59 Search Results for "lights"
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County police cracking down on County police cracking down on road noise
- From: gill
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Description:County police cracking down on road noise6/29/10By Jen LyndsBDN StaffPRESQUE ISLE, Maine - While some people think it is cool to see aMotorcyclist on a sharp-looking machine, revving up the engine as he orShe zips through the downtown, others aren't as happy about theSituation.They see those motorcyclists and motorists riding over local roads in
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Indian 841 Military 1942 Indian 841 Military 1942
- From: TimGraber
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Description:
1943 Indian 841 - Many of you are familiar with the story of the 841. It was an experimental bike built to spec for the U.S. Army for WWII. Due to the advent of the Jeep, the bike never went into production beyond the roughly 1,000 built for Army testing. A truly unique bike, it had many firsts for Indian. First hand clutch, first foot shift 4 speed transmission, first and only shaft drive, etc. This bike was purchased in early 2003, and underwent a 6 year total restoration. I was lucky with this bike, as it only had a little over 1,000 original miles from new. The engine was still completely disassembled and completely gone through by Indian guru Jim Mosher at Performance Indian. There was very little wear on the transmission gears, however, a NOS set of gears purchased from Bob Stark was installed. The carburetors were absolutely mint and did not require attention. Same with the generator. The engine received all new bearings and seals, as did the front and rear wheels. The rear differential was disassembled and all new seals and bearings were installed. Every nut, bolt and other metal part that was originally parkerized was replated in fresh parkerizing. Being a high number 841 it had the second, larger blackout light installed above and to the right of the headlight. A NOS keyed ignition switch was installed. Janus Napierala completely rebuilt the proper speedometer. There are no broken engine fins and the kicker housing is in perfect condition on this bike. The seat was recovered by Wayne Hagler at Heather's Leathers, and a proper set of leather saddlebags were installed. These are new but exact in every way to the originals. All the blackout lights, dash lights and running lights work perfectly. This bike is a one kick starter, and like too many of my bikes has only been ridden once around the block by me after the full restoration was complete. This bike has two upgrades to make it far easier to ride and enjoy. First, the bikes came from the factory with low gearing. As the bike is shaft driven re-gearing the bike is difficult, to say the least. While I had the rear end apart, I purchased and installed the last remaining higher ratio rear gearset from a small run that was produced by an 841 enthusiast in Europe. This enables you to ride the bike at highway speeds without any loss of low speed power. Second, an exact replacement set of handlebars were made by John Bivens at Indian Engineering, with the controls reversed. These have the throttle on the right, so the hand clutch lever could be placed on the left bar. The 841 has a distributor with an automatic spark advance so there is only one handlebar control. This makes riding this 841 the same as riding a modern bike rather than trying to master the left hand throttle, left hand front brake and right hand clutch lever the bike came from the factory with. This bike is pristinely restored, and is ready to ride and enjoy.
Tim Graber
Classic And Antique Motorcycle Consignments
2058 Aliso Ave
Costa Mesa, CA 92627Tim Graber - Proprietor
cell: 949-254-6551
Office: 949-6429682 ext. #3 - 2 months ago
- Views: 150
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Train Kept A Rollin Train Kept A Rollin
- From: Nat
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Description:
Just got back from taking the mower in to my son so he can use it while I am gone over the weekend. Its 11:23 and I have to be up at 5:00 am to do another 10 hour trek to Minnesota,and ten back home on Sunday. I gave him a mower but it broke so now he borrows mine to mow. When he finally buys one and mine is worn out I wonder if I can borrow his?. On the way home I got stuck waiting on a train. I shut the truck off and turned the lights off accept for the parking lights. I sat there in the dark listening to Slash working a guitar through the solo riff on November Rain and looked up to check my rear view mirror for traffic. There was no UFO tailing me like Richard Dryfess in Close Encounters. If there was I wouldn't have known it by looking in the mirror. It fell off on a warm day last week in the parking lot at work. The drivers side mirror likewise was no help. I pulled up by the mail box about a month ago and after retrieving the mail was about to back around the mail box. My foot slipped off the clutch and the truck lurched in reverse. As rotten as that old mail box post is it still had enough strength to skim the mirror right off my truck and deposit it on the ground. The cab corners both rusted through on my nice little 98 S-10 with the sport package this winter and I managed to not quite get stopped in time to hit the end of a guard rail this winter on the snow. Left a nice crease in the front bumper. I backed into a pole one night on a last minute run to town to get dog food from the Farm store. That little 4 banger is still humming along, made a trip to Denver last month but with 130 on the ticker it is getting some age and miles. Might run for years, or crap out tomorrow, LOL. I had plans of it getting fixed up but I have no time or money for that and I seemed to have gone in the wrong direction with it this winter. Kind of reminds me of me though. Getting a little rough around the edges, hair a bit thinner, the teeth I was going to get fixed this spring maybe a bit worse. I'm tired quite a bit of the time , but like my little S-10 I am asked to just keep going. Maybe we are both ready for a little R&R . When I get back from the frozen north next week I will try to get the mirror kit and the J B weld I bought out and make some repairs. Maybe clean it up a bit. Maybe even take a nap some evening or try to get to bed before midnight more than 1 night a week. Sherry is doing well, a bit nervous about going back up to Mayo for test this week but hanging in there. We walked all around the mall the other night and she is getting better each week. They told her she probably would not be out of a wheel chair for a year when she left the hospital two months ago. She is my strength when I am tired. She will be alone in Minnesota this week with some help getting around but will have to make all her appointments by herself. Wish I could be there for support but I find myself just getting enough time built up at work again to attend my daughters wedding in June. Sherry will be there to, walking down the Aisle. Who give this woman to this man. Her tenacious , and faith filled mother and I do. Please pray for Sherry this week and for Doug Frye from our community of friends who will be in Rochester for the same surgery Sherry had in January. Peace out.
