Swift - Starting the New Year training with Swift 1/7/13 - A long read...

Ah yes. Having a car does have its benefits although it has made me lazy. No more do I gear up in these colder months and wait until the bike warms up. Now I just get in, turn the key and go. Who knew it could be this easy.

The car originally was my father's work car. Then when it hit the miles whereby the company would replace it, he bought it for cheap from the company. He passed it on to my mom whom drove it for years before I bought it off of her recently. It's a 2002 Acura MDX. Nothing too exciting but to me the nicest car I have ever owned.
Anything with heated seats and some technology is many steps over my previous cars.

I bought it with a little over 200,000 miles on it but it runs great. I think I've already put on about 5000 miles on it and I plan on keeping this one for a long time. I love it and the stupidest things surprise me like a 10 year old discovering combustibles. Not long ago I discovered a secret underground compartment in my trunk area whereby when you pull a lever an additional, tiny 3rd row seat pops up. Obviously judging by the size of this miniature row of seats, it was meant for those secret cross-country carnival midget smuggling runs. I couldn't have guessed a car would come with such a feature. Very cool. I've also discovered some other amazing features such as these little drop down hooks located near the headliner above the seats. There are more secret compartments hidden under false wood pretenses hiding cup holders, secret 12v outlets and other special storage places. Pretty cool.

Considering that my last 4 wheeled vehicles were much more basic and less complex, this is nice. Despite owning about 3 cars in the past 12 years which got driven about 8 times total, this driving a car thing has been pretty unique and especially convenient when it comes to visiting Lauren 350+/- miles away.

 

Oh I couldn't agree with you more. I have more reflective stickers on my big bike than you can imagine. And I have them on every side of the bike. Sure beats getting nailed by a driver that didn't see you or isn't paying attention. I even have the reflective cover thing for my backpack as can be seen in my profile pic.

Ya gotta be seen riding!

 

If you look closely at the attached picture below, I have a lot of reflective stripe stickers on my bags as well as a lot of the oval/square stickers are reflective. And I use yellow a lot. I was completely opposed to bright colors and especially the color yellow in my gear but after being rear-ended twice on my bike in Washington, I want to be seen.

Oh I should add, because people ask about it, that my license plate does not reference Iowa nor does it say "Suc ia". It's actually "Sucia", the feminine version of the Spanish word for "dirty" and it specifically means "dirty wh0re". I thought it would make the Spanish speaking population down south chuckle or at least alleviate a potentially tense situation at a Mexican military checkpoint.

You guys be safe out there if you are going to be riding.

 

A weekend of comical emotional meltdowns, a t-shirt won via a pizza eating challenge, alcoholic gummy bears, sex toys launched across the street and the search for a cheap apartment...

This job sucks...
Once again, last week ended early with low miles. This job has really come to an end. Last week, the whole week, I had one trip up to Pennsylvania and one trip back to the terminal. All week. That means my total miles for the week, according to the company was something like 900 miles. I could ride a unicycle further in a week. Well, not exactly but you get the idea. Pitiful, aggravating, disappointing and discouraging it was my worst week yet here at this company. Today I spent the entire day (again, no loads) applying for hourly positions up in Jersey and posting my resume on different hiring sites. This. Job. Sucks.

Luckily relief came in the form of another trip up to Jersey to see Lauren again. Waiting the two weeks to see her feels like an eternity but it's worth it once I get up there. My work week ended early on Thursday so I had a monster gym session of 4.5 hours and left on Friday to come see her.


