I've been tagged and I can't get up. Cruising around the Internet today and I linked up with Gianni and I see that I'm in some loop of people playing tag. Ever one to play the game and keep the ball rolling, I play along. To tell a family secret, I'm pretty lame at this computer stuff and I fear the linkage is a bit beyond me. I have a line in to Gianni so hopefully by the end of this post, I'll know how to link others to keep cyber world full of chatter.
Five things about me:
1) My first real ride was with the Griffociraptor. He took me out for a night ride with Steve Ouzounian, Bill Carslay, Colleen Wante, and others. I rode Griff's Gary Fisher with one of those stems that had a shock built into it. It was the same bike that Griff fell off of and broke his back. It was nicknamed the Slippery Fish. We rode up to the top of Sheppard Canyon and went into Redwood Park where East Ridge and West Ridge come together. When we got to that point in the ride, I remember thinking that it couldn't get tougher than the ride up Sheppard. Wrong. For two hours I slugged through the night at times whimpering. I wore sweats, tennis shoes in toe clips, and garden gloves. They don't let me live that ride down.
2) Way before the bike, I was a dart champion. I played on a traveling team sponsored by a bar out of St. Paul, Minnesota. I came in to the league two weeks late as one of the guys on the team was deported. In a matter of weeks, my statistics were amongst the best in the league. I started to get pressure to join a better team in a better league with the expectation that I would someday make it to the state championships. It didn't interest me in the least. Occasionally I play with some friends here in California and the winning ways continue. I once saw my little brother make four bulls eyes with three darts to win a match.
3) I had my left knee operated on in 1983 when I tore the medial collateral ligament playing football. I spent a week in the hospital and rehabbed for the better part of two years. I had my right knee operated on in 2003 when I tore the anterior cruciate ligament playing hockey. I spent three hours in the hospital and rehabbed for the better part of two years. In the twenty years between operations, nothing has really changed except the fact that instead of having doctors and nurses taking care of me post op, it was my wife. After the fifth day, she threw me out of bed and said I needed to get moving about.
4) One time I concocted this fail safe plan to steal a Minnesota Lottery sign. At the appointed moment, I tore the sign off the wall, ran out of the bar where I had a friend pull up her pick up truck so I could throw it in the back as they sped away. Unfortunately, I didn't have a plan for my getaway and the bartender grabbed me and called the cops. I was fined and had to return the sign a few days later.
5) I've been busted and denied entrance into a foreign country due to narcotics. I was traveling with my brother and a couple of his friends. We had rented a van and driver in Ely, Minnesota to take us into Canada and then we were going to paddle back to Ely. Crossing the border, we had to clear customs. They did a random search that took them less than five minutes. They pulled out one pack and riffled through it and then put it back into the van. I figured in was a show more than anything although we did fit the profile. It was 1989 and I was still in college. I had long hair and was wearing a bandanna. My brother Tony, way more straight laced than I, but looked equal to the part. He was in his third year of law school, had long hair and a pretty gnarly beard. His friends were young as well. Bill was on his way to Yale business school and Danesha was finishing up at Cal. Not exactly the drug running types, but looked young enough to be dumb enough. So with that, the customs officer comes around the van and looks us sternly in the eye and says we have a problem. He said, "we have found narcotics." "No way," I say in protest. "Something must have fallen out of your pocket when you were doing your search." Thinking narcotics was like coke or meth or something. He then produced one of those camera film containers and said that it had some dope in it. I again started to protest when Bill dropped his head. He looked at me and declared that he didn't know it was in there. That he had loaned his pack to his brother who apparently was a known habitual user. They took us into custody and searched us. It was like being in a Turkish prison (well the Canadian version anyway). We got strip searched and they tore apart the van before they returned us to the United States. Didn't cost us a cent, but we weren't exactly in Canada on vacation yet either. We tried again a couple of days later and I'm happy to report, we sailed right through. Now, when they ask if I've ever been denied entry into a foreign country, I'm supposed to say yes. I always lie. Maybe with the crack down in homeland security, I'll start popping up as a known dope mover on world wide computer systems.
Anyway, how's that for a bit of useless trivia. I now tag Moya of Moya Canyon, the Griffociraptor who got me going on all this, Fletcherette as she is probably the most honest writer in blogotopia, Hernando because he's the patrone, and Pip for President as his writing is wacky but awesome. Oh, and thanks for the technical assistance Gianni, couldn't have done it without you.
