Hailwood1965

Winter 2018. summer 1981. Probably 1988-89. A couple of close friends dying, a long-term marriage (not mine) breaking up, one more pal since age 11 with a terminal diagnosis and generally feeling not 23 any more when I get up has motivated me to get all bikes in running condition. Because ... maybe I should? This winter's project, other than Kenny's MotoGP bike, is my first. A 1981 GPz550 Kawasaki, which I bought brand new in the local Kawi dealership. I drag raced it, road raced it, it was my single form of transportation (year round) for a while. After a pretty hard life I disassembled it in the 1990s. The parts have been in my office closet for probably close to ten years. My wife of 20 years has never seen this bike running. Situation exacerbated by my being an idiot and buying ANOTHER semi-nice stock '81 GPz550 in 2000. So, for a while, I could get my 19 inch front wheel GPz joy if I need to. But other people have owned that one. My bike, for better o...

I've been down to see my dad's grave only a few times since he died now more than 40 years ago. His final resting spot is something like 4-5 hours from my house in an almost forgotten village where the streets have no names. Each time I've visited the place in the last 25 years--twice--odd events struck.  The first time, in the early 1990s, I hadn't been by to see it in since I was 10-12 years old and swung by on a lark, somehow found the town on a map and parked my bike on one of the few paved streets in that little blue river town. I walked around remembering houses and buildings from one of my visits from my childhood. My dad had grown up in this town, and had graduated from high school there, when they still had a high school. His family settled in there as well, his brother, and assorted cousins and stuff. I'd been there for a wedding and a funeral when I was a kid, won my first fist fight (I'd lost a ton of them previously, of course) in an alley in that...

Day one with a rough CBX. The Minnesota State Highway Patrolman stepped back and looked at the giant hulk in the back of my son's truck. Ready to give him a speeding ticket the highway patrolman looked at the six cylinder powered beast for a few moments and asked what I learned was a popular question: "Does it run?" A 1979 Honda CBX popped up on a CL ad last month and we jumped in the truck to take a look. I spoke with the owner via phone and asked him the Big Question: "Does it run?" No, not now. But it WILL run someday, he said. Marion Minnesota is not an unknown location for me. It is home to Wheels Unlimited, probably the last 'no internet' Ducati dealership in the US. In fact Ducati USA dropped Wheels because the owner/brothers refused on principle to get a computer in order to relay parts orders. It wasn't the brothers who had the CBX, but a neighbor. He'd bought it from the original owner and tried to begin a restoration but was ...

"I bought a new snow shovel today," I told Toby (6). "It's my Christmas present to myself." Did you buy it at Menards, he asked suspciously. Yes, I did. Does it have a yellow handle? Yes it does. It's in the garage, he said. Yes, it is. I put it there. Did you buy it at the garden center at Menards? No, I bought it inside, where they are displaying the snow shovels. Did you look at the shovels in the garden center? Sigh. No, I did not. The garden center is unheated and this is Minnesota and it was cold. You should have looked in the garden center, when I looked there last summer they had a bunch of nice shovels. I opened my mouth to ask what six year old kid remembers the quality of shovels from six months ago, but I just closed my face instead.

Apparently, my old next door neighbor, Jerry Moynihan, recently died. Jerry and his wife, Deb, who works for the state of Minnesota, moved away and I guess were then divorced at the same time of the move, a few years ago. Before that Jerry lived right next door to me, within 35 feet of me, for at least five or six years, maybe longer. I can't decide which I find more shocking: That Jerry was only 60 years old. Or That people who presumably knew Jerry describe him now using the terms "good friend" or "funny, big-hearted" or compliment him on his talent and "beautiful voice". I take this from Jerry's Legacy.com page. At first I thought the postings were for some other guy or were tongue in cheek. They DO seem to be from people who, CLEARLY knew Jerry at another time in his life, not in the last 5-6-7 years. Because if they did I bet they would not be using glowing terms like "big hearted" or "funny" to describe him. I r...

