Issue link: https://read.dmtmag.com/i/617259
64 nJanuary 2016n www.thunderpress.net Winter karma Howdy! Grab a chair an' a beer! Well, it's the start of a brand new year, so that gives us 12 whole months to louse things up! I'm gonna start this off on a sad note, but one that's all too familiar to those of us who ride. An old friend lost his son the other day in an accident on the freeway. Michael Manis II was an experienced rider, and he'd been riding crotch rockets for a long time, but he'd only gotten his fi rst Harley a week or so before the accident that claimed his life at the age of 33. He'd lost control and gone down without injury, but as he bent to pick up his bike, he was hit by a cager and died at the scene. His dad said, "He was doing what he loved," but if drivers would pay closer attention, he would be doing it for a lot longer. It's easy to get distracted, especially on the freeway, so let's all be more careful out there… Have you ever wondered how stuff disappears right under your nose, never to be seen again? Maybe it's an age thing, maybe it's an attention span thing, or maybe it's Karma catchin' up to me, but stuff gets lost all the time around the ol' Buckshot Ranch. You know the stuff, like the socks that get eaten by the dryer, an' the stuff the wife puts in her purse so you won't lose it? The other day, Reggie and I decided to go on a breakfast ride with some friends to grab some steak an' eggs for 10 bucks. We got up early, an' when I headed down to the shop to bring the bikes up, I couldn't help but notice that it was colder'n a polar bear's ass on the shady side of an iceberg. After havin' such a hot sum- mer, we thought a little chill would be welcome, an' the Central California weather is usually pretty mellow. I guess the half inch of ice on the cars should have been an indicator, but we were ready to ride, weather be damned! I started diggin' in the closet for my chaps, but they were no place around, an' I looked in the trunk of Reggie's trike, the shelf in the hall closet, an' under the bench in the shop without success. When I told Reggie, she asked, "Did you look in the dryer? They may have run off with your socks." After 20 minutes of fruitless search, I just put my long johns on instead. Equipped with my old leather jacket, I started looking for my insu- lated gloves. You know, the kind that make your hands look like boxing gloves, but guess what? Nowhere to be found. They were probably in the dryer too. Since it was getting late, I just pulled on my helmet an' a pair of plain leather gloves. Speakin' of leather, have you ever seen the mess a pair of wet leather gloves become when they dry out? I've always wondered how a cow that stands out in the rain all its life without getting shrunken, wrinkled, or moldy can become all of those things the minute it's dead and made into gloves. Pretty inconsiderate I'd say. Anyway, after about a mile, I couldn't feel my fi ngers, my nose was runnin' like the Nile, an' my eyelashes were getting icicles on 'em. Yeah, I know what you're thinking, an' you're right; I should have been better pre- pared, but all my foul weather gear was mysteriously gone. When we got to the designated meeting place for the ride, it was a Starbucks, an' that cuppa Joe was worth the fi ve bucks just for the warmth. When my hands started to thaw, it felt like some heathen was pullin' my fi ngernails out, but I just kept smilin' because my lips were fro- zen too. By the time everybody got there, it was about 10 an' it had started to warm up a bit. We left for the 20-mile ride back to Madera, where we'd just left a half hour before, an' the prom- ised steak an' eggs. This time it wasn't as bad, an' we got to the dive bar… uh, I mean culinary establishment, without incident. After Bloody Marys were ordered, we stood around the fi replace and thawed out. The steak an' eggs were great, an' after a couple of hours of visitin' with our friends, we headed home. By this time, my fi ngers had lost their blue tint, an' the ride home was great, with the Twin Cams lovin' the cool air, an' makin' lots of horsepower. When we pulled up in front of the garage, I looked at the shelves beside my hotrod, an' suddenly remembered what was in the big black duffl e bag on the top shelf. Inside were my gloves, and all the other missing stuff, including watch caps an' scarves. I'd put my winter stuff in the duffl e bag so it would all be together for winter, but unfortunately, that old age karma thing had wiped my memory banks clean when I needed that information the most. That afternoon, I did what I should have done in the spring, an' labeled the bag. Take that, karma, ya ol' bat! Now, I'm all ready for winter, if I can remember where I put that black duffl e bag! Happy New Year, everybody! 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