Johnny GoFast
Five things about me:
1) My first real ride was with the Griffociraptor. He took me out for a night ride with Steve Ouzounian, Bill Carslay, Colleen Wante, and others. I rode Griff's Gary Fisher with one of those stems that had a shock built into it. It was the same bike that Griff fell off of and broke his back. It was nicknamed the Slippery Fish. We rode up to the top of Sheppard Canyon and went into Redwood Park where East Ridge and West Ridge come together. When we got to that point in the ride, I remember thinking that it couldn't get tougher than the ride up Sheppard. Wrong. For two hours I slugged through the night at times whimpering. I wore sweats, tennis shoes in toe clips, and garden gloves. They don't let me live that ride down.
2) Way before the bike, I was a dart champion. I played on a traveling team sponsored by a bar out of St. Paul, Minnesota. I came in to the league two weeks late as one of the guys on the team was deported. In a matter of weeks, my statistics were amongst the best in the league. I started to get pressure to join a better team in a better league with the expectation that I would someday make it to the state championships. It didn't interest me in the least. Occasionally I play with some friends here in California and the winning ways continue. I once saw my little brother make four bulls eyes with three darts to win a match.
3) I had my left knee operated on in 1983 when I tore the medial collateral ligament playing football. I spent a week in the hospital and rehabbed for the better part of two years. I had my right knee operated on in 2003 when I tore the anterior cruciate ligament playing hockey. I spent three hours in the hospital and rehabbed for the better part of two years. In the twenty years between operations, nothing has really changed except the fact that instead of having doctors and nurses taking care of me post op, it was my wife. After the fifth day, she threw me out of bed and said I needed to get moving about.
4) One time I concocted this fail safe plan to steal a Minnesota Lottery sign. At the appointed moment, I tore the sign off the wall, ran out of the bar where I had a friend pull up her pick up truck so I could throw it in the back as they sped away. Unfortunately, I didn't have a plan for my getaway and the bartender grabbed me and called the cops. I was fined and had to return the sign a few days later.
5) I've been busted and denied entrance into a foreign country due to narcotics. I was traveling with my brother and a couple of his friends. We had rented a van and driver in Ely, Minnesota to take us into Canada and then we were going to paddle back to Ely. Crossing the border, we had to clear customs. They did a random search that took them less than five minutes. They pulled out one pack and riffled through it and then put it back into the van. I figured in was a show more than anything although we did fit the profile. It was 1989 and I was still in college. I had long hair and was wearing a bandanna. My brother Tony, way more straight laced than I, but looked equal to the part. He was in his third year of law school, had long hair and a pretty gnarly beard. His friends were young as well. Bill was on his way to Yale business school and Danesha was finishing up at Cal. Not exactly the drug running types, but looked young enough to be dumb enough. So with that, the customs officer comes around the van and looks us sternly in the eye and says we have a problem. He said, "we have found narcotics." "No way," I say in protest. "Something must have fallen out of your pocket when you were doing your search." Thinking narcotics was like coke or meth or something. He then produced one of those camera film containers and said that it had some dope in it. I again started to protest when Bill dropped his head. He looked at me and declared that he didn't know it was in there. That he had loaned his pack to his brother who apparently was a known habitual user. They took us into custody and searched us. It was like being in a Turkish prison (well the Canadian version anyway). We got strip searched and they tore apart the van before they returned us to the United States. Didn't cost us a cent, but we weren't exactly in Canada on vacation yet either. We tried again a couple of days later and I'm happy to report, we sailed right through. Now, when they ask if I've ever been denied entry into a foreign country, I'm supposed to say yes. I always lie. Maybe with the crack down in homeland security, I'll start popping up as a known dope mover on world wide computer systems.
Anyway, how's that for a bit of useless trivia. I now tag Moya of Moya Canyon, the Griffociraptor who got me going on all this, Fletcherette as she is probably the most honest writer in blogotopia, Hernando because he's the patrone, and Pip for President as his writing is wacky but awesome. Oh, and thanks for the technical assistance Gianni, couldn't have done it without you.
Johnny GoFast
posted by Johnny GoFast at 8:43 AM
2 Comments:
the mountain bike story is the best. sweats, toe-straps and garden gloves!
those trails are right near my house.
Nice text color!
You have surpassed me with your sorcery!
The garden gloves were a nice touch.
Post a Comment
<< Home