tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-206661622024-03-07T01:13:50.323-08:00Musings of an Intrepid CommuterLife and Laughs from a Road Warrior by Dan Batemanirondadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17821323482397075170noreply@blogger.comBlogger682125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20666162.post-71695808210334137372016-01-13T20:51:00.002-08:002016-01-13T20:51:08.465-08:00A certain road....<div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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There's a certain well known, but mostly undesirable, road that is said to be paved with good intentions. I may have been down that road.</div>
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Back in September I was bursting with enthusiasm to share so many things I've picked up over the past few years. Little did I anticipate the ride I was about to experience.</div>
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This isn't meant as an excuse (though I'm not above trying to use it as such) but I had just assumed supervision of two additional departments within our training organization when I wrote that September post.</div>
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Picture jumping onto a Hyabusa (that's a really fast Suzuki, by the way) with the throttle pinned. It's a case of ride or fall off. If you fall off, it's not just you that suffers. The whole organization is going to suffer along with you. It makes for a pressure-packed ride, let me tell you.</div>
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The good news is that nobody fell off or got hurt...much. Nerve endings were certainly sparking. It got to the point that I didn't need a flashlight at night, anymore. Eventually the passenger hanging on for dear life got the bike under control and could actually be said to be riding. Possibly even having a bit of attention for other things. Maybe even blogging.</div>
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More about all this later. Mostly, this is simply an elaborate build-up in order to be able to share these photos. You might say that the past few months have been a real trip. (I know, groan away, but it's still my blog last time I looked).</div>
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Miles and smiles,</div>
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Dan</div>
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<br />irondadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17821323482397075170noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20666162.post-61266233948140343482016-01-11T19:03:00.003-08:002016-01-11T19:03:39.069-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEYcwa56aNd0KjsZzfuChUT5CVmiHPUybDr6lQJ5H_pLUDc7vIUkJaiWuqP-v9nhyau6QujjNcN6CEMqcuBNu66_mWqdD911J256njM4NmQLsSzmHqqf72YkNhViZA3V7Oy9DplA/s1600/Urban+renewal-1.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEYcwa56aNd0KjsZzfuChUT5CVmiHPUybDr6lQJ5H_pLUDc7vIUkJaiWuqP-v9nhyau6QujjNcN6CEMqcuBNu66_mWqdD911J256njM4NmQLsSzmHqqf72YkNhViZA3V7Oy9DplA/s640/Urban+renewal-1.JPG" width="640" /></a>irondadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17821323482397075170noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20666162.post-64611681944524810412016-01-10T21:06:00.001-08:002016-01-10T21:06:50.522-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDWFMt7U0RdM7p4JIX-lW9-_TjO6JPqZ5An4btq4AHPr7VAbsdPhSHI2MMARC9HK9K0KFwwQc4Mx1o6J-ChbaeQ0VAVVj1tbn_D5RvcBadprP7GFe3E01Eh52ynpHpgNiS6Rvkpw/s1600/Soaring-1.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDWFMt7U0RdM7p4JIX-lW9-_TjO6JPqZ5An4btq4AHPr7VAbsdPhSHI2MMARC9HK9K0KFwwQc4Mx1o6J-ChbaeQ0VAVVj1tbn_D5RvcBadprP7GFe3E01Eh52ynpHpgNiS6Rvkpw/s640/Soaring-1.JPG" width="640" /></a>irondadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17821323482397075170noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20666162.post-4691751029725025952015-09-15T21:10:00.000-07:002015-09-15T21:10:30.228-07:00Everything I Need to Know.....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
One of these days I'm going to write a book. Partially stealing from a book that's already out there it's going to be titled "Everything I've Needed to Know I've Learned From Motorcycling."</div>
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Writers will often tell you that the secret to a great book is either extensive research, drawing upon a life rich in experience, or both. Up until a few years ago I was convinced that I was loaded with both. Sometimes we just don't know what we don't know. We hear that from riders who come into our advanced training courses. The past three and a half years have been like that for me when it comes to leadership skills. Like I mentioned in the last post there is so much to be learned about life by studying motorcycles and riders. I've been lucky to have a front row seat in an intensive study program. Along the way a legend in the world of motorcycle safety has been an inspiring mentor.</div>
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That's the reason for the revival of this long dormant blog. There is so much to share. Treasure should never be buried and hidden. The greatest value comes if it's allowed to enrich lives. I humbly offer to share what treasure I have gained with you all.</div>
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Here's a sneak peek at some of the nuggets. </div>
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It's not about us. The real rewards come from helping others to grow. True leaders create circumstances where people can thrive. Then they get out of the way. Given the chance and inspiration, people whom we never suspect are capable of it will step up to become Superheroes. </div>
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Speaking of surprises, sometimes we can actually be our most creative under stressful conditions. This is a cell phone photo of a burning motorcycle. The flames are really that high. I've just increased the intensity of the color for effect. My creative moment? I suddenly realized that BMW is actually an acronym for "Bring More Water!!"</div>
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Life has a way of maintaining balance. Kind of like how chocolate is Nature's way of balancing out vegetables. If we often end up looking good....well, be careful. When things start going our way and life's moving along like a well-oiled machine.........</div>
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........you know what's coming next. We're going to be dished up some "bad-feather days". <br />
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Big-picture perspective is something we should never lose. It can make all the difference in the world between coping successfully or having a psychotic episode! Not only does it help us with living, this is also a fantastic strategy for conflict management. I get a lot of practice in this area on Mondays and Tuesdays when the "flaming arrows" from disgruntled students who call in. The buck stops with me. <br />
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Then there are times when we just have to stop and enjoy the moment. I allowed myself to become so immersed in work because I love what we do that balance was lost. An avocation that became a vocation. Fortunately, a very cherished friend has been patiently teaching me to be open to these moments and simply "be". We miss so much by focusing on the destination to the exclusion of enjoying the scenery. Having a friend like this is a priceless treasure in my life. Sometimes we forget what a powerfully healing effect gratitude can have on us.<br />
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There is so much more. How critical it is to have empathy. The immense strength in clarity. No matter where a person is in life or riding, sometimes the most powerful question is "what do they need now?". Need navigational beacons? Try these: What's the problem? What's the scope? What's the objective and how do we know we've reached it?<br />
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Need motivation? Try this: "Talk don't cook rice". Ever find yourself faced with a big task that seems a bit overwhelming? Suddenly we have this urge to clean out a closet, detail the bike, or sanitize our kitchen. None of which are really productive and the task is still there.<br />
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Yes, there will still be riding tips. Good physical skills are critical to have. Life, however, like motorcycling is mostly mental. Or, to quote Yogi Berra: "Half of this game is ninety percent mental".<br />
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Hope you'll come along with me and enjoy the journey.<br />
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Miles and smiles,<br />
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Danirondadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17821323482397075170noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20666162.post-81579514883423882152015-09-07T20:56:00.000-07:002015-09-07T20:56:45.020-07:00Bringing the Life BackThe door to this room opened with a reluctant creaking of long unused hinges. So long dormant that they'd forgotten their purpose and were now loudly protesting being called into action. Have you ever noticed that there's no place as cold and unwelcoming as a room that's long been vacant? The warmth and life spirit stirred up by human activity has slowly seeped out of the myriad of tiny escape routes. For a while there's hope that life will return but it fades over time as the emptiness remains. Eventually hope is abandoned. Instead of the Bluebird of Happiness flying in the door the Chicken of Depression sits on the windowsill and stares morosely into the gloomy dead space.<br />
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Fortunately, it doesn't take long to bring a place back to life. My intent is to throw open the windows to let some fresh air in. As the room sees the light of day for the first time in years there's a dull gray cast to everything. The sun's light, long absent from this room, shows that it's the reflection from a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. It will take a bit of work but this place will soon be as vibrant and alive as it was before. At least that's the plan.<br />
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It's been both a long three and a half years and time that's passed quickly. Every day has been full but looking back it's gone by in a blur.<br />
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I'm still with TEAM OREGON though my role is slowly changing. I've learned a lot in these years. For example, it's possible to get to the point where one has no life outside of motorcycling. For some that's a sweet dream come true but there's also a hidden curse. One better understands the tales of sailors being pulled along by the sweet song of the Sirens only to find themselves so caught up that it becomes difficult to escape. <br />
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Another thing that's been revealed is that motorcycling is a microcosm of life in general. Just about every phase of a person's life has a parallel in a rider's journey and progress.<br />
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Over the next while I'm compelled to share what I've learned. Hopefully you'll find it a rewarding journey.<br />
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One thing that's been a blessing and has kept me from being totally consumed by motorcycling is my photography. I like to think it's been steadily improving over the past few years. A lot of that credit goes to Bobskoot. (Rest in peace, my friend). Bob generously shared his experience, knowledge, and encouragement with me when I was getting started. This last photo is a composite I put together as a tribute to Bob. Find what symbolism you will in it. You're welcome to share your thoughts on it here. In fact, I'd appreciate it if you would.<br />
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Miles and smiles,<br />
