Newtown CT

It's happened again.  Someone for what ever twisted reason decides to go and take innocent lives for something that they feel completely justified in doing so.  And young lives for that matter.

Whether it's purely hate driven or insanity of some sort, an individual has once again driven a lightening rod of absolute fear and despair into every one of us.  Proving that we are not completely safe in any place we are, and the next lost soul could be sitting right next to any one of us.  My apologies for the gloom and doom but am I not right?

What does a person capable of things like this really look like?  We can racially and socially profile all day and we'd most likely be totally wrong.  This shooter apparently was somewhat of a role model kid with good grades and what appeared to be a decent upbringing.  What in God's name possessed him to do something like this to a member of his own family and all those children?  We may never really know.

But this school shooting today has really got me upset.  More so than the Columbine shooting or the Aurora Theater slayings.  And I hate to sound so calloused when I make this remark but I don't know why.  Especially when it seems like every time you turn around something like this is happening in our society.

My heart goes out to the families involved, the staff at the school, and the first responders who had to arrive on scene to all of this chaos.  But most of all I just can't stop thinking about the parents who have lost children today.  And for what?

Tragedy never has a better time to present itself.  It always arrives unannounced and when you least expect it.  Very seldom do we see it coming and brace ourselves for it.  It lives by its own schedule and comes and goes as it pleases.

But with Christmas being right around the corner it makes this all that much more disheartening.  In many households this year, and probably close to forever now, the holidays may never bring the joy they once knew.

So here I am faced with the question as to why this is affecting me so profoundly today.  Is it because it's that time of the season?  Or is it the fact that I've had my share of seeing how people react when you tell them a loved one has died.  And I know plenty of them have just had that talk or are about to.

It's hard to imagine what they all must be going through.  And I pray to God that I never have to.

It's been a while

And I'm coming back.

Several things interfered with my ability to write as much as I had wanted this year but I'll spare you the details.  It's not health related (at least mine) and I didn't lose a job. So for the sake of this brief thread let's just chalk it up to laziness, inattentiveness and some degree of hiding.

I've got a five pound pail for a head and ten pounds of ideas and thoughts in it.  I plan on bangin' away on this keyboard soon so until then have a great Christmas, and a safe, healthy, and prosperous New Year.

I'll meet you on the other side of the fiscal cliff.

Gus

I am the wing man, I am the mad man, I am the walrus. (Goo goo g'joob)

Don't get me wrong.  I absolutely love to travel.  And I've always said that I'd be perfectly in my element if I was living out of a suitcase.  But right now I have to say that I am so glad to finally be home enjoying something that resembles normalcy in my life.

I just finished up the trade show season that comes to the racing industry this time every year.  Hundreds of manufacturers, distributors and dealers vying for your company's attention and on going revenue stream.  All trying to get into your catalog and onto your shelves.

Normally in the past only one show covered it all.  And for one week in December I myself as well as a few others that I work with would descend on Orlando Florida for the grand daddy of them all.  The Performance Racing Industry trade show.  One million square feet of absolute eye candy to anyone involved in motor sports.

Historically that's where our show circuit would begin and end.  And for my colleagues it did.  But for the second time in as many years I had to jump off my plane from Florida and immediately catch one to Indianapolis for their show the following week.  Two weeks after that I would find myself in Birmingham England.


Slight detour to London



The UK show was a new one for me this year.  I was told that the caliber of vendor over there is head and shoulders above what we have here in the states and it couldn't have been more true.  The parts churned out by some of these companies was absolute jewelry!  Motor sports really does command a much higher level of respect in Europe than it does here in the states and I'm so glad that I got to see this first hand.

As in all my trips in the past, business or pleasure, I pour out an enormous amount of effort researching every potential deal on air fare, hotels, and anything else that one would need when abroad.  And if I may say so I'm not all that bad at it.

But the one thing that I usually have no impact on is where I sit on a plane.  Whether I'm allowed to choose my seats or not, I always seem to find myself on the wing of an aircraft.  You know that part of the plane that amplifies every little dip and bump in the earth's atmosphere?

