Category Archives: Humor

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Harder Than it Looks.

Janet and I had a nice bicycle ride this weekend up at Lake Arthur. As we sat on a bench and looked at the nice scene you see above, we admired the skill of the sailors who were piloting their sailboats, catamarans, and wind surfers. We observed some folks attempting to wind surf who had elementary skills and after a while, we realized that wind surfing is harder than it looks. Probably not unlike a lot of things with a steep learning curve until you get the hang of it. As my mind drifted in the hot sun and pleasant scenery, I went back to my earlier adventures in life, trying to pilot water craft. Not too successful.

Take whitewater rafting. Now I had always gone on whitewater rafting trips on the Yough and Gauley Rivers around here, but always had been a passenger and did what the guide told us to do. Kind of fun but basically along for the ride. One day, my father in law thought it would be a good idea to do the Youghiogheny River with my mother in law and my wife. He ended up in a raft with some other guys and I had my own raft with my mother in law and Janet. They looked at me skeptically when I said I knew what I was doing and we pushed off and paddled downstream with a look of excitement and wonder as the whitecaps began to lap up against the raft. We were doing fine until we came to the famous Dimple Rock which has been the demise of many canoes and water craft with a tough eddy current up against the rock and a designated route around it outlined by the outfitters at the beginning of the trip. I saw a bent canoe hanging from the rocks on the left bank and knew that we were approaching the challenge. I told my mother in law and my wife to keep paddling and I would try to steer us in the recommended direction of the current. Unfortunately, we zigged where we should have zagged and somehow I managed to get the raft out of the current and basically in the direction we wanted to go. And then the unthinkable for my MIL and my wife. I flipped out of the back of the raft and was on my back floating down “Swimmers Rapids” trying to hail them down. My wife apparently kept paddling with my MIL and then after a while of no response to questions like ” where do we go now?”, they realized that I was not in the raft. Janet screamed at her mom and said, ” He’s not here.” To which the MIL responded” Oh get out, you don’t know what you are talking about.” She then looked back and the two ladies were on their own.

After a little while, I managed to float alongside the raft and after a barrage of questions, I said, ” I will see you in a mile at the end of these rapids.” I have no problem swimming but piloting a craft is not my strong suit. We all had a laugh about that one for years.

Another foray in into the world of water craft was when I decided one year that I would like to take up kayaking on the Yough. I took a continuing education class at Pitt with outings in a swimming pool trying to roll the kayak without getting out. A necessary skill when actually kayaking on a river or stream. I never was good at that and on the field trip to the Yough as our final outing, I put on a rain suit to try to keep myself dry. Little did I know that was a worthless endeavor seeing that I was out of the kayak more than I was in it and to make matters worse, the outing was in October and it was snowing on the river. Cold is not the word for it. Something much worse, and I was never so glad to rid myself of that kayak and tell myself that the idea of being a river rat or a granola crunching paddler hanging out in Ohiopyle, Pa was not my fate. My old ski buddy, Mark Singleton, who is now the Executive Director of American Whitewater, would not be proud of me and maybe welcome me back on the river for some lessons and maybe some redemption. But any trip to North Carolina to visit him would be on two knobby tires on trails and not on the river rapids of the south.

I had a few close calls on the water that were not my fault. One was on a boat offshore at Martha’s Vineyard where a friend of my in-laws, piloting the boat, went down into the hold to get some nautical maps I believe, and we were drifting precariously close to a large buoy. I was just about to grab the wheel when the guy came up, screamed, ” Holy S@#$”, and then just avoided what would have been a bad collision seeing that the base of the buoy was made of concrete. I can just see it now, all of us hanging on the buoy waiting for the Coast Guard as the boat would have surely sunk. The second was on the river here on a party boat with a bunch of ex football players. The weight in that boat had us very close to the water surface and I looked at my one friend and said, ” make sure you have your wallet and car keys within reach because when this thing sinks, we need to be ready to swim to shore and have our belongings” Fortunately, we were able to get off the boat before a collision with another boat and a close call with the walls of a lock on the river.

My mind drifted back as Janet said, ” time to go.” As we mounted our bikes, I took a final look at the sailboats, wind surfers, and other pilots of the water and said to myself, ” that is not for me, but it is nice to watch.” I will be a spectator for sure. Thanks for reading but don’t let me dismay you. If you want to try something new, go for it. It would be cool to know how to do it.

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“Stuff” My Folks Used to Say.

