darn good software engineer and he doesn’t even feel nerdy about it (well, not TOO nerdy).  He’s so dang funny that it is sinful.  He feels free to be himself pretty much all the time and enjoys his life.

He’s not like high-school Matt at all.  High school Matt was ignored because he wasn’t athletic and ridiculed because he was smart.  High school Matt carried labels given him by other people that worked so well even HE thought that’s what he was like.  He didn’t feel good about himself for who he was and instead kept trying to pretend he was someone he wasn’t and fit in with a crowd of people that he didn’t fit with and date the girls who weren’t interested in dating him.  Even worse, he ignored the crowd he could have fit with and the girls he could have dated instead.  He was a poser and a fake, someone who didn’t value his own abilities and instead kept trying to make himself into something he wasn’t.

Whenever I’m around high school people again, high-school Matt tries to come out.  I don’t like high-school Matt.  He makes me feel ashamed of myself, not only of my past but of who I am now, almost as though who I am today is not good enough even though I’m quite happy with it.  He makes me act like someone I’m not, someone I don’t like, someone like him.  So I try to keep him hidden.

And the best way to keep him hidden is to avoid situations where he insists on coming out.  And if I go to the reunion, he will insist.

I’ve really enjoyed catching up with those friends on Facebook and hearing about their lives today.  I’m not really interested in letting high-school Matt come out to feel like a loser again in person.

So, thanks anyway, but I won’t be going.  Don’t be offended.  Or, take offense, whatever, I don’t care.  High-school Matt is obsessed with what you think of him, but that dude is gone.  The current version wants to be your friend, but only at face value.  Otherwise, nevermind.

I guess I can understand it.  It’s kind of like a person being a part of one street gang, and then going to join a different street gang.  NBA teams are pretty much the same as street gangs as far as I can tell.  You can think of them as advanced street gangs.  When you are a young man growing up in the inner city, the gangs recruit you this way:  “Sure, for now you will have to wear Oakland Raiders clothing and hold this handgun sideways when you kill people.  But, you know we are like the farm league for the Indiana Pacers.  Someday you could be an NBA star if you just work your way up the ladder.”

Anyway, one of the leaders of the Cleveland gang had his feelings really and truly hurt by all of this so he wrote a letter to make himself feel better.  Now everyone is making fun of his letter because it uses the Comic Sans font.  I never use Comic Sans, but I guess I missed the memo that says, “Do not use this font.  Ever.”

So I’m not going to make fun of that dude for using Comic Sans.  I’m also not going to make fun of him for an entire letter comprised of paragraphs which almost without exception have only a single sentence in them.  I’m also not going to make fun of him for not knowing how to use capitalization or punctuation or quotation marks.  No sir.  I am not that kind of person.  Instead, I’m going to make fun of him for a completely different reason.

Here is a direct quote from his letter.  Note that, since this is one of the places he (ab)used quotation marks, I also have to quote the quotation marks, so this will seem a little weird.

““I PERSONALLY GUARANTEE THAT THE CLEVELAND CAVALIERS WILL WIN AN NBA CHAMPIONSHIP BEFORE THE SELF-TITLED FORMER ‘KING’ WINS ONE”“

Hmm.  Interesting.  And also, how exactly does he plan to do this?  I mean, since he doesn’t actually play the games.  And also, he says he personally guarantees it; or what?  What happens if a team LeBron plays for actually wins a championship before Cleveland?  Usually, a guarantee comes with an “or” clause, e.g. “or your money back,” “or I will eat my hat”, “or I will write another letter in Comic Sans with poor punctuation and post it on the internet.”

I also don’t understand the “self-titled former ‘king’” phrasing.  Is he saying that LeBron himself refers to his own self as “the former king”?  Because otherwise, doesn’t it seem weird to claim that LeBron gave himself the “king” title, and yet this guy is going to claim that he doesn’t have that title anymore?  Or maybe he doesn’t understand what “self-titled” means.

Of course, if you read further in the letter, you will see this:

Some people think they should go to heaven but NOT have to die to get there.

Sorry, but that’s simply not how it works.

I fail to see what this has to do with anything.  But it definitely discredits the entire letter.  As everyone knows, Moses was taken directly into heaven without dying first.  So apparently, sometimes it actually does work that way.

I’ve verified this on two separate occasions.  The first was in college, when we were having a killer waterfight with the girls who lived across the parking lot, and we were just about to enter complete domination phase when I smashed my big toe into one of those scallop-topped concrete edging stones and broke my big toenail right off.  It looked like normal a year later.  Then, last year when we hiked Maple Mountain, I broke my big toenail halfway off at the root and have been sort of managing that situation ever since.  It almost looks like normal now, and it’s been almost a year.

I’m sure, like me, you will not be surprised to know that I’m not the first to notice this fantastic phenomenon.

A quick search revealed that the ancient Yrgyuilf tribe also noticed this phenomenon.  Located deep in the heart of the Amazon jungle near the equator, the story goes that this simple tribe had a problem:  They could not tell time, because they had no seasons, being near the equator, and they had not noticed the sun yet.  They also owned everything they had.

One day the tribe elder had a revelation.  He called a tribe council.  ”I’ve figured out our problem!” he announced.  ”We’re all depressed and unhappy!”  A murmur ran through the tribe.  Yes! they thought.  I hadn’t realized it until now, but yes! I am depressed!  And  unhappy!

