“Check the girls’ bathroom,” Roost crooned while kicking
one Jack Russell off her pillow and shoving her dog brother
under the covers on my side of the bed.
I was without spectacles, but I easily located an array of
toothbrushes and various tubes housed in several glasses in
my daughter’s bathroom. I grabbed one of them, squeezed
out a trail of white goo onto my brush and sauntered back in
Sitting on my side of the bed to brush brought on an angry
growl from the boy Jack, hiding under the covers and livid
since I had just sat on his head. I rammed the toothbrush in
my mouth and in one fell swoop stood up, smacked the covers and whooshed him away.
“This toothpaste tastes bizarre.”
“Did you check the label?” Roost said.
“Why? Who would put anything other than toothpaste in
the glass next to the sink that held their toothbrush?” My
mouth was nearly foaming at this point.
“Hmm. Hydrocortisone ointment. Yummy.”
I slurred, spit and nearly blew my teeth out of my skull
when I started sucking on the faucet.
“At least you’re not gonna get psoriasis of the lips.”
I was ready to rock and roll.
Husky 501 race prepped.
Meats new-—Dunnie 31s. Need to shoot bullets at brother
Gear bag cleaned and organized.
6D lid, Sidis, brand-new Moose gear.
Need to be stylish when I blow the paint off of Mike’s helmet. And, of course, backup gear—just in case.
It’s midweek and the last rain of the year.
Me. Brother Mike. Johnny L. The Realtor. Bum and the
I’m fairly certain that my kids have been fumigating my brain with a concoction of hard-drive eraser and mental
midget juice. “We’re out of toothpaste,” I barked, searching in cabinets, drawers and nooks for some kind of paste
that would knock the barnacles off my teeth.
By Tom Webb
“ I slurred, spit and nearly blew my teeth
out of my skull when I started sucking on
“Found him hurling obscenities at the
heavens—and if he had had a gun, I’d
have been gut-shot. ”
Everyone is like siblings except for Audi Dave. He’s a newbie
and the Realtor’s buddy.
Slipped into new duds and can’t get my feet through the
Size 32s. Wouldn’t fit me…at birth.
Go to the backups.
36s. Fit perfectly…two years ago.
Now I look like a 14-pound meatloaf stuck into a tube sock.
Big breath. Snap. Let ‘er out. Don’t drink any water!
Full riot day.
Audi Dave had a few issues.
Found him at the bottom of a canyon screaming at his bike
and what a pile it was.
Found him hung up in a tree screaming at his bike and slugging it.
Found him hurling obscenities at the heavens—and if he
had had a gun, I’d have been gut-shot.
The Realtor snapped some pics of the group with his
I looked ridiculous. The hanging suet factor was embarrassing.
I deleted all the photos when the Realtor was heavily into
smearing silver bullets.
I have to start wearing readers, and maybe diet.
My garage is my sanctuary.
I have motos. I have products. I have gear, and I have stuff.
Therapy is working on bikes, but even with decent lighting,
I can’t see squat. For nighttime garage work, I wear readers
over my regular glasses, a Cochise headgear lamp and a flashlight and still have issues picking up details.
This month, I put together a project KTM 366 and was down
to the final updates— putting on tires. I’ve done a million of
them. I fit a super-thick STI tube (these things are almost solid)
into a Dunlop trials tire and then put it on the rim.
Or tried to.
I pried it mostly on, off and partially on. I lubed it. I got bigger tire irons and paused, gathered my thoughts, and nearly
chugged a glass of red just to calm down. Re-lube, re-tool,
re-attack and fail miserably. If I were at Six Days, I would have
houred-out a month earlier.
My little irritating buddy showed up.
“Wow, you’re running that for a tire! Is that what they ran in
“It’s a trials tire, and in certain times it offers incredible trac-
tion for the off-roader,” I chimed. Sweat was sluicing off my
forehead and my glasses were fogging up.
“So you stretch that tire onto that rim for better traction?”
“Well, that’s an 18-inch tire and the wheel is a 19. That’s
gotta be a tough chore to mount up.”
If I’ve learned one thing, it’s that abilities atrophy.
Vision atrophies. But, my passion for riding has not waned.
Thank the heavens. o