Not all toys are always fun...
It's always exciting to see Lauren and this time was no exception. I picked her up and in trying to find a place to eat I "discovered" Buffalo Wild Wings. Where has this place been all my life? Huge tv screens, an awesome selection of wing flavors and old UFC fights playing. Heaven. Although we had plans so it was time to move on. We had talked about hitting up an adult store on the way to the hotel. A quick pitstop later and we were in Seaside Heights at a discount, chain motel with a room up on the third floor. Packages previously purchased at an adult store were unwrapped and the comedy began. Although I'm sure I can't give many details here, lets just say that some things that should have been pleasurable were not quite so pleasurable due to our own ignorance and the lack of instructions that come with such items. What should have been self explanatory was, in fact, not. At least to us. And at least her and I have the ability to laugh at awkward and potentially painful situations. Another particular item was causing a great deal of frustration due to a poor design resulting in Lauren launching it across the room and into a wall. We had a great time regardless of the failure of electronic items and at one point we had stepped outside on the 3rd floor balcony to smoke we decided it would be best if I was to launch the offending and failed item out into the deep recesses of space and into the street. I believe the challenge was something like "let me see if I can throw this past and over that Jeep parked across the street...". I picked up something resembling a neon, hot pink bullet and threw it as hard as I could whereby it immediately disappeared from view. It seemed to be sailing forever The next sound was something like a small piece of electronics striking something metallic. All of this occurring on a very still and quiet winter evening in a New Jersey seaside town. With that noise and the unexpected collision, we sheepishly stepped back inside laughing and made plans to go out to a local bar to watch a local UFC fighter that was to fight that night. We headed down the street to a bar, embibed, Lauren buying us Jack and Coke after Jack and Coke, and our boy Frankie Edgar won within seconds in the first round by knockout. We went back to the hotel to have fun without toys. Great night.

Saturday was to be an eventful one. The original plan was for me to come up and accompany Lauren to my little cousin's Christmas party up in Jersey, back in my hometown. This is the same cousin that sort of indirectly introduced me to Lauren. Same cousin that got married on the weekend that I met Lauren. Same cousin that Lauren has been friends with for years. She was having her annual Christmas party and we were to attend later that evening. But not before I was to eat an XXL pizza to win a shirt I had eyed weeks before.


The thinnest Jersey XXL pie consumed and a pizza king is born...
A few weeks back we found ourselves at a famous Jersey Shore pizza place - Pete and Elda's in Neptune, NJ. While we were there I noticed that they had a pizza challenge. Eat a whole XXL pie yourself and get a -shirt indicating that you were now part of the pizza eating club. It was at that moment I knew I must have it. That night we had ordered the XXL pie and I easily ate 6 of the 8 slices myself and I wasn't even trying to do the challenge. Next time, I said, I would complete the challenge and win the shirt. This past Saturday found us at Pete and Elda's on our way up to the outlets to find some clothes to wear for the big party and we stopped in for lunch. Suffice it to say that in under 30 minutes this guy finished that whole pie and won himself a red, Christmas themed Pete and Elda's pizza eating club t-shirt. Mission accomplished. I felt bloated, fat and nearly sick but in the end it was all worth it.

Lauren's first meltdown...
We drove to Asbury Park and Ocean Grove to notate some potential apartments. On our way there, as I drove down Asbury Avenue towards downtown, Lauren's phone rang.

She has a very important job that requires people whom work for her to call her at the most inopportune times to let her in on bad news. She is on call 24/7 and unlike a surgeon, fireman or the United States freakin president, she actually does get phone calls all the time at all hours. And Murphy's Law requires that these phone calls occur when big, fun plans are made.

She answered the phone and I could immediately tell something big was very wrong. She was getting upset and I could see it. She hung up. Being the awesome boyfriend I went to give her some comfort. I felt terrible for her. Once again, her plans were possibly ruined due to work and she had planned on attending this party for weeks. I reached around her with my right hand and put my hand on her upper back and started to console her. I had barely got out an "awww baby, I'm sorry..." when she jerked her body violently and suddenly in one swift motion and simultaneously barked...

"DON'T...TOUCH...ME!!!"...

I knew she meant business. She was upset and severely disappointed that now she may have to go into work, work someone else's shift and miss the party. I didn't say a word. I knew the slightest provocation and she would explode, possibly start yelling in tongues. I sat there quietly, staring straight ahead as she made phone calls and texts to try and rectify the situation. I felt myself smiling, just a little and not enough for her to see (lest I be killed suddenly, swiftly and violently) at her outburst. It was really funny so much at the time but I think I knew it would work out in the end. I knew she overreacted and didn't mean anything by it and that in the end all would be good. And I smiled knowing that I would have something to make fun of her about later. As it turned out, she fixed the situation and everything in the world was good once again. And then I began, slowly and quietly, to begin the mocking and imitation of her outburst as we drove around Asbury looking for the place we could soon call home.


