HarmonicaBoogie.com

I used to practice just by trying to play along with something or trying to record something and I really "like" to learn to play a song until I could play it halfway decent. I never used to practice scales or really play riffs to develop muscle memory. I used to hate that concept even. But what I learned is that it works! Now I LIKE to practice with scales and new riffs and play them over and over and over. Different scales. Different positions. Different keys. Try to make the overblows and overdraws seem a little smoother and sound better. Scales on diatonic. Scales on chrom. It works killing time during commutes (not recommended in 20 degree below zero like this morning when I slid on the black ice off the freeway into the ditch, save that tirade for later.) When your face remembers the scales and riffs, then when you go to play a song, they flow without having to work so hard or think so much.

Just came across this, Sweetness. Nice mix. Thanks.

Stil sore, but yes, I'm OK. Beelze, interesting that you commented about about the Arlo Guthrie thing. Was hugely influenced by him many years ago. I sent this same diatribe to a friend in town who was thinking just like you apparently, because he read this out loud on Thursday at a poetry reading in a bar while another guy plucked away at Alice's Restarant on the guitar. I wasn't there, but he said in an e-mail that it was a big hit.

When you are about to die, there really isn’t time for your entire life to flash before your eyes, but there is a whole lotta stuff that can flow through one’s consciousness in less time than it takes for a car making a left hand turn to hit a bike rider with the right-of-way (without a helmet) that is going through a green light just doing what the bike rider does (only the second ride on this new bike, configured just to my specifications), only this was a Friday morning about rush hour when the State Track meet would shortly be getting under way. I wanted to get there early even though Tony didn’t run until after 1 o’clock. As soon as I realized it, it was too late, those things arose so quick that I didn’t know that I could think about so many things so fast. Not an entire lifetime, but not necessarily in order of thoughts, some of them were:

“Holy shit, he doesn’t see me!” “I’m gonna die” “Why didn’t I wear my helmet? I always wear my helmet” “My wife is gonna kill me for not wearing a helmet” “How much is it gonna hurt when I land on that guy’s windshield and bounce over top of the car?” “They better have good pain killers at the hospital” “I really don’t want to die yet” “I hope Tony still runs his race, even if I am dead” “If I’m in the hospital I hope Tony still runs” “Oh man, that is going to hurt lying on the asphalt after flying over this guy’s windshield” “I’m on blood thinners, I hope I don’t bleed out before the ambulance gets here.” “I’m too busy at work to be laid up in the hospital” “Holy shit, he’s really gonna hit me!” “I really have lived a good life and accomplished more than I ever thought I would anyway” “At least that life insurance I’ve been paying for for all of these years will have been a good investment” “They better have good pain killers at the hospital” “I wonder what pain killers I’ll be on?” “I love you Darlene, Thank You” “How am I gonna get the Track Meet results if I’m layin’ in the hospital” “I hope everyone else still goes to watch the Track Meet, I’ll just be lyin there on life support anyway (with lotsa pain killers, I hope)” “Will I get texts of the race results in the hospital?” “What if my phone is broke?” “I can’t miss the Meet!” “Aarggggh!”

All of that in a fraction of a second. Luckily the lizard mind reflexes that don’t require actual thought kicked in faster than my mind would have and somehow rather than hitting the brakes as I would normally do, I hit the pedals, accelerating so that rather than the car actually hitting me broadside at my leg and me flying through the windshield, the brief acceleration resulted in the car only clipping the back tire, sending the bike sprawling through the intersection and me bouncing on the side of it and on the blacktop. “Holy shit, IT HIT ME, but it only clipped me, wow, now how bad is this gonne be? Aarggggh! I’m flying, and hitting and how bad is this gonna be?”

Immediate assessment: I ain’t dead yet. I can stand. I hurt all over. I’m probably in shock. I’m probably concussed. Next assessment: The new bike is a little scraped up, but actually not too bad and I can lift it up and the wheels turn and it’s basically not destroyed. I hurt all over. Then I have to deal with people and make decisions.

People that are in shock and concussed should not be the ones dealing with people and making decisions. But there isn’t a class that everyone is taught about what to do when you are hit by a car when riding a bike. And nobody else was gonna make any decisions and so far I didn’t have to call Darlene and tell her that I was hit by a car on my bike and wasn’t wearing a helmet. Sometimes it would be nice if I didn’t have to be the mature grown up that makes the right decisions, but as gradually I become the one that is called “Sir” and never just “hey man” anymore, then I become the one that makes the decisions, so I gotta decide what to do next. But it is hard to think when one is in shock and concussed. The Yayhoo that hit me sure isn’t gonna be doing anything right. He’s probably more surprised than me because he didn’t see me. At least I saw him.

Me: God damn it don’t you watch where you are going?
Him: I’m sorry.
Winess from other car: Should I call 911?
Me: I don’t know, I don’t think so.
Him: I’m sorry.
Witness: Are you OK?
Me: I don’t know, I don’t think so.
Him: I’m sorry.
Me: Sorry? You’re sorry? Damn right you oughta be sorry. You just hit me with your car. Do ya ever think about looking where you are going”
Him: I’m sorry.
Winess: Should I call 911? Are you ok?
Me: I don’t know, I don’t think so. I think so.
Him: I’m really sorry.
Me: You oughta be REALLY sorry. You just hit me with your car while I was riding my bike. God damn it don’t you watch where you are going?
Witness: Are you OK?
Me: I don’t know, I don’t think so. I think so.
Him: I’m really sorry.


I think I probably cussed a little more than that and the same revolving conversation seemed to go on for an eternity while cars were backed up in the intersection before I told the Yayhoo young man with the rumpled white shirt and cheap little tie that hit me to move his car out of the intersection and write down his vital information for me should I require it later. That allowed me time to think. Which of course I was unable to do as I was in shock and concussed. But, the bike was actually usable and I didn’t want to miss the State Track Meet so after the Yayhoo gave me a piece of paper that I concluded later was probably a fake name and address with no phone number, I thanked the witness in the car in the intersection and hopped on my bike and slowly pedaled away down the road tryin to find Hamline University where the State Track meet was being held.

It took me about an hour longer than it should have to find Hamline even though my total ride shoulda been a half hour because I was confused about directions and confused about most everything, but it was hard to realize that in my state of confusion. I think I was concussed and in shock. If I had noticed the extent to which the bump on my leg stuck out or further self assessed the contusions and abrasions and shown that to the witnesses, I woulda probably had to waste the morning in some ER room being evaluated only to be held for observation to be sent home to take it easy for a while. But, because I was too confused to make the correct decisions and nobody on the scene was mature enough to take charge and do what should have been done, whatever that is when a car hits a bicycle, I was able to spend the remainder of the weekend watching the State Track meet and Tony and his teammates and their great performances.

Good to be alive.

I'm in. Thanks for keepin' this goin' Rick, even though I might not stop by quite so frequently.

Fulton's Sweet Child of Vine now on tap at Dusty's. Gotta like that. Played there makin' Good Friday a Great Friday. Between songs the drummer and lead guitar player were funkin' a bit while the singer tried to figure out what was next so I started singin' "Bring the FunK" and we turned a normallly rockabilly song into a much funkier thing. Wiggle Wiggle still my all time Dylan tune.

When in doubt. Spend money. Buy stuff.