Back in the 80’s, when I was sponsored by Levi’s, I was walking through Ghirardelli Square in S.F. I was out there with Michael Fatka and Andy Paulin, who lived South was with us too. It was kind of late at night and the square businesses were closed. We were just window shopping and there was a guy walking around, checking to make sure the doors were locked on all the businesses. He was talking on a radio. I noticed that he kept going by this big bag on the ground and messing with it. When he was checking another door, I walked over to where the bag was, and laying there was a huge manta ray fish. I called over to Michael and Andy to come over and look. Right then, the guy comes running over and starts yelling, “Get away from my fish!” I backed up and realized that they guy wasn’t a security guard, but a street person. He was just talking into his fist, acting like he was talking on the radio, making static and all. The guy really didn’t want anyone anywhere near “his fish”.

I’ve been on my back working on the Isuzu for the past two days. It is close to the worst thing I could be doing for hurt ribs. Hurt ribs and concrete are like oil and water. This morning, when I was out in the driveway, I noticed a parked car in front of my house. There wasn’t anyone in it. I was wondering what the car was doing parked in front of my house. And I was mildly perturbed that someone, I didn’t know, was parked there.

I think it is really strange how Americans, or maybe people from other countries too, take such a stance on possession. I don’t really understand why our society has strayed so far from reality when it comes to “our” stuff. I’m guilty here too.

When I was a kid, I lived in a pretty active neighborhood. Lots of kids on my end of the block, older people on the other end. But, other than maybe one house, there wasn’t a yard that I couldn’t go into. There wasn’t a house, that if I hit it with my Frisbee, that I would be worried about the people coming out and yelling at me. I knew them all by name and they knew me.

When I first started riding bikes seriously, there weren’t any other cyclists on the road, other than school kids. No one would ever honk their horns. No one yelled, pissed that I was getting in “their” way, using “their” road. Now, we all know how that is.

Now, I’m not sure why, but it must be through a slow evolution, people tend to be exactly opposite. They don’t want anyone on their property, no matter what.

Kansas has less public land than any other state, I believe. I think it is less than 2% public. Somehow, people in Kansas think that they should own everything where they live. What they don’t realize, is that each and everyone of them/us, are just temporary tenants on the land. That all of the time, the land out lasts us, and most of the time, our houses do.

Unless you live in brand new construction, you are living in someone else’s house. And someone else is going to be living in it eventually, most likely before you die, but nearly for sure after you do.

So, I don’t get why we are so protective of something that we really don’t owe forever. We’re just care takers.

This all came about because I was running Bromont around the block and some guy yelled to me about Bromont cutting the corner through the guys yard. I stopped and talked to the guy and eventually it was alright. But, still, why get all worked up because a medium sized dog runs through your yard. It wasn’t like he stopped and left something there. Bromont was just bending over the guy’s grass, at Mach 5.

I can’t imagine how pissed the guy would have gotten if it would have been a few school kids walking there. Even if that was the case, it’s not like they are doing any damage. It isn’t like the people that live there don’t walk on their own grass. It seems to just be the principle of the action.

Another example is our cars. Cars get dings in them, it is part of the deal of car ownership. And every time that someone, by accident, opens their car’s door and happens to ding mine, it pisses me off a little. But, come on, do I really expect anyone to leave a note and their phone number? I don’t and they shouldn’t. It’s inevitable and just part of life.

Somehow, we all need to change our mindsets about our possessions. We, this generation, has more stuff than any previous generation of Americans. There are more cars, more houses, more of everything than there were just a few years ago. And lots more stuff than there was a generation ago, not even addressing two generations ago. What is hard to understand is why people were less possessive of their stuff two decades ago, when there was less stuff around?

I don’t know how to fix the problem. I guess, for a start, it would be great if everyone tried to meet their neighbors. Maybe even know the names of the all the kids in the block. But, that isn’t going to happen quickly. I, for one, am going to try to be much more tolerate of people. try to not get so worked up about something that is very small in the big picture. I think this is going to have to be a conscious process. Somehow, we’ve all be brainwashed into where we are now. We’re going to have to try to ignore some of our greedy initial reactions and logically think it through. Let’s let other people look at our fish some. It doesn’t hurt anything.

I had a pretty weird day yesterday. Actually, now that I think about it, this season hasn’t been “normal”, as if there is anything such as a normal bike racing season. But, yesterday, maybe I was just looking at things differently, but it was definitely not a regular day. It seems like the less I ride, the more strange stuff occurs. The simple life of a cyclist is under appreciated by many.