My wife Janet and I had a good laugh the other day when I said something that my dad used to say. I mean, some of that stuff is drilled into my psyche and I say some things where one would say……”Whaaaaaaaat?” Things like, ” that one’s got a rear end like a 40 dollar cow.” Whaaaaaaat?? Or maybe ” look at that one ahead, looks like two cats fighting in a sack.” Whaaaat????? My mom used to say things like, ” that one looks like he fell out of a nest?” Or”he looks like Willy Lump Lump.” Say whaaaaaat??? Or maybe the classic, ” I wouldn’t know him from a cake of soap.” Where did they they get these sayings.

My grandmother had some good ones too. Like when you invited someone to something and they politely refused- much to your delight. Her line was ” an invitation is as good as an acceptance.” Kind of indicating that you went out of your way to invite them even though you really didn’t want to and you got off the hook because they said “no.” LOL!! No chance at getting invited again. Or when she didn’t like someone or had a spat with them, she looked at me and said, ” I rubbed her out.” Meaning no way that person was getting back into my grandma’s life again. Just rubbed out. LOL!!! My grandfather would pass gas and look at me and say, ” well, there goes the Sputnik.” You have to go back a few years to relate to the Soviet satellite.

I was riding my bike in Ireland one time and came upon a farmer with his dairy herd. They were stopped in the middle of the road and one of the cows started to relieve himself and it was like a fire hose. I had to move back so I would not get splashed. I then knew what my dad meant when he said, ” It is raining like a cow peeing on a flat rock.” Pretty hard rain. LOL!!!

Then there was the historical “stuff” that my mom used to say. Things like ” that guy is as cheap as Peter Liebach” Never knew what that meant until I read a biography of the Rooney family here in Pittsburgh and Art Rooney referred to Peter Liebach. The guy was known on the North Side for being cheap and turns out that when he passed, they found a bunch of coffee cans buried in his yard with cash in them. Lots of cash. A real person on the North Side of Pittsburgh back in the day.

Weather would bring out some of the good “stuff”. My dad would say, “wow- it is cold outside.” How cold is it dad? ” It is as cold as a well diggers a#$.” Or “bring in the brass monkeys” referring to the fact that the brass monkeys(door walkway ornaments) would freeze their private parts off in this cold.” Whaaaaaat? Or ” how hot is it dad?” ” It is so hot you could fry an egg on your shoes.”

If you looked disheveled before going out the door, my dad would say” get back in here, you look like a dog’s breakfast.” Or ” you look like a sack tied in the middle.” WTH????? The other classic was when he was angry with me he would say, ” you’ve got your head up your a#$ and locked.” LOL!!!

There are so many funny things that I remember that I catch myself saying. Like ” here we go, off like a herd of turtles.” Or ” that one was four sheets to the wind last night.” Or, ” that one is as cheap as hen poop.” Well now, that is cheap!!! ” I have to go so bad, my eyeballs are floating.” My dad had a million of them and I say them sometimes because they just run through my brain and out of my mouth. Another quotable one was , ” work is the curse of the leisure class.” Not sure if my dad could take credit for that one but he used it a lot.

My dad was no fan of Roberto Clemente because he didn’t like the basket catches that the Great One made. He would look at me and say,” you need to put some mustard on that guy.” Or if I would ever catch a ball like that, he said laughingly that he would ” tan my hide.” LOL!!

Who ever called a couch a davenport? Or when my dad would say, ” you mind Joe Brown – used to live up in the valley?” I reminded him that I did not “mind” or know Joe because that was back in my dad’s Bellevue days and I was not around then. How about ” that one is as useless as teets on a bull.” Or, ” I need that like I need a second navel.” Millions of them I swear. And I am plagued with them in my speech as I see things that trigger these inane responses. I am sure you all can add to this list especially if you are older. The “stuff” your folks used to say just drives you crazy as it comes out of your mouth, and your spouse, kid, or friend, says…………..whaaaaaaat???? Thanks for reading. Thought you could use a Covid sequestered laugh today.

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” You see that trail? Don’t take it”

Please observe this picture of so called ” experts” trying to all repair a chain at a recent MTB event in West Virginia. Take a moment to take it in. Then PLEASE,PLEASE, take a moment to review this link. https://youtu.be/L6YrqZ7HZ-0 This is the opening scene from my favorite movie ” The Quiet Man” with John Wayne, Maureen O’Hara, Ward Bond, Barry Fitzgerald and the affable Victor McLaglan. Stop, take a moment and watch this hilarious scene where everybody’s an expert as in typical Irish fashion. Finished? Ok? Don’t skip it. You won’t get the rest of this drivel.