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Danirondadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17821323482397075170noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20666162.post-60719620640883567632013-11-07T21:32:00.000-08:002013-11-08T05:59:17.237-08:00Comfort Zone Cages<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I wrote about being lucky to have a job where I can help people grow. It's amazing how much harder this is to do than it sounds. Some people are eager, some not so much. Some flat out don't want to budge from where they are. Others want to learn new skills or hone the ones they have but they just can't quite step out of their comfort zones. Security becomes more precious than progress.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Think of Monkey Bars on a playground. The contraption where you can hang by your arms and move along hand over hand. Guess that's where the "Monkey" part of the name comes from. So there you are, hanging onto a rung with both hands, knees bent so that your hands are your only support. The only way to move forward is to let go with one hand and reach out. It's amazing how many people won't let go!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sometimes comfort zones can be good things and other times they can become cages.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the course of writing this blog I've tried to be honest about my own humanity. In that vein I have to admit that I've felt that feeling of not wanting to let go. Here's an example.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm in a small upstairs gym at an athletic club. One question is repeatedly bouncing around inside my head.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"How can a guy who's so graceful on a motorcycle be so freakin' ungainly on a dance floor?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yep, we were taking dance lessons.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Katie and I grew up as country kids. Once upon a time we were pretty good at the Square Dance thing. We knew a few simple steps for slow songs and waltzes. Maybe it was something she saw on the television. Perhaps it came up when she was visiting with her girlfriends. You now those coffee circles where they compare notes on what they've been able to get their husbands to do? It could even have been the fact that we're eligible for senior discounts and she felt we should learn something new together to help prevent Alzheimer's. Who knows? What I DO know is that one day Katie piped up and said she wanted to take Ballroom Dancing lessons.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Yikes!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">You ever get that trapped feeling? Katie was looking me right in the eyes and waiting for my reaction. My gaze was locked on her face, as well. I knew she could sense my reluctance. I could also see the challenge in her eyes. It was as if she was saying:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">"Come on my Swashbuckling Hero <strong><em>(honest to God, that's what she calls me; she even has the Indiana Jones theme song as her ringer when I call her cell phone)</em></strong> what happened to 'I love a challenge'?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I knew whether I refused her request or agreed I'd probably end up looking like one of these. It's a nice looking mule, but still....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You've already had the teaser about which direction it went. Being associated with a major university, I looked up their dance instructor. As quickly as you can sign a check we were committed to eight weeks of something called the <strong>Night Club Two Step.</strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was rough in the beginning. I developed an instant rapport with the guy standing next to me on the first night. When the instructor told us to start actually moving instead of standing in one spot I could hear him mutter under his breath.</span><br />
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<strong><em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"This is going to be ugly."</span></em></strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Truer words were never spoken. We were learning the two-step and I had two steps, all right. My left foot went "Stomp!" and my right foot went "Clunk!" If only I could have brought Elvira! Then I'd show them graceful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Things gradually got smoother. I learned that the real trick to being graceful (Ok, at least not as klutzy) is to stay up on the balls of your feet. I scored points with Katie. Plus we've actually gone out dancing and looked pretty good, if I say so myself. We actually have some new skills and are having fun in the process. We may even go back for the intermediate lessons.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Part of my success was due to the fact that the instructor was not only good at imparting the skills but she was also a sort of psychologist, too. She had empathy for where us guys were coming from and that informed her approach.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">More on that aspect to come. Specifically on how it relates to gaining new riding skills.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Miles and smiles,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dan</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><br />irondadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17821323482397075170noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20666162.post-29334465019570386712013-11-05T10:09:00.001-08:002013-11-05T10:09:31.451-08:00I didn't see her!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrzOeav6vUNvqKPXTIaoWL6UCvr9MRifkzyNmJw56X9hgPBtmfYyWm32WdgtcY0lQrUKqixynr8TD82tksqDefxoRHEIn1H0SQivVoGBqsUoqK5P6NhivLIRuEoaZdPl4oAegz4g/s1600/witch+-1982.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrzOeav6vUNvqKPXTIaoWL6UCvr9MRifkzyNmJw56X9hgPBtmfYyWm32WdgtcY0lQrUKqixynr8TD82tksqDefxoRHEIn1H0SQivVoGBqsUoqK5P6NhivLIRuEoaZdPl4oAegz4g/s320/witch+-1982.jpg" width="211" /></a></div>
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Telephone pole to police officer: "Honest, Officer, I didn't see her!"<br />
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Hmmm, perhaps a Hi-Viz cat would have helped.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi47tO3r_BWYxxFh-SKHKq95YljOTVgZXRNJ3fIEekdwnN450mICW3UR3_yXyH2SbMcuaVCENm8XdPztkyBcIiT289ZDg_DQGH0FMWZRtwvON7RqTlqrdZ-ZVvtnTET5gzLo6_nfg/s1600/hi-viz+cat-.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi47tO3r_BWYxxFh-SKHKq95YljOTVgZXRNJ3fIEekdwnN450mICW3UR3_yXyH2SbMcuaVCENm8XdPztkyBcIiT289ZDg_DQGH0FMWZRtwvON7RqTlqrdZ-ZVvtnTET5gzLo6_nfg/s320/hi-viz+cat-.jpg" width="211" /></a></div>
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Miles and smiles,<br />
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Danirondadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17821323482397075170noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20666162.post-39610099328338120392013-11-03T12:13:00.002-08:002013-11-03T12:18:11.963-08:00LegacyAnother year of the world being forced to deal with my existence has recently been marked off on the calendar. Each year this event triggers a time of reflection upon that which has passed and that which is still to come. The view backwards includes blessings I've experienced. The view forward includes thoughts of worthiness. Many of the blessings are really gifts from others. How do I remain worthy of receiving such gifts? Recently, the word<strong> "legacy"</strong> comes to mind in that context. Ocean beaches are great places for contemplation. Katie and I spent a few days there recently. The small size of a human compared to the vastness of the ocean helps put things back into perspective.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuah66WL-ac61i86nxgs-ogKzIdTVuu4FY_yxQPFcRlD2AreOSGavXN7cfL8ikzuRADdmGQIr2764gB5S52k3xt_gTzenEf_uBcxXRtp_RjX8l2OAoT70btICCykpzUUVy5pUJrQ/s1600/_DSC1639.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuah66WL-ac61i86nxgs-ogKzIdTVuu4FY_yxQPFcRlD2AreOSGavXN7cfL8ikzuRADdmGQIr2764gB5S52k3xt_gTzenEf_uBcxXRtp_RjX8l2OAoT70btICCykpzUUVy5pUJrQ/s320/_DSC1639.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I apologize if you came here today looking for motorcycling instruction and didn't find it. On the other hand, most of us are more than the sum of our riding. In my life a motorcycle has been a vehicle for both transportation and personal growth. A motorcycle is not "who we are". Riding has certainly been a large part of my life. Riding has built character that I've transferred to my life. I've built character in my life that I've transferred to riding. To think about riding without a thought to the deepness of the human experience is like looking at this old house. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9CCJQ7UYKbmsleKiiA-a-843Uh0e02nuRQLUXEqz28WDppN5CckWhHh7SPTB7jfrIz-oE-1dBm9Rv9-qySdFsQmdQ78svnOb3rUXpuHBhS-eDpbEoFycD4YrB36zBPZisbV4DGw/s1600/_DSC1255-Edit.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9CCJQ7UYKbmsleKiiA-a-843Uh0e02nuRQLUXEqz28WDppN5CckWhHh7SPTB7jfrIz-oE-1dBm9Rv9-qySdFsQmdQ78svnOb3rUXpuHBhS-eDpbEoFycD4YrB36zBPZisbV4DGw/s320/_DSC1255-Edit.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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One could make an argument that my high contrast black and white photo is a thing of beauty. (At least I would! ) Once you get past the exterior, though, it's empty and rotten inside from a lack of attention.<br />
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So I return to being worthy.<br />
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My life has been blessed by the love and loyalty of my beautiful companion of 36 years. Katie has been nothing but supportive and a true friend. She still treats me like a prince. (whether I deserve it or not ) I try to deserve it by being worthy of her.<br />
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Katie may be a little perturbed by my putting in this photo of her in the sunset light. We'd been out on the beach most of the day and she's windblown. The light however, was too good to pass up. The photo well illustrates the contemplative nature of our visit. All I can say is that you're beautiful to me in any condition, Katie. I see you with my heart more than my eyes these days.<br />
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Another blessing is the friends I've made in fellow riders. Included in those are my fellow bloggers. Having not posted in a looooong time, it was gratifying to see that folks still cared enough to comment when I finally put up a post. I'm blessed to have friends who notice my absence. <br />
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Who wouldn't feel the love when a guy like <a href="http://wetcoastscootin.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Bobskoot</a> shows up at my office. I was outside making a phone call and getting some fresh air when up pulls this loaded down BMW. That fact that he took the time to come see me on his trip is another precious gift.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWUSpPLPdR1mwHC1McETKooe-no6ZFAZjeAMLVrbew5oJkWuTasPUGhtoCu3roLupjEo7jjTvOhpZtGzIcGcp94aZ42zwNzUuAsgCvehvCc9FYjVkXLLUVGjtC23SklYTZqDli0A/s1600/_DSC1795-Edit.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWUSpPLPdR1mwHC1McETKooe-no6ZFAZjeAMLVrbew5oJkWuTasPUGhtoCu3roLupjEo7jjTvOhpZtGzIcGcp94aZ42zwNzUuAsgCvehvCc9FYjVkXLLUVGjtC23SklYTZqDli0A/s320/_DSC1795-Edit.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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Earlier in the year I had the privilege of visiting <a href="http://redlegsrides.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Dom</a> as he completed his epic sidecar trip. These are a couple of many gifts from fellow bloggers. Again, one has to ask themselves how they are to prove worthy. <br />
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This idea colors my thoughts as I contemplate the view forward. The question is where am I headed in the future?<br />
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I know one place that we're all eventually headed for. I've spent time wondering graveyards, too. Always in the search for perspective.<br />
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By the time we end up here it's too late to change how we've lived. I see names on the headstones but don't really know anything about what they left behind. I'm ok with that happening for me, as well. My goal isn't to be remembered. It's to leave something of value independent of my name. As long there are others who've received something of value from my being here I'm content. Here's a scene on the beach I captured.<br />
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You can see the father crouched behind his son as they fly the kite. By the way, it took a lot of tries to get the guys and the crazily moving kite in the same frame!<br />
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It's this photo that got me to thinking of the word "legacy". The father is passing along a skill to his son as they share the time together. I believe that my own legacy will be the proof of my worthiness. <br />