Someone inadvertently gets maced with cologne (hint: meltdown #2) and I have my first meltdown as I learn to hate sweaters...

We started over to the outlets to find her a dress for the party and me a sweater to go with some rust colored pants I was forced to buy a few weeks ago. This was the lower part of my outfit I was to wear to the party. Her and I have agree on this, sometimes I'm just her little doll for dressing. I don't mind at all. And I secretly kind of like these new odd colored jeans that she excitedly picked out for me.

On the way over to the outlets things starting to get interesting once again. For privacy I decided to park on the perimeter of the outlet parking lot. As things got very interesting I got spooked and cut things off. Within 10 seconds a girl walked up to enter her car parked directly next to our's and a guy walking a little dog walked in front of our car. We counted our blessings as we wouldn't be going to jail this night. We headed into the outlets to find this dress and this sweater for me. This one sweater for this one party. That would later become my mantra. One sweater for one party...

We went from store to store. Store to freakin store. And some more stores. And more. Looking for a dress for her (which I did not mind at all honestly as I like shopping with her) and that one stinking sweater for me for this one party. At some point at one store I started to become distracted. I picked up a cologne and asked Lauren to come over.

"Hey, c'mere and smell this.". I beckoned her.

She wasn't even that close to me yet. Honestly. She was still a few feet away when I began to depress the cologne button. Oddly it wasn't misting out as it should. So I continued to spray and pump. Until I heard a sound that I don't think I can accurately describe. Since what has now become "The Outlets Cologne Incident of 2015" I have repeatedly and with little success tried to describe this sound to her as I heard it. And I can't. It was something like a cross between a shriek, a brief scream and an animal being tortured or eaten, she let out this noise and immediately put her hand over her eye. Since I never did see any spray or any mist it took me a second to figure out what just happened.

She was not almost bent half way over and holding her eye. She was muttering something and making some noises but it was all happening so fast now. I immediately started apologizing profusely. I just kept saying something like "oh my God, I'm so sorry...I didn't even see it spray out. It's a faulty nozzle!"

It wasn't helping. Neither were the two gay dudes employed there that were folding shirts. They were barely a few feet away and they shot me looks. While one was asking if she was alright the other more animated one was saying something like...

"Oh girl, if it was me?? I would be sooooo angry..."

Thanks dude. You are not helping me at all here.

Meltdown #2 has now begun. We left the store, me following her and still apologizing.

I asked her to use the restroom to wash it out. I knew it hurt and I felt absolutely terrible about it. She refused at this time. I insisted. She refused and insisted on shopping more as her eye watered, became red and she continued to cover it. She finally went into the bathroom she had spotted and marched off. I met up with her afterwards and now she wanted to leave. She didn't want her dress anymore. Her reason? Because her eye was now permanently impaired and what's the point of buying a dress if she can't have her picture taken at the party due to her red eye. Okay enough is enough. He eye already looked better since she rinsed it and I couldn't be more sorry. I took her hand and told her that we can forget about the sweater I was to buy. I was tired of looking for one stinkin sweater for one stinkin party. My first meltdown has commenced. And as far as her eye goes, we will stop at urgent care or the emergency room on the way to the party so she could be treated. Possibly get a glass eye or maybe super laser surgery or something. She probably would never see again. As I pulled her away I told her to just follow the sound of my voice. I would lead her to safety. Maybe now we could get that coveted handicap parking pass. I was being dramatic right back at her and it made her break. As we stood in the commons of the outdoor outlets she began to laugh and I joined in. Man do I love this girl.

We decided to leave and stopped at her house to change. We were finally on our way.

continued below...

 

I don't remember the source but what happens, particularly at night, is the motorcycle's headlight gets lost in with the headlights of the car following. It's due to the narrow profile of the bike. It seems to happen almost as much during the day. I've seen this way too many times myself riding. And the most common bike-car accident is a left hand turn in front of the bike.

 

Part 2...