The reality of this became quite evident on my eight hour flight back to the states this past weekend.  For a good portion of my time in the air I couldn't read anything, nor could I play any of the in flight games on the headrest in front of me.  Just keeping a drink on my tray at times proved to be a monumental task.  Now I know it wasn't solely the fault of my bad seat assignment, but whatever mother nature was throwing at us outside was sure made painfully clear from where I was sitting inside.

And unfortunately I'm the kind of guy who will always have preconceived ideas of what things are going to be like.  Or more to the point, what they should be like.  At least in the Book of Mike.

In anything from racing, my fitness routine, fixing my car or house, to how I'm going to navigate the streets of London.  I can go from zero to moody to absolute lunatic mode in the blink of an eye if everything doesn't fall exactly into place as I imagined.  This kind of particular behavior is normally reserved for ten year olds but here I am working my fifth decade on this earth and sometimes I find that I haven't changed a bit.

Episodes like this can sap the energy out of everyone involved and quickly escalate an otherwise tiny set back into a monumental fubar.  One deep breath and maybe a little patience and composure could drastically change the outcome of the event but not when I'm seein' red! At those moments I'd be surprised if I could remember those words much less live by them.

Just ask my wife who had to endure my wrath as I tried to find our hotel from the airport in England.  Two hours to find a place that was only seven miles away!  And would I immediately accept defeat and pull over for directions?  I sure would, but only after about an hour an a half and three requests from my co-pilot.

One beautiful place to get lost in I will admit, but I still have to curse them for all those damn roundabouts.  There was a time when I used to laugh at just the thought of Chevy Chase in National Lampoon's European Vacation - "Look kids, Big Ben, Parliament", but trust me no one was smiling now!

Trips like this always breed the worst in eating habits as well.  From dinners with clients to stuffing something in your face while you're on the run.  To even attempt to eat healthy is sometimes not even in the cards.  A few drinks after the show will most likely lead to late night snacking and the next thing you know you're blogging everyone about your weight issues.

But let's spare each other the drama here and not try and portray something that I'm clearly not.  That being the ever health conscious person who counts calories and is genuinely concerned with everything they put in their mouth.  I like to take care of myself but more than that, I'm pretty sure I like to eat!

If the label is still even being used today, I consider myself something of a foodie.  I will go out of my way for a dish that I know is good or I've even heard from someone that it was.  And when you're in a new country c'mon, how are you supposed to stick to your lettuce and smoothie diet when Fish-n-Chips, Cask Ales and Full English Breakfasts are beckoning you?

Will power my friend, the answer is will power.  And as of this writing (with ten pounds that have found its way on to my frame) it is with great regret that I must say to you that I possessed none.  Not a shred!

I tried to taste it all in my short period of time there.  And if the artery clogging goodness that I enjoyed remains with me longer than the taste on my tongue and the memory in my head, then that's something I'll have to live with.

For all ten thousand miles on my bicycle and an equal amount on the treadmill!

Oh yeah, Daddy still has it!

Old habits die hard.  And going fast in anything shows no signs of mortality in my book.  Not for now anyways.

After a ten year stint in the SCCA racing Formula Fords, I put down the driving gloves and hung up the helmet for what I thought would be for good.  That was almost nineteen years ago and today I find myself just as fast, just as talented, and just as good looking as I...

Alright already!  Deflate that fat head of yours and come back down to earth.  I can almost hear each and every one of you saying it.

But when you have a drive like I had this past weekend you are almost certain of those things, even though they are a bit far fetched.  When half the field has half the horsepower than you, and the only real competition that you have out weighs you by about a hundred pounds it's easy to lose touch with reality and fantasize about being the next FIA Formula One World Champion.

All silliness aside and before I go any further, I want to say that I have all the respect in the world for today's karters.  Boy, girl, young and old alike.  Anyone who can make it out to the track a dozen and a half times a year and consistently drive one of these things quickly has my attention.  These are not toys.  And with some classes having the ability to hit triple digits it can be a handful to just keep yourself on course much less maneuver through traffic and squeak out a win.