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That's the great news about my employment. Passion and vocation reside together. I've finally come to the point where I can be totally immersed in the world of motorcycles. I'm also surrounded by people that are overflowing with heart and great character. Wonderful gifts that, again, require worthiness.<br />
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If I had to describe my job the preferred description would be that it's to help people grow. Helping folks to grow is a way to establish a legacy. Unfortunately, human nature complicates the process.<br />
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Stay tuned.<br />
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Miles and smiles,<br />
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Dan<br />
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<br />irondadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17821323482397075170noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20666162.post-49663235638231984082013-10-16T07:30:00.000-07:002013-10-16T07:30:29.828-07:00Growth<strong><em>"There are two kinds of people... One kind, you can tell just by looking at them at what point they congealed into their final selves. It might be a very nice self, but you know you can expect no more surprises from it. Whereas, the other kind keeps moving, changing. With these people, you can never say 'X stops here', or 'Now I know all there is to know about Y.' That doesn't mean they're unstable. Ah, no, far from it. They are FLUID. They keep moving forward and making new trysts with life, and the motion of it keeps them young. In my opinion, they are the only people who are still alive."</em></strong><br />
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<em>From "The Finishing School" by Gail Godwin.</em><br />
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And you thought all I did was ride motorcycles and run around trying to look tough. I can actually read and do so once in a while!<br />
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More to follow.<br />
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Miles and smiles,<br />
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Danirondadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17821323482397075170noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20666162.post-43529013509131097722013-04-16T20:16:00.003-07:002013-04-16T20:16:53.849-07:00Tense Gum Chewer!<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Somebody mentioned that they chewed a lot of gum to ease tension while riding. I think I found some!</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqi5pP8wmZdVrXA1xOp_Pxtr9Tf1Z9j54qCjctvT_4VU6-jI6F3S2sO1fxfIIsAuCsHGBFypYMRr2nEFlQyHs1kA1biyl-dge_lp69HR_4pDJ352oo8aSS8sSr1IZS2-xnD6cN9g/s1600/gum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqi5pP8wmZdVrXA1xOp_Pxtr9Tf1Z9j54qCjctvT_4VU6-jI6F3S2sO1fxfIIsAuCsHGBFypYMRr2nEFlQyHs1kA1biyl-dge_lp69HR_4pDJ352oo8aSS8sSr1IZS2-xnD6cN9g/s320/gum.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Miles and smiles,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dan</span><br />
irondadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17821323482397075170noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20666162.post-32669236911659765432013-04-13T15:34:00.000-07:002013-04-13T15:36:09.467-07:00Check the Tension LevelWell, I thought I had shook loose enough to have some more free time. I headed out at a run and it looked like I was making good progress toward freedom. Suddenly, like a dog reaching the end of its chain, I was jerked back into play. Another BIG project was forced upon us.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Still desiring some time of my own, I dug a hole under the fence and wriggled partway out. I'm getting this blog post in before somebody notices!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When last we met here I was talking about riding with <strong><em>Seriousness of Purpose and Lightness of Hands.</em></strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As a prelude, I'd like to suggest a pre-workshop assignment, if you will.</span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnL5TtDrIav4G9lEGv8oQ8tyLThxu7KPFSwJtQtfwm4TtvZbKFIvM9utMs8X-kUWc_BkNMdj6xOxHMSc3ObzjmDpipCC7yWuZTn8e1PtG1L00DHB6T1l55-uICwrGgEftCrWWJRA/s1600/Tension-1.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnL5TtDrIav4G9lEGv8oQ8tyLThxu7KPFSwJtQtfwm4TtvZbKFIvM9utMs8X-kUWc_BkNMdj6xOxHMSc3ObzjmDpipCC7yWuZTn8e1PtG1L00DHB6T1l55-uICwrGgEftCrWWJRA/s320/Tension-1.jpg" /></a>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You can see a lot of tension in this rider's face as she's practicing to conquer the infamous offset cone weave. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">While the tension she's showing seems a bit extreme, I'm willing to be bet that most of us ride with more tension in our bodies than we're aware of. Especially in our arms and hands.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So here's your assignment. Monitor yourself as you're riding. Check for whether your upper body is tensed or relaxed. You may be amazed at what you find. If you care to share your results here, please do. I'll give you a few days and then we'll move on.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Miles and smiles,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dan</span>irondadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17821323482397075170noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20666162.post-86189044206157702522013-02-27T07:03:00.000-08:002013-02-27T07:03:18.349-08:00Thank you to Andy Goldfine<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was slightly premature when I said I was finally going to have a little more time. Once more I dove headfirst into rewriting a training program for our instructors. These things tend to be a little consuming! The Director simply looks at me with an evil grin on his face. I ask him why he lets me bite off so much at once without giving me any sort of warning what I'm getting in to. All he says in reply is "You know you like it."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Last weekend was the proof in the pudding for this project and I'm pleased to say it's both successful and behind me!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Before we delve into riding with seriousness of purpose but with a light touch I wanted to use this post to publicly thank Andy Goldfine, the mastermind behind </span><a href="http://www.aerostich.com/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Aerostich</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. His riding gear is still the best I've ever used. Andy has proven once more that their customer service is second to none, as well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Somewhere around a year and a half ago I replaced my Roadcrafter. The old one was getting pretty worn. Sometime during the twelve years I was using it I sent the suit in for a spiffing up. It was getting time to think about it again. Instead, I opted for purchasing new riding gear. There had been several updates over the years and it seemed a good time to make a purchase.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was nice to have a new 'Stich. Once the break-in process was over, of course! There was a lingering problem with the inner liner of the pants, though. Always at the worse moments the liner material would get caught in the zipper. The frequency with which it happened increased. I sent the pants back to Aerostich for repairs. Turns out I was a month past the warranty period. A pleasant fellow from the factory called me to say they would honor the warranty, anyway. Great!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Only problem is that the situation remained the same when the pants came back. The issue was at the left knee. It got to the point where 9 times out of 10, no matter what I did, the liner would jam up the zipper. I had reached the point where I wasn't going to wear them anymore. Katie told me in no uncertain terms that, as entertaining as it was watching me hop around on one leg, she was tired of hearing me turn the air blue. I dug out the old ones again and Katie removed her ear plugs.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the meantime I sent a note to Andy and explained the problem. I know it was somewhat presumptious on my part to think he would take time to worry about my issue with the zipper. Come to think of it, a lot of my life issues seem to have a zipper involved in them somewhere. Oh well, those are stories for another venue.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A reply to my note showed up in my inbox. Andy had taken time to personally respond. We exchanged a couple of messages about the problem with the Roadcrafter pants. As a result Andy sent an email to me and copied some of his folks instructing me to send the pants to his attention. Andy told his crew to put the package on his desk when it showed up. So I sent the pants in as directed. There was silence for a week or two then I got a message telling me the pants were on their way back to me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The zipper problem has been fully resolved. There was a "no-charge" invoice with no explanation. When I later asked Andy he replied that he saw right away that the pants had been assembled incorrectly. Andy directed the crew to take them apart and replace the liner completely. Like I say, things are great, now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I hearby offer a public thank you to Andy for taking care of me. It is so impressive that the guy at the top of the food chain still cares enough about his customers to personally ensure that issues get resolved. Things just happen in the manufacturing process. This was a simply one of those things. The real measure of a company is what they do about the glitches. Andy Goldfine is at the top of the excellence list for taking care of customers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thank you so much, Sir!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Miles and smiles,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dan</span><br />
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irondadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17821323482397075170noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20666162.post-14010380455209766432013-02-11T07:08:00.003-08:002013-02-11T07:08:54.635-08:00But what if?<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was out in the middle of the night on my way to conduct an instructor update session. Several cups of coffee and cold air made the rest area a needed stop. I saw this sign.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFG0u0nUNzj8YHKj1oKHc9q_Vg8ragaBoDEGGH7-9_499EgH5_c_kQBHzspvzSNhQgHu4OQp9zRT2V9ugtiNrc2NGjdwhpjSIn3DOPdgUw3m-wf4OOsuqu16o9wAlGOcIe7ANRzQ/s1600/sign-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFG0u0nUNzj8YHKj1oKHc9q_Vg8ragaBoDEGGH7-9_499EgH5_c_kQBHzspvzSNhQgHu4OQp9zRT2V9ugtiNrc2NGjdwhpjSIn3DOPdgUw3m-wf4OOsuqu16o9wAlGOcIe7ANRzQ/s320/sign-1.jpg" width="177" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That's all well and good, but I couldn't help thinking: "But what if I had to go number 4?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Miles and smiles,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dan</span><br />
irondadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17821323482397075170noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20666162.post-36587997957706995782013-02-01T11:05:00.002-08:002013-02-01T11:05:36.684-08:00Riding Well<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How do you know when you're riding well?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm often on my steel horse.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYNqhq-fOa3PCBX_ecmS8k38HWFpDHbFgEIWaoVQf5iTvoDrho9XlWGnAZp26YgkQNsAXxvr-hKgkIRZlcRNoNZlVT9R__0d_W-G0Ztkcsok5SXJq71WRrn9pqYO1JOd2M8Is0NA/s1600/horse-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYNqhq-fOa3PCBX_ecmS8k38HWFpDHbFgEIWaoVQf5iTvoDrho9XlWGnAZp26YgkQNsAXxvr-hKgkIRZlcRNoNZlVT9R__0d_W-G0Ztkcsok5SXJq71WRrn9pqYO1JOd2M8Is0NA/s400/horse-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We'd all like to be graceful and smooth. Some days it happens. Some days.....not so much.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> I have my "Turkey" days.</span>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've had days that were better, but not by much.</span>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Once in a while, though, it all comes together and we are graceful, nimble, and beautiful</span>.
