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I was feeling pretty good today. Got some parts sent over to Hamilton Bowen for his magic touch on a project I've got going. Discovered a tiny foible in my beloved Charter Arm's Pittbull .45. Spoke to Dee Ecker, she transferred me to Nick Ecker (owner of Charter Arms). He said, no problem, look for a label in 15 minutes. It came, I sent. Very minor, non safety issue, glad they're all over making it right.
And, I got new brakes pads, some Lyndall Xtreme (or just X series). The rear brake on my Harley has always been a bit so-so. I hear they're all that way, something about the piston ratio of master/caliper mixed with pads and geometry. Whatever. The new Lyndall X series stop on a frikkin' dime. Best pad yet. Got 'em on front and back now, totally different set of stoppers. And... I changed the very weary handlebar riser bushings, as the old ones turned to damn near stone.
With all that... I decided to jump on the bike, ride from the embedded swampy space, in places even Zika laden mosquitoes fear to venture, and ride to town, for the express purpose of getting a haircut. Its a twice yearly epic journey.
Good Lord, the place I go has changed!
It used to be a nice quiet little unisex shop, run by foreign speaking ladies, that gave regular haircuts, and did the odd roll-up and dye.
Now its a "salon".
One of the old guard gals was there, thank you God!
The two men were a real bunch of happy clippers. One look at their footwear told me there was virtually no weight being applied to the soles.
Happy number one asked another customer, who came in after me, if he wanted a shampoo and cut, maybe some highlights. The customer was a semi lucid 40 something stoner. I looked at Mr. Happy (#1). He looked through me... for a long time. Went about counting the cash register, sweeping, cleaning the counter at the register.... and finally my stare must have gotten to him.
"Oh, are you hear for something? What can we do for your marvelous head of hair today?"
"Make it shorter"
"Oh, ok.... Mr. Plain Jane! Walk this way....!" (Note: if I could walk that way, it would be on account of droppin' the soap in the locker room shower, repeatedly).
"No offense, but I want a woman to cut my hair"
"Oh I'll cut it!", Mr Happy (#2) said.
"No offense, but a real woman"
That ended that. He took the stoner instead. I waited for the last regular gal there.
She goes to me... you want that regular messy look like always?
Yah. (Joking) Make it look good at 80mph!
She did her best. I got a nice little neck rub too. Her hands were like ice, and she said she was warming them up.
But, no fear. I aint gonna be good lookin' no how no way. Just lucky to still have some hair up there I recon.
At least I don't go back till New Years time.
And, I got new brakes pads, some Lyndall Xtreme (or just X series). The rear brake on my Harley has always been a bit so-so. I hear they're all that way, something about the piston ratio of master/caliper mixed with pads and geometry. Whatever. The new Lyndall X series stop on a frikkin' dime. Best pad yet. Got 'em on front and back now, totally different set of stoppers. And... I changed the very weary handlebar riser bushings, as the old ones turned to damn near stone.
With all that... I decided to jump on the bike, ride from the embedded swampy space, in places even Zika laden mosquitoes fear to venture, and ride to town, for the express purpose of getting a haircut. Its a twice yearly epic journey.
Good Lord, the place I go has changed!
It used to be a nice quiet little unisex shop, run by foreign speaking ladies, that gave regular haircuts, and did the odd roll-up and dye.
Now its a "salon".
One of the old guard gals was there, thank you God!
The two men were a real bunch of happy clippers. One look at their footwear told me there was virtually no weight being applied to the soles.
Happy number one asked another customer, who came in after me, if he wanted a shampoo and cut, maybe some highlights. The customer was a semi lucid 40 something stoner. I looked at Mr. Happy (#1). He looked through me... for a long time. Went about counting the cash register, sweeping, cleaning the counter at the register.... and finally my stare must have gotten to him.
"Oh, are you hear for something? What can we do for your marvelous head of hair today?"
"Make it shorter"
"Oh, ok.... Mr. Plain Jane! Walk this way....!" (Note: if I could walk that way, it would be on account of droppin' the soap in the locker room shower, repeatedly).
"No offense, but I want a woman to cut my hair"
"Oh I'll cut it!", Mr Happy (#2) said.
"No offense, but a real woman"
That ended that. He took the stoner instead. I waited for the last regular gal there.
She goes to me... you want that regular messy look like always?
Yah. (Joking) Make it look good at 80mph!
She did her best. I got a nice little neck rub too. Her hands were like ice, and she said she was warming them up.
But, no fear. I aint gonna be good lookin' no how no way. Just lucky to still have some hair up there I recon.
At least I don't go back till New Years time.
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