I learned this firsthand when my son graciously allowed me to drive his Merlin LM30 in the annual Mechanic's Race at Dousman this past Sunday.  With no practice, I jumped into the kart and pulled out a win.  Made it look simple right?  If only it could have been that easy.

With a traditional Le Mans start, yours truly was the second slowest guy to take to the track.  And after two back to back spins (in the same corner) I finally found a rhythm and reeled in the leader.

This leader I speak of is the "heavy" guy I mentioned earlier.  Dave Elliott, A large man with an equally large heart.  He's the guy who loaned us an entire kart last year so my son and his co-driver could compete in an annual endurance race.  A man who will always find time to help you with a problem and give you the shirt off of his back if you needed it.  And now I have to pass him.

How does the old saying go?  All is fair in love and war?  This is kind of like war... aww hell just pass him! 

So around him I went, but not without a fight.  He left me plenty of room but didn't just hand the lead over.  After a couple of turns I emerged in front and was bound and determined to stay there this time.  I made certain that every lap was conducted in a smooth and precise manner, making not one single mistake.  I thought it was an eternity but it turned out it was only three laps before I finally took the checkered flag and found the chance to nurse my numb limbs back to life.  Ten laps, and you would have thought I raced for 24 hours by my weak handshake up and down pit lane.

These things pound the daylights out of you!  I say to anyone who has access to someone who owns one of these little darlings (and I'm not talking about the karts at the Dells) get in it and see just what I'm talking about.  I guarantee you'll come away from the experience understanding why the best professional drivers in the world have come out of karting.  With things coming at you as fast as they do, and just the plain strength needed to control one (they have no suspensions) you'll quickly have an idea of how the transition to cars comes so much easier to those who began their careers in karts than to those who have not.

I digress, since joining the ranks of the professionals is clearly not in my future.  Sure I'd love to get back in it and see what I've got, but even if I had the time and money it just wouldn't be as gratifying as that one time each year when you treat yourself to something like this.  No expectations, no disappointment, just one day to have a blast, come what may.  We'll see you next year Dave.  And to any other worthy opponents I say bring your A-game because it ain't gonna be easy...

I really have to stop that.

The lost art of relaxation

In this day and age it appears that we've all come to accept a hectic lifestyle as the norm.  It's almost as if we feel worthless or lost if we're not constantly involved in something.  I find it hard to understand how our country leads the world in obesity when a fair percentage of us can't sit still for even ten minutes!

To say my life has been busy lately is quite the understatement.

Between my full time career and my time at the firehouse I barely have enough ticks in the clock left over in a day for myself.  And if it wasn't for my son's never ending racing season or my daughter's athletics I probably wouldn't see my family much either.  Now try and toss in a fitness schedule, a new class one night a week, and a plethora of other personal issues I have going on and I quickly find that I have the recipe for a ten gallon stress stew with only a five gallon pot.

A rare opportunity presented itself to slow our lives down (if only for seven short days) when my wife and I visited the Cayman Islands last week.  An absolutely beautiful place with plenty of people who let's just say don't move very fast nor do they envy those of us who do.

I'm ashamed to say that I started my vacation as one of these people.  Once I mastered the art of piloting a right hand drive car on the left side of the road I felt myself pushing the pedal further and further into the floor boards on my daily trips.  I wasn't on the island for more than twenty four hours when I began passing some of the locals like they were standing still.  And with the exception of one fouled attempt at a roundabout (and a near head-on miss) I felt that I was the undisputed king of the road.

But then in an instant it was gone.  The need to be somewhere right now.  The desire to move faster then the next guy.  Wanting to get in line before the others.  It didn't take very long to throw out old learned ways and adopt this new system.  Island Time.