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just like this beautiful crop duster that zooms across the fields around our offices. That plane and pilot seem so connected. The plane flies in sweeping, smooth movements. There are no linear, jerky motions to be seen. It's truly "poetry in motion".
So back to the question. How do you know if you're riding well? More importantly, how do you influence things to move from the cream puff turkey to the graceful crop duster?
I am setting myself up as a self-proclaimed Zen Master of Riding. I may be a Legend in my Own Mind, but that doesn't mean there isn't value in what I say. Here is the secret to being graceful and confident when riding.</span>
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<b><em>Ride with Seriousness of Purpose but Lightness of Hand</em></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I intend to spend a little time exploring this topic here. For now, though, just take this away to ponder upon. If you find yourself feeling like you're working hard while riding your technique is off. We're doing something that's keeping our fleet and nimble steed from doing what it was born to do.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Miles and smiles,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dan</span><br />
<b></b>irondadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17821323482397075170noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20666162.post-41614522092701312342013-01-15T16:48:00.001-08:002013-01-15T16:48:51.850-08:00Canning the Spam<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have resisted for as long as I can stand it. I've always tried to keep the blog comments as open and easy to post as possible. For the past few months, though, the spammers and their 'bots have been working overtime. Most of the spam comments have been caught by Blogger. They do a pretty good job. About a third of the comments get through and I have to go clean them out.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Last week the number of comments I've been cleaning out have broken the hundred a day mark. I no longer wish to deal with the anger I feel from seeing them show up. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thus it is with reluctance that I am activating word verification. Those without a Google account can still post a comment. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Please accept my apologies but I have been forced into it by evil forces beyond my control. I wanted to offer an explanation since it will be something I've never done before.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Miles and Smiles,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dan</span></div>
irondadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17821323482397075170noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20666162.post-69764839084872612272013-01-14T06:50:00.000-08:002013-01-14T06:50:46.970-08:00Closing the loop<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In March of 2010 a dump truck driver in Phoenix Arizona plowed into the back of a group of motorcyclists stopped at an intersection. 4 of the riders were killed. 6 others were injured. Lucky, a blogger in Phoenix, posted about it </span><a href="http://pizzacrusade.blogspot.com/2010/03/nothing-to-say-except-this-sucks.html" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">here</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. Depending upon your view of justice, it was served in November of 2012.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">According to the AMA, the driver has been sentenced to 26 years in prison. Michael Jakscht was sentenced on November 26, 2012 after being convicted on several counts in a crash at a Phoenix stoplight in 2010. Following a trial in the summer of 2012, he was found guilty of four counts of manslaughter, five counts of aggrevated assault and four counts of endangerment. Jakscht was allegedly under the influence of methamphetamine when he plowed into a group of motorcyclists stopped at a traffic signal.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The sentence does nothing to make up for the lives ended, the pain of loss, and the agony of injury and recovery. It is good, though, to see the driver held accountable and facing a long prison term. It seems too many drivers have faced little to no consequences for actions that resulted in severely injuring and / or killing riders.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Please be careful out there. Be vigilant. Keep your mental and physical skills sharp. It seems we need these skills more and more as time goes on. Enjoy the ride but don't let your guard down.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dan</span><br />
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irondadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17821323482397075170noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20666162.post-40274646249145228702013-01-09T00:06:00.000-08:002013-01-09T16:02:40.787-08:00Too Long to Think About It!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><strong><em>"I see the flag waving waaaay down there. That's my signal to go. Time to snick the bike into first gear. Ease out the clutch, roll on the throttle, and smoothly get underway. I'm nervous enough as it is, wouldn't want to embarrass myself in front of my fellow instructors by stalling the bike. Up through the gears. Accelerate quickly..... I've gotta' get up to 70 mph pretty soon. So this is what it's like to go charging down the blacktop on a dragstrip! This is way cool. Crap! There comes the pair of cue cones. How did I get to them so quickly? I'm nowhere near ready.</em></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong><em>All right, time for a quick stop using maximum braking. Eyes up, eyes up! Don't look at the trainer. Knees against the tank. Smooth on the front brake. Remember to ease the pressure on the rear brake pedal as the front end dives. What's the front tire doing? Do I hear a squeal? Is it sliding? Dang, I wish I had ABS. Calm down, remember what the instructors told you. The bars are starting to wriggle side to side. Light hands, light hands! Use my knees to take the weight off my upper body. I glance at the trainer that's coaching my braking. What's that look on his face? It's not a smile. Is he looking worried? Should I be worried? That concrete barrier to my right is looking pretty close. Don't look at the wall!!!! This is way too long to have to think about things.</em></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><strong><em>Whew! I'm stopped and the bike is still upright. I don't smell tire smoke. What was my distance? Did I do better this time? I look to the trainer. Finally, he smiles and gives me the thumbs up but tells me I forgot to do something. With an evil grin Irondad tells me I'll find out soon enough when I try to take off. I look down at the gear indicator on the instrument cluster. Still in 5th gear? I'd slap my forehead if my hands weren't so tightly clenched on the grips. All FOUR paws! Front brake, rear brake, clutch, light hands, AND tap dance on the shift lever. Ok. On the next run I'm going to get it ALL right!"</em></strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One of the things I deeply appreciate about this job is that I have the opportunity to help people to grow in various ways. That's also the culture of our organization. As part of that effort we conducted high speed braking and swerving clinics earlier this year for our instructors. It's the first time we've ever done that. We felt it would be a chance for the instructors to experience something that most of them probably haven't before. The feel of braking and swerving at high speeds is a unique dynamic. The other thing the clinics would do is remind the instructors of the nervousness and fear our students feel. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We arranged to get the use of the dragstrip for a couple of sessions. We scheduled our police trainers to provide coaching and instruction. Dean W, who often uses this forum to harass me, is one of those trainers. Then I sent the invitation out to the instructors. It was gratifying to see the number who signed up. And actually showed up. Not the number I hoped for but more than I expected. Most were quite nervous, but excited to participate. That nervousness was what we wanted them to feel and remember. New riders are nervous. The instructors at the braking clinics were nervous. Nervouse is nervous no matter what level of new skils we're working on. Remember what it feels like and be suitably empathetic.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'd like to share a few photos from one of the two days.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We were supposed to be able to use the cones that the State Police use. They were locked in the back of a mean looking black Chevy Tahoe. Somebody was supposed to leave a key out for us. That link in the chain broke. So we improvised. One of our "fast guys" grabbed a golf cart and we all scrounged for cones. This dude looks fast on anything, doesn't he?</span> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyTbeVdJKl6XwciaThWhwaJglHVsaCMdd96sW8fndCVObWhn1d5cx740w7iQMwdtjkFAO3AdFZyRF0ULnwIefA1myAegUJKFaDpYzuOB_dJ7LjUfBNX0Hj_Kx7WTEhbnvMXJrctg/s1600/golf+cart-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyTbeVdJKl6XwciaThWhwaJglHVsaCMdd96sW8fndCVObWhn1d5cx740w7iQMwdtjkFAO3AdFZyRF0ULnwIefA1myAegUJKFaDpYzuOB_dJ7LjUfBNX0Hj_Kx7WTEhbnvMXJrctg/s400/golf+cart-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The rider of this Ducati is good! There's no ABS on the bike. His right hand seems to be in perfect communication with what the front tire is doing. I could literally see his hand flexing on the brake lever as he stopped by me. His stops were comparable to ABS on the dry pavement. Here's a photo of the bike at nearly full fork compression. I tried to still show a little bit of motion in the front wheel so the bike isn't quite fully squatted.