Alcohol soaked gummi bears, curious jello shots, a missed UFC fight and my meltdown #2...

The party was fantastic. We showed up a couple of hours after it started since some people take longer than other people to get ready. Such is life. We had brought a bottle of flavored vodka for the hosts which we took the liberty of nearly finishing ourselves. There was some alcoholic fruit punch in a magical bowl of goodness, jello shots of some indeterminate flavor and another bowl containing gummi bears bathing in a shallow sea of liquor. There's something cute and troublesome about the mixture of children's candy and adult beverages. Dee-licious. Then I think there were some shots of fireball mixed in there. Someone had ordered the night's UFC fights on Pay Per View playing downstairs in the newly married cousin's husband's man cave. Conor McGregor, an outspoken Irishman with cauliflowered ears and tattoo'd skin was fighting in the main event. Lauren and I found ourselves in a guest bedroom distracted and missed, what we learned was, a very short fight.

Slowly guests started leaving and filtering out to Uber's and to cars driven by designated drivers. Somehow Lauren and I lost our claim to the spare bedroom we had earlier blessed. We were allocated and subjugated to a couple of couches in the man cave in the basement. By the time we stumbled downstairs we were very drunk. The two drunkards tried repeated to fit both of our bodies on a very narrow couch, the wider of the two couches, in an attempt to actually sleep together. We were not successful as the outside person would undoubtedly slip off the couch and nearly on the floor. It wasn't working. I insisted Lauren take this couch and I would sleep on the other couch nearby. The couch nearby though had a huge hump in the middle with cup holders built into it. The is hump in the middle of the couch would not fold up into the couch. She tried to get up off the couch, the comfy one, to lie on the uncomfy one so I could sleep on the good couch. I wouldn't let her. I kneeled on the couch next to her as she lied on the good couch. As she tried to get up I held her down on the couch in a sloppy headlock thing. All this alcohol, UFC watching and gentlemanly behavior was mixed into a humorous attempt to secure myself a spot on the lumpy couch. I held onto her tight, pinning her in place as she fell off gently to sleep. I slept a few minutes myself in this position, kneeling next to her, my arm pinning her down and my head now lying against her shoulder. Where is there a picture when you need one. It was a genuine, drunken, caring and humorous moment.

Eventually I woke up and tried to lie down on the lumpy couch. It wasn't very long so the hump with the cup holders was right in the middle. I tried to get into a fetal position, curling into a ball to one side of the hump. No luck, I'm to big and the couch is too short. Sitting up sucked. So I just lied across it on my back taking the position of a pole vaulter just as he arches his back to clear the pole. It seemed like despite my drunkenness I couldn't get more than 15 or 30 minutes sleep at a time. And I didn't have my CPAP machine with me as it was left in the car pre-alcohol. Eventually I had had enough. I was somewhere floating between consciousness, deep sleep, pain and lack of sobriety when I declared...

"Okay, #### it. I'm going to go to the Comfort Inn!"

It woke her up. Now there are a few things wrong with this declaration on my part. Number one, I wasn't even awake to drive anywhere. Number two, I was piss drunk. Incapacitated drunk. Number three, where the heck is the Comfort Inn that I now want to go to?

Hair sticking up and looking crazy from my restless turns and twists on the uncomfy couch, dehydrated and wrinkled clothes I marched upstairs with no real plan on where I was going. Lauren followed. When we got up there I think I realized now that there was no actual Comfort Inn anywhere nor was I able to get there. She began to remove some cushions from an upstairs couch so we can both fit and sleep together. She is too sweet. I told her that I didn't want to wake up the rest of the house with my drunken snoring and that I would quietly return down to the cave and sleep on the couch. It wasn't too bad, I told her. I lied.

The next morning I was a wreck as was most of the remaining party. After a shower we all went to IHOP and started showing signs of returning to normal life. We left and we spent the rest of the day procrastinating and avoiding my inevitable departure back to Virginia. Despite what you would think, it has only become more difficult to leave Lauren each time. Each time she cries a little and each time I feel a little more sick retuning to a place that doesn't feel so much like home, to a job I can't stand and away from a person that feels so natural to be physically near.