Chapter 7: The Sportster.

The Old Man was into motorcycles.  In the garage was stored frames for different years and styles.  There were parts for Harley Davidsons, Indians, Hondas, Kawasaki's, and Suzuki Motorcycles scattered around the walls and hanging from different locations on the rafters.  He had boxes and bins where the motors, transmissions, forks, brakes, fenders, lights, mirrors, and seats were kept all organized by catalogue number and date.  All the tools he needed to put any one of these works of art together were also in their proper place ready for use.  This was no ordinary garage, it was also the place The Old Man did all repairs that kept his Peterbilt semi tractor in good shape.  It was a large and wonderous space of mechanical beauty.

The Old Man's garage was located at the front of the property next to Winston and the Bel Aire, the trailers that the family lived in.  His truck was parked in front most of the time while he was inside either working on parts of the truck or working on a motorcycle mechanical marvel.  

The Old Man caught the Boy in his garage looking over frames of different bikes.  He walked in, smiled at the Boy and threw him an open ended wrench and pointed to a frame that the Boy was standing next to.  "What do you think of that one?" He asked.

The Boy blinked and replied, "Sportster?"  

"Of Sorts." The Old Man said. 

Then he started handing the Boy parts.  He gave him bolts, nuts, handle bars, seat frame, and wheel assemblies, "That'll get you started."  

The Boy worked for the entire summer, when he wasn't working on the ranch, building, rebuilding, polishing and fine tuning a piece of mechanical wonder of his very own.  Under the guidance of the Old Man, the Boy began growing into a man of mental means.  He was learning to focus his energies into a creative project that he could begin to see come to fruition.  The Old Man was teaching him how to create, how to think. 

By the end of the summer the Boy and The Old Man together had managed to rebuild a 1955 Harley KHRM Sportster.  The engine, chrome parts, exhaust, and fenders where all painted a nice flat black.  The gas tank an ivory white with a gold Harley Davidson etched down the center.  That bike was a wonder of a motor cycle art.  A veritable sculpture in motion.  It was fabulous.  

The Old Man and the Boy celebrated their hard work and went for a ride together.  The Old Man drove an Indian Chief of the same year and the Boy drove the Harley.  The Boy thought he was dreaming when The Old Man threw him a key and said, "This belongs to you." and pointed to the bike they had built.  He was in heaven. 

Together they road west on highway 2 toward Shelby.  They rode there and back stopping at the Bar S restaurant for lunch.  The Bar S is a small place in the middle of, Nowhere.  Good food, good people, and they don't mind bikers. 

On the drive back the Old Man kicked his Indian in the butt and disappeared over the horizon.  The Boy just laughed and followed.   They arrived home just before dusk.  Parked the bikes and sat on Winston's porch to watch the Sun set. 

School starts in a week, and the Boy had an almost evil idea.  He rode the Harley to town picking up a friend on the way.  The two arrived at the High School back entrance and sat for a time to make sure no one followed.  The Boy jumped off the bike and produced a key from his pocket and unlocked the back door.  There were no cars in the lots front or back.  His friend held the door open as the Boy, this icon of human nature drove his Harley through the school halls making the loop from the door past the main office and back to the door again and out.  The two locked the door behind them and drove off into the sunset laughing like it was the funniest thing that had ever happened.  They had gotten away with the ultimate incursion, or so they thought.

Peace and Balance,

John

The Power of Choice

 We all make choices in life.  We decide to pay bills, or not. We decide to be social, or not.  We decide to eat healthy, or not.  We decide to be good people, or not.  All products of choices made through rational, or not, thought.  Laying all judgements and opinions aside of what is right or wrong, choices made. 

There are those folks who hold on tight to things, they never let them go.  Things that would do them far less harm if they let them go and forgot about them in the long run.  After all it is only the product of making rational choices about letting go of these hurtful things.  Choices in all manners of subjects without judgement or opinion.

Because of pretraining by those individuals who have been infected by the weight of judgement or opinion many children never escape the trap of deciding what is right or wrong from the opinions and judgements of the infected ones and never evolve beyond that pretraining. These people are lost to the machine.  If children grow without the infection and pretraining of judgement and opinion then they are free to grow with the ability to form rational decisions and make their own judgements and opinions based on the power of logic.

Logic is a interesting thing.  It is both a trained ability and something that grows within a child naturally if left alone to develop.  Again free from the infection of the past.  Letting go can be liberating.  How we let go is a choice.  

Classical training tells us as we learn that there are two diametrically opposing forces, Good and Evil. I propose instead that there are many more forces in nature, Good, Evil, and the choices we make blending the many shades of grey together, through the power of Choice.  Letting some go, hanging on to others creates the personality of the child and develops the adult.  Through the Universal Law of Choice.  What will your choices bring?

Peace and Balance,

John

 

Surviving the Return

 

So we've survived the return to school, and in retrospect survived the holiday break.  Not to many complaints from students about the nature of the Claus.  No one received a lump of coal even though they may have deserved one or more.  Lends me to believe the Claus is a softy and has a big heart.  The children were amused and happy, assuming that's their thing.  

Now we have a few weeks before a break at the end of February, then again in April.  Ya know, teaching is a good gig.  We deal with crazy kids, wigged out administration, and stressed peers for a few short weeks at a time and have breaks of comfort that lead into three months of summertime, yes indeed a good gig.  

However, many of us in this profession are looking to congress at this time wondering if they will get their heads out of a proverbial uncomfortable spot and let pass President Biden's education loan forgiveness bill.  In my situation it would completely clear up the rest of my student loans and let the funds that have been flowing in and out of my bank account continue to do so in the manner it is.  I can pay my bills without worrying to dang much and I like it that way.  

Problem is, the, "Haves" don't like the idea of giving to those that fit into the, "Have Not" crowd.  If the Have Nots suddenly had the ability to be somewhat independent of the Haves, then who would be in power?  That is a question the Moral Majority fears.  That represents freedom for the Have Nots from them, and who would mow their lawns?

I mow my own lawn, and I generally don't let a few power hungry folk lean on me to much.  I generally keep the ear buds in and listen to my classic rock as I mow, and ignore the Have's.  Yep, teaching is a good gig.  Thing is I haven't really been teaching long enough to have any kind of saved up retirement.  I started kinda late in the game and will have to rely on Social Security, and my past skills to maintain independence.   Also another good gig.  

Peace and Balance,

John