I hope Michael H and the missus get on the road soon and blog about their adventures! That was compelling reading and we all miss it.
Hopefully he will make another road trip now that he is fully recovered.
Can't wait for spring.
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There is so much wrong with that photo that I don't know where to begin.
First, the motorcycle is a Stunt Department's cobbled-up piece of shit. It looks like an 80cc Yamaha beginner's bike to which someone added knobby tires and a dirt bike front fender. Then it was sprayed with fake dust.
I learned to ride on an 80cc Yamaha. It did 45 mph, tops, with my then-135 lb self aboard; 35 mph if I added my then-90 lb girlfriend.
That motorcycle has a seat height of about 20 inches. Telly Savalas was a dwarf. Look how they've got the actress's legs all hiked up so she doesn't look taller than The Star. His feet barely touch ground, and he's standing, not sitting.
Savalas looks like he got caught in a horrific explosion at the ManTan factory in Bayonne.
Look at his body - no muscles. Thin arms, no pecs, no abs, his gut is held in for the camera shot.
And carnivore girl, what's her deal? Did she think the script called for her to gnaw his shoulder off in order to free herself? She's wearing Elly Mae Clampett's hair and Scarlett O'Hara's skirt.
Gah. Phony. Now Steve McQueen, that guy was a rider. Did most of his own stunts, too. And he competed in off-road races under a fake name because the studios didn't want him to race. He was the real thing.
So was Paul Newman. He was a serious car racer.
Newman began racing at an age when most guys contemplate retirement. But despite his late start, he graduated from the amateur ranks of the Sports Car Club of America (SCCA) and made a career for himself in the professional Trans-Am series. Along the way he won four national championships, scored class wins in the 24-hour endurance races at Le Mans and Daytona, and took his final checkered flag only one year before his death, at age 83, in 2008.
He was also the co-owner of Newman/Haas Racing, which won eight CART and Champ Car titles during a quarter-century of open-wheel excellence.
That man was not a pretender on a fakey scooter, with a fakey tan, a fakey horney starlet riding shotgun, covered with fakey dirt and fakey dust.
Ol' Newman was the real deal. So was McQueen. Savalas, not so much.
So where are Mrs. Haz and I going this summer?
Good trips are the smiling offspring of giddy impulsiveness, so there is no plan yet. Plans are last minute things, for us, when adventure is part of the equation.
I've been considering riding a hot lap around Lakes Superior and Michigan over the Memorial Day weekend as a warm-up to the riding season.
It's doable, but only if I compensate for slow holiday traffic through Chicago by setting a land speed record across the northern part of Lake Superior. Probably not smart, since the RCMP is pissy about their speed limits.
I'd like to visit the oil sand fields in northern Alberta, or Yellowknife in the Northwest Territory.
Someone sent me a brochure for a 247 day around the world motorcycle trip. It costs cubic dollars, plus tip.
I'm in, just as soon as that guy who told me he'd fix it so I win the Powerball lottery comes through with the magic ticket.
Whatever the trip becomes, around the block, around the Great Lakes, or around the world, I'll blog about it.
Thanks for asking.
Don't diss Shelly Winters dude.
That bitch could swim.
I thought you would enjoy the photo though. Hee.
It's doable, but only if I compensate for slow holiday traffic through Chicago by setting a land speed record across the northern part of Lake Superior.
The North Shore is my favorite part of the Lake. Don't blow through it!
Some THINK macho, and others DO macho.
All in all, both are pretty cool.
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