- Blog post
- 2 months ago
- Views: 67
- Not yet rated
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Delaware Kicks Off Speed Enfor Delaware Kicks Off Speed Enforcement Initiative
- From: cwallace5150
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Description:Delaware Kicks Off Speed Enforcement InitiativeThe Delaware Office of Highway Safety (OHS) and the Delaware StatePolice are partnering on a three week statewide speed enforcement blitzBeginning Monday April 12, 2010. Enforcement will be conducted onRoadways with statistically identified speed related crash problems. TheInitiative will be accompanied by billboards and radio ads statewide.
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1940 Indian Chief CHP Police b 1940 Indian Chief CHP Police bike from the Bob Stark Collection
- From: Bator_International
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Description:
BOB STARK Collection.
1940 Indian Chief CHP Police bike. 74 ci. V-Twin with full windshield and police radio (non functional), map, ticket light, siren, red spot lights, radio rack, left hand throttle, metal saddle boxes, original California CHP auxiliary metal medallion, police generator and black California license plate. Fully restored and an excellent runner.
California Classic
Motorcycle AuctionSaturday, June 5, 2010
pre-view on June 4thPASADENA CONVENTION CENTER
300 E GREEN STREET
PASADENA, CA 91101Bator International website
- 3 months ago
- Views: 136
- Not yet rated
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1968 Sammy Pierce Scouts from 1968 Sammy Pierce Scouts from the Bob Stark Collection
- From: Bator_International
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Description:
BOB STARK Collection.
1968 Sammy Pierce Indian Scout. 37ci. V-Twin. Special rear generator drive. (no leaks) First place AMCA Senior First winner, maroon color, very rare motorcycle!
1968 Sammy Pierce Indian Scout. 37ci. V-Twin. Special rear generator drive. (no leaks) Rare one piece "original metal flake red paint" one piece tank and seat fiberglass bodywork. Fully restored, and the only one known to exist.
1968 Sammy Pierce Indian Scout. 45ci. V-Twin. Special rear generator drive. (no leaks) Rare "original Indian red paint" 100% all original and never restored. Accessory spot lights, hand clutch, foot shift, "Sammy Pierce design" 4570 original miles, rare fender tips and emblems. Chief front fork assembly and vertical twin frame. Just as Sammy built it in 1968! Comes with full documentation and notes from Glenn Pierce.
California Classic
Motorcycle AuctionSaturday, June 5, 2010
pre-view on June 4thPASADENA CONVENTION CENTER
300 E GREEN STREET
PASADENA, CA 91101Bator International website
- 3 months ago
- Views: 105
- Not yet rated
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1968 Sammy Pierce Indian Scout 1968 Sammy Pierce Indian Scout from the Bob Stark Collection
- From: Bator_International
-
Description:
BOB STARK Collection.
1968 Sammy Pierce Indian Scout. 45ci. V-Twin. Special rear generator drive. (no leaks) Rare "original Indian red paint" 100% all original and never restored. Accessory spot lights, hand clutch, foot shift, "Sammy Pierce design" 4570 original miles, rare fender tips and emblems. Chief front fork assembly and vertical twin frame. Just as Sammy built it in 1968! Comes with full documentation and notes from Glenn Pierce.