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge41tKPjYPmUlAxS1AUO4U-OeBCwHtQaV1ZDhoY-vfoJGIuyOVXsw0_WxcQPJfX3yM34LsRXz0EWLc34YbdoTnFIKmxBXojmmYInqVF0Xq-ZHxwfUtuR4I1RywE3PkhlEuDegrkA/s1600/Damion-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge41tKPjYPmUlAxS1AUO4U-OeBCwHtQaV1ZDhoY-vfoJGIuyOVXsw0_WxcQPJfX3yM34LsRXz0EWLc34YbdoTnFIKmxBXojmmYInqVF0Xq-ZHxwfUtuR4I1RywE3PkhlEuDegrkA/s400/Damion-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Have you ever heard of the color "Write me a ticket Red"? Here's Mark passing by The Director. ST1300, meet ST1100.</span> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl73sntr5geUtlJ1016JQqzl_YuZCAVjjQx0tmmX2-MnkYjfnBsuN1slDZHk85QxaFPLHn_86xyYJdVWJYCzlI4IAZvr5NdHExNFsMagtPmj-z_1C8DK_hagOgjNC45pWLImQlLQ/s1600/ticket+red-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl73sntr5geUtlJ1016JQqzl_YuZCAVjjQx0tmmX2-MnkYjfnBsuN1slDZHk85QxaFPLHn_86xyYJdVWJYCzlI4IAZvr5NdHExNFsMagtPmj-z_1C8DK_hagOgjNC45pWLImQlLQ/s400/ticket+red-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was fooling around with putting borders around photos. It can be useful to have a thin black border on a photo presented on a white background. Sort of keeps the eye from wandering off the photo. I caught the "red" bug as you can see by this border. It would be easy for the big red border to overwhelm the subject of the photo. Not in this case!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiza9p2pgM3pPDxTpCpGwYZk8ECjJhazllt07XUhh9gq1rANXMS0IyTV5kHgkdZnO7vTxr8KP_GVq5aXGNz21vb5E6tzXUxS2YFeR8fjI9X718uVEXLP7h39woJwtTbJSh7FoUa5A/s1600/more+red-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiza9p2pgM3pPDxTpCpGwYZk8ECjJhazllt07XUhh9gq1rANXMS0IyTV5kHgkdZnO7vTxr8KP_GVq5aXGNz21vb5E6tzXUxS2YFeR8fjI9X718uVEXLP7h39woJwtTbJSh7FoUa5A/s400/more+red-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To his immense credit, who should show up for the clinic but our very own </span><a href="http://troubadourtriumph.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Troubadou</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">r! Check out that great stopping form. Eyes up looking well ahead. Knees firmly against the tank. Please notice that there is no smoke coming from either tire.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPSbuV9CHWLpqbP8uS6vZd49ctz7Q0VSiJlioX55jrQD2Wo67Ezj3TYP4NK6C6R4wppEPMb0Ubr7BpKZHR1Kfnkz-SCrZJoP400mcct_NXmhbVrNMj3W-fZQTH9mmbOT1D7AWPcQ/s1600/Troubadour+1-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPSbuV9CHWLpqbP8uS6vZd49ctz7Q0VSiJlioX55jrQD2Wo67Ezj3TYP4NK6C6R4wppEPMb0Ubr7BpKZHR1Kfnkz-SCrZJoP400mcct_NXmhbVrNMj3W-fZQTH9mmbOT1D7AWPcQ/s400/Troubadour+1-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Our instructors execute a great stop. What do the trainers tell them? "Good job, do it again." Never happy are we? So back to the start point for another nerve wracking run. It DOES get easier with repetitions.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFtOxFrWoCHOBjjrm2HfOO_618UJhuOAooDUfBuyBBr6SSOd03_T5b38TDxxHyMgptTG-ksBKD1EiaPL1RP2r87uHhb7PVJzpsdib-1vr64Dk6EArt5nYCvZvZPB9PkLACTg3cBg/s1600/Do+it+again-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFtOxFrWoCHOBjjrm2HfOO_618UJhuOAooDUfBuyBBr6SSOd03_T5b38TDxxHyMgptTG-ksBKD1EiaPL1RP2r87uHhb7PVJzpsdib-1vr64Dk6EArt5nYCvZvZPB9PkLACTg3cBg/s400/Do+it+again-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Check out that great head turn! Not to brag, but "That's my boy!"</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUIfWI9aFmgcWMZtb29pxkTe7UP5p7NoMgysHOm35Tuc8BcKdPmbXlZYs58LaY9bFY__bRm6j7EEeTwFYTDpX_PWyuIjOJmAIgXMFDAJAO91Gwm8mTZBRqIz94k6NgAGDgjSG2Kg/s1600/head+turn-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUIfWI9aFmgcWMZtb29pxkTe7UP5p7NoMgysHOm35Tuc8BcKdPmbXlZYs58LaY9bFY__bRm6j7EEeTwFYTDpX_PWyuIjOJmAIgXMFDAJAO91Gwm8mTZBRqIz94k6NgAGDgjSG2Kg/s400/head+turn-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Like I mentioned above, the drag strip is in a canyon between two concrete barriers. It can look pretty darn close ( not to mention scary ) at speed. Especially when you're SWERVING towards it at 60 mph!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI-QM-okq8_Lf3GvcsyKrJKnKvo81cwlDnJN1tbLX1bix2NNjN5Op14oDIP5lF_RwF5Nz2HjSdqnOuZWsYHDmtGP7-dPJ5IBeAsW-2CAUjPL1BFMAxuLm4i3CDg3gDdMzj17t34w/s1600/wall-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI-QM-okq8_Lf3GvcsyKrJKnKvo81cwlDnJN1tbLX1bix2NNjN5Op14oDIP5lF_RwF5Nz2HjSdqnOuZWsYHDmtGP7-dPJ5IBeAsW-2CAUjPL1BFMAxuLm4i3CDg3gDdMzj17t34w/s400/wall-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I said, the turnout was a bit lower than we'd hoped for. I think that the instructors who participated this year will spread the word about their experience. The fear factor holding people back should hopefully be a bit lower for future sessions. We did maximum braking at 45, 60, and 70 mph. We did swerving at 45 and 60 mph. I required full riding gear, just in case. Fortunately, nobody "splashed". We were a little bit worried about that. We did have a couple of close calls. A couple of riders got reminded that you have to be fully upright and out of the swerve BEFORE you apply the brakes. Some of the instructors riding ABS bikes found out that you can still slide the front tire. When you're braking that hard and putting extra weight on the bars the front tire will tend to move side to side. ABS works in a straight line. Once the tire gets turned a bit, it WILL slide. That's one of the reasons for using your knees to take the weight off your upper body, especially your hands. Remember: LIGHT hands!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We're offering the clinics again this year. Here's looking forward to some more fun!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdwTMxbD5rqgT1B5tvq7NX6M5pSnf7INz6UJLwIhBpXNjQ4QGQTrsDcz5mkeSjYrd6HKrZiyU8u4oCsOyxPpXGhCX3N8grWU9yyKOlq_ZDe_BIBYRu0FwcXynOnTtuC7KyvG_Y9g/s1600/joel-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdwTMxbD5rqgT1B5tvq7NX6M5pSnf7INz6UJLwIhBpXNjQ4QGQTrsDcz5mkeSjYrd6HKrZiyU8u4oCsOyxPpXGhCX3N8grWU9yyKOlq_ZDe_BIBYRu0FwcXynOnTtuC7KyvG_Y9g/s400/joel-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Miles and smiles,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dan</span></div>
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irondadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17821323482397075170noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20666162.post-61845743144590013512013-01-02T09:52:00.000-08:002013-01-02T09:52:11.671-08:00He's Back. Look out!<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had never really thought of myself as a workaholic. I've now had to consider the possibility that it may be true. The Director, himself a driven person, has urged me to find balance. I find that an extreme signal.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Upon reflection, I find that I have, indeed, immersed myself deeply in this journey. This really has been a journey, too. I see myself as being on a pilgrimage. Let me share some words with you from David Whyte. This is from <strong><em>Crossing the Unknown Sea: Work as a Pilgrimage of Identity.</em></strong></span><br />
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<strong><em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"At its best, work seems never-ending only because, like life, it is a pilgrimage, a journey in which we progress not only through the world but through stages of understanding. Good work, done well for the right reasons and with an end in mind, has always been a sign, in most human traditions, of an inner and outer maturity. Its achievement is celebrated as an individual triumph and a gift to our societies. A very hard-won approval.</span></em></strong><br />
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<strong><em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Seen in the light of a pilgrim's journey, work takes on a greater significance than merely paying the bills and keeping the ever-present wolf from the door. With something larger in mind, something yet to be fully imagined, something to be looked for, then the hazards and hopes, the trepidation and the triumphs of work are magnified and given import and meaning."</span></em></strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I am a pilgrim seeking continued enlightment. This "job" has proved to be an excellent vessel for that purpose. As engaging as this journey has been, and continues to be, I find that I have neglected other things that have brought me pleasure and relaxation in what seems now like another life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Blogging is something I've particularly missed. My sincerest appreciation goes out to those who have left comments now and then wondering when there might be more posts. <a href="http://wetcoastscootin.blogspot.com/2012/08/holy-mackeral-batman-its-bate-man.html" target="_blank">One</a> in particular rode all the way here to see if I was still alive. It's good to be missed instead of finding out that people are happy to no longer hear from you. The past 10 months have given me plenty of material. The pressure has caused the writing bug to blow into the open again. You've been warned.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The quote above talks about trepidation. There was some when I applied. But I gritted my teeth and went for it.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSFusU3_uErMk6TyEFK_iqNUTb0TzboeqK1Gf4YNp0g6qquZDQtfjr7GxYsuESEkcqUtULoUzmYHgO2Zn8VwuAcKT7ifL1J90GgabCncjePMoiDFrVp6RAX_MwsxcisuZgVZfEWA/s1600/gritting+teeth-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSFusU3_uErMk6TyEFK_iqNUTb0TzboeqK1Gf4YNp0g6qquZDQtfjr7GxYsuESEkcqUtULoUzmYHgO2Zn8VwuAcKT7ifL1J90GgabCncjePMoiDFrVp6RAX_MwsxcisuZgVZfEWA/s320/gritting+teeth-1.jpg" width="320" /></a>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I grabbed the proverbial bull by the horns.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi0jBtgjDsBpw9BveG6mHPS4K7k9jdlGR0Sv3XYLSspUAkAwLy-D356MbLDh_xGTfOPedpRei0IBymhfmSpvUSAuGmwoNj_uUlmrZW8DJFTE88OQeCmaSclUMqDnqyQcMJxWVMQg/s1600/bull+by+the+horns-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi0jBtgjDsBpw9BveG6mHPS4K7k9jdlGR0Sv3XYLSspUAkAwLy-D356MbLDh_xGTfOPedpRei0IBymhfmSpvUSAuGmwoNj_uUlmrZW8DJFTE88OQeCmaSclUMqDnqyQcMJxWVMQg/s320/bull+by+the+horns-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I would either fly or crash. By the way, I didnt' know you could go someplace to get training in how to properly collide but the sign above the door says differently.