Scribbled - Corner office

Do I want one? Do I want any office? Do I want a job?

Pesky questions.

Elmhirst's resort

I decided at the last minute.

There is still so much to do to get our new home to where it needs to be, and Susan and I don't want the work dragging on forever. That why I was reluctant to set out to join fellow members of the Toronto Moto Scooter Club for what was billed as a day long ride. When Susan said I should go, I threw my hat in the ring. I was lucky there was still room for me on the ride.

Scribbled1 - Alternative PokéGame

That's right, it's a PokéCraze. PokémonGo.

Let's say you want to join in the fun, but don't feel like walking around like a zombie with your nose in your phone. Here's what I recommend. It is (so far) endless fun.

The Quest

A deeply rooted part of us is programmed to seek out and explore new worlds. That aspect of our humanity dreams of setting off in search of distant new places, even when they may, or may not, exist.

When the quest is very long and expensive, and the time comes to render a satisfactory account of the adventure to an overbearing potentate with a fickle disposition, we don't hesitate to lie in the most mesmerizing way. And that's how the Montreal suburb of Lachine got its name. When the impassible eponymous rapids brought the early French explorers to a full stop on the new continent, they named the place where they hit the wall "China  - La Chine". There you go King Francis, mission accomplished! Finding a new route to India was another major 16th century mission foiled in large measure because the new world turned out to be not even remotely close to India. And that's how the native people of North America came to be Indians.

It's a small world, after all

It was 1964. I was twelve.

It just occurred to me that if I had been the same age then as I am now, I would have been born in 1900. Now that is weird.

We were in New York City for the World's Fair. That's where the future as I know it (which is now) coalesced.

Smoque N' Bones

Graffiti off Queen street in Toronto

 One of the many perqs of being a father, is Father’s Day.

We deserve that day.

I say that because by the time our kids are grown and off on their own, our hair is gray, our joints sometimes fail to cooperate as they once did, and we don’t always hear every little detail going on in our surroundings, we have long since become accustomed to putting our wives and kids first.

This past Father’s Day those I put first, put me first.

How so?

Rider profile: Ed Thomas

Name: Ed Thomas
Find me on Earth: Toronto (Leaside)
Find me Online: No website or blogs.
Interview Date: June 2016
Interview Location: Cyberspace

Copyright - Stephanie Yue

Inspiration

This is just a quick little post for a few things that bear mentioning.

Rachael recently mused about the phrase 'where are you headed?' It's a nice little gem, like most things that Rachael writes about.

E.M.

Saturday night we got together at Jonathan and Vicky's to celebrate all the family June birthdays over a barbecue, some wine, beer, burgers, grilled chicken, snacks and deserts. The weather cooperated and even after the sun set, the air was warm, humid, and fragrant.

As often happens, the boys gathered on the back porch huddled around the grill as Jonathan performed that ritual guys do of charring all the delicious savory things in sight. The girls were in the living room in a circle around the coffee table. Heaven only knows what the gals were chatting about.

Weird, peculiar, puzzling stuff rattling around my brain

They say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. By that truism, I should be like one, or both, of my parents in more ways than not.

Of course, it's only a truism, which means that, scientifically speaking, the truism will likely often prove false. Still, we don't call them falsisms do we? That's because they do ring kind of true.

My father was, to those who knew him well, a devout Catholic. My mother was also in her own way devout and went to some significant lengths in the exercise of her Catholic faith. I paid a steep price for their devotion, when the most important decisions in my life flew in the face of that faith. For the longest time, I have declared myself to be a non-religious person. In fact, while I will defend the right of any human to practice their faith, subject to the usual democratic limits, I personally take a dim view of all religion.

I visit a wizard, and go for a second group ride

When I interview you, one of the questions I ask is whether you are a solitary rider or don't mind riding in a group. It seems like a simple question, yet for a rider, it makes all the difference.

Group riding is a special kind of riding that is as different from commuting or fair weather solo pleasure riding as can be.

For one thing there is camaraderie, but that is not the key difference. The key difference is that riding in a group requires discipline and organization. Think Canadian Snowbirds (no, not Florida couch potatoes), or those group parachute jumps, or synchronized swimming, but not quite so demanding. Yet, for most more or less ordinary folks, group motorcycle riding is about as complex and demanding a road adventure skill as they are likely to encounter. It's a little challenging for humans. Oddly, insects, birds and fish do the most amazing stunts of coordinated flying and swimming and no one seems to get hurt. And yet we routinely disparage them (bird brain!). Silly humans.

A long, long ride home

Just because it's a holiday Monday, doesn't mean your day is going to be lazy and hazy.

We rose and shone pretty early because Lauren and Harris had people to meet. Out we went, the four of us, heading east to Montreal West. There's just a touch of odd travel dis-symmetry there, seeing as we left from the West Island, and Montreal West is indeed east of the West Island. I like that. It must confound the tourists, like too many other things about Montreal.

Nosy neighbour

I was riding home from Yorkdale Mall today. I had to go to the Apple Store to have my iPhone 5s replaced for the second time in 48 hours. Both phones basically turned themselves into bricks, all by themselves, with no help from me, that I know of. There must be something in the air.

As I headed north closer to home I saw a column of smoke rising. It looked angry and certainly out of place. It seemed to be coming from an area just north and west of Finch and Yonge.

Finding Thunderbird

The journey to Thunderbird's lair began for me when Susan dropped me off at the De la Savane Metro station. I still had some fares stored on the smart transit card in my wallet. I plunked my wallet down on the turnstile and waltzed right in.

Mission: Exfil Thunderbird

Extracting Thunderbird from its winter lair just north of Montreal's Parc Lafontaine is one thing I'll be doing tomorrow. Riding it 500 kilometers to Toronto on Monday will bring the mission to a close.

The Honda Shadow had to be stored because our two car garage in Montreal could manage a Civic, a BMW X3, and a Vespa GTS, but sadly there was no room at the inn for Thunderbird. Not so with our new home in Toronto. Each of our parking spaces can accomodate a car or SUV and a motorcycle, as long as the bike is parked parallel to the wall at the front of the space.