California Classic
Motorcycle AuctionSaturday, June 5, 2010
pre-view on June 4thPASADENA CONVENTION CENTER
300 E GREEN STREET
PASADENA, CA 91101Bator International website
- 3 months ago
- Views: 245
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R1 or RSV? R1 or RSV?
- From: r1madbrit
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Description:
OK so I've only ridden it for about 70 miles. Big deal.
The most accurate long term assessments are often established in the first fleeting moments by gut feel. At least I have found that to be the case. I have friends who believe in their gut-feel more than they believe in God or science. I have friends who don't have gut feel. They have a gut but don't feel. I'm sort of suspended between cynicism and love-at-first-sight. This weakness/strength can prove good/bad with human relationships (who needs those when you have a hot bike?) and bike/owner relationships. I'll stick with bikes here. Everything in life is 50/50.
I fell in love with my R1. I also lusted after the Aprilia RSV1000. Well now I've owned and ridden both. My first impressions? Both are superb.
The RSV takes the prize for soul with a capital S. It also walzes away with the prize in the confidence-boosting handling. Styling? I'd actually give the R1 the edge. The RSV in my eyes has sexy details but overall is a tad too Busa-obese and that porky pig face is not nice. I may see what I can do about that with a front fairing and some HID lights. (I found the HID lights on my USA 05 R1 to be life-savers!) Oddly enough the RSV actually feels a wee bit lighter yet here are the crucial comparison figures:
98 YamahaR1 05 YamahaR1 03 ApriliaRSV
BHP: 150 175 130
Torque: 80ftlb 78ftlb 73ftlb
Weight: 175kg 173kg 187kg
Top Speed: 175mph 175mph 165mph
(Those figures come from a leading bike magazine. I say Bollocks. I saw an indicated 189mph on my 05 R1 in Arizona and realised it was the 186mph electronic cut-out.)
Split second, on-the-road, first impressions of the Aprilia RSV Mille: Easy clutch, smooth take-up, planted feel, easy-turning, excellent road manners on our crappy roads ( I doubt Charlie Boorman could survive our b-roads on his BMW these roads are so patched and potholed!). Fueling seems excellent and the thrust is delicious if not in R1 territory. Comfort is good (I LOVE the arse-up-head-down position for riding). Engine braking is very strong which suits me cause I am a chicken at braking hard. (Mind you, my superb rolling stoppie on the now deceased R1 saved my legs!). The rear brake is phenominally powerful but the front brakes, in spite of braided hoses (on this used bike) were quite soft. I like them 'grabby' like the Aprilia 750 Dorsoduro I tested.
The gearbox I have learned is, as of 2003, a close-ratio box. Rather.
I wouldn't like to suggest that one actually rows the bike along by gear changing but shall we say that 'it's rather lively' compared to the R1. I needed 2 gears on the Yamaha R1 to decimate the population. 3rd and 6th. The RSV keeps Alzheimers at bay. Changing gears is like looking after grandchildren. The nappies just need changing all the time! I may chat about a lower rear sprocket for better fuel economy and higher top speed (more my style..wheelies and drag racing fade to insignifacance versus petrol-stops and top speed on Autobahns).
Ergonomics: Very nice! I really love the left hand switchgear. It is far more natural and glove-friendly than the Japanese switches. After 6 years I was never able to find the bloody R1 horn in a panic. In seconds I had it on the Aprilia and the dip/main beam switch is a godsend! That switch is the most important switch at night on the tree-tunnel roads of Surrey and it falls to hand like a bottle of finest Scotch. The riding position is wonderful for me (I'm a whisker under 6') and the wind protection with the double-bubble screen and full fairing is much better than the R1.
I love the bum stop - tuck position on fast A roads and I'm convinced this baby will be a great touring bike. The clocks are very comprehensive and clear. I HATED that I had to choose between time and trip on my R1. WHY can't you tell me what time it is (for urgent meetings!) AND how far I have travelled AND how much fuel I have left! You feckin' eedjut bike builders! Of course you can give us what we NEED to know NOW. Oh no! We must pander to bike mag journalists that think all we want are lap-times! For gawd's sake even Dani Pedrosa doesn't need a lap timer! He can see Valentino's arse! That's enough!
Was I ranting? Sorry. I think I need to take over the world's bike standardisation program... OK so back to the Aprilia ergonomics. Great. I can see my speed (kmph or mph), the time, trip meter, temp, and revs at one glance...if the clock worked! I push the buttons and see the hour flashing...press the lap-timer button on the left hand switchgear (doubles as a dip/flash overtaking warning when riding) and ...Nothing. A big fat Italian nothing! I hope their lovers aren't like their electronics!
