Vanity

Batman and Me

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Hey Kids!

It’s not so weird for me to talk about something that happened before my own kids were born, but it’s still strikes me as weird to talk to a coworker about an event and have her say, “When was that?”

“1978”

“That was before I was born!”

I’m OK with that. I know how old I am and I think it’s awesome to say I was born during the 60’s. 1966 to be exact.

I don’t remember 1966 or the other 60’s years in which I lived so much, but everyone recognizes the Bat Mobile. Yes, ‘THE’ Bat Mobile. mywebsitepic2

1966 was pretty cool, wasn’t it??!

*Photo borrowed from: http://www.1966batmobile.com/ *

Day 33

When the Moment Arrives, Go

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Hey Kids,

It’s been a few years now, but a mountain used to taunt me. All 11,750 feet of Mount Timpanogos laughed at me every time I traveled through Utah County.

I had said I wanted to climb it. I had said it out loud to others. The summer passed and the snows came. And the mocking continued through the winter.

And the summer came again and progressed without goal realization.198721_284503098329484_338240272_n

September came and so did my decision to at last hike to the top. I took a day off work, arrived at the trailhead at 7:30 and aimed my fat old man body up the mountain trail.

It hurt and I struggled. After 7 hours of walking, and 4,700 feet of incline, I arrived at the summit. All 11,750 feet of it!408255_284504268329367_490827171_n

I decided to do it and did it. Others had done it before; others will do it after. Regardless, I did it on that day. I did it because I decided to do it.

I now enjoy the drives through Utah County. I look up at the top of that mountain and know I made it there. The mountain no longer mocks me but remembers me, appreciates the struggle it took to visit, and waves as a friend as I go by.

What thing awaits you? Once you do it, no one can take it away from you.

Do it.

Day 32

The Wild Westerners

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Hey kids,

History of the West doesn’t exaggerate in the description of how tough guys were.

Doc Holiday.kit-carsons-horseback-duel

Wyatt Earp.

Kit Carson.

Bill Hitchcock.

Buffalo Bill.

They and many others were the real deal.

I know there are stories stretched and stories made up. But the whole of the thing is that you had to be tough to make it then. And even more so to be thought “Tough” back then.

As a writer of a famed western bad-ass, and reading stories of many of these tough guys of the past, I often wonder how I would stack up against those times.

Don’t say anything. I’d like to live with my delusions.

**Picture borrowed from True West Magazine**

Day 28

Paying It Forward

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Hey Kids,

Took a trip to Antelope Island, the large island on the Salt Lake City side of the Great Salt Lake. To call it an oasis might be a stretch of the imagination, but it is an island of intrigue. Bison, deer, antelope, coyotes, elk, big horn sheep, all make a good living surrounded by a near dead body of water. And within sight of the reflected city lights from the 2-point something million people just across the short side of the lake.

The island is left undeveloped and undisturbed most of the time. Hardly any of the locals venture out despite the paved causeway. It’s even a State Park. In that way it’s an oasis of discovery, surrounded by a severe lack of interest. Other people’s loss,

I love to visit. We packed a picnic lunch and headed to the ranch. On the eastern side, towards the southern end is the well preserved remains of a working ranch. It operated for 133 years. Now it’s a treasure trove of how past generations lived and worked. Not really a museum but a self-guided walk through time, it makes me wish I could live there and see it in its “glory days”.

But there’s sadness too. In a pasture rusts three vehicles. Two trucks and one tractor. They each have seen better days and now just sit, day after day, season after season. Kids climb in and around them, photos are taken upon them, and very few people see much more than junk.

I love these vehicles and I wish I could take them home. I wish I could make them run again and fire them up. But their day is done. Their engines will no longer turn. They are now tombstones to their own forgotten past. But these guys can live on in the photos they star in and I’ll add to their tribute.

Someone, one day, take a picture of my tombstone and post it in your blog; whether or not you know who I was or what I did. I’d appreciate it. IMG_20130324_135629 (1)IMG_20130324_135743-1IMG_20130324_135652      Day 20

Old Things

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IMG_20150313_144012_373-1Hey kids,

I have on my desk, a toy replica of Speed Racer’s Mark 5. I bought it a the Dollar Store for a buck.

It has been on my desk now for many years and occasionally someone might ask me about it. A few people recognize it and some ask if I liked the movie. I’ve never seen the movie.