Maybe it was the sun or the sea air.  It surely could have been from the lack of outside distractions like news, movies, television in general.  Or it could very well have been from the the indigenous distractions like rum.  Something happened in a very short period of time that took me from someone who constantly checked his watch to someone who had trouble recalling what day of the week it was.  Did I already mention alcohol?

Surprisingly for the first time in this control freak's life I can honestly say that I wouldn't have had it any other way.  No co-workers or deadlines.  No pagers, sirens or phones.  Just a book case full of books, 450 feet of beach at my disposal, and not an idea of what was going to happen or what I was planning on doing until... well, I was doing it!

And to all of you with minds like me, get them out of the gutter!  That wasn't the only thing going on there.

I came away from the week completely relaxed and a bit more culturalized and enlightened.  I read a fantastic book that solidified my respect for the Dalai Lama and made it all that more important to me to slow down and be eternally thankful for the little things in life.  I came to the conclusion that I am not a fan of Rachmaninoff (actually his music scares the hell out of me) and that my wife is a bit of a princess.  Sorry babe I had to say it, but let me rephrase that by saying you're not as hearty of a soul as I am.  Even though our little beach house was growing on her by the end of our trip she would take the Ritz Carlton over it any day.

So now the test begins.  I'm back home in my own bed.  In my nosey little sub division with people who are more interested in my business than their own.  I'm back at my desk, telephones ringing and people asking you to move the earth for them.  And somewhere in all of this I have to stay true to my vow made last week that I'm going to be a more peaceful and patient man.  To those of you who know me well you know that this is not going to be a simple task.  After all I did overreact and get totally bent out of shape within the first ten minutes of my return.  The dog had an accident...again!

But I am driving on the proper side of the street again.  My kids aren't 1,679 miles away from me any more.  I'm still employed, and (touch wood) I'm finding myself above ground every morning.  It may not be a tropical paradise but it's the only real paradise I know.

Life is good.

34/30

So I'm in the restroom staring at the back of my jeans and like it's some sort of surprise to me I see 34/30 on the tag and I wince.  Christ! if you split me open like a vanilla bean and laid me out on a counter I'd be wider than I am long!  For me, this and many other reminders of my fleeting past have become all too common in my life lately.

I just got my first pair of prescription eye glasses about four months ago and I absolutely loathe using them.  But I positively can't function without them either.  And what's harder on me than hanging them on my nose every day is the memory of my fighter pilot vision that I still possessed less than a year ago.  I reveled in the fact that I could spot troopers out on the highway farther ahead of me than most mere mortals could see.  And I used to think that I could even see better at night but all of that is slowly coming to an end.  The reality for me and many others in my age bracket is that things like this that we took for granted twenty years ago are all slowly leaving us today.  Or in some cases, making it twice as hard to hold on to.

I just hope I don't become the fifty-something guy I see at the gym every night.  The one with the hair so ridiculous you ask yourself time after time if this guy is serious.  The same one who walks around in his zuma pants or full spandex and refuses to take his weight belt off even to ride the stationary bike, fearing the entire world might actually see the true size of his gut.  You know this person, he probably frequents your club as well.  And unfortunately this same guy looms inside every one of us who are approaching our fourth and fifth centuries.  It's whether or not we decide to age gracefully that determines if this clown is going to be let off his leash or not.

But in all this gloom and doom I can find some comfort in my current developmental stage.  That in the fact that I have life experience over my younger, leaner and cleaner brethren.  Don't get me wrong, most of the young guys that I know are very bright individuals, they just make rookie mistakes that a guy my age usually sees coming a mile away.  And when things like this happen to them, they pound their chests harder and charge right back in, usually to find the same results.  I read somewhere that this is the definition of insanity!  Maybe, maybe not, but it certainly is indicative of a lack of maturity.

So with all the systems slowly failing, and the chips and dings showing on the old body, I can confidently say that being right most of the time and having a head full of experience from the college of hard knocks takes away plenty of pain and shame of a 34 inch waist.

Happy Valentines Day everyone!

Just a little something I threw together for my wife. I love you dear, have a Happy Valentines Day.

Click on Lou to see for yourself.