I rode my RSV around to a friendly Triumph-riding car dealer/biker in Haslemere. The first thing he said was "Wait 'til you're on a Motorway in the pissing rain mate". He didn't realise that Pete delivered it in the pissing rain with no problems and got nailed for speeding (daft bugger). But the 'urban myths' about Italian vehicles persist in England (which is why you can buy most Italian vehicles at half their value here). As if the bloody Brits can talk!!!! Did you know that England has now managed to manufacture TVs? They finally figured out how to make them leak oil...
After a sunny ride (3 hours of sunshine today at 9C/49F - that's our allotment for the year) I arrived at my mates business (KG Sprayers in Aldershot) to request a favour. Could you cut and re-weld and the powder-coat my side stand? The bloody thing holds the Aprilia so upright that if a sparrow farts the bike falls over! It's a non-stop heart-attack-waiting-to-happen. The problem is guessing how much to cut out. How can a designer get it so wrong? Doesn't anyone in these firms TRY the bugger out? Or are they all drunk? It reminded me of my amazed/stupified rant when at 21 years of age I bought a cheap old Norton Dominator. The centre stand hit the ground at such a low lean angle that 8 neighbours had to help the crane operator get it onto the stand. I was young and green but even I took 3 seconds to see that the damned thing was ridiculously calculated! How do these people get the job? (Do NOT get me started on mobile phone designers...retards!)
My mate reckons I should also powder coat the few bits that are raw aluminium (Yanks listen up - Aluminium as in Titanium and Magnesium. You do NOT say Titanum or Magnesum!!!) matt black. Hmmmm. Sounds tasty. If that happens photos will be produced!
So 2 days riding in on mixed manufacturer front/rear tyres including frozen roads, fast curves, small roundabouts, dark tree-tunnels, child-collection mummy drivers, old gits in Micras, white-van hoody-boys, upright lime-green-vest bike learners, familiar corners of terror and pride, patched and pot-holed roads, orange-cone-land, dithering University professors in Rovers, self-righteous Volvo drivers and nutcase Suzuki GSXR riders and I LOVE this Aprilia!!!!
No drama, no fuss, no heart-stoppers, no 50 pence piecing (google that one Americans) and nothing but the sublime sense of speed at no speed (Cor but this baby is perfect to dawdle and stare at thatched roof pubs!) yet no speed at speed. Perfection? I may have found it... but then I haven't ridden the RSV4... YET!!
- Blog post
- 4 months ago
- Views: 102
- Not yet rated
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Thanksgiving to Thanksgiving Thanksgiving to Thanksgiving
- From: Nat
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Description:
How do I begin to tell this story, it is not finished so it will not be complete. I know where I will begin but that is not the beginning. I know some of the truth of it but not all that shall come of it. I will tell what I will tell and I will share what I know.. I will wait as the rest unfolds through each day of my life ,I will not look to the past for regret and I will wait for what is to come.
She woke me. I was lying on the couch sleeping through another boring Friday night of tv. I heard her sob as she handed me a phone. Tell me again so my husband can hear she said into her phone.The voice on the other end of the phone introduced himself and informed me that Sherry my wife, had a tumor attached to her spine. When he hung up she began to sob harder.I was at a loss for what to do ,my Celtic princes is not prone to tears. I have seen them rarely in the last 27 years before recent months. I made feeble attempts at consolation. Well they say its benign, shouldn't be that hard to take out. We were both gripped by fear a pain in the pit of your stomach, the dread of youths nightmares, sorrow as deep and unfathomable as the blackness at the bottom of a dark forgotten well. We sat in the darkness of the blue TV screen light holding one another as the TV continued to spew forth the latest political and social news indifferent to our pain. Not that I had ever given it much thought before, but I stopped caring that night how much money Tiger Woods wife might get in a divorce settlement, I stopped caring if America was on a path to socialism or not. It wouldn't have mattered at that moment whether the 14th coal train of the day to come by jumped the tracks across the street and tore our house from the foundation, I was concerned about the woman sitting by me on the couch crying harder than I had ever seen her cry, and how or where I was going to find the strength to do anything about it. All my words of reassurance and faith seemed to be weighed in the balance as I bent my head in the dark and said Help me Lord.
