
We didn't go to the mall for discounted big screen HDTV's, we went to the Range to finish building our firing line cover. The turnout was pretty good, at least twelve guys. I brought my hammer, nail diaper, and ladder - but it's a kinda short and useless ladder. A shortbed pickup doesn't allow for the kind of loading a real carpenter requires. Good thing I'm not a real carpenter.
Anyhow the ridge-line was finished and the rest of the stringers, and some kind of electrical project was undertaken by our former Lineman. I think it maybe has to do with speakers for an announcing system - or maybe it's just getting power down from the old trap field so we can run a computer for scoring Matches.
The real carpenters started laying down plywood and making cuts - either some of the plywood wasn't square or our building wasn't. There was one pneumatic nailer and the rest of us hammer-heads just banging away making noise.


It feels good to have all the plywood overhead, next comes tar-paper and shingles - I hope it doesn't fall down in a big wind. :-)

Now that that's done and I'm still intact and not in too much pain, I decided to take up my Redneck Friend's offer to go dirt-riding at Hollister tomorrow. It's been too damn long since I went riding.Amazingly I managed to kick it over after about the third kick and once I remembered to engage the choke-button. Blue clouds of beautiful hydrocarbons dotted the driveway and the air rang with the bring-ring-ding of the classic, clattery two-stroke exhaust rattle. God I love that sound! It signifies flashing rushes of fast-forward speed and sheer terror when the beast comes on the pipe.
I had to change the air-filter since it was a filthy mess - and after I removed the seat to get at it, a piece of the foam tore off in my hand! Hmmm...kinda crusty in there! Then I went to oil a fresh one that I had washed some time in the last century and it too began to disintegrate when I squeezed oil into the foam! Aaack! So I grabbed a Yellow-Brand one (Uni) instead of the Orange-brand ones (Twin-Air), and that one didn't go to Hell immediately - yay!
Some fresh pre-mix blended (40:1 with Yamalube) down at the local pump and the mighty KTM 300 will bellow through the woods again, tearing at the earth and smiting Hippies!








The thirty-seven-odd days of Christmas have begun already, and some glad years it's Ho-ho Sainty Nicollo coming down from the frosty Alpine fields with a box of coconut-crisp candy and CD's of Enya, other times it's Jumpin' Krispy Kringleski crossing the icy Fjord with a flagon of Lutefisk and carols of ABBA dancing across the tundra - and other times it's that bastard neer-do-well sidekick, coal-black and beetle-browed Rumplepursesnatch, with a stale bottle of Schlitz and a wet stogie sneaking around in the dark putting nails in tires. I "get" the coal bit.















