Harlow? Wrong numbah? 5/11/2008
I was at home when the phone rang. The house phone that is. It’s a number that only 1 person knows. Well, actually, 2 other organisations know my home number. The phone company, and the pizza place up the road. However, the number is only known to 1 individual. And it rang this evening, so I picked the phone up, expecting to find a familiar voice on the other side of the line.
I said, “Hello?”
And was rather surprised to have a female voice going, in surprise, “WHAT? WHO IS THIS?”
I then replied, “well, it’s me, and this is an unlisted number, so I guess you must have missdialed.”
The voice on the other side then says (very rudely, I might add), “WHO IS THAT? WHO ARE YOU? WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE? WHAT NUMBER IS THIS?”
I replied, in a civil tone, “I think you may have dialled a wrong number.”
I then got this screeching harridan from hell screaming down the phone at me, “WHO ARE YOU? WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE? WHAT IS YOUR NAME?”
I kept my cool, somewhat, and replied, this time in a rather clipped tone, saying that whomsoever she wanted to speak to was obviously not there, and this was a private number, unlisted, and she must have dialled a wrong number.
She then said, “What is your number?”
I replied, “Fuck off. No way in hell I’m going to tell you that. Thank you. Have a nice day.”
And put the phone down.
I walked away from the phone, picked up my book, sat down, and resumed reading.
At the same time reflecting that one of these days, I really should make the effort to remember exactly what my house phone number is.
Girl Friday. 5/9/2008
There have been repeated requests for the return of the Girl Friday. I considered this, and broached the subject with a Girl Friday, to which she had only this to say to fan requests for her comeback.
Down at street level. 5/6/2008
Saw this down at street level early this morning under the palm trees. Wonder if Irondad was paying a visit without letting me know.
Thirty dollar turpitude. 5/5/2008
How would you price a skill? How much of a value would you place for the services of the person who unclogs your drain, or cuts your hair, or rewires a short circuit? How much would you pay the man who fixes your bike?
I’ve not kept up with mechanic’s rates in various countries, but I know my various overseas readers will enlighten me soon enough. Over here, mechanics are cheap, comparatively. Labour rates tend to be calculated as a percentage of the parts cost, as opposed to an hour rate, which is the norm in other countries where I’ve ridden. Some mechanics are really expensive, even locally, but they justify their cost based on their shop set-up, diagnostic and engineering skills, and so on. Others, especially those who work for the official dealer or distributor, have their rates dictated by the bean counters in HQ.
So, I ask the question again, what would you pay?
I am asking this because of something that cropped up over the weekend, and made some waves in a local bike forum I occassionally drop in on. A young rider, who joined the forum some time last year, and proceeded to annoy everyone by asking questions like “Am I too short to get my knee down?”, “How do I use my tyres to the limit?” and “How do I leave black lines when I’m cornering?”, posted a comment about a bike shop where many, many canyon strafers send their bikes for repairs and service.
He brought a bike in, an FZR1000, complaining of a noise coming from the dash which, in his words, sounded like “crickets flirting”. This needed the upper fairing taken off, and clocks disassembled. And this evening I confirmed with the mechanic that he had to do this twice, after checking the first time, and finding the sound wasn’t entirely gone, to his satisfaction. The fix? A shot of spray grease into the innards of the speedometer, to stop the gears from chattering, and a little tightening of the retainer bushings on the various shafts.
The price for this work? RM30, which is about US$10.
And this kid had the temerity to say that this was expensive, and asked for a discount. To add insult to injury, after the discount was given, he then had the cheek to say that he didn’t have any money on him, and could he come back later? The shop owner almost blew a gasket at this, and said he could feel free to call someone to bring him the money.
Having fun. 4/24/2008
Strangely enough … 4/18/2008
… in the past week, I’ve had several requests to come back and start writing again. I don’t know how many of you still come back in, and I know Chewy was kind enough to send me an e-mail about someone purportedly “faking” the Snark, and asking me to let him know if I was still alive.
I am still alive. Still kicking. Still busy. Still dispensing my particular brand of justice to phone using Mercedes drivers.
No, I haven’t thought about making a comeback, never even been tempted in the least. But, if there are enough requests, I might be inclined to pick up the keyboard again, and resume. That’s a big maybe. No guarantees. But I have been writing though, just not posting. Here’s an excerpt …
” … with a particularly hard jolt, the bottom dropped out of the helo, as a huge flash of lightning threw everyone and everything into stark relief. As we heard the turbine whining hard as the pilot applied more throttle to stop the helo from crashing into the treetops, all of us also heard a rather ominous “clonk … clonk … clonk” sound of a metallic object dropping onto the aluminium floor of the helo, and rolling off somewhere under the seats. I looked down at my chest and noticed that there was a horrible empty space where a fragmentation grenade had previously hung from my webbing …”
The time has come… 9/28/2007
..the walrus said, to talk of many things,
of shoes, and ships, and sealing wax,
of cabbages and kings;
And why the sea is boiling hot;
And whether pigs have wings.
From when I started blogging in 2004, to what is currently Hunting the Snark, I have had fun. This blog was sometimes an escape, a place to vent, to put down my memories and stories and experience. To say this blog changed my life would be putting it mildly. But, alas, all things must come to an end, much as we may wish otherwise.
I have stopped and started in here a few times. I left it quiet for some weeks on a couple of intervals. And more and more I have found that I no longer have the time, energy or inclination to maintain this blog. This may change in the future. I may come back, with a motorcycle post or two, or something funny I may have heard or remembered. There are no guarantees on that. But the likelihood of there being regular updates in here would be probably less than zero. I’ll keep the space going, as much as for the record as anything else.
I made some friends through this blog, met many interesting people, both online and in real life. For those who came along for the ride, I thank you. Some others were people I perhaps wished I hadn’t met, but on the whole, it’s mostly been good. I’ve always felt that you can learn something from everyone, even if it’s how not to do something.
Motorcycles will still be a part of me, but my active participation in motorcycle forums will be no more. More time riding and less time talking, would probably be the best way to put it. If anyone feels the need to speak to me on a personal basis, you can send e-mail to desmosedici (at) gmail (dot) com.
As I take my leave of this place, I wish all of you happy trails and safe journeys, and that you may always get what you wish for. Be careful though, because sometimes, you just may get it.