Back in the day, sometime around 1971- 72, I watched the cartoon version of Speed Racer immediately after school. Daily, I had to see what would befall Speed, Trixie, and Pops, and of course Racer X.  Afterwards, I hit the neighborhood to find my friend Bobby and we would re-enact the races with our Hot Wheels added with passionate discussions of the episode just watched.

That was a long time ago. But Speed Racer, which I doubt I could stomach today, was exciting to me. It was fun. It was shared with a friend.

Bobby disappeared one day. Word was that his father had come and kidnapped him and his sister. All assumed they were taken back to Mexico. I never saw or heard from or about Bobby again. My family soon moved to another neighborhood and I don’t remember Speed Racer being quite the same again.

I barely remember his face exactly. I recall his blue jeans, dirty white t-shirt, and crew cut black hair. I think of Bobby still and hope everything went well for him in his life. I wonder if we would have remained friends. With the amount of moving my family did, I doubt it. I’ve retained near zero school-time friends. But maybe one from kindergarten may have been different, the bonds a little tighter. Who knows?Racer_X_promotional_image

The toy Mark 5 reminds me of Bobby. Of being a little 5 year old kid. Excited over something that really means nothing. Enjoying life before real school started. Before responsibilities. Before anything. Just joy of living and playing.

The Mark 5 takes me there when I let it. I hope somewhere out there, Bobby also remembers the Mark 5 and finds that same nugget of childhood joy in the folds of his memories.

I hope he now knows the identity of Racer X too.

 

Day 18

Speed Kills

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Speed Kills

#21 Cliff Branch

Hey Kids,

Speed Kills.

So stated a banner that I remember hanging in the Oakland Coliseum as I watch football games with my dad back in the 70’s and early 80’s. I knew what it meant. Everyone knew what it meant. Number 21, Cliff Branch, was on the field and if you blinked, he’d be catching the ball behind you.

Cliff Branch was quieter than many of the other players on the team. But at any time, he could be heard. With lighting speed, he could go from in front of the defense to the back of the end zone. Let your guard down for a second and he’d be gone, with the ball, scoring 6 on you. He was always that deep threat; on any down, at any point of the game, and at any yard marker.

Speed Kills. That slogan and banner will forever be stuck in my mind. Possibly the plague of every Raider fan.

Today I listened to a presentation given to studying entrepreneurs. At the end of the talk, the professor of the class asked the people in the room to repeat the one biggest thing they took from their guest speaker, Gary Vaynerchuk (Jets fan). Before anyone said a word, the words “Speed Kills” echoed in my head.

One of “Gary V’s” points during his chat with these student included that moving forward, moving quickly, is what gives him the advantage. Businesses become slow as they grow, they become careful, cautious, and methodical. Exploit it and be the sleek, speedy predator that you can be (my words). That concept resonated with me. I alone control my pace. I’m in charge of my rate of work. It can be my advantage, should I decide to take advantage of it.

I understand that speed is not everything by itself; you do have to catch the ball. Likewise skill and quality also count. But anyone can attain those attributes if they’re slow and careful enough.

But Speed Kills.

It is time to pick it up.

 

 

Day 16

A Ticket By Any Other Name

mikemjensen Interesting Stuff (to me anyway), Vanity Tags: , , , , , , , , , 1 Comment

Hey Kids,

I saw today that Nevada is considering a speed limit change on some of their more remote highways. They are proposing an increase to a posted 85MPH.

I like Nevada and don’t find the landscape as god-awful as many others will decry, but I do think the faster one can move from one point to another in the long stretches of the high mountain desert, the better. It’s always best to leave people wanting more. However, I do feel slighted by this change.

Back in 1984, I received a ticket for going 68 in the posted 55 outside of Elko. There are some who still feel that 55 is the right speed limit, but those people have never traveled I-80 form Salt Lake to Reno. The fact that I could contain my speed to 68 is actually amazing. I say ticket, but in reality it was a citation. A non-moving citation. Let me explain.

The state of Nevada knew that 55MPH was a mistake, maybe borderline cruel. Everyone knew it. Unfortunately, Nevada also knew that if they did not adhere and enforce the Federal mandated inane speed limit, they would cease to receive highway money. So someone, either the Nevada Highway Patrol or maybe state elected officials, created another option.

Instead of issuing tickets for every offender, tickets that could be costly and added points onto the driver’s record, NHP officers could, under certain guidelines, issue a Waste of Fuel Citation. It meant that they were enforcing the speed limit as mandated but without the heavy handed penalties. If one really wanted to, you could rack a few of these up and go a little faster. My citation cost me $15. Had I been going 70, I would’ve got a ticket.

