Rides and Tales

Oh, yeah, another Yule and no sign of tamale boys in my neck of the woods, yet. Christmas time just ain’t, without spicy tamales, hand made from a recipe handed down by some gal’s abuelita (grandma).
I may have to trust the local craftsmen at the taco stand to hook me up.

Of course, its still early for Christmas tree shopping, but in the past few years I’ve missed being approached by Krishna’s followers with real deals on incense, as well ( as if the fragrances of an exotic fir tree and baking cookies weren’t enough).

The perfume guys ought to be hitting the streets, soon, too. I know you’ve been approached by them either at Christmas or Valentine’s Day; the guys who are in the business of selling bottled fragrances and are willing to cut you an unbelievable bargain on the last of their stock so’s they can get on back to the little woman and babies at home in Austin-Houston-Waco-Dallas-Victoria-et cetera.

The “Toys For Tots” parade and the “Santa’s Helpers” toy drive are just days away , though, and I have determined to do a little light maintenance on my scooter beforehand.

Now, as part of this determination, I decided to shop around for a tool called a “torque wrench” and I decided to see what Sears has, first, as there is every chance of finding tools Made in USA, there.
I looked at what they had, made a mental note of the price and moseyed on out to the parking lot and the Big Yella Bike.

As I was getting my hat and gloves together, this fellow in a late model pickup truck pulls up and asks me if I’m a mechanic.
When I answered in the negative he asked if I do my own work (such as there is to do on a Honda).
Now, I realized the guy was up to something but I was bored enough to play along.

I told him I was shopping around for a torque wrench and he showed me a new air-driven ratchet. Nice, I said, but useless to me, whereupon he asked how much I’d give for the fancy Sears model torque wrench ( the one that cost $130 more than the one I was looking at).
He offered to sell me one for the same price as the small one.

As I was brushing him off he told me he’d just got out of prison and needed money.

What’s wrong with this picture?

For starters, he claimed to have just been released, was driving an expensive truck and was all HWQ ( hot, wet and quivering) to commit a felony in clear view of a total stranger.

Secondly, this kind of racket has been used to build a nest egg for the family of someone about to go away, not someone who has just been released: You order a big ticket item and the principle steals it and sells it to you at a deep discount (no overhead).

And, third, he introduced  the prison element at the end of his pitch rather than as a lead-in to solicit my sympathy.

Okay, so it smells, up front. He may have been working a variation of the old “after hours liquor” hustle:
You drive into a different neighborhood, say, The Cuts, and someone offers to ‘gitcha afta ‘owahs likka”. Your money goes in a front door and out the back while you wait at the curb, in your car.

Personally, I think this guy was some kind of cop or wannbe who has been watching too much “Sons of Anarchy”.

Yeah, ’tis the season for smash-and-grab thieves and other low-lifes to work the parking lots and streets.
Heads up.

Well, I reckon that since I’ve announce my safe return to the third world, it stands to reason that, once again, I have ventured forth, accompanied only by my faithful Indian guide,
Lucky Woman, into America. Since we had such a great time at the Texas Renaissance Festival, last year, we decided to give it another shot, this time for “Celtic Weekend”.

We took both my Honda Valkyrie and her Honda Magna but, for some reason, I still ended up with just one saddle bag for my stuff. Rather than using my old Bates trunk, we put Jill’s Nelson-Rigg bag on my bike. This is a great piece of luggage that carries very nearly as much as the trunk.

We had a great ride up to the festival grounds in the general area of Conroe, TX, with sunny skies, no wind and mild temperatures. There, we pitched our mobile home amongst the pines, oaks and sycamores.

After the sexy granny worked her magic over the camp stove, we settled and enjoyed the eve, Jill toasting her forbearers with their namesake drink.
(Some of her ancestors were Scots who expatriated to France and remained.)

Later the wind turned north, gusted some, and the temperature dropped.

We turned our heat on.