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd5BJSZtYHQFdkwDFop7cDxgJPwT3BmCg4HOnjSpUS6e6f2y9JQat9WIShapf6JBRyx4kB4-LIsDxJWpNtjh_2xskRg2qvKJLAR8dFz1COsilFw0qbmp_Jn-_h4_f9ZzdXDR41iA/s1600/collision+training+center-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd5BJSZtYHQFdkwDFop7cDxgJPwT3BmCg4HOnjSpUS6e6f2y9JQat9WIShapf6JBRyx4kB4-LIsDxJWpNtjh_2xskRg2qvKJLAR8dFz1COsilFw0qbmp_Jn-_h4_f9ZzdXDR41iA/s320/collision+training+center-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Imagine being invited by a team owner to jump onto the factory bike. ( Ok, I know this isn't anywhere near that, but it's the only photo I had on short notice ). You worry about even staying on the track. Then imagine surprise, followed shortly by elation, that you not only keep up but actually improve the lap times a bit.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqIFaU3L8ebM6SOaysyezzlipWZtHzzHy6mv21EwQPV4mbJaxyK60XZXWtkkt_0PmkqNyEoXWMq0Qq6ulhJmShqAquy_0nX5SW8cApJ0W5BDjb-39nIHjG3hWOTiNr2eulqObBHA/s1600/up+to+speed-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqIFaU3L8ebM6SOaysyezzlipWZtHzzHy6mv21EwQPV4mbJaxyK60XZXWtkkt_0PmkqNyEoXWMq0Qq6ulhJmShqAquy_0nX5SW8cApJ0W5BDjb-39nIHjG3hWOTiNr2eulqObBHA/s320/up+to+speed-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To celebrate my newfound rediscovery of fun outside work I did my first panoramic photo of a rainbow that appeared a couple of weeks ago. Yes, it's an accomplishment that's way behind what some of you have already done. A certain blogger in </span><a href="http://redlegsrides.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Denver</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> did that years ago. What can I say?</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpsJnuWldy_-Q8N-dF1J0cJKookf-RlL4WmNu071H8D0LAoH5FZYEOBFdXGLA99N_KZyKoU6mmjBcw28xgWWbuGCY76Qj0a4A7brD9-mtnUrBLb_Bvs-4SjYNVow6YTSgGTzN1Pw/s1600/rainbow+for+the+office-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpsJnuWldy_-Q8N-dF1J0cJKookf-RlL4WmNu071H8D0LAoH5FZYEOBFdXGLA99N_KZyKoU6mmjBcw28xgWWbuGCY76Qj0a4A7brD9-mtnUrBLb_Bvs-4SjYNVow6YTSgGTzN1Pw/s320/rainbow+for+the+office-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm also working on the blog lay-out. Bear with me. This new fangled template stuff is going to bend to my will eventually. For good or bad, I'm back. I'm smiling, hope you are, too!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkUrAwynYNx365Tk2gkmevg3mr0X8CfaihbAAZ7yC_riDlF9p7Eq-PV4dsrIycYBxyVw48bvUP9x5KGZAwzml7kVgiq9OyaP3PGlkoWRcrRl9fKlS_2BsK5_vlBuUN7e76AYn2yg/s1600/Keep+smiling-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkUrAwynYNx365Tk2gkmevg3mr0X8CfaihbAAZ7yC_riDlF9p7Eq-PV4dsrIycYBxyVw48bvUP9x5KGZAwzml7kVgiq9OyaP3PGlkoWRcrRl9fKlS_2BsK5_vlBuUN7e76AYn2yg/s320/Keep+smiling-1.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Miles and smiles,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dan</span></div>
irondadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17821323482397075170noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20666162.post-57370589653987879922012-10-17T16:10:00.002-07:002012-10-17T16:10:46.372-07:00The Dark Side<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Hi, it's been a while, I know. I'm having severe withdrawals from blogging. On the other hand, I've been experiencing a fantastic ride the past few months. I solemnly promise to share what's been going on soon. I also miss reading everybody else's blogs. To quote some guy with a corncob pipe, "I shall return".</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">In the meantime I want to ask a favor. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I'm tasked with ruling on whether or not motorcycles with car tires mounted on them will be allowed in our classes. I want the decision to be evidence based. It seems a good way to make a wise decision that reflects reality.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">There is no end to the arguments on the forums. The problem is that everything has a nebulous base. On the one end are people who have put car tires on their bikes and point to the fact that they haven't crashed, yet. It's a good start but it's not definitive proof of the safety of the practice. I know a lot of riders who haven't crashed yet, either, but I know they're not safe riders. They just haven't been really tested so far. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">On the other end are people who claim that if bikes were supposed to have car tires then they'd have steering wheels, too. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">What I seek are published studies. Does anybody know of any actual research that's been published on the matter?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Secondly, I'm seeking information on rims. One of the big arguments for not running a car tire on a motorcycle rim is that the beading system isn't compatible. Are there rims that ARE compatible with car tires that will mount on a motorcycle?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Input would be most appreciated. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Miles and smiles,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Dan</span>irondadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17821323482397075170noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20666162.post-23475792002142917412012-09-21T19:52:00.002-07:002012-09-21T19:53:34.039-07:00Rough Landing!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Had a flying lesson today.</span> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Didn't turn out so well.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi87_Ea29sr0oc4ehPeuVWoNnveFBhrRgNWXccG6BY-Jl1LJTxfiAae4vfkzQfKxX7Mb308CNclbxAy1ZU7UN9t03qrum14JLr-HS-ii88pQbvv1mmx8EiVDAYMZHNsNdTCrbFhDQ/s1600/crash-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi87_Ea29sr0oc4ehPeuVWoNnveFBhrRgNWXccG6BY-Jl1LJTxfiAae4vfkzQfKxX7Mb308CNclbxAy1ZU7UN9t03qrum14JLr-HS-ii88pQbvv1mmx8EiVDAYMZHNsNdTCrbFhDQ/s320/crash-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Turns out wicked-fast black FJR's and jets are more dissimilar than one would think.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Miles and smiles,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dan</span>irondadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17821323482397075170noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20666162.post-69849835089733753152012-02-20T15:04:00.000-08:002012-02-20T15:04:16.237-08:00<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">New Opportunity and Challenge</span></strong><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is finally official and I can now share it with you. I am making a career change. Hopefully it will be my last. Perhaps you might call it a consolidation, instead. For years my heart has been with TEAM OREGON, our motorcycle training organization. My body has been forced to be elsewhere in the name of making a living. Now I've been given the chance to re-unite the two.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgekCPRPJD4Yp8L5eV3fn8Px2mLq9cMl1acUfdOJeJzfiUCOMJUzBK3kmJg-bd9IATn01HtU91fVBfItHg0qgJnqrXUbAGWv59LqLDq-kGBTqwZ5-Rh7tuLtzM2AskSE0M9E4YkGg/s1600/heart+cloud+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgekCPRPJD4Yp8L5eV3fn8Px2mLq9cMl1acUfdOJeJzfiUCOMJUzBK3kmJg-bd9IATn01HtU91fVBfItHg0qgJnqrXUbAGWv59LqLDq-kGBTqwZ5-Rh7tuLtzM2AskSE0M9E4YkGg/s320/heart+cloud+1.jpg" width="311" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is a camera phone photo taken yesterday at a class / instructor training event.</span> <br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Once in a while orbits align and you have the chance to follow your heart. I was given such a chance and I knew if I didn't pursue it I would regret it for the rest of my days. So I went for it and things worked out. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I've been appointed as the new Training Manager for our motorcycle training organization. It is a full time staff position. It includes oversight over our nearly two hundred instructors and those we expect to add over the next few years as we grow to meet the demand. Repsonsibilities also include quality control for our current training materials and courses. As time goes on we will be testing new methods of training such as online courses. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">There's a bit of trepidation being felt here, too. I've spent 12 years training for this position. Not with that exact purpose, but in doing the things involved in the job. Over the course of that time I've become friends with all the wonderful people who are my fellow instructors. It has been gratifying to help so many to achieve success and the satisfaction of accomplishment. It will be great to be in a position to help them more but there is also the worry of making sure I do right by them and our students.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I cannot begin to describe how blessed I feel. Some good folks have unselfishly shared their time and energy on my behalf over the years. I have been, and always shall be, grateful for them and have always tried to pay it forward. I have a passion for riding motorcycles and teaching others to do so for the first time or to improve their skills. Now I can also make a living at it. How lucky can a guy be?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Miles and smiles,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Dan</span><br />