It still irks me that on a stretch of highway now posted for 80 and possibly 85 soon, I had to pay $15 for speeding. I was making a teenager wage of $4.25; it was not chump change for me at the time. Afterwards, I kept the speedometer in the 1977 Camaro 64 or under and avoided any additional legal entanglements.

Maybe I was safer for it. Maybe I saved fuel. Maybe I wrecked the planet a little less that day. But it made for a long drive back to California.

 

I Can't Drive 55

I Can’t Drive 55

Day 15

Fair Play

mikemjensen Motorcycles, Vanity Tags: , , , Leave a comment

Hey Kids,

First weekend in March. What we do is dependent on the weather.

On the eastern side of this country this year- well, it’s damn cold and snow bound. You’re going to have to wait. That’s a shame but not tragic.

Here in the western part, at least the Intermountain area, we are warm and dry. We had some snow recently and the mountains are still under 8 feet of it; but today, here in the lower valley, we’re looking at 50’s to 60’s and sunshine. Lots and lots of sunshine.

Sometimes it’s the opposite and we’re the cold ones. In fact, next week it could all turn around. And then again on the following week, it could all be different again.

It’s springtime. It’s how it works. No whining allowed. Everybody gets some, sometime. Just wait your turn.

Spring brings out the motorcycles.

Today they have been rumbling and winding up and down the streets and highways. Many out for their first time this spring.

They’ll be bragging about their “great rides” and how “what a wonderful day it was to ride” and some will even be mocking those who did not get their bikes ready or still felt it too chilly to ride.

Oh bragging rights will be claimed. Other riders will be shamed. And a false sense of heroism might be expressed.

I have just a few words for those whose “First Flight” this weekend makes them think they have entered the Early Bird Club of Motorcycling. Six words to be exact.

“Where were you in January, bitches?”

 IMG_20150106_090731_971-1

 

 

Day 12

 

An Angry Bird

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images (3)Hey Kids,

I’m not exactly angry, but kind of sick of the crap.

I joined Twitter some time ago, several years ago. Long enough that many told me they didn’t “get” Twitter and how weird it was. Since then it has obviously blossomed to incredible numbers of people and incorporated into everyday life.

I did have a motive; I joined Twitter to connect with other writers, publishers, and people in the know of writing. The links and conversations taught me a ton about the publishing world and the world of writing, which are not the same.

I never thought of Twitter as the means to sell tons of books. It was not my advertising scheme. I hoped and still hope to connect with people who might be interested in my work. And I do announce when my work is available or on special but because its part of my life, not as a campaign. People will come along, if it is natural that they do. I’m OK with that. But many people will come along that won’t be “customers”, I’m OK with that too. Bottom line, Twitter was not my personal Buy My Books channel.

google+-logoI slowed and stopped with Twitter and moved more to Google + for similar reasons. But I found it connected me with different groups of people and not so much publishers/editors/writers. I’ve enjoyed it and the people I have met and befriended there.images (2)

I also expanded to Facebook to be more connected to family and family connections.

Today I re-launched, if you will, into Twitter. I saw many people still there that I was happy to see remained. It was like returning home.

I want to connect. I want to meet people who are beyond my normal sphere of influence. Each platform brings a different group and style. I like the different flavors.

Now to what makes me angry- I hate people who see Social Media as their “commercial” time. That because we connected, they are free to unleash their marketing campaign upon me. These people need to be fair warned- the interruption-based ad world is crumbling. We don’t have to put up with anyone. Social media is for us, the people. It’s a wonderful thing and the greatest part about it, is we get to control it.

Marketers need not follow nor apply.

 

Day 8

You Were Saying?

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I may have spent my earliest years growing up in the Bay Area of California but I have spent more time than most camping around the lakes of the Sierra foothills and tromping through the sagebrush in Nevada and Utah.

And in all that time, I had yet to come across a rattlesnake in the wild.

During my latest stay out in the western desert of Northern Utah, after exploring on foot the area around our campground, and loading back our gear into our vehicle, I mention the above mentioned fact of never seeing a rattlesnake.

No more than minutes from saying it, a loud noise sounded outside of my driver’s side window. At first, I thought it sounded like pressurized air- like a tire leak. I stopped the truck and the sound also stopped.

“Was that a rattlesnake?” My honey asked.

“What??!”

We got out of the truck and as we back-tracked on foot down the road, the noise restarted.

Scanning around the roadside, the brush, and trying to follow this odd sound, we finally spotted it.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

I have now seen a rattle snake in the wild.