Camp bustled, Saturday morn, since New Market Village opens its gates at 9:30 and many of the attendees don authentic period clothing, or other costumes, beforehand. Jill wore an ensemble she had made some time back that is inspired by traditional highland dress. I, on the other hand, was garbed as an Irish lout from county Nueces.

Now, going to the Festival is an all day affair with lots of stuff to see and do so it was my good fortune to be accompanied by an organized kind of gal.
Jill had perused the schedule, formulated a plan, and off we went to the jousting arena. The arena is divided into sections, French, English, German and Spanish. This year we decided to be German and when we saw our champion ride we knew we’d made a sound decision. His winning the “fight to the death” had nothing to do with his, or the other riders’, skill, of course.

The knights are very talented riders and risk actual injury putting on the spectacle.

Sir Otto

Of course, no sporting event is complete without cheerleaders.

There are open-air taverns and amphitheaters in the town each showcasing different types of entertainment. I liked the bawdy “Iris and Rose” who tell people before the show, “If you have young children… leave.” They sang a song about Old MacDonald’s deform farm which includes a sex-addicted pig (“with a boink-boink, here and a…”; you get the picture).

Jill, on the other hand, preferred the Ded Bob Show. Ded Bob is a skelton puppet whose ventriloquist is dressed as the grim reaper, including a mesh that hides his face. Ded Bob is big on audience participation and we helped him sing about Old MacDonald’s farm, as well. In this case he had a dyslexic cow, ( “with an omo omo here, and an omo omo there… ; you get the picture).
We saw the Mud Show and a haggis eating contest, too, that’s what I’m talking about!

From Jeff Smith’s The Frugal Gourmet On Our Immigrant Ancestors:
Traditionally, a Haggis is made from the lung, liver, and heart of the sheep. These are mixed with oatmeal and a few spices and stuffed into the sheep’s stomach. After being boiled, the Haggis is brought to the table with a great deal of ceremony.

I heard it described as “Scottish boudin” but it tastes somewhat like liver.

Another very cool event was the Highland Fling dance contest. No ringers, here, the dance mistress instructed the contestants in basic moves just before the music started.
These youngsters looked like they borrowed their sisters’ Catholic school uniform, but they got right down in t he thick of things and one of the boys was third-to-last to be tapped out.

Later, the lady told me they were concerned that observing wouldn’t be as much fun as participating. I told her not to worry on that count.

Highland Fling contest

While we were in the Sherwood Forest section, we decided to walk through the Garden that runs along a creek.

Soon after entering, we encountered this couple who played while she sang a Gaelic song with a sweet voice.

In the Garden there are statues and oddities set along the creek and small niches set into the forest on the other side of the path.

The niches contain statues, amazingly unusual folk art constructions and artful benches for walkers to sit on while they admire the works.

After enjoying a walk through the Garden, we headed over to admire the chapels . That’s right, there are small chapels  built in the town, unusual ones, unlike the one you sing in on Easter and Christmas.

I like this one, the “Cathedral Wedding Chapel”, because it reminds me of a Viking Church.

I caught a young couple having a kiss at the alter but could neither get a good shot nor warn the lad in time. He’s on his own.

Outside, one of the many wandering fiddlers played.

I think she played a viola but not for the actual wedding that began in there, minutes later.

The “people watching” at the Renaissance Festival is worth the price of admission. A lot of time and effort and research are invested in the costumes.

There were many dressed as pirates, both male and female. Grace O’Malley is probably the most famous woman pirate. I’m told many pirates were Scottish or Irish.
Wow, there’s a shocker.

You must watch out for this crew, in particular. They are prone to break out in sea chanties at the pop of a cork.

Fairies are always popular even though they are naughty or, perhaps, because of that.

Some characters were more sinister, reminding us that by the light, there is always shadow.

This guy could scuttle like nobody’s business

These folks aren’t just a bunch of show ponies, though.

They preserve and pass on a love of tradition, quality and craftsmanship and knowledge.