" Well this could be the last time ..." --Rolling Stones We walked Toby into school this morning, the very first day of first grade for him. It's serious now. School all day, five days a week. Tests. Bullies. Girls.  It's not like this is the very first day he's been in school--he's went to pre-school and kindergarten for the past three years, I think. He's been reading since he was three and is really super-bright. But that was out at noon and only every other day.  I was super bummed out about this as I lay there looking at the ceiling for hours this morning making myself one with insomnia for the millionth time. I guess at this point Toby being in first grade does mean probably that I won't be raising any more toddlers in my life, aside from grandchildren or unless I slip one past the goalposts in the next few years.  I didn't have a dad for very long so this whole dad business, for me, has been like trying to jump off a train correctly....

I noticed the other day that I hadn't seen a "Lois Jurgens" around in a while, this after seeing fewer of them as the years pass. "Lois Jurgens" is the blanket name I gave any older woman I saw, women from another era.  Between my office and the coffee shop sits a very previous era women's beauty shop. Where it used to be that Red Wing had one of these on just about any street downtown and they were all busy, now there is, I think, just one. The clientele is very silver-haired, with more walkers than canes. These women come from a time when all women "made an appointment at the beauty shop" and had their hair done once a week or so. My grandma, in the 1970s, would have a "wash and set" at a beauty shop while my grandpa and I sat in the old Dodge and waited for her. Honestly, I am unclear on what services are performed in the beauty shop by my office. All I do know is that when I am making a run back to the office with a coffee--fine, ...

When I raced, and that phrase may give readers the impression I am fast, and I do wish it were true, but other than for a few weeks in the summer of 1989 I was not ... however I did club race in the 1980s and when I did one of the things we were known for, my friends and I, was seriously over-packing. That sentence over, that we were serious over-packers when we loading the race vans started to become obvious to me when, for one event at Road America or somewhere, we actually brought two sets of acetylene torches with us. Not one set that was low on gas so throw in the other set too, no, just two FULL sets, both full of gas. Because we could. How often did we gas weld things at the track? Well, that I remember, never. In fact I never saw anyone really weld anything at the track after like 1992 until I watched Rich Oliver flame glue some TZ250 pipes at Brainerd in something like 1997. One thing that still hangs with me is the ability to over-pack, even today. Over-filli...

The above admittedly bad cam phone pic is Toby a few weeks ago standing in front of his bedroom door. There had been some sort of dispute between brothers and Toby had made a sign on his door barring all persons with the name Kipp from entering. Needless to say, incidents like this are not rare at my house. This one has a funny little back story. In this picture, if you look closely, the stick figure of Kipp is drawn with a sad face. In four year old Toby's world, this is amongst the worst things that one can say (or write) about another--that he or she is unhappy. People who are unhappy are not fun. They do not do fun things. Also, he runs around shouting "focus!" all the time now.

Toby had his first play date yesterday when a friend from pre-school, Reed, a dark-haired little boy from "Staint John's Lutheran School" came over for a while after school. Reed is also 4.5 years old, and a pretty enthusiastic kid. He laughed almost the entire time he was at the house. At one point I wondered if Reed was perhaps going to need oxygen. Reed has an older sister at home, but no brothers. After he left, Toby was so happy struck happy by Reed coming over that he had to draw three portraits of him. The first portrait is just Reed being Reed. Smiling, happy. The second one is Reed upon seeing the garage. Toby's garage, thanks to his dad's friends and two older brothers and their hand me down toys, balls and etc, is nirvana for a four year old. Reed was again stunned into a state of unstoppable giggling when he discovered that Toby has ... A scooter A pedal car A coaster bike without pedals (thanks Jenn) A coaster bike with pedals and training wheels (t...

Probably like 1992 or so? I guess there was an open spot on the pit wall next to a toolbox and I decided to watch the start.

One side of my desk. March, 2012. A Parking pass from 1998, wine, headphones, coffee, media kits, coffee cups.

