You aren’t going to believe it. Heck, I hardly believe it.
But its true. And, yes, that bike has GOT to go!
Seeing it was a beautiful day, I decided it would be a nice night to
take the bike (that possessed minion of Beezlebub) for a spin. Before I
go, though, thought I, I better fill the tires.
The tires are to be inflated between 40-60 psi. I set my pump to 65 and
it clicked off. I know some always escapes as you take the little thingy
off the thingy there so I thought I was fine.
As I biked along (surprised to see some woman WATERING HER PLANTS–you’d
think we’re in the desert??), I noticed the handling of my bike was a
little off. Since it had been a while since I climbed on this evil
monster, I chalked it up to that and soldiered on.
As always, I was as far away as I had planned to bike when . . .
. . . the back tire blew. BLAM! Sounded like popping a paper bag, but
what was really neat was how it happened in that tunnel going in toward
the K-Mart and Big Lots on 70th and Greenfield. That made it nice and
loud. That way more people could stare at me.
So I walked the thing back to the house, though I don’t know why. Screw
the axle–I’ll never ride that jinxed bastard again–but I did anyway.
In front of me, a woman and her 5 year old son were walking. They got
off the sidewalk, seeing me walking my bike, and figured I would pass
them. She seemed a little uneasy–me walking along behind her. I don’t
know why. She had nothing to fear. I would have tripped and fallen had I
tried to move any faster than a snails pace.
I did have a little difficulty at the intersection of 70 & Greenfield,
because one of the islands there was littered with traffic barricades.
Like every other weekend in West Allis, we have a parade to get ready
for. They might as well build permanent storage there with how often
they drag that junk out there.
Anyway, I got past that and then a little girl (9 or 10) rides past me
on a little dirt bike. You know the type, with little pigtails and an
annoying habit of being right? She says, and I’m not making this up,
“Old guy.” And pedals away–fast. I’m walking my bike, helmet in hand,
and she actually brands me “Old guy.” She probably meant “Old stud” or
something, but you know how little girls get confused.
Got home in complete misery. I hadn’t expected to walk so I was wearing
shoes without my supports for that bad left foot of mine. I did learn
that an achey heel shouldn’t be treated by pouring Jaegermeister on it.
It’s best to drink the Jaegermeister and let it work from within. Though
it really works best on things like colds, flus, insomnia, malaria, etc.
You get the point.
Anyway, if anyone wants to buy the world’s most dangerous bike, I’m
taking offers.
Captain Catastrophe
Month: May 2004
The Captain returns from the Dells
Well, I’m back from another waterslide trip to the Dells.
Happily, the Captain’s services were not needed when I went to the
go-kart and roller coaster place. This, once again, proves that the more
dangerous activity, the more likely I will come away uninjured. Defusing
bomb–no problem. Pick up a magazine on the family room door–stiches
coming soon.
I went to the Wilderness Resort this time, which is a far classier
resort, than the Treasure Island resort I had been visiting. They have
two different indoor waterparks.
I couldn’t help but compare the two. The Wilderness had a less
aggressive group of lifeguards, which made the Captain quite nervous.
Apparently I decided to test this, because I did THE EXACT SAME THING
that happened to me from Treasure Island. That’s right. Fell off the
tube! Again! Now, the lifeguards this time did seem to look concerned
for me and didn’t yell at me like last time. I think that may, however,
be due to the fact that I fell into the drink headfirst.
I decided to then try a single tube, as opposed to the double tube,
which is the shape of an oval. So I jump on this donut and, lo and
behold, I have a new trick in me. That’s right–I didn’t fall off that
one. I simply spun around and went backwards down the tube.
The lifeguards did point out the tubes weren’t designed for that.
I told them neither was I.
Captain Catastrophe
Happily, the Captain’s services were not needed when I went to the
go-kart and roller coaster place. This, once again, proves that the more
dangerous activity, the more likely I will come away uninjured. Defusing
bomb–no problem. Pick up a magazine on the family room door–stiches
coming soon.
I went to the Wilderness Resort this time, which is a far classier
resort, than the Treasure Island resort I had been visiting. They have
two different indoor waterparks.
I couldn’t help but compare the two. The Wilderness had a less
aggressive group of lifeguards, which made the Captain quite nervous.
Apparently I decided to test this, because I did THE EXACT SAME THING
that happened to me from Treasure Island. That’s right. Fell off the
tube! Again! Now, the lifeguards this time did seem to look concerned
for me and didn’t yell at me like last time. I think that may, however,
be due to the fact that I fell into the drink headfirst.