I overheard one shining example of public education decrying the Asian influence of some of the art objects, asking what this Hindu or Chinese stuff was doing in a Renaissance garden. For that matter, ‘what was with all that German stuff doing in the Renaissance? And ‘why was there Mexican music playing, what did that have to do with anything?’
Seems the lad didn’t know that the Renaissance, the revival of art and learning, was a time extending from medieval to the modern age, that Germans were major players in it, or that artists drew on influences from the far reaches of the world.

Later, I heard a traditional polka being played at a food vendor.
I guess the accordion threw him off not knowing that “Mexican music” is sometimes defined as ” German polkas played on stolen instruments” . That is, he has no grasp of history.



As darkness fell, we headed back to the jousting arena for the finale. King Henry thanked us for coming, then with a fiery fountain sparkler lit burning designs on the ground, Saint Andrew’s Cross and the Circle of Life.

Then he lit the fuse on a cannon and its report was answered from across a pond. The band, “Tartanic” began playing stirring bagpipe and drum music while a gorgeous display lit the sky.

We weary time travelers wended our way back through New Market, slowed by the distraction of others who weren’t so quick to quit.

Later, we wandered the campfires, a little, but the cold night air seemed to have kept the revelers in and , after a while, it drove me in as well.
Sunday morning, we had time for a leisurely camp breakfast before we folded our tent and headed south.

The road goes on forever.

To preface, let me say that I abhor discussing politics. It doesn’t bring out the best in me and I, in all modesty, am a cut above the amoral slanderers and gossips who are still trashing Republican nominees while supporting a puppet who made the 2007 list of Washington’s “Ten Most Wanted Corrupt Politicians.” ( along with Rep. Nancy Pelosi, I might add).
Though I certainly can’t support all the aims of the Right, I can’t bring myself to align with the white trash and other lowlifes on the Left.
Politically Correct cop-out: Yeah, I know, not all Democrats are like that. I personally know nearly six who are not.

So, assuming that you’ve haven’t already over indulged in the sheeple fodder the Associated Press pitches, taste this:

[a German woman] wrote on Nov 6:
Hello Michael,
all goes well here; apart from me being concerned about what might happen next in the US?
Anyway, let us all hope and pray for the best.

Yes, things are looking very grim, here. Some folks figure that the enemies of liberty have seized power in what may be the worst racially motivated crime in the US this decade. The attempt to dismantle the US Constitution continues. The Second Amendment is under immediate attack and the undermining of Free Speech is ongoing.

In a land where the liberal press reports 10 million unemployed, the new government will probably pardon 11 million people who have entered the US illegally and effectively dissolve our southern border (That’s just a little FYI for the attention whores who were at the RNC demanding “where’s our jobs?”).

The good news is that sales of firearms and firearms components are way up preparatory to the coming police state. The bad news is that the price of ammunition will soar since it will have to be imported, covertly, from Mexico ( I guess the Democrats will call it “undocumented bullets” since that doesn’t sound as insensitive as “contraband”).
The good news is that ammo may become more valuable an export than cocaine.

A renewal of the militia movement has been predicted by some. Remembering Tienanmen Square, the Branch Davidian compound in Waco, Texas, USA, the set-up and murders on Ruby Ridge by government hit men, they reckon militias may be a counter to the Chinese style centralized government developing here. The Obamists are trying to pre-empt resistance, but it is probably too late in some regions.
A member of the younger generation told me she sees the US dissolving in the next few years just as the USSR did. Some graybeards agree with her and, sadly, they see that as the only way they’ll ever again see equality and ” the blessings of liberty for us and our posterity”. Sad commentary in a country that once was the beacon of liberty.

Now, I’ve said all that to say all this:

I’m a motorcyclist and musician from family of motorcyclists, musicians, poets and visual artists. Totalitarian governments seem to have a real hard-on for gypsies, artists , poets, musicians (excluding lap dogs and propagandists) and other free thinkers .

England has fallen; Australia and Canada are falling.

Am I “concerned about what might happen next in the US”? You bet your ass I am.