Now, fast forward from this iconic film from 1952 to the present day characters hovering over the good doctor’s chain down in West Virginia. Everybody involved is an expert. Initially, the issue is the Doc. His bike is used and abused as he makes a practice of riding over every log and rock pile he can and trashing his bike in the effort. He abuses himself too. How many guys fall and break their nose on the rocks only to put it back in place and keep riding? Dirty Harry’s Bike Shop always tells us that they could fix the Doc if only he would leave his bike long enough for them to do a thorough and well needed repair. Nonetheless, issues ensue and the repair is like a magnet to the confident crew of “experts”. First comes the ” Shark” who muscles his way in and takes hold of the chain and mumbles what is needed by way of a quick link which ultimately is the wrong one. Minutes, which seem like hours, roll by with the crew getting impatient to ride only to be stalled by the first attempt to quickly repair the chain.

The others, like the author here, making a funny face at the behest of our rider/photographer who laughs at the scene and makes detrimental and funny remarks about the Doc and his assistant trying to muscle the repair. The photographer’s wife here is disinterested as she longs to begin the ride so as not to put the afternoon’s activities any further behind. We are there to see the Mountain Bike World Cup Finals and the quick link issue is anything but quick.

Finally John, similar to the Barry Fitzgerald character who comes in to rescue John Wayne from the pile of Irish “experts”, brings the right link to the repair and silently and swiftly repairs the chain and the Doc is saved from further ridicule. Then the real fun begins. What trail to take? ” You see that trail over there? Don’t take it, it will do you no good.” In typical Irish fashion, the crew discusses where to go and the maps come out, the memories of the trails, and the GPS indicators which do absolutely no good in remote West Virginia. Finally the quick witted photographer and unofficial leader of the pack takes over and takes us on a repetitive route of rocks, roots, steep climbs and missed opportunities. Once again the maps come out and everybody’s an expert on where to go, and if we can ride to a place where we can take a chairlift out. The Doc takes the main group on a detour as he says he knows that the fractal group has gone ahead there. He turns left with no idea about where the “left” will take them.

Mountain bikers are funny people. Passionate in their pursuit of fitness, fun, great gear, and finally knowing how to survive and where to go on the wilderness trails which we all love. But everybody is an expert. We all think we know all the trails and don’t need maps or GPS. When we get lost, it is someone else’s fault and the resultant conversation of what trail we should have taken, fruitlessly leads us to conclusions of no consequence. The beers come out afterwards and the abuse continues with laughs, recommendations on what are better trails, and what we all will do the next time we ride together.

Newcomers are always pleasantly surprised at the variety of personalities and abilities on the rides and if nothing else, they will know that if they take the trail that they think is right, it will do them no good at all. Thanks for reading.

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Inept

Self deprecation has always been one of my strong suits. An Irish trait really. I have attempted some new ventures with humorous results and like Dirty Harry Callaghan says,” A man has to know his limitations”. Now I am pretty comfortable on a pair of skis and can ride a mountain bike fairly efficiently, but have not had success in some other ventures over the years….. like golf. A golf club in my hand never had a natural feel-kind of like a telephone pole, and when I would manage to par 3 or 4 holes and then launch a tee shot into an adjacent house near the golf course, I knew that my feel for the game was lacking. I was a good caddie back in the day. I understood the game and even caddied for Ben Crenshaw at the Open Qualifier at Shannopin Country Club in Pittsburgh when he was a student at the University of Texas. But when it came time for me to actually play the game, I really had no feel and was too nervous and jerky for golf. Fast forward and I found myself in recent years playing in scrambles tournaments to benefit Ronald McDonald House Charities. Scrambles were fun in that you could just bang one off the tee and if it was not good, all you had to do was put your ball where the best tee shot was in your foursome and go from there. No pressure at all. But when I had to play my own ball at a place like Laurel Valley in Ligonier, I was exhausted and shattered after 15 holes due to many swings, lost balls, and generally a course that was way above my ability level. I have since given up the game and politely refused any further invitations. I always felt intimidated by that little ball staring at me on the tee and the possible errant trajectories that it could take after one of my swings. I am fairly athletic- but golf? No feel at all.

Then there was the time that I thought it would be cool to try kayaking. I took an adult continuing education class at the University of Pittsburgh with a lot of instruction rolling the kayak in a swimming pool. Another example of not having a feel for the sport. I always felt like I was going to roll the thing over anyway and was never seated comfortably in a kayak. Then came our final exam up at the Youghiogheny River. I had a rain suit on which was useless seeing how many times I tipped the kayak and to add insult to injury it was snow showering during the event. I eventually dragged my sogging body down river and unloaded the kayak never to attempt the sport again. I missed being a river rat at Ohiopyle because I thought I would have a home there with all the other pine cone eaters but it was not to be. I did take my wife and the in-laws white water rafting one time at Ohiopyle, but the result was basically the same with me flipping out of the raft at Dimple Rock and laying on my back in the Swimmers Rapids and floating behind much to the consternation of my wife and mother in law. They did’t realize I was out of the rear steering position until I passed them floating on my back. See you in a mile dear!!!