I decided to then try a single tube, as opposed to the double tube,
which is the shape of an oval. So I jump on this donut and, lo and
behold, I have a new trick in me. That’s right–I didn’t fall off that
one. I simply spun around and went backwards down the tube.
The lifeguards did point out the tubes weren’t designed for that.
I told them neither was I.
Captain Catastrophe
Merciless attack
Captain Catastrophe had a “near miss” two days ago in the backyard.
I was getting out of the Captain Cruiser in the Captain Garage and
leaving via the side access door by this sizeable tree that the
squirrels just love. Well, one of them little suckers was lying in wait.
I heard a tussle.
I looked up.
I saw the squirrel FALL OUT OF THE TREE. Weirdest sight (outside of the
movie “Brazil”) I had ever seen. He fell on his tail and backside,
quickly righted himself and scampered up the tree.
However! I suspect this was part of a larger plot. An elaborate scheme
to take my very life. I have uncovered a sophisticated acorn-laundering
operation that led to a squirrel hit squad being stationed in my back
yard. I continue to investigate the back yard wildlife’s connections
with the mafia and now this “near miss.”
I’m getting close. I can taste it.
Oh, by the way, hurt myself with the drop fertilizer last week, too.
Very skilled. I was taking it off the hooks on the side of the garage
and dropped it alright–on my left foot.
Come to think of it, I saw a squirrel messing around that spredder when
he thought I wasn’t looking . . .
I was getting out of the Captain Cruiser in the Captain Garage and
leaving via the side access door by this sizeable tree that the
squirrels just love. Well, one of them little suckers was lying in wait.
I heard a tussle.
I looked up.
I saw the squirrel FALL OUT OF THE TREE. Weirdest sight (outside of the
movie “Brazil”) I had ever seen. He fell on his tail and backside,
quickly righted himself and scampered up the tree.
However! I suspect this was part of a larger plot. An elaborate scheme
to take my very life. I have uncovered a sophisticated acorn-laundering
operation that led to a squirrel hit squad being stationed in my back
yard. I continue to investigate the back yard wildlife’s connections
with the mafia and now this “near miss.”
I’m getting close. I can taste it.
Oh, by the way, hurt myself with the drop fertilizer last week, too.
Very skilled. I was taking it off the hooks on the side of the garage
and dropped it alright–on my left foot.
Come to think of it, I saw a squirrel messing around that spredder when
he thought I wasn’t looking . . .
The Captain goes to the Wisconsin Dells
Oh, yes, I went to the Wisconsin Dells, but my secret identity was soon
revealed. In the annals of clumsy behavior, a new wing is being
developed for my exploits alone.
So I went for the weekend to the Dells to go in one of those Indoor
Water Parks. I’ve been to the park before, around Thanksgiving, without
incident so I was fairly certain I would not be injured.
I was wrong.
I went on my little tube dealy-bob and the lifeguard there pushed me
down the tube. I was on the tube correctly and the first thing that
happens is you go down a little hill into an enclosed tube when a
waterfall hits you. Well, I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t get the
chlorine in my eyes.
Apparently, I needed my vision a little longer to maintain my balance.
When I opened my eyes, I was closely following the tube. It almost got
away, but I stabbed at it with my hands and I hooked a handle. Now, I
started to struggle to get back on this thing.
I knew all along I’d never be able to. I mean, I had enough trouble
trying to get on this thing when it was in the still loading pond. So I
tried rolling back on, sort of. But see, you are sliding along at 30-45
mph down the tube. I tumbling around, trying to get on this thing, not
only to regain some small measure of control, but also to regain my
dignity.
Not in the cards.
When I clumsily collapsed into the receiving bay, the lifeguard yelled
at me for not following the rules. I was aghast she mistaked my clutz
streak for hot dogging. Perhaps I could find someone that saw me fall
off my bike earlier that I was indeed performing a trick instead off
just falling off my bike.
Nah.
Captain Catastrophe
BTW, thanks a lot, Chief, for trying to spoil my secret identity. But
the legend lives on!!
revealed. In the annals of clumsy behavior, a new wing is being
developed for my exploits alone.
So I went for the weekend to the Dells to go in one of those Indoor
Water Parks. I’ve been to the park before, around Thanksgiving, without
incident so I was fairly certain I would not be injured.
I was wrong.
I went on my little tube dealy-bob and the lifeguard there pushed me
down the tube. I was on the tube correctly and the first thing that
happens is you go down a little hill into an enclosed tube when a
waterfall hits you. Well, I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t get the
chlorine in my eyes.
Apparently, I needed my vision a little longer to maintain my balance.