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<br />irondadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17821323482397075170noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20666162.post-75748605362788017352012-02-16T15:08:00.000-08:002012-02-16T15:08:06.757-08:00<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Glad it didn't turn out THIS way!</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Recently <a href="http://loveofamotorbike.blogspot.com/2012/01/my-night-of-danger.html" target="_blank">Beemergirl</a> found herself in a sticky situation. Fortunately, all turned out well in the end. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This reminded me of something I ran across recently which shows things could have turned out much, much, worse. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Apparently this person was waiting in the drive-through at a local drive-in. They seem to have gotten their toes stuck in the glove box and could not get loose. Nobody responded to this poor person's cries for help. You know how badly garbled things sound through those speakers at the ordering board.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiugcoyKk5dqvqrN2eTBswUyfX9lWvzSauDqILlTT-jkhCRY2_eBD5m_CY0e18oorrVuLmopNdTEIMxmZQ0sUBUDjbuQ9vTRYXTUpIjRAxwBNnDMTx7vS0cUmSRowgsbTMBSXR0Gw/s1600/original+owner-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiugcoyKk5dqvqrN2eTBswUyfX9lWvzSauDqILlTT-jkhCRY2_eBD5m_CY0e18oorrVuLmopNdTEIMxmZQ0sUBUDjbuQ9vTRYXTUpIjRAxwBNnDMTx7vS0cUmSRowgsbTMBSXR0Gw/s320/original+owner-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not only do you get a great deal on the car but it also includes the original owner!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As an added bonus you also get the friends in the rumble seat. For some reason they must have thought the order was just taking an extra long time to be cooked. Being so occupied with texting they never noticed what was REALLY happening until much too late.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVfTMBcb3lg8Kphfirf3xQDqMiXkbDh1MaEEEvftzcNJeWChoi1xEVEnArxFzBbD4souJloCw-IZYYqTYJxJmITtswLgM0vFZq9srQTAZ2ODXLoRbKdar5zmMEjYUMmHkQnntOdg/s1600/inlaws-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVfTMBcb3lg8Kphfirf3xQDqMiXkbDh1MaEEEvftzcNJeWChoi1xEVEnArxFzBbD4souJloCw-IZYYqTYJxJmITtswLgM0vFZq9srQTAZ2ODXLoRbKdar5zmMEjYUMmHkQnntOdg/s320/inlaws-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Let's just all be glad that Oilburner came to rescue ( under duress or not ) and this did not happen to our dear fellow blogger!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Miles and smiles,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dan</span>irondadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17821323482397075170noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20666162.post-86396389248462875702012-02-13T12:20:00.000-08:002012-02-13T12:21:18.693-08:00<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Deep appreciation!</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Instead of making a reply comment on the last post I decided to do this post. My reasoning is that I wanted everyone to be sure to see my heartfelt expression of appreciation for you all. It was truly touching to see everyone's comments and well wishes. Some shared their own stories. It's a testament to the sense of community that's developed in our blogging world.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I hesitated in sharing the experience of losing my grandmother. It affected me deeply but these things seldom affect others outside a small circle. That's not a negative commentary. Simply the way life is. In the end I wrote about it for a couple of reasons. One reason was for a sort of personal closure. The other reason was to reach out and share something that hit me so personally with some other human beings that I've come to be fond of.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That's really who's behind these blogs. When we call up the blogs on our monitors we see the words and photos lit by whatever makes our screens glow brightly. Real human beings sit at keyboards and bring these images to life. What we write is motivated by our humanity. The things that affect us, interest us, or even irritate us.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Some of you I have met in person. I know your faces and personalities. Like the whole group sprawled out in my hotel room in Bend. That meeting and the late supper is still a treasured memory. Whether I've met you in person or not, I know about you from the photos and your writings. We get to know each other's quirks along with a host of other personality traits. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I read your blogs and your comments I see the humans behind it all. So many good hearts beating inside great people.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I just want you all to know how much I've appreciated the journey of discovery as I've been blessed get to know you all over time. My life is richer for your being in it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Miles and smiles,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dan</span>irondadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17821323482397075170noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20666162.post-6014101055520268412012-02-10T13:24:00.000-08:002012-02-10T13:24:15.889-08:00<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>End of an Era.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My grandmother passed away last week at the age of 92. Old age and cancer finally got her down on the ground and in a stranglehold. Her passing marks the end of an era. There are no longer five generations of my lineage alive. It also closed the book on a mother-son relationship.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYON8_Ws2O0bDRfWvSCz1nzT4Gd66xvhyphenhyphen1-9_2uH7OY8D-HVhkaA-b6QrKjwZ1ChPgLKJHUYHWBgE1lzaqaTbcRUZHZ2tH8KE1T2aI43gTtcfTUAO4Rxst5sokBO0_HJyzuKmCZg/s1600/Bud.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYON8_Ws2O0bDRfWvSCz1nzT4Gd66xvhyphenhyphen1-9_2uH7OY8D-HVhkaA-b6QrKjwZ1ChPgLKJHUYHWBgE1lzaqaTbcRUZHZ2tH8KE1T2aI43gTtcfTUAO4Rxst5sokBO0_HJyzuKmCZg/s320/Bud.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Look at the photo of my grandfather on the right. He was the original Marlboro Man. There is no posing here. We really did ride, wrangle, and rope. Looking at him pretty much explains my rough and tumble upbringing and way of living. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The only one left alive out of this photo is likely that damned horse on the right. Bud is probably still out there rebelling against anybody trying to ride him. Actually, I'm sure he died long ago but you never know with Devil Horses!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I posted this photo here last Summer. It's a technically bad photo taken with a cheap camera phone. Nonetheless, it speaks volumes to me.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPOeHWgefL58Lxr9XExeiXDt21TuuVy_5I3gznZltLna6fDqqPO55tvoSaKY4BHc6DZk16O-Y44zq9VSl8244-VVhs-vJd8K4xCe4HZtepLTGgSxPQ5lVNWc0fXzTGkRopa-z_VA/s1600/contemplation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPOeHWgefL58Lxr9XExeiXDt21TuuVy_5I3gznZltLna6fDqqPO55tvoSaKY4BHc6DZk16O-Y44zq9VSl8244-VVhs-vJd8K4xCe4HZtepLTGgSxPQ5lVNWc0fXzTGkRopa-z_VA/s320/contemplation.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm sure she was mostly thinking about Grandpa. On the other hand, she was already ravaged by cancer at this point and had lost her right leg to it. I'm sure she couldn't help but see and contemplate the side of the headstone with her name on it. A beginning date with an ending date yet to be engraved. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Most folks don't want to think about dying. I don't either, to be honest. Yet, I force myself to contemplate my mortality while I can be constructively moved by it. I want to enjoy the assurance now that I value holding my wife and kissing her goodbye or hello. I've made the effort to let good friends know how much I treasure their friendship. I regularly express affection and love to my children. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxwXj43qUPN42X-CEpXu7-rS7USrt97HTeeuFtsdlS51VUiA6kR-pWSLX23fY3I3-yVN8O3Dnd7tX1iOnYDRYeox8vqbQcyvdRxMV0476oq66BSb3ydOfruXsG6wTcGMWJPFO-zg/s1600/Betty+marker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxwXj43qUPN42X-CEpXu7-rS7USrt97HTeeuFtsdlS51VUiA6kR-pWSLX23fY3I3-yVN8O3Dnd7tX1iOnYDRYeox8vqbQcyvdRxMV0476oq66BSb3ydOfruXsG6wTcGMWJPFO-zg/s320/Betty+marker.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Grandma was able to be at home until the end. For the last couple of weeks she was confined to a hospital bed in her living room. Caretakers were there 24 hours a day. Hospice was wonderful about providing the needed medications and regular visits from medical staff. There really wasn't any more to do for her except keep her comfortable.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Towards the end she got a bit demanding and seemed unappreciative. It was a lesson to me in love, patience, and empathy. I'm a bit shamed to say that my first reaction ( though stifled ) was irritation. Then I would look at her and think about what she was going through. Love and empathy cover a multitude of transgressions.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I think many people are too quick to judge others. It's easier to brush somebody off or even take grave offense if we can somehow make them out to be deserving of what they are going through. On the other hand, it's hard to know if that shabby looking person approaching us is actually in dire straights or has harmful intentions. Do we show empathy and understanding while trying to help? Or do we take measures to protect ourselves? The world has gotten very complicated, hasn't it? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On Saturday Grandma was pretty normal for where she had gotten to. Saturday night she took a turn for the worse. She refused to eat and seemed a bit "out of it" for lack of a better description. During Sunday Grandma was in and out of consciousness. She was in a lot of pain and we were giving her morphine every half hour under the doctor's blessing. It was this day that holds my last memories of her.