Bent Words

Bent Words

April 02, 2022

I like to take hiatuses from Faceblob. It's nice not to see people I don't really know and it's better not to see where they are going, with kiddos all grown up and all the extra money they have, so I don't have to be jealous and spiteful. And it can hook you. You'll hop on your phone to check the weather but then you realize you have 15 Facebook updates and you sit there thinking "Maybe someone said something to me so I need to respond," or maybe there's a birthday you actually want to acknowledge only to find out that your uncle was in the hospital for open heart surgery so you check in with him and discover he has a new girlfriend which prompts you to go to her page to scope it out and find that she's actually quite nice and has a daughter that you used to hang out with back in the day and she is in the motorcycle racing scene and suddenly you forget WHY you're even ON Facebook and looking at someone's profile that you don't intend to pursue further than this so you've just wasting at least an hour of your life looking at someone else's.

Vicious Supervoid of Meh.

There's a group for the High School class I graduated in and, while they report deaths now more than reunions, they thought it necessary to also announce a 25-year reunion. So now I'm thinking I need to just plan DELETE the account altogether.

25 years.

There's no one worth hooking up with so I just have that.

25 Large

How did it get to this point? Sure, I'm pretty fly for 43 but DANG HEY I don't think we needed that reminder.


They're getting the band back together, man.

Regional Grand Nationals 2022

You dabble in a bit of everything on one bike, but with different tires if necessary. Enduros, Hare Scrambles, Motocross, Hill Climbs, Dirt Track, Trials, Road Racing and Drag Racing. I was never really a part of the "in crowd" being that I didn't race. I spectated through the lens of a camera but I loved it. And I miss it.

I miss the smack talk, the bench racing, the race gas, the miles put under my feet foraging for that perfect photo. The bitter cold, the brutal heat, the dirt blown out of my nose at the end of the day. Tepid beer and shit eating grins all around. Watching rivals swap out standings one minute and assist with a loose chain in the next. Spark plugs or gaskets or a spare tire -- whatever you needed -- they were a family who competed against each other but it's not much of a race if you don't have spark so there they were to assist as well as diss.

Cold Beer Racing, the Elvis Twins. The Kilkennys, Smooove B, TV, Ronnie, Carlson, Scott... Sunset, Road America, Da Grove, Aztalan, Murre's. I know you by race number, I recorded the set up, the tear down, the spills and the chaos. The injuries and the injustices, the fun and the fury. Local dudes alongside local pros. Some men with money and some women without much.

It's okay. It takes all kinds.

And I’d play along if they put me in charge of another RGN Meta/Faceblob/orwhatever page.


Written at 10:33 a.m.