Semi-unexpected mail can be a wonderful thing.

The first real roadracer I personally knew lived in a bus. I burned through small town WI the other month on the way to a basketball tournament and never even let off for Beldenville, Wisconsin. Very small town, less than 100 inhabitants. Seeing it drift away in the rear view mirror I remembered that a guy I knew once lived there in the '70s and 80s. I don't recall his name. Before we were roadrace enthusiasts my friends and I--and this was in the early 1980s--were drag racers. The lack of canyons in rural Minnesota sort of forced you to adopt a racing style that you could do on straight roads, so drag racing it was. We dragraced bikes for years, on the street of course, but also on dragstrips all over MN and WI. The closest legal place to race was Rock Falls Raceway just outside of Eau Claire, WI. We spent many night piled into cars and vans and trucks, sleeping outside the gates on Saturday night, waiting for the place to open on Sunday. Blankets, beer, girls ......

Toby went ice slating for the first time in his life the other night and did really well, had his legs under him from the first moment. I remember back to when John was in Pee Wee hockey and even after years he was unable to truly skate for more than a few feet. I grabbed an old pudding bowl helmet from the garage for Tob' to use as head protection. "I'm not cold!"

It's a whole different deal out there now. Every kid has his own selection of electronic devices to use at his leisure.

Toby walks downstairs one morning last week, still in PJs, hair tousled from being in bed. It's 7:00 AM and he is having a glass of juice and some donut. How did you sleep, I ask him. "Not too good. I did not sleep too good." Oh, really? What was the matter? "I could not sleep because I just kept thinking about the planet Jupiter and how big it is. It's the biggest planet there is. It's just so big." I looked it up on Google later and learned Jupiter is the biggest planet in our solar system.

Two minute ride to the daycare provider in the morning provides a few moments of dad and Tob' solo time. Usually him singing, or being excited about seeing his friends. Last week, we get in the car, start driving. I am trying to defrost the windshield with half a gallon of windshield washer fluid, when he pops one. "Dad: question." Okay, Tob. Just a sec. Few more squirts while I mull perhaps pulling out the AMEx card and use it for a scraper on the windshield. "Dad! I have a question." Windshield semi-clear now. Radio goes down. Okay, what's up. "It's an important question. Serious question." (He is reciting my lines back to me, this is what I ask him before I usually ask him, with a serious face, if he'd like a kick in the pants). Shoot. "Dad ... snakes ... do you think they laugh?" Well, I don't know Tob. They might. They seem pretty serious though. "Well, if they do laugh, do you think when they laugh they make a nois...

Announcement made that mom is taking both children to church to an advent service. Teenager: (look of horror) WHAT? I just WENT to church on Sunday. And Caticism today! Adult woman: Tough monkeys. You're going. Teenager: (acting like world will end in 15 minutes) WHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY? I just went! Adult woman: Stern do-not-mess-with-me-look. Toby, age 4 in his normal 'you just don't understand' manner: "Kipp, church is a GREAT place. You should come with, it's NICE there."

Walking through the living on the way to do something I see Toby sprawled out on the floor, laying on his back hands clasped behind his head watching TV. I quick glance over as I pace through to see what he's watching. Usually it's Blue's Clues or Johnny Quest or maybe, just maybe, very early Scooby Doo. This time not Scooby Doo. It's some reality cable show about life in Prison. Oh boy. I watch for a moment. It's a program called Scared Straight, where bad teens are brought in to give them taste of prison life. I give Toby the patent pending 'Dad WTH' look. "WHAT are you watching Tob?" Calmly he replies, as he sees some inmate screaming in the face of some teen. YOU KNOW WHAT I'D DO TO YOU IF THE GUARDS WERE NOT HERE? DO YA? DO YA? "They're learning how to be in jail, dad," he replied calmly. Further Dad WTH look. The inmate continues to scream in the teen's crying face, I'M GONNA LIKE YOU WHEN YOU IN HERE WITH ME. I look...