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Grandma would sleep for a while until the pain woke her up. She would toss and turn and cry out. I would stand by the bed and take her hand. When she felt me touch her Grandma would open her eyes and see me. The most bright and beautiful smile would cross her face. Then, still holding onto my hand she would go back to sleep.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That is such a powerful memory for me. I find myself, the grizzled road warrior, tearing up a bit writing this. Once upon a time she held the hand of a child to give him comfort and assurance that all would be okay. That child became a man. Now it is his hand offering her comfort and assurance that all will be okay as she faces whatever dark journey awaits her.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By Monday she wasn't waking up at all. Grandma passed away at 12:40 Tuesday morning. Her departure was eerily similar to Grandpa's. He was also unconscious leading up to the end. I heard him take several shuddering breaths and then there were no more. Grandma did the exact same thing. There's that moment when the conflicted feelings hit at once. So sad to see the end of someone dear to you. Relieved to know the tremendous pain and suffering are over for them.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4aw-BXiQ-BE-BCrSnoVkNHXzNNhyphenhypheneeeUocVOgFnNA3bnHUipwp5RIuj_NCsGgZwUIjJhcorTmHZHCGjP31xvZneFaF2DEfH2FRzNzMnXK_XxBn3r9yIFqTIEzn88Wu_ck8olcAQ/s1600/casket-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4aw-BXiQ-BE-BCrSnoVkNHXzNNhyphenhypheneeeUocVOgFnNA3bnHUipwp5RIuj_NCsGgZwUIjJhcorTmHZHCGjP31xvZneFaF2DEfH2FRzNzMnXK_XxBn3r9yIFqTIEzn88Wu_ck8olcAQ/s320/casket-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thank you for all the love you've given me and for all you've done to help me turn out the best I could be. Your body may no longer be with us but you will always live as long as we can treasure your memory.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Have fun with Grandpa at the ranch. Give him my love when you see him.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dan</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>irondadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17821323482397075170noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20666162.post-35277655481938776912012-01-23T16:39:00.000-08:002012-01-23T16:45:34.521-08:00<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>Lessons and Tests II</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Having completed some business in downtown Portland I pointed Elvira east. The place Robert had specified for our first meeting over coffee was 50 blocks away on Hawthorne Blvd. Downtown Portland is cut off from all parts east by the Willamette River. Portland could be called the City of Bridges. I chose, appropriately enough, the Hawthorne Bridge. This is a particularly interesting bridge because the decking is metal grating. The outbound side is a single lane and very narrow. The left side is bordered by a concrete and steel bridge support and the right by the bridge railing next to the river. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I guess if a rider were to go down, they would just pinball between the barriers and not plunge into the river so far below. Probably...... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Seriously, it's simply a matter of eyes up to maintain big picture stability and don't fight the wiggle! Firm, but relaxed. Steady, sure, and smooth.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Robert had asked me if I was going to be a Starbucks coffee snob or was willing to try a local place. Thus challenged, I told him to pick a spot. It turned out to be a place called <a href="https://foursquare.com/v/the-albina-press/4a5ecd39f964a52028bf1fe3" target="_blank">The Albina Press.</a> This location was one of several in the big city. As a side note, I even tried a cappuccino which had a design just like the one in the photo. To my surprise, it turned out to be the perfect coffee drink as a background to conversation. A great coffee taste without the volume of liquid that makes you regret drinking it fifty very cold miles later. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My arrival was a little ahead of Robert's. As I parked Elvira I observed a Suzuki DR650 dual sport back in next to the bicycle rack. I'd never seen Robert but he'd described his bike. Congruity was the first word that sprang to mind. Robert had told me in an e-mail that he rode the bike year round for transportation. His bike and his gear matched that statement exactly. I saw before me someone who obviously rode for himself rather than simply to impress others or to "belong" to a certain group. Practicality took center stage. I was suitably impressed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By the way, I know it looks like I'm writing about Robert behind his back. Actually, I'm writing about Robert behind his back in front of his face. I have graciously been given permission to report on our meeting.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">During our conversation I gathered that Robert is relatively new to riding. Not brand new, but new in the comparative sense. Compared to the grizzled veteran he was facing across the table, for example. As of today I have been on two wheels for 45 years, 4 months, and 2 weeks. What Robert brought to the table, literally and figuratively, is that he is a thinking man. Several times during the conversation I'd notice him sending a look of concentration into the distance. I would simply shut up so as not to block the tracks as his train of thought left the station. The wait was well worth it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There were two things Robert said to me that I found truly profound.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One was that it took some fearlessness to be a rider.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDDbSU883463YF-p3cTBdOnl0h0AJSg70ETvY2hTQjTkv3nTUZ95YGPzHHLX_wYUlemumAlxmnLDel78ZEajwREw4f4_wsPwCN-EdGzpms6Bd5itbm5Vn6HcWoLcqRUbo6kKcHzw/s1600/batman-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDDbSU883463YF-p3cTBdOnl0h0AJSg70ETvY2hTQjTkv3nTUZ95YGPzHHLX_wYUlemumAlxmnLDel78ZEajwREw4f4_wsPwCN-EdGzpms6Bd5itbm5Vn6HcWoLcqRUbo6kKcHzw/s320/batman-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />I totally agree. Not foolhardy, reckless, or even a superhero, but there is a certain mindset required. One can't dwell on all the bad things that could happen. A rider has to have faith in the bike and in oneself. Negative thoughts can bring negative results. The good news is that positive thoughts bring positive results. Of course, a well developed sense of adventure never hurt, either!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In years past I've written about this kind of thing. Here are a couple of notable posts. If you're interested you can click <a href="http://intrepidcommuter.blogspot.com/2007/05/fearlessness.html" target="_blank">here</a> and <a href="http://intrepidcommuter.blogspot.com/2007/03/think-about-ridin-not-fallin-that-darn.html" target="_blank">here</a>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you want to delve further <a href="http://vespalx150.blogspot.com/2007/03/thoughts-on-risk-and-personal.html" target="_blank">here</a> is the link to Steve Williams' post that sparked mine.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The other profound thing that came out of Robert's Depot of Deep Thoughts was about how we are often surprised on a bike. We suddenly find ourselves having to deal with something we haven't practiced for, yet. Even worse, our natural reactions may be exactly the wrong thing to do.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is one of the strongest arguments I can make for taking rider training on an ongoing basis. Robert is exactly right in his statements. It's like being required to take a test before we've studied the lesson.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnQNuFCLrqyW2AKE2Joun6z0v4AacEnnSA35DvmPwp-3yJlGtK59UzndttP6nNg4Q-pPOx-uRkf4YCUfLFJLcE5tVb7lb-qgoBKpfTvXIcszwC1s5bgjtS2B7UZw76eHVmajapkg/s1600/dog+in+tunnel-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnQNuFCLrqyW2AKE2Joun6z0v4AacEnnSA35DvmPwp-3yJlGtK59UzndttP6nNg4Q-pPOx-uRkf4YCUfLFJLcE5tVb7lb-qgoBKpfTvXIcszwC1s5bgjtS2B7UZw76eHVmajapkg/s320/dog+in+tunnel-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I took this photo at a dog agility show. As you can see, the little dog is standing just inside the tunnel entrance. He knew to go into the tunnel but had no idea what to do next. In this case it ended with an embarrassed laugh by the woman who owned the dog. I'm not sure if the dog laughed or not. Sort of a "No harm, No foul, try it again later" thing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In our world there may not be an opportunity to take the test again. Pass or fail becomes minor injuries versus crippled or maimed. Sometimes literally life or death. How much better to take advantage of the chance to study the lessons first. Those who provide professional training know what the tests will be even if the students haven't imagined them, yet. The proper lesson plans have been carefully laid out. Why not consider spending some time in Study Hall?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All too soon it was time for both of us to get back to work. Isn't it astonishing how things can work out? Two strangers meeting in person for the first time. At first there's the little bit of nervous discomfort. Then, as in our meeting, it is quickly gone. Now you can't believe so much time has passed already. I left very impressed by my new acquaintance and plan to keep in touch. Another gem has been added to my Treasure Chest of Life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thank you for the company and your words of wisdom, Robert.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Miles and smiles,</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Dan</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span>irondadhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17821323482397075170noreply@blogger.com3