My day started on my back, cursing under my breath, trying to replace the axles on the front of my Isuzu Trooper. I think if some car company decided that they were going to manufacture a car that was advertised as readily repairable by the layman, they would sell a bunch. Having to remove the front differential to remove a couple circlips, really to just replace a couple cv boots, is insane.

Anyway, I was under the car, when a guy pulls up in a Rescue Mission car. He gets out and goes to the door. I crawl out from under the car, all covered in grease, and yell over to him. He walks over and tells me his story. Which was, he has been going over to that vacant land in central Topeka I own, looking for any homeless people that might be hanging there. I’ve never seen any signs of anyone living there. I only seem to be the recipient of people’s extra stuff, instead of the dump. He said that the cable is still across the entrance, but there is a car parked back in the middle. He asked me if I knew who was there. I told him no. He called the police.

The police had me meet them over at the land. It took them 30 minutes or so. In the meantime, the guys from the Rescue Mission were telling me their stories. One guy had served two tours in Iraq. He said he was shot two weeks after he got there. Now he was a minister. He hardly seemed 30. All of them were good guys. We could use more people like these guys around, helping those who can’t look after themselves.

So, eventually, there were three police cars there. The officers went in and didn’t come out for 15 minutes. It turned out there was a couple people, a guy and a woman, digging in the creek bed, collecting scrap metal. A cop came out and escorted me in and explained the situation. He wanted to know what I wanted to do. I didn’t really understand the question. I told him I didn’t have any intention of getting anyone arrested for trespassing/collecting scrap metal. . He told me that the guy had warrants, so he was going to jail no matter what I decided. I told him that I didn’t want to press charges or anything against the woman.

When I got there, there was this large woman, wearing sweat pants, a t-shirt and tennis shoes. Covered completely with dirt. She called me sir and said that she had no idea that she was breaking the law. I told her it was fine and if she wanted to collect metal, she could go ahead. She told me that scrap steel was going for $180 a ton and that she could make good money collecting it. Digging it out of the ground seems to me to be a very hard way to go about it.

The police said she needed to remove the car or they were going to have to tow it. I told them I would help her collect her tools so they could get out of there. She had brought a pick axe, a wench, pry bar, and other things to dig up steel. I asked her how she found the area. She said she walked the creek. She said during the summer, she brought her kids with her to help. She thanked me a least a dozen times for not having her arrested. She said she had to go pick up her kids at school. I gave her my number and told her anytime she wanted to go there and remove stuff, just call. The whole episode took over 2 hours.

So, I left and went back to the auto repair. Soon, it started raining. I kept working under the car until it was wet there too. Greasy tools and water don’t work that well together.

My ribs are worse than they were a week ago. I know I’m not doing them any favors by doing what I’ve been doing for the past couple days. I haven’t ridden for 3 days. That is longer than anytime this year, excluding when I fell at Joe Martin and jacked my shoulder. I was thinking about running a little last night, but it stopped raining, so I worked again, with lights. All I have left to do if to put the shocks, brakes and wheels back on and I’m done. It shouldn’t take too long tomorrow.

I am trying to not follow cyclo-x now. I can’t race. I am mildly embarrassed to say, but I didn’t even know that there was an UCI race last night in St. Louis. That is normally a race I would hate to miss. But, I’m not looking at any race schedule until I feel better. It would just bum me out too much.

I was pretty tired, probably from not riding, so I just felt like laying around. I don’t watch too much TV. I don’t have that much time. When I do, I usually just watch parts of movies that I’ve already seen. I’m not sure why that is. But, last night I was flipping through the channels. I can’t believe how many reality TV shows there are. How many shows about guys buying up storage lockers. Just about anything. I guess those show must be cheap to make. I ended up watching the end of a show where some ex-fishermen, from Newfoundland, Canada, go out and shoot icebergs, collect up the chunks of ice and then sell it for bottled water or something. Wow, I never would have thunk. We are a weird society.

So, hopefully, I’ll get the car done early in the morning and ride over to Lawrence on gravel. Slow. It’s a good way to wipe the mental slate clean.

Here’s the woman getting her handcuffs removed by the officer.

This was the hole that they were digging, removing some dumped gas tanks or something.

This is back in the car now.

I got this text today. Where do these things originate from?

Here a picture on my TV of the guy shooting a iceberg.

The women’s podium at the Gateway Cup last night. Katie Compton, Nichole Duke and Ashley James, KCCX.