Oggy On The Loose

This is a rear axle/differential from an old bus or truck. Used as a guardrail.

I wish I were joking but I got violently sick for two days in a strange city, delusional dreams, awful waking nightmares, body ache, and profuse diarrhea. The van smelled like a morgue, but I was unable to move or cry for help. I did manage to shit myself and here's a picture of me washing the shit out of my long underwear. Awful. I spared you the gory details.

Oggy, at a crossroads. I took the road less traveled by...and that has made all the difference.

I wasn't going to share this video because it could be later used as evidence of my deteriorating mental condition, but I was sick at the time with food poisoning or amoebas or some kind of Matrix worm running around my my intestines. So that's my excuse.

Looking Back

I had to bend half the bracket back to allow more threads of the broken bolt to push through

 My plastic concrete putty crumbled in my fingers when I went to use it. So I poured some super glue onto the area that was moving. It won't last so I'll need to have it welded eventually or fabricate some kind of bracket. I also bought some threaded rod if I have to create my own arm.

Before: Objects may appear to be duplicated

After: It's a little lower now because I had to turn the 90 degree arm over

Screenshot Trivia #4

All the clues are here

Who has the balls to admit they know the gem this is from? One of the all-time under appreciated low budget flicks. Painful to look at those white high-top Reebok tennis shoes, with the agonizingly dated velcro strap on the top. And the pale washed jeans. The Carrera Sun-Glasses. Painful. You could not get a production designer today to accurately stage this single shot to capture this era. This brings back many memories.

Single Cylinder Motorcycles 125cc

 This is going to be a long-term project to take pictures of all the single cylinder motorcycles I encounter in Central America. They are everywhere here...but they don't hardly exist in the U.S.A. Sure, you can buy a 1978 CB 125 and I admit those are awesome, but why not buy a 2015 125 with a fresh motor for less money? Because you probably don't live anywhere near a place that imports the Honda CGL 125. And this puzzles Oggy because in a place like Los Angeles where one must drive 45 minutes in order to park and walk on a rubber treadmill for 45 minutes and then drive 2 hours to buy medicinal marijuana edibles...and it hasn't rained in 10 years...well, it gets crazy. They've got Pink Dot delivery services driving all over the place to deliver A FUCKING 6 PACK OF BEER and a 1/4 oz of Purple haze kind bud and Sushi in a 6 cylinder vehicle? That's real bright with gas in CA taxed highest in all 50 states. Down here, the ubiquitous Italika 125 moto costs $900 brand new and includes a helmet. That's an entry level price for a worn out 1975 Cb125 that has no carburetor and no seat and was last started in 1987. A Honda or Suzuki probably runs $1400, but I'll find out exactly because I want to buy one. Actually the Italika was everywhere in Mexico but I don't see it as much in Guatemala. I see the Isuki, Freedom for the low end 125cc bike. Yamaha (pronounced ya-MA-ha) Suzuki, Honda for the high end options.

There are single cylinder bikes that are like 450cc. I think KTM makes those kind with a big piston. But they are not the ones I'm talking about or have any interest in. I want to deal with these little piston models, no more than 150cc designed for the city. Most are 125cc. Sometimes the fiberglass body and chrome makes it look like there's more power, but looks are deceiving as they have no more than 125cc, top speed is around 55. Around 70mpg, single little gravity feed carb, air cooled, rear drum brakes, front disk brakes, 4 or 5 speeds of pure awesomeness. No electric starter on most of them so be prepared to kick start, but you're only moving one cylinder so it's no big deal. They barely make any noise too unless you cut the muffler off.

On an average walk to the gym I'll see about 50 of these single cylinder motorcycles parked or swerving through traffic. Women will drive single cylinder scooters solo and when a passenger they will ride side saddle on a moto. In the U.S. I'd have to drive for 6 hours merely to have the option to buy one that has no battery and is mostly in a box full of rusting parts.

Yamaha YBR 125 with the mag wheels

I'll make this a page break so all the pictures don't load at once unless you're really interested in 125cc Japanese and Chinese motorcycles in Central America. Every bike I take a picture of will be honored here.

So Much Punditry So Little Time

I had a dream last night and it was vivid...I was riding my moped down a dirt road, the dirt road split right and a detour forced me down another winding dirt road and finally to a sharp left turn under a bridge that I could not make because I was going too fast. Instead, I turned right and came to a dead end...and there was a fenced-in area, old and overgrown with many tortured vehicles. It was an abandoned car storage lot and the vehicles had been overtaken by the weeds and trees, the trees actually had grown around the vehicles and I poked among them in awe at the abandoned treasures with a vague male figure who I can't identify but he identifies the trees as a paper birch, and I remember that it was the leaves and not the bark that he was referring to...the leaves, I reached out and touched one, were exactly like parchment paper but the bark was ordinary oak bending around an old Dodge van...so it wasn't a paper birch tree, which has white flaky papery bark, but I believed him...and then a girl who resembled someone I once loved came out of nowhere with a bag of cocaine that she was snorting right from the bag. She held the bag under my nose and I feebly refused but eventually inhaled the powder, maybe to please her. Then I woke up and I could still hear the rustle of the leaves in my hands and I was disappointed because I had so much to say to that girl but never said it and will never have the chance again.

This side mirror mount (The mirror that broke on the street and I had replaced yesterday) has caused me so much grief recently. This broken end was a hex head that twisted off when I tried to loosen it. But the other end was simply threaded with a nut. So how the hell is it constructed? This end must be so rusted that the bolt broke rather than loosened. Worst of all, the little crimp at the end that holds the bolt in place gave way so now it all merely turns in place and I can't tighten it. I'm so puzzled. Should I replace it or rebuild it or make this work with some plastic cement?

I made a resolution to participate in no more new punditry or even analysis of punditry.* I don't know how long this will last because I've got some opinions on recent events that are like festering pustules of hate trying to get out of me. But I know that it's a futile exercise and not really amusing to investigate cultural trends, opinions, fallacies, spin, media manipulations. I didn't get one death threat from my Conservative thought essay. How many people do I have to insult? Current events are easy fruit to pick for a lazy pundit and I have other projects that demand full focus. Even if I think I'll be exploring a dark corner of the twisted motives of man I also feel everything that can be said about these topics has been said. There is too much evidence to ignore, so whatever crisis we will face springs from our own ignorance. This is my final word on this for now: modern man is child-like and petty and deserves what he gets and will reap what he sows and whatever happens will be blamed on someone else.


*editing old essays doesn't count.