When I opened my eyes, I was closely following the tube. It almost got
away, but I stabbed at it with my hands and I hooked a handle. Now, I
started to struggle to get back on this thing.
I knew all along I’d never be able to. I mean, I had enough trouble
trying to get on this thing when it was in the still loading pond. So I
tried rolling back on, sort of. But see, you are sliding along at 30-45
mph down the tube. I tumbling around, trying to get on this thing, not
only to regain some small measure of control, but also to regain my
dignity.
Not in the cards.
When I clumsily collapsed into the receiving bay, the lifeguard yelled
at me for not following the rules. I was aghast she mistaked my clutz
streak for hot dogging. Perhaps I could find someone that saw me fall
off my bike earlier that I was indeed performing a trick instead off
just falling off my bike.
Nah.
Captain Catastrophe
BTW, thanks a lot, Chief, for trying to spoil my secret identity. But
the legend lives on!!
Theory on Wildlife in my Backyard
I have a number of birds that visit my backyard. Robins. Sparrows.
Finchies. All sorts of little winged varmits.
But I’m fairly certain they are members of the mafia.
These birds are, indeed, mobbed up.
I have this bird feeder hanging from the gable of my garage. Here’s how
they work it:
A bird, I think it’s the finch, sits up on one of the branches of the
tree. He looks around. But not calm. All skittish. You know he’s up to
something.
Then he does this little whistle, see, and dese other boids come over.
And dey start collectin around da feeder.
That’s when the Godfatha comes out. He’s the chipmunk. He strolls by all
casual and positions himself below da feeder.
Da other boids then spill the seed–all over my sidewalk!–and the
‘munk. He makes off with it. Dese birds aren’t too smart, get me? I
mean, if dey keep it up in da feeder, the ‘munk gets nothin. Dis here
way, he makes off with da loot. Dumb.
When I comes a walkin down da sidewalk, da finch let’s a shout out. I
think he’s saying something like, “Watch out! He’s got a gun! Run, you
birdbrains.”
Well, dat’s exceedingly stoopid, see, cuz I’m not carrying a gun. What I
have here is a shovel. I’m a little more–hands on. I mean dese here
birds is dumb.
Enough of that mafia tough talk.
Another thing, they are always eating. If you watch the mob movies, the
interesting stuff (like the whack Pacino does in the first Godfather) is
always in the restaurant. Bad things happen to mobsters when they eat.
Which apparently is why they EAT ALL THE TIME!
Mobsters aren’t too smart, either, if that’s the case.
Anyway, if anyone wants to learn about the wildlife protection racket (I
think they may have caused Monkeypox) just visit my back yard. It’s a
regular Bada Bing.
Captain Catastrophe
p.s. Bike ride went well today. Hit a curb on a turn I didn’t judge
well, but I stayed upright!
Finchies. All sorts of little winged varmits.
But I’m fairly certain they are members of the mafia.
These birds are, indeed, mobbed up.
I have this bird feeder hanging from the gable of my garage. Here’s how
they work it:
A bird, I think it’s the finch, sits up on one of the branches of the
tree. He looks around. But not calm. All skittish. You know he’s up to
something.
Then he does this little whistle, see, and dese other boids come over.
And dey start collectin around da feeder.
That’s when the Godfatha comes out. He’s the chipmunk. He strolls by all
casual and positions himself below da feeder.
Da other boids then spill the seed–all over my sidewalk!–and the
‘munk. He makes off with it. Dese birds aren’t too smart, get me? I
mean, if dey keep it up in da feeder, the ‘munk gets nothin. Dis here
way, he makes off with da loot. Dumb.
When I comes a walkin down da sidewalk, da finch let’s a shout out. I
think he’s saying something like, “Watch out! He’s got a gun! Run, you
birdbrains.”
Well, dat’s exceedingly stoopid, see, cuz I’m not carrying a gun. What I
have here is a shovel. I’m a little more–hands on. I mean dese here
birds is dumb.
Enough of that mafia tough talk.
Another thing, they are always eating. If you watch the mob movies, the
interesting stuff (like the whack Pacino does in the first Godfather) is
always in the restaurant. Bad things happen to mobsters when they eat.
Which apparently is why they EAT ALL THE TIME!
Mobsters aren’t too smart, either, if that’s the case.
Anyway, if anyone wants to learn about the wildlife protection racket (I
think they may have caused Monkeypox) just visit my back yard. It’s a
regular Bada Bing.
Captain Catastrophe
p.s. Bike ride went well today. Hit a curb on a turn I didn’t judge
well, but I stayed upright!