I was a “B” tennis player in my day with a self taught ” whirly bird” service motion that people found quite humorous. In one tournament, the opponent started laughing because he thought I was kidding. I said, ” No man, that is my real serve.” He laughed again and killed me in the tournament. I eventually gave up tennis for running and did that for quite a few years until I took up cycling which I still do today.

So, after several failed attempts at other things for variety, skiing and cycling have been my mainstay activities for years and at this point, I am not interested in trying anything else. I am often asked if I ever tried snowboarding or telemark skiing. I really have no interest seeing that I really like to alpine ski. Been doing it for 57 years so why deviate? Also, mountain biking has basically taken over my cycling world because I am a bit concerned about violent drivers and drivers who do not pay attention while texting. Road cycling is starting to get a bit sketchy for me. Riding in the woods is pleasant and no irate drivers throwing chipped ham sandwiches at me and yelling at me to get off the road. True story. Had mayonnaise on it too.

One last activity that has come and gone for me is fishing. I used to go with my grandfather a lot and had some outings with my family where we caught a fair amount of baby sharks. But for the most part, I am unlucky in the angling department and it came to a head years ago with unsuccessful attempts landing a fish at the ocean, I took to desperate measures. I went to Piggly Wiggly and bought a whole Red Snapper and put it on a hook and threw it into the ocean trying to please my son when he came down to the beach to see if I finally caught something. When I hauled it in, it was full of seaweed and my son said,” Dad- it looks dead.” I looked at my friend who came down too and I whispered,” Piggly Wiggly” He fell down laughing and that basically ended my fishing career.

So I figure- just stick with what you know and at this point I am satisfied with my activities that will take me into old age. Ski to live and ride to ride another day. Thanks for reading.

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Hat Hair

One of the aberrations of any athletic activity is if you think your coiffe will look good after a sweaty ride under a bike helmet or a perspiring day under a ski helmet or wool hat, you are mistaken. Hat hair, helmet head, or any other number of adjectives to describe the plastered, greasy, sweat infested hairdo at the end of the day is something that needs attention. Now there are those who refuse to wear a wool hat or a helmet during the most ferocious storms and cold weather in the winter only to hope that the windblown look will survive and look attractive in the bar at the end of the day. Some folks fall prey to this mistake by wearing a wool ski band in zero degree weather so that they can mimic the spring skiing models in Ski Magazine. Not something to do in mid winter conditions. But the rest of us who value our warmth and safety, wear the wool and the helmets and suffer the nerd like look of the plastered head at the end of the day.

Enter the trucker hat. Now with a noggin like mine, I need XL hats- period. Take the oversized, wide brimmed versions made by Big Truck Hats out of Squaw Valley, California. http://www.bigtruck.com I have several of these hats because they fit my melon real well and don’t look like most hats that fit like a yarmulke. These large trucker hats come down close to your ears and have a wide brim that not only covers the aforementioned head grease real well, but they are stylish. A great addition to one’s attire on the deck of a ski area after a great day on the slopes. Great for women and men alike and with a good pair of Ray Bans, you are ready for anything that is offered at the after ski party. Now if you didn’t cover up that goop, you would look rather disheveled and that could last into dinner which would further the disgust factor. The trucker hat is approved for after ski dinners and no one would think any less of you for wearing a hat at dinner especially if they saw the matted horror that lies beneath the stylish lid. Showers are not always timely and the covering is essential.

Summer is coming and like my matted sweaty head seen above with 3 time Tour de France champion Greg Lemond, it was immediately time for a shower or a quick visit to the duffel bag for a Big Truck hat. There are others that fit the bill in my collection which include the HKD Snowmaker hat, the various ski area hats that I wear, and the sweat stained favorite Tarpon hat from Patagonia. Hat hair has definitely taken a toll on that lid after rides but it is a badge of honor if I can get by the initial smell factor. A sweat stained trucker hat is high on the approval rating for any weekend warrior.

You may also be interested in knowing that hat hair is in our history as well. Take Thomas Jefferson here with a bad case of hat hair after apparently removing his tri- cornered hat to pose for this photo. Or perhaps the Marquis De Lafayette- our friend who helped wrap up the Revolution? His bouffant was altered by the tri cornered hat as well. Imagine if they had Big Truck hats back in their day? Quite stylish for apres activities at the Monticello or on the continent.