The next day a call from the neurologist here in Salina brought a bit of hope. He told her the tumor he had described as a "Large" tumor was actually 2 1/2 inches long by 3/4 of an inch wide. It was just the place it was in her body which made him term it as a large tumor. He said it was attached to a vertebrae and more than likely benign. He assured her it was not as big of a problem as we had thought it was and could be easily dealt with. Our doctor set us up with an appointment with a neurologist in Wichita and so we took off during the week one cold winter day after Thanksgiving to get lined up on getting this tumor out and getting on with our lives. It would be the first of many disappointments to come over the next few months. We waited a long time that cold day to hear the first of many more disappointments. The clinic in Wichita was short on staff today the nurse explained as she showed us to an exam room. The doctor was covering patients for another doctor. We waited in the room as they brought us sodas and snacks to make up for our long wait. The doctor arrived finally, a small man in a lab coat with a serious demeanor. He started asking Sherry what she new about her tumor and she plowed ahead with optimism. It was a benign tumor she said , the neurologist in Salina had upset her by telling her it was a large tumor but it really isn't, He said it is attached to a vertebrae on my spine she continued . He interjected, in a serious tone which left no room for misinterpretation, "Well that's not exactly true he said , but we will get to that in a minute. Tell me what else you know about it? There was no use ,we were like a ship sailing into the doldrums, the wind gone out of our sails, Sherry continued on in a weak voice and I sat with a lump in my throat contemplating ,"Not exactly true.
Not exactly true turned out to be a Meningioma,(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meningioma), A benign class 1 tumor usually relatively easily removable unless it is located on the front of the brain stem where a major artery to the brain runs and many of the most important nerve endings in the body.That was Sherry's what not exactly. He would consult with another surgeon in Wichita who might attempt to remove it but if not we would have to go to Memphis ,Tennessee to surgeons there. As we drove down the highway in silence after receiving the news about her tumor she suddenly said, I was born in Wesleyan hospital here in Wichita and that's where they will do the surgery if they do it here. Will that be where you will die, asked a voice in my head. We were at an all time low but more was ahead.
We waited patiently through the weeks before Christmas.The whole situation and waiting on an answer weighing on both of us. In spite of that it was maybe the best Christmas season I have ever had leading up to the holiday. The carols of Christmas had never seemed so alive. I couldn't get enough of them. Oh Holy night was constantly in my thoughts. It has always been the hardest of holidays for me and full of depression, but despite our uncertainty this year I found joy in Christmas. Evenings I would come home and ask if she had heard from the doctor. We were praying and hopeful God would just make the whole thing go away. Ever expectant that if not we would hear good news from the surgeons in Memphis. A lady I had talked to in an appliance store had extolled the virtues of the neurosurgeons in Memphis. It almost seemed prophetic. We were looking for answers from there but they were not to come. Just before Christmas we got a call from the surgeon in Wichita. He had already told us there would be no surgery in Wichita and that left Memphis as our next source of hope. We sat huddled around Sherry's desk one evening the phone on speaker as we were told surgeons in Memphis would not attempt to operate. We were told the best course of action would be to monitor the tumor and as it began to cause neurological damage they would see then as a last resort if anything could be done. In essence it was a death sentence,although he did suggest that we seek a second opinion.I hung up the phone as Sherry laid her head on the desk. Why is this happening to me?
Our planned Christmas at home with the children turned into Christmas at our son Dylan's. Sherry just wasn't up to having company and cooking a meal. She sat with the grandchildren on her knees while I took pictures and we both wondered privately if this was our last Christmas together. One night she woke me up in the middle of the night crying. No matter how bad I get she said, please don't put me in a nursing home. We agreed after Christmas that we would try to contact Mayo Clinic but we went through Christmas without much hope and without prayer outside our family.
Just after Christmas Sherry went to see our new family Dr. in Salina. She had switched to him after repeatedly being put off by another doctor in town for a long period of time over complaints about her neck pain. Within two visits to our new family doctor had ordered the MRI that found her tumor.She passed along the report from the surgeons in Wichita and Memphis to our doctor.He shook his head and, that's unacceptable,I want to send you somewhere else for another opinion . I want to go to Mayo Clinic Sherry told him. Thats where I want you to go came his reply.A phone call to Mayo confirmed that they would see Sherry. Can she come up tomorrow they asked. We confirmed an appointment for the following week and asked for prayer.
The following Sunday I was in our Jeep Liberty heading up I-35 with Sherry in the midst of a week long fast.Sherry had me find a Chipotlies in Des Moines so she could get food. You never realize how food oriented our society is until you aren't eating. We arrived in Rochester at dusk . We turned down West Center street to find the compassion house her cousin Sue from Arkansas had set us up in.As we did we came face to face with the structure of Mayo clinic. It was daunting, we rode on down the four blocks to the house in silence. Overwhelmed by what seemed like an impenetrable fortress. Would we truly find help here or would this just be another in what was becoming a series of disappointments to hope for us. We settled in for the night and even though we were exhausted fought to get to sleep in preparation for our first day at Mayo.
