Be humble

Every motorhead has heard the legend - a rare and low mileage vehicle found in a barn or garage, suddenly to see the light of day for the first time in years - and for sale at a reasonable price.  When you hear the story, it is usually someone who knows someone who knows etc.  One never knows if it is true or not.  Those of us who love motor vehicles, hope it is true and that somehow it might happen to us.

Yesterday I received an excited e-mail from my friend Rob - his wife had just returned from the local general store with news of an advertisement stuck to the bulletin board.  A sidecar bike was for sale.

A fast call to the number and a the storey unfolds.  In the mid 70’s Canada sold wheat to the Soviet Union.  The Soviet Union has little hard cash, but they had stuff.  Thus, they paid for some of the wheat with stuff.  Stuff included Lada cars and 90 Dnepr motorcycles.  Where the motorcycles went is a mystery, but it is rumoured they were given away to certain individuals.  Most have long since disappeared.  The bike in the advertisement was one of those bikes!  The lady finally wanted to sell it and my friend dashed off to see it and take some pictures.  We decided at that point, that if none of our friends wanted it, we would buy it to make sure it ended up in a good home, presuming it was in good shape.

Good shape!  The bike has 78 kilometers on the speedo.  It is like new.  Hell, it is new.

 

Happily, the first that was told of the find hesitated for 5 seconds ... and bought it. .

 Late breaking news on PEI!

one P.E.I. woman says she has a loaf that’s more than eight months old and still fresh.

Source: The little loaf that wouldn’t go stale

PITA

the cat

At the Atlantic Veterinary College on Monday, July 24 in her 20th year.  Beloved companion of HB and Herself and lovingly remembered by special friends, Que, Dax and Trek.  Predeceased by her loyal companion Kes.  Resting at the Atlantic Veterinary College where arrangements have been entrusted to various parties.  Memorial donations may be made to the PEI Humane Society.

The dog show circuit can be a grueling task, and this Spring and Summer has been a busy one for Trek and Dax.  Dog show people can be a tough lot - they are often very competitive, sometimes professional handlers and in many cases are there to win, and thus improve the value of their dogs.  We compete for fun and for the friendship of a small group of people who view this activity as fun.  We encourage each other and cheer for each other.  When Dax won her High in Trial, some of our friends were as pleased for Herself and Dax as I was.

Even amongst the most hardened of competitors there is a fundamental love of dogs and the enjoyment of their companions.  In a word, they all have a side that is kind.

Last weekend, at a busy and noisy show, I sensed a subtle change in the noise - and a feeling, that is really hard to explain.  I turned to a ring behind me, where the young children were showing their dogs and pups - something that is guaranteed to make one smile.

I noticed two woman (best guess Mom and Grandmother) appearing worried.  Then two little girls entered the ring.  I am a poor judge of age, but I would guess about 9 years old.  One girl was tall and lithe and she handled her dog well.  The other little girl was strapped in her wheelchair.  She has an outrigger of sorts, to which her dog was tethered.  The judge made no allowances for the wheelchair - and the little girl worked her way around the ring with determination.  She moved through each exercise as best she could and the determined set to her mouth said that would finish.  She did.

The judge, quite correctly, awarded first place to the girl who was not in a wheelchair - she did a better job of moving her dog and she deserved first place.  The judge then presented a large second place ribbon to the little girl in the wheelchair, along with a special award prize of a dog sweater.  As I looked at this determined and brave girl, her face lit up in a smile that would melt and iceberg and she cried tears of joy.  I looked at others, and there were a lot of smiling moist eyes in the crowd.  I overhead the judge as he spoke to this little girl as she told her what an inspiration she was to everyone and how proud she was to have her in her ring.

Each time I saw this girl during the balance of the show, she was smiling and her ribbon was hanging on her wheelchair.  Her dog, sat quietly with her.

Later in the day, I asked my friend Darren if he was ringside at the time.  “Yes”, he said, “it was beautiful”.  A perfect description.

Every time one checks out of the Canadian Tire store, the syrupy voice of the check-out clerk asks, “did you find everything you were looking for?”

Just once I wish I had the courage to say- “no, one could fall to the floor gasping for breath and holding chest, and what passes for a customer service representative would be no where to be seen.  Please tell the mouth breathing moron that told you to ask this question of each patron that they may wish to consider their staffing levels.”

...and yet, I will go back. 

Pita, the geriatric Siamese cat who owns us, is old and cranky.  She is suffering from acute renal failure.  Her life is spent looking for a warm place to ease her old bones, frequently reminding us to fill her bowl with evil smelling cat food and reminding us with loud howls to turn on a dripping faucet (at just the right temperature so as to not hurt her teeth) so that she can keep her liquid intake of a sufficient level to keep her kidneys working.  She is also depressed that she can no longer back up the three Sheps when they try to herd her.

She has now started to have total disregard for her litter box - choosing instead to pee wherever it pleases her to do so.  Herself has taken exception to the later, and last evening said, ‘Bub, I think it is time we discussed Pita’.  It should be said that this old cat has lived with me longer than my children lived with me and she is going to get every chance I can give her to keep living - as long as I know she is not in any discomfort.

..and so I said, “Jeeze, Herself, I suppose you are going to give me the needle when I get old, befuddled and incontinent.”

The long pause and glance to the ceiling as she considered the question, leads me to believe that perhaps there are some questions best not asked.

...bar patrons should be vigilant when ordering a Stella Artois after several bottles of the beer were apparently tampered with, the Canadian Food Inspection Agency warned.

Five people in the Greater Toronto Area and one in Kamloops, B.C., found themselves taking swigs of beer laced with pure ethanol.

Source: globeandmail.com: Agency warns about tainted beer

One of the regulars at Russian Iron (Mr. Cob) sure has a way with words:

Still when all is said and done the only thing we leave behind when we depart this earthly plane is memories in other peoples minds. If folks smile when they remember me, I will consider my time here not to have been entirely wasted:

My Daddy and Granddaddy, were New Englanders, and they taught me a few rules that a gentleman always followed:

• A gentleman takes his hat off when he enters a building or meets a woman.
• A gentleman stands when a woman enters a room.
• A gentleman stands when a woman joins him at the table.
• A gentleman always allows a woman to walk through a door first, holding the door as appropriate.

These simple rules had nothing to do with a male sense of superiority, but rather were ways that a man showed his respect for a woman.  I have seen tough old profane lumberjacks behave in this way and it was part of my upbringing.

There is something about good manners that tells something about a person, and as social expectations change, there is, to me, something important that has been lost.  As the word ‘fuck’ (and worse) enters causal mixed gender conversation, a certain classy style is lost.

In the past 10 days, I have met two men who were complete gentlemen.  It showed and it was good to see.  In each case, I was in the company of competent successful business women and they commented how nice it was to meet someone who remembered what being a gentleman was.

I am going to try harder to behave in a way that Dad and Gramps would be proud of.

 There has to be a one-liner here:

The researchers found there is a survival boost in this process. Female mice exposed to the dominant male’s pheromones generate new brain cells…

Source: Dominant Male Pheromone Signals May Help Repair Damaged Brains