So when you are selecting hats for covering the helmet or hat hair, remember to be honest with yourself and take in consideration the size of your head. Most golf course hats, baseball team hats, and others with the adjustable cloth band are no where near large enough to proudly wear. They are just too small and come down only remotely close to the benchmark top of your ear. But the snap back trucker hats can typically be easily fitted to a large cranium and come down close to that benchmark. Nothing else is acceptable. Spend the money on a Big Truck hat or get one similar at your favorite ski area, bike shop, or resort and you will find that it will become part of your standard post ski/ride attire. Do your fellow skiers and riders a favor. We don’t want to look at hat hair. Thanks for reading.

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Duct Tape- the Panacea of Repair

Home repairs have never been one of my strong suits. My dad could do anything- plumbing, electric work,etc. and you would think that I could have picked up some skills over all the years that I did the grunt work for him while he skillfully repaired things in our house. My brain is not wired that way and unfortunately the art of true home repair or repair of any kind escapes me. I am basically a “rigger”. I rig things. Take when my wife Janet first moved into my townhouse when we were married. She inquired what the wire hanger was doing protruding out of the toilet in the upstairs bathroom. I explained that I had it in there as a shim to stop the leaking Flushmaster valve in the toilet. I told her to remove the hanger when she had to go to the bathroom, then after the tank filled up, place the hanger under the Flushmaster internal valve arm and put the lid back on the toilet. She looked at me with a puzzled look and said……….” that is not going to fly, Pat.” So I eventually did learn how to replace a toilet valve. One of my limited skills due to necessity.

However, duct tape has been my saving grace for many a rig job over the years. Take ski gloves for instance. If you ski, you know that these gloves take a beating from handling skis in the winter, carrying luggage, and basically used for keeping the hands warm. When they start to go, I duct tape the fingers which tend to wear out first. It saves the gloves for a little while longer to avoid the expense of constantly replacing them. To the fashion conscious like my wife, these look terrible after a repair job. I try to use black duct tape to blend in. It tends not to alert the fashion police who would arrest you for using the standard silver duct tape. I tore a brand new jacket skiing in the trees at Alta one time and fortunately had a roll of the coveted black tape with me for an instant repair. No one noticed except my wife. I still ski in that jacket.

One time I was skiing in Deer Valley, Utah a rather high brow ski area if there ever was one. The high rollers tend to be attracted to Deer Valley where they valet your skis, the food is really high end in the ski lodge, and the grooming for all the beautiful people is impeccable. Much to my friend Norm’s chagrin, I was skiing in my favorite ski pants with silver duct tape covering a tear caused by a collision on a crash with my ski edge. We were chatting with several female trust funders and Norm was aghast that I was sitting there with silver duct tape on my ski pants. Later he inquired why I would ever ski a nice place like Deer Valley with duct tape on my pants? I responded that I liked those pants and if someone judged me by the character of my ski clothing, they were not worth the acquaintance anyhow- plus, I ski circles around them. Those pants are still in the closet today and I bring them out with the torn jacket for matching duct tape attire.

My son recently remarked that the duct taped rust holes on my old Jeep was an indication that perhaps I needed to trade in the old Jeep and get a new one which I eventually did. But the black duct tape did the trick on the tail gate and as I explained to my son, it gave the old Jeep character. He just shook his head and walked away. My rigging was lost on him. Like many things.

Some other famous rigs- my old Docksiders- when the sole broke away- duct tape. The smoke alarm door that never closes- duct tape. The poorly designed break away Leki ski poles- duct tape the handle to neutralize the break away feature. Duct tape book binders. Duct tape a battery to the mountain bike frame when the strap breaks on the battery cover. Duct tape a hole in the garbage can. So many rig jobs available when you have the skill to just roll that black tape. My wife usually finds out and forces me to either buy something new or repair it properly, but in my hectic life, there is nothing like a rigged duct tape job. It gets you by when you need it and gives you time to contemplate what it would take for a proper repair. I am not a slave to fashion much to Janet’s dismay, but if I can hide the rig job for at least a little while, I have achieved in internal victory of some kind.

So, why fix something properly when you can rig it? Well, that philosophy is slowly waning and I guess in 2018, one of my resolutions is to try to be better at home or general repair. If not, ……….rrrrrrrrrrrrrrippppppppppp. Out comes the tape. Have a happy New Year and rig something. Thanks for rigging or…..reading.