Out the door at six in the morning for our first appointment the next day. We were rested and had decided the one day at a time strategy would be best employed in our experience at Mayo. In fact we had broken it down to one moment at a time or one appointment at a time. I was somewhat weak from fasting, I would drop Sherry off each day at Mayo and then take the Jeep back to the compassion house. I then would walk the two blocks back to the subway entrance. Then walk the subway back to the Gonda building where Sherry was. I didn't know about the marvelous system of underground and above ground tunnels and connecting bridges they have here in Rochester which allow you to go all over down town and never go outside when we first got here. These subways and sky ways as they are called are genius of modern technology . An absolute necessity in 20 below weather like it was the first day when I walked those four long blocks back to the Gonda building. Then back to our compassion house later that day to get the Jeep and pick up Sherry. As I said fasting allowed me the hidden benefit of only having enough strength to focus on the task at hand. Our first task was to find the eighth floor and the southwest reception room.There is a promptness about this place which you will find in no other medical facility I have ever been in. If you are early for an appointment you will be invited in to see a doctor early. This was the case with every appointment at Mayo for us the whole week. It rendered useless my copy of the works of C.S. Lewis which I had brought along for those long hours in waiting rooms. I was glad I wasn't lugging along my lap top as an electronic paper weight as well in my weakened state.
If we saw one doctor we saw several, group consensus seemed to be the norm and would continue till the end of the week when we met with our surgeon. Our neurologist who coordinated all our meetings earlier in the week called him "The Guy" here at Mayo clinic.Sherry found more great places to eat here during the week, calling not eating a fast is an oxymoron. On Thursday we met with our surgeon. During our consultation he got a call from another doctor. They were conferring on one of his patients it seemed who is one of the worlds leading neurosurgeons. Thant should have given us confidence but this was the meeting before surgery when they tell you ever scrap of bad news you can imagine. Up to and including death on the table. Sherry held on for as long as she could before she reached for the box of Kleenex on his desk. I wanted to join her but knew for her sake I couldn't. We scheduled the surgery for two weeks from then and walked silently to the elevator and rode the 8 floors in silence to the lobby. I'll go get the Jeep I said and left her there. I prayed walking those 4 blocks back to the jeep, how would she find strength for this? There had been a day in the last month when she had sat in the recliner all day unable to move her neck from the pain before they started her on steroids. As sure as Jacob did she had wrestled with God that day for her life. That evening when I arrived home from work we talked for the first time about our thoughts on her dying, She said if I go I hope I go under and die during the operation and wake in heaven. We said things that night to one another we had needed to say for years. Strange how we get caught in patterns in this life which keep us from ever speaking the things we most need to. "Oh Ain't it crazy, how we put to death the ones we need the most", Jesus in New Orleans,Over the Rhine. I pulled up in front of the Gonda building and Sherry was already out front to meet me. She got in the Jeep with purpose. You know, she said, I got to thinking about my mom while I was sitting there.Her dad was a circuit preacher in the mountains of Arkansas. She had a fever when she was a girl and the doctor told her parents when he came around in the spring she would be dead. In the spring when he showed up- she was out playing with the other kids and he called it a miracle. She had 4 cancer surgery's including the one that took her right arm all in one year. In that same year she had her gall bladder removed and open heart surgery and lived 8 more years after all that. She learned to make dresses again with one hand, and never lost her love for Christ or her will to go on. We're Scotch, Irish, she never gave up and I'm not either. Thats why I call her the Highland queen.
The next two weeks went by quickly and I have to say we found an even deeper closeness in our relationship. Many people stepped forward to help us through this. Friends and coworkers stepped forward to help us with financial support and some of the guys at work gave some leave time as I was out of time off. Without that and certainly without the prayer and encouragement we felt from others we would have given up. To all those who showed us compassion in any form, Thank you. You all are the miracle that has happened to Sherry. We took off on a Tuesday for Rochester to beat the coming snow storm and picked up Sherry's sister Linda in York, Nebraska. Having her there was great for Sherry and she stayed for two weeks after the surgery as well. I don't know how we would have made it without her. She and the other ladies at the compassion house kept Sherry in a positive mood right up to the surgery ,although I cannot say the same for myself. It was good most of the time but I was beginning to come apart at the seams a bit. I woke up Wednesday night two days before the surgery and told Sherry I wished it could be me instead of her. It was looking more and more like our miracle would have to come through the hands of a surgeon and not through other miraculous means. I was waiting to see a miracle and I would but in the way God has chosen not mine.