“Probably the reason we are so depressed and unhappy is because we own everything we have, and we don’t have a bunch of crap we don’t really need!” the crowd exclaimed.

“What will we do about it?”

“We need a reason to spend money that we don’t have, and go into debt, on a regular basis!” someone suggested.

“Hey yeah!  That’ll work!”

“But … but, when should we do this?”

“Wait — isn’t that what Christmas is for?” someone asked.

The elder took control of the situation.  ”Excellent, everyone.  We’ve figured out what is wrong with us:  we are depressed and unhappy, and we didn’t even know it until now.  The reason we are depressed and unhappy is because we don’t have any debt or crap we don’t really need.  Celebrating Christmas will solve our problem, as it provides the opportunity to spend money we don’t have on things we don’t need.  Only problem is, we need to know when to celebrate.”

A wise old man stepped forward.  ”Once,” he said, “I stubbed the crap out of my big toe and my toenail broke right off.  It took a long time to grow back.  We could call that time period, uh, a ‘year’.”

“We will celebrate Christmas every year by spending money we don’t have on stuff we don’t need,” said the tribe elder.  ”I feel happier already!”

As the council continued, they decided that each year, they would select a young virgin and smash her big toenail until it fell off.  When it had completely grown back, it would be time to celebrate!

It wasn’t long until they realized they could use similar logic for other measurements of time:

• How long after I sprain my ankle until it doesn’t hurt anymore?  One month.
• How long after I pull a tooth out of my head until it doesn’t hurt anymore?  One week.
• How long after I shave until my whiskers grow back?  One day.
• How long after I bean you in the head with this rock until your headache goes away?  One hour.
• How long after I prick my finger until the bleeding stops?  One minute.

Figuring out a measurement for one day took some time, as the young virgins in town didn’t seem to be growing their whiskers back.  After some deliberation, they figured that a male virgin could work.  It took a while, but they eventually found a male virgin that actually could grow whiskers back, and they celebrated because now they could measure days.

This worked quite well for the Yrgyuilf tribe for a while.  It created jobs as some people were in charge of rounding up the young virgins for timekeeping purposes, and others would regularly prick their fingers or bean them in the head with rocks in order to know things like whether it was time for lunch.

After a while, they started having trouble finding young virgins and also had to simultaneously deal with a significant teenage pregnancy epidemic, so they decided that perhaps any old person could be used for measuring time.  Surprisingly, experimentation showed that it worked about the same.

Eventually someone asked the question, “How long is forever?”  They had a hard time deciding how to measure this, so they eventually settled on three different options:

• If you bash someone’s skull in with a rock, forever is how long it takes for them to wake up.
• If you sever someone’s legs at the hips with a chainsaw, forever is how long it takes for them to grow back.
• If you impale someone through the heart on a sharpened post, forever is how long it takes for their heart to start beating again.

Since it was so essential to get this experiment right, they searched and searched and eventually found three young virgins to help them complete this experiment.  Unfortunately, it was about this time that the tribe pretty much disbanded.  Three of the original Yrgyuilf tribe members are still there, spraining each other’s ankles and pricking each other’s fingers and smashing each other’s toenails off and beaning each other in the head with rocks in order to measure time while they are waiting to see how long forever is.  They’ve stopped measuring weeks because they are all out of teeth and don’t know how to do it anymore.

The rest of the tribe members moved to the city and became dentists.

It looks like my 1998 Kawasaki KX 250 will belong to someone else tomorrow.  I bought that bike, worn and beaten, six years ago.  I brought it into my garage, took it apart, cleaned it, painted it, put new graphics and a new seat cover on it, gave it a new rear race tire, had the forks rebuilt by Pro-Action, and gave it a new Renthal rear sprocket.

This, my friends, is how you show your motorcycle just how much you love it.

I’ve loved every minute I’ve ridden it.  I love that rush of adrenaline I feel when you kick the engine to life and you feel the motor revving beneath you.  I love the awesome power as you launch off the line and the pull you feel in your arms as you climb through the gears and that amazing 250cc two-stroke powerband.  I love that feeling of soaring high above the ground (where “high” means “a multitude of inches”).  I even forgive my bike for that time I was trying to learn to double-jump and instead I broke my collarbone.

If any girls read my blog they probably think this is so dumb.  And to that, I say this:  I had a fair number of girlfriends when I was single, but when I found one that I felt this strongly about, I married her.  And if that doesn’t show you up, well, I don’t even know what I meant by that.

Seriously, I really wish I could keep it.  Maybe someday, when my career doesn’t require every spare minute of my time and investments of large sums of money in laptops, maybe then I can have another one.

Until then, there’s a part of me that will be dead.  There’s a part of me that will ache every time I watch motocross or supercross racing live or on TV.  There’s a part of me that will feel like I sold my soul in order to try to move my career forward, and that part will let me know how disappointed it is with me for the rest of my life, especially if I fail.

It will definitely be a bittersweet memory.  Like the CRX, I’ll love it forever.  And I don’t care if you think that is stupid.

So, for posterity’s sake, here’s some pictures to remember my baby by:

Catching tons of air at Bunker Hill Raceway in Delta, 2004-ish.

I love this picture.