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Let’s Keep Daylight Savings Time – all the time!

Did you know that Benjamin Franklin was the first guy to have the bright idea about Daylight Savings time? Did you know that we could save more than 1% of electric use if we had DST all year? Did you know that the University of Michigan did a study that concluded that when the time change comes in the fall, there were 227 vehicle/pedestrian deaths versus 65 in the summer. Did you know that Carnegie Mellon did the same study with roughly the same results? Safer to drive with more daylight? Even when daylight dwindles in the fall/winter?

The old adage that standard time is better for chicken and dairy farms doesn’t hold water. In fact, the animals don’t like the changes and would rather have more daylight in the evening. They are used to being fed and milked in darkness and want to thrive, and distribute methane during the day,….. in more daylight. Nothing like a contented cow? How about a contented mountain biker?

I don’t mind pulling out the lights for night riding when the time change comes, but it sure would be nice to sneak in a ride before darkness after work or at least only use the lights to finish a ride. I was even a proponent of moving the clock ahead in the fall instead of falling backward to have more daylight in the evening. People are used to getting up in the U.S. before dawn(70 % of us do), so what is the difference if it is a little darker for more time in the morning if it affords you more light in the evening? People would be more active, use less electricity, drive more safely, (commute in daylight instead of darkness or dusk, driving home when they are tired.)

I can also tell you from a skier’s perspective, the light starts to get flat around 3:00 in the afternoon. If you had a little extra light you could ski right through that 3:00 benchmark and make a full day out of it with decent daylight until the lifts close. You ski so much more confidently when you can see clearly. To me, there is a lot of benefit to extended daylight in the evenings even in the fall/winter months when the sun is low on the horizon for those of us who live in the Northern Hemisphere.

There is a lot of history to DST. Franklin Roosevelt was a proponent to protect our soldiers in World War II. And in fact, lately, with the passage of legislation, the clocks are changed later than in the past with the spring ahead slated for the second Sunday in March and the fall back on the first Sunday in November. But if we can do that, why don’t we just go the full gamut for the four months and continue the summer time schedule? We can all get through the dark winter better,and when the spring rolls around, we will have more daylight anyhow. More Vitamin D for all of us, improving our moods. Less crime on darkened streets during regular pedestrian hours. So, we need to start to pester our politicians about this matter. Maybe a note to your senator or congressman? Have a farmer, mountain biker, skier, or anyone else for that matter that values daylight after school or work, do the same. The vociferous rooster, the clucking chicken, the farting Holstein, will all thank you. Enjoy your Thanksgiving. We all have a lot to be thankful for- especially the prospect of more daylight.

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Dude!

So, this week I celebrated another lap around the sun and I thought about my place in the world and where I am currently with friends, family, and business associates. It’s funny, but as you age, you think about what is appropriate and how you should act and think based on chronological advancement. I always say I will advance chronologically, but never mature. That give me a youthful outlook on life as I continue to pursue things like skiing and riding a mountain bike. But it is equally curious when I hear myself referred to as …..”dude.”

This word, in the vernacular of the active set, is kind of curious and not really in my vocabulary. But I find it refreshing and funny actually when it is used in conversation with some of my younger friends as well as some of my more grizzled, granola crunching associates. There are various uses to this moniker which sort of goes like the following: ” Dude? – how are you man?” Kind of addressing you as “dude” instead of your given name. Or there is the use of surprise when perhaps you have done something spectacular. ” Dude!!!!- I can’t believe you did that?” ” Awesome dude!!” Perhaps you did something not so spectacular and out of character for you. ” Duuuuuuuude??? Really man? ” Or perhaps as an expression of something really great that your greeter has done. ” Dude!!!- you cannot believe the powder we were shredding today!!” Or perhaps from what I call my communist skier friends, ” Dude!- we were tele skiing the most amazing face today. You would have loved it” or from the dirtbag mountain biker friends, ” Dude- we rode Wolf’s Rocks today without a dab. We were really ripping it – dude”

Maybe there is a question that your greeter has? ” Dude- did you really do that?” Or – ” Dude- I saw this dude rocket down that trail at full speed without any fear. That dude rips man!!” The versatility of this word is amazing. But, I can say, without hesitation that I have never used the word in conversation. Kind of like how I would like to grow a patch under my lip but I could never quite do it because it doesn’t really match my Howdy Doody personality. I have often been seen as too clean cut for that but deep inside, I would like to be a ………….dude!!

My friend Angelo always refers to me as “dude”. He is so laid back and uses the word in an endearing way when he says, ” Dude- whatever you want to do, I am in.” He leads us on great rides in the Laurel Highlands and I posted about his business recently – http://www.naturalcause.org Angelo is really a good dude- oops! Not really in my vernacular. But he is a …….good dude.