Friday morning at 5:30 we were at St. Marys hospital for check in. We said our goodbyes and I love you's and I reminded Sherry that she was to come back to me. A lady from the house we were staying at had given her a cross to hold on to going into surgery. The time came for her to leave for surgery and I watched her go believing in faith I would see her again. Loosing her was the last thing I thought would happen.I had set my heart to handle that and then set it aside believing she would be ok. The surgery went on all day and I kept myself occupied talking to Linda and posting on Facebook. We met a couple from Rochester who had played country music on the weekend for years. Their son was in for his second cancer surgery. They knew the territory and kept us talking all day long about a cruise to Europe,Norway in particular where his folks had come from. Steel guitar players and his years at IBM. He had built hard drives when they weighed just less than 70 lbs. Necessary because government restrictions said that was all a man could lift. They had stickers on them he said that indicated they could not be picked up by women who the government said could only pick up a maximum of 50 lbs. Talking with them helped pass the day and finally at 7:00 in the evening the liaison came in to tell us the doctor would meet us. It was an unnerving walk down to the room where we would talk to the surgeon, one many have taken to find hope recaptured or lost. I wondered even in the midst of my own trepidation how this must feel each time for the surgeon who is left to deal with whatever his efforts have dealt. The man each loved one would praise or curse. I had made up my mind that day in consultation no matter how it ended I would thank him for doing his best. Now we would see if I was true to my promise.
I had a lump in my throat and my breath was coming hard as we waited in the room for the surgeon. He had come straight from 9 hours of surgery, 4 of it through a microscope. He sat down heavily in the chair in front of Linda and I and just a faint almost imperceptible smile crossed his face. Just enough of a sign from this stoic technician of cold fact and worst possibility we had talked to in consultation to know he was about to give merit to hope. The words that followed I will remember to the end of this life maybe beyond. I pause now against the emotion of that moment. "She is up in recovery, He said, Moving her arms and legs, That he continued is nothing short of miraculous. There had been a slight tear in the main aorta he continued to tell us. When that happens the patient usually has a stroke and die on the table, if not they will likely be in a coma and never wake up. It turns out later that Sherry had suffered a very mild stroke. We used a coagulant to stop the bleeding but we are not out of the woods yet he said as an after thought. I thought of cutting the artery and sewing it together, I tried to imagine how that would work. He went on to say they had opened up her skull to make more room for her brain stem, taken tissue from her right leg to create a membrane around the back of the opening. Cut off blood flow to the tumor from the aorta and brain stem and following MRI's we found out got 80 percent of her benign tumor. The rest of which would be treated with radiation to stabilize it and keep it from growing again. We stood up to leave and he looked like he had been drug down a Texas back road behind a pickup truck. "You did all you could in there didn't you". "Yes I did" came his reply. "I knew when I met you that you would ",he stuck his hand out to shake mine and I said ,I want a hug. I'll take all those I can get he said and got one from both of us.
It was 10:30 that night before we got in to see Sherry. I called to ICU and the nurse told us the previous shift had told them we left and went home. They had recommended we go get something to eat because it would be a couple of hours before we could see Sherry. I called sometime after 7:00 when we came back from eating and they said she wasn't ready yet. When I called at 10:30 the nurse said are you here ? Like I would wait all day to see the person I had spent the last 28 years with and then leave without seeing her. Yes, came my reply. They told us you left ,he said, come on in. She had her head bandaged and tubes running out of her everywhere. She told me later she doesn't remember anything of the first day or so out of surgery but I bent over her bandaged and bruised face there in that hospital bed and she opened her eyes and looked at me. You did what I asked you I said, you came back to me. That will always be the most beautiful smile I have ever seen.
On Sunday they moved her out of ICU and took off her head bandage. It was replaced by a blue, "Papa Smurf " hat . She had about a 16 inch incision down her right leg where they had taken tissue out for the membrane. Her trunk was one giant bruise due to bleeding from the angiogram the day before surgery. Her arms were covered with bruises and needle marks,like an addict out of places to shoot up. Her face was swollen and she had an incision closed with staples which ran from behind her right ear to the crown of her head,over to the middle and back to the base of her hairline. She had been in one hell of a fight but never quit. The surgeon told her later she had a very strong will to live, if you didn't he told her you wouldn't have made it.
