How to live forever until you die

I have my own personal Fountain of Youth, and it's name is Honda Shadow 600.



When I'm sitting on the couch reading the newspaper or watching reruns of whatever came in the mail from Netflix (Quickster?) this week, I feel old. When I'm sitting on the saddle of my bike watching the countryside zoom by, I feel young again.

When I see photographs of me that show my apparent bald spot, I feel much older than I should. When I see photographs of me on my bike, wearing a bald spot-covering helmet, I feel young again.

When I'm sitting behind the wheel of my 9-year-old sedan, heading off to Wal-Mart to pick up a loaf of bread, I feel old and decrepit. When my hands are gripping the handlebars of my 7-year-old bike, heading wherever I want to go, I feel as young and free as a child on his first bicycle.

When I'm pumping gas into that old sedan, I imagine the people around me thinking, "I'm never going to be so old that I have to drive something like that." When I'm pumping gas into my bike, I imagine the people around me thinking, "I want to be just like him. And when I save up some money, I'm getting a bike just like that."

People on motorcycles always look like they're on an adventure, heading to places others only dream of, having the time of their life.

Well, most of the time we are. And that's what will keep us young...

...up until we get splattered across the road by some stupid 18-wheeler.

But hey, that's life.

Like I was saying...

Life has a way of making perfect sense until you wake up and find you are 20 minutes late for work and there's no way on Earth you're going to tell the boss you overslept, so you come up with some ridiculous lie about how you came upon a nasty accident, and since you were the only one around who knew the number to 911, you were obligated to stay and render whatever aid you could give, to the best of your ability.

The horrific wreck, which was 20 miles south of the Middle of Nowhere, was burning when you came upon it, bodies were strewn across the county road like dropped matchsticks, and the smell of gas fumes meant an explosion was eminent.

With only moments to spare, you moved the helpless victims away from the wreckage, beat the fire down with your jacket, performed CPR on three victims at the same time, set the broken leg of a middle-aged woman who kept screaming she was going to die, and sang a lullaby to soothe a scared little toddler who seemed to be the only person not hurt in all the carnage.

Exactly eight minutes later, the ambulances started to arrive and you, not wanting to be known or recognized as a hero, quietly snuck away just like Batman, but without the utility belt.

"Sure I was late, so fire me," you tell the boss as you head to the men's room to comb your hair.  You slam the door shut just for effect.

The boss, stunned at your boldness, stares at the place where you were just standing and contemplates early retirement.

Just checking in

I'm trying to give myself time to mature before I come back to writing, but I think my immaturity is a strength.

I'm so conflicted.

Just thinking outloud

The Truth comes out

After years of denying who I am and how I feel...

After a lifetime of hiding the true me from my family and friends...

Having failed at trying to be what others want me to be...

I've decided to stop being ashamed and embrace the truth:

I am a cartoon.

Just thinking outloud

Pause Button

Sometimes when my fantasy job (writer, photographer, cartoonist) interferes with my real job (teacher, bus driver), it's time for me to stop and reflect on the meaning of life.

But not for long, or someone might measure me for a coffin.

It's been a cruel, cruel summer

Contrary to previous reports, Summer 2011 is not over.

After waking up to early morns in the low 60s and highs in the mid 80s for the past few days, the Texas heat gave us a big kick in the butt today with a high of 106.

Not only that, but the National Weather Service issued a Fire Weather Watch for our area today which means hot retorts could burn the state to a crisp.

If this heat sticks around until December, I'm moving to Antartica.

Dining With Grasshoppers

By Tracy D. Farr

My name is Fred;
I don’t care what you say.
I like to eat my food
In bites just this way.
And if you disturb me
I’ll hop on your face,
And chew on your nose
Without saying the grace.

Yes, my name is Fred,
Now just leave me alone,
Or I’ll call my friends
And we’ll eat up your home.

Morning Glories for 9/11

Just thinking outloud

The heat is gone, but drought and wildfires linger on

I live less than 60 miles from a wildfire that has claimed two lives and destroyed more than 1,300 acres. You can see the smoke plumes from my house and they are visibile on satellite photos of the area.

This past weekend, a co-worker and her family were evacuated from their home for awhile while another wildfire burned north of us.

Wednesday night a small fire broke out just up the road from us, with about 10 fire trucks and related vehicles on scene.