My Colorado friends tend to be laid back and refer to me as “dude” quite often. ” Dude- you have to get out here man. It is puking snow and you need to be here with us. You are a good dude and need to be skiing with us today” My friend Jeff from Sacramento is a snowboarder and the term “dude” is an accessory to being a snowboarder. You have to use that word if you want to snowboard and we all loved it when he joined us at Mt. Rose recently and stated. ” You old dudes are fun to ride with.” Old dudes? Seems like an oxymoron? But we were laughing when he continually referred to us as the “old dudes.” He splitboards, he is an IT consultant, a real outdoor enthusiast and really …….a good dude.

So, in conclusion for this week, if someone addresses you as “dude” take it as a compliment that you are still able to hang in the halls of the youthful experience. If you are a “good dude”, you are held in esteem probably by someone who is younger, or at least thinks they are younger. I always enjoy telling them that I have socks older than them, but if they think I am a “good dude” I am happy. I can still hang in the world of snowboarders -even as a skier. I am a mountain biker, a general good citizen of the planet, or whatever other category registers with “good dude.”

So be a good dude and someone will smile at you and say,……”Duuuuuuude!!!!” Thanks for reading dude.

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The 40 Year Competition

This is my friend Mike Smith who I have profiled before in my posts. He owns a marina up on Lake George and every year, we ski together at Gore Mountain and Whiteface up in the Adirondacks. For a review, Mike has jumped over 2200 times out of an airplane, he pilots his own plane and has flown open cockpit planes in the past with the leather helmet and goggles doing aerial acrobatics over Lake George to the delight of his neighbors and kids from the Hole in the Wall camp. He is also a strong skier whose lifestyle is gas pedal to the floor.

I first met Mike years ago at Laurel Mountain in Pennsylvania where he worked as the mountain manager. He then went on to work for Herman Dupre at Seven Springs as the mountain manager there and then took a job with several grooming vehicle companies eventually settling down with the marina. During the time of his sales career with the companies who make the groomers for the ski resorts, Mike visited a lot of areas in New England as well as out west. He ended up skiing at many of them with the mountain managers and would always call me and say, ” Hey McCloskey- are you working today?” To which I would respond in the affirmative and he would laugh yelling through the phone what great conditions he was having and how he was racking up more ski areas than I had at the time. You see, we have this 40 year old competition to see how many different ski areas we have officially visited and skied. We wrote them down one night over beers at the Algonquin on Lake George and ever since then, we have had this competition to see who is ahead. For documentation purposes, the areas visited have been in New England, New York State, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Virginia,New Jersey, Colorado, Utah, Idaho, Wyoming, California,Nevada,New Mexico,Michigan, Oregon, Washington, Canada, Austria, Switzerland and Germany. Never made it to South America or Australia or New Zealand but they are on the bucket list.

There are rules though which govern this competition:
You must officially have a lift ticket and take at least one run.
The tally must be for different ski areas- no credit is given for multiple visits to any ski area.
The only exception was Tuckerman Ravine which has no lifts. We hiked and skied there many times.

I remember one year passing the Donner Ranch Ski Area in Tahoe and my friends all wanted me to stop and hike up to take one run to rack up another area on Smith. They know all about this competition. The area was closed for the day and I reminded them of the rules. Smith and I would go back and forth with phone calls when each of us visited another area that we could add to our list. I delighted in calling him and he the same. In fact, when we ski together, his comment is that he knew he was making me mad when he called me daily on a visit to a new ski area. I laughed about it but you know, he was right. He did irk me when he would call on a daily basis while I was strapped to my desk. Jagoff!

I was behind for many years but eventually caught up to him and now have surpassed him because he is out of the grooming business and he skis mostly areas that he has skied before. However, I make it my business to continue the competition and when I visit a ski area, I always look for another place to get my tally ahead. My last addition was Homewood in Lake Tahoe which has beautiful views of the lake and advanced me to 108 different ski areas visited and skied in my life. One of my observations about ski areas is that smaller, family owned areas seem to have more of an appeal than the large corporate giants. The spirit of skiing is alive in the hard work and effort it takes to keep a small area running. The ambiance of a little area in Vermont or New Hampshire with roaring wood fires in the lodges and rustic architecture, to me is more appealing than the concrete behemoths that are the norm for lodges in the corporately owned areas. High speed chairlifts are not always the panacea for the skier. Sometimes those slow lifts add to the atmosphere and allow for conversation between runs. I like that. Sure, I like to rack up vertical with high speed lifts, but there is nothing wrong with the smaller areas and their fixed grips and surface lifts. Kind of reminds you of how skiing was in the old days. Single chairs are a classic a la Mad River Glen.

So, 108 different ski areas skied and visited is a pretty good achievement but before I puff out my chest too big, one final note. I met Ogden Nutting a few years ago who is the patriarch of the Nutting Newspaper empire which currently owns the Pittsburgh Pirates and Seven Springs Ski Area, Hidden Valley Ski Area, and manages Laurel Mountain on State property. Mr. Nutting has the unofficial record of 475 different areas visited in his lifetime. This was written up in Ski Magazine. I sheepishly boasted about my 108 but enthusiastically voiced my admiration for his achievement. He said, “my boy( I was 59),you have a lot of years left.” So, lets hope I can continue to accumulate visits to different areas. I have trips planned for this year, but if I spot an opportunity to take at least one run at some place where I have never been, I will do it. I need to keep my foot on Smith’s neck like a true hard core competitor. LOL. Thanks for reading and think snow.

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The Roundabout

The first time I ever saw a roundabout was when I was riding my road bike in Ireland, streaking into the town of Cork. All of a sudden I found myself in this circular juggernaut, riding the “wrong way” on the left hand side of the road as per Irish road rules, and battling cars coming from all directions. Somehow I found my way through and it spat me out the other side where I had to stop and take a mental breather.

It is my personal opinion that roundabouts are a cruel Halloween joke foisted on the public to cause strain and stress in an already volatile driving situation. Somehow engineers think that these roadway puzzles are helpful in relieving traffic situations but in my time on the road since Cork, I have seen nothing but potential mayhem ensue. Three of them in a row in Glens Falls, N.Y. For what purpose? One right in the middle of the main drag in Kings Beach, Nevada. Costing the taxpayers millions of unnecessary dollars. Then there is the infamous one that I navigated this past weekend in Westfield, N.J. for my nephew’s wedding. Driving through that circular death trap is nothing short of harrowing. New Jersey drivers are aggressive to begin with and when you couple that with a roundabout situation where they come at you from all directions, the white knuckles come out on the steering wheel, the language deteriorates, and you hang on for dear life. Here comes one racing in hot from the left…………..HORN……….incoming from the right…….no quarter at all……..the guy gives you the bird…………Hang on, the guy on the left is still coming hard…………make it to the third exit…………HORN………….another friggin HORN……Whew…………I made it!!!!!

Whenever I make it past Easton, Pa on my way to visit my sister, it is game on. I tell Molly that she and her fellow Garden State drivers are not good enough to drive that fast and cross four lanes without even looking. No wonder there are 21 car pileups on Interstate 78 headed east in New Jersey. I find myself uptight when visiting my sister because there are too many people over there and the drivers will cut you off without blinking an eye. I leave room between me and the car in front and in New Jersey, that is a license for 5 cars to squeeze in front, barely missing my front bumper. As my co-worker Jenni MacDonald says, ” Pat, turn signals are a sign of weakness.” She drives in Seattle and LA. Enough said.

Fortunately, I only had to drive the demonic roundabout in Westfield once this weekend and as I left on Sunday morning making my way back to the ‘burg, I felt the relief in my shoulders and my demeanor getting more calm as the miles went by. I tend to be a conservative driver much to the consternation of my family. My son Jack always correlates my conversation with the speed of the vehicle. He says, ” Dad, as you make your conversational points, your foot gets farther and farther from the accelerator and you become dangerous.” Whatever!

As I move on in life, the stress created in places like New Jersey is less appealing. Don’t get me wrong, I always like to see my sister and her family and there are nice things to appreciate in Jersey. But the drivers are nuts. Western Pennsylvania is miles from the mayhem of the east coast. I have many ways to commute to my workplace and I always choose the road less traveled. My route is non-stressful and bucolic in a way, especially this time of year. I appreciate the back roads draped in the changing canopy around me.

As I calmly navigate the back roads to work, sometimes with the SPA channel on Sirius XM gently soothing me on the way,(I know, I am a dorc), I think about how relieved I am not to live and work on the east coast where I would fight the dragons of the roadways,choking traffic, and face the evil roundabouts that troll for drivers like me. The devil himself lives in the center of those circular tempests and delights in frightening the uninitiated. No Halloween horror movie could be better scripted that the PA. driver in the middle of the Westfield roundabout. So my advice is, drive safely, heads up for the maniacs, and steer clear of roundabouts if at all possible. Thanks for reading.