I left on Sunday, Linda would stay with Sherry and I would come back on weekends. I took off around one in the afternoon and ran into snow somewhere this side of Sioux Falls ,South Dakota on I-90. by the time I turned south on I-29 the snow had become a blizzard of blowing snow that only Iowa winters can produce. Skirting the Missouri river down to Sioux City ,Iowa it was tough going indeed, South of Sioux City there was a place in the road for I would guess the better part of a mile where it was zero visibility. Coming into it I had passed a semi which seemed to be going better than most cars. I knew he was within a mile of me and I was afraid he was able to see above the blowing snow and might plow me from behind. Try as I might though I couldn't see the road and was at a dead stop in the middle of I-90. There was an 8 to 10 foot drift to my right spilling out on to the road. I pushed myself over into the fingers of snow coming off it and edged along. Finally I rolled down the drivers side window to look for the yellow line. I realized I was just a few feet from the flashing tail lights of a mini van buried nose down, lights flashing in the median. I saw probably another 8 to 10 cars as I made my way on through the snow. Up the hill it began to break a bit and I saw a highway patrol car in the other lane with a wrecker lit up like a power plant starting back through pulling out cars. The first weekend after consultation with the doctors we had come home through Des Moines after a similar night of blowing snow and had lost track of the number of cars off in the snow or turned over. Now I knew why. At another piont I was running along at speed and hit a drift coming out from under an overpass. It threw me sideways and I saw a black Porsche Cayenne buried in the snow. Not me, I thought as I corrected and pulled at the 4 high lever. My next two trips have been uneventful accept for the redneck south of York , Nebraska who wanted to play car tag till I got out my cell phone and suck it out the window where he could see it. and seven hours of snow pack last weekend.
Sherry is doing well, was on Facebook a bit yesterday and the doctors expect her to learn to swallow and walk again although her right leg is weak. I miss her and have had to adjust to the short term to her being away. I will soon have to adjust to her being home and all the new things that will bring to the normal of our lives.She told me tonight she is a bit worried about coming home as well.
This has been a road like so much of life we never expected to travel. We will never be the same. The grace and peace of Christ has never been more alive in our lives. The power of prayer never more evident. The goodness and generosity of coworkers and friends beyond anything we could have ever hoped for. The cars , motorcycles, houses and other wood , hay ,and stubble items of this world pale in comparison as to be found as unimportant. I am more interested in proclaiming the gospel of Christ and proving his love through my life than ever . Less interested in how that is accomplished. Less interested in whether it is from the back of a motorcycle or in the Perkins in Fremont ,Minnesota to folks stranded from their bus ride by weather who just need a hug and a meal. I think to often we justify what we want in life by saying it is what we need to proclaim the gospel of truth. A pair of lips and a willing heart will do just fine. If it is through adversity that we must travel to find that so be it. To each day we have together my love and to forever with him who loves us most. - Blog post
- 5 months ago
- Views: 103
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JK and Louisa enjoy the London JK and Louisa enjoy the London Bike Show
- From: r1madbrit
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Description:
Let me grab a coffee MotoZania freaks. Right. Now I can start to think about this blog which is about the MCN Carol Nash Motorcycle Show in the far east...of London. May as well be in China. What's wrong with Earl's Court for crying out loud? Excel is actally quite impressive and although getting there is a dreary pain as we all know, the moaning stops at the sight of all those bikes, boots, backpacks, beer and babes. Well, a different type of moaning starts...'Why can't I win the Lotto', 'Why is everyone ELSE rich?'...that sort of moaning.
This years show was near identical to the show I reported on at the NEC in Birmingham. The Ducati stand was as sexy as ever but top marks go to Aprilia. Why? They had the RSV4 up on their stage but also they had one to sit on. Gorgeous is the understatement of 2010 for this bike.
We watched the stunt teams in the live action arena. I was gob-smacked. Such skills are unearthly. Steve Colley did amazing stunts on his 65Kg (143lb) GasGas even hopping over his van with NO FRONT WHEEL or forks! World stunt champion Mattie Griffin (an exclusive first appearance at ExCeL) was fantastic on his little GSXR doing hands-free wheelies in a circle amongst other things. As one does... Terry Grant and the UKFMX freestylers were scary brave in my opinion and actually did an indoor back flip. One thing that amused me was how terribly British the audience was. The guy on the mic would yell and gesticulate and desperately try to get the audience to clap or shout. 99% sat in mildly amused stony silence. If this was America they would be screaming and obediently clapping on cue. I sometimes think Americans don't actually care what show they are watching, (well we know that - just look at their talk shows) simply yellinging in large numbers seems to entertain them. All one has to do is name a city or State and watch the Mexican waves and cheering bring the roof down. They are very good-natured at large events. In England some lad risks his life and limbs to perform some God-like feat and there is a gentle patter of discreet claps like they are all out on a golf course! What is so embarrasing is that the show host doesn't seem to get it. The more he demands a screaming show of appreciation the more one can hear a solid "Steady