And Thursday I had to take a detour on my bus route because a fire had broken out near one of my rider's home.

I found this spider on my porch, and he didn't seem to be giving the fires any thought at all.

The heat is gone

This past weekend was just like all the other weekends of the Texas Summer of 2011 -- hot, hot, and damn hot.

But Monday morning, Labor Day, a cool front came through and the morning temperature was a chilly 65. And then the high for the day was in the mid 80s. When Tuesday morning came around, I had to wear extra layers on my motorcycle ride to work because the temperature had dropped into the mid 50s.

The only thing we Texans are worried about now are the grassfires -- that and the possibility that Rick Perry could become president.

It's the end times, I tell ya'. The end times!

A Summertime Goat Poem

I have these two goats. Sometimes I write about them. Sometimes I threaten to turn them into goat burgers. But they don't listen. They just sit and eat and contemplate the meaning of their existence, I suppose.

What Goats Would Think About If They Could

By Tracy D. Farr

I have two goats that like to sit
And contemplate why they exist
Outside, when each would rather be
Inside, both watching Goat TV.

"My dearest Mother,
I would so like it if we
could sneak inside and see
our favorite show 'CSI: Goat Farm.'
I promise not to harm
the upholstery
if you would just come and sit with me."

"My dearest child,
the last time we went wild
and entered their house, they went beserk
when they found us watching the 'Cable Goat Network.'
So if you don't mind,
It's best for our kind,
To sit here and munch on whatever we find."

So there my goats do eat and sit
And contemplate why they exist
Outside, which ain't so bad, it's true.
'Tis better than being turned into goat stew.

Lessons never learned

The first hot link is always the best.

After Hot Link Number 8, you can't remember why in the hell you ever grilled a dozen, but you can't stop eating them with only a couple more to go, so you don't -- but you wish you had, and the next day you feel like crap.

You would think over the years I'd learn this lesson, but I haven't.

I love Pittsburg Hot Links.

Home improvement shopping quandry

It's not right that small towns like mine should have a Lowe's AND a Home Depot. Sure, the more McDonalds and Burger Kings in town the merrier, but when you have more than one home improvement store, THEN you have to decide where you're going to shop.

And I hate making decisions like that.

Do you shop at the one that's closest to your home, or do you shop at the one with the better prices?

Do you shop at the one with the friendliest helpers, or do you shop at the one with the biggest parking lot?

Or maybe you shop at the one where you know someone who's working there -- your next door neighbor, or your own child.

Well, I decided to base MY decision on something completely different: The name of the store.

Lowe's doesn't really have much meaning to me. It actually sounds a bit depressing. Instead of calling it Lowe's, why didn't they call it High's? Sounds more positive I think.

Home Depot, on the other hand, has more meaning.

"Home" is where you live, where you eat, what you need to fix before the walls come tumbling down. And "Depot" conjurs up images of trains and railroads, The Orient Express, Bing Crosby riding up to Vermont to sing and dance to help "the old man" bring in a White Christmas.

So for me, it's Home Depot all the way.

Not a very scientific way to base a decision, but these sort of things never are.

Just thinking outloud

Home Depot sweet home

When I get home from a hard day at work, my family may nod their heads in my direction, or grunt a hello, but that's about it.

When I walk into Home Depot, four people ask if they can help me before I even remember what I came in to get.

When I'm at home and can't find a hammer to nail up a picture, nobody gives me any sympathy because they all know that I was the last one to use the hammer, and I didn't put it back in its proper place.

When I'm at Home Depot looking for a hammer, somebody will point me to the correct aisle, tell me exactly what each hammer is good for, and thank me for buying one.

When I leave the house for work, everybody is asleep and can't wish me a good day.

When I leave Home Depot, everybody is awake and begs me to come back anytime I like.

I'm not really trying to imply anything; these are just observations of my life.

Have a nice day!

I've got to change my evil ways

I have a friend. He and I are the same age. He's in great shape, but ...

... he just went through a quadruple bypass heart surgery.

I, on the other hand, am not in great shape.

I think about exercising, but that's about it.

Sometimes I eat Klondike bars for supper.

I'm so totally screwed!

How low can it go? Part 2

Two days ago, my neighbors across "the lake" were out mowing the grass under their boat dock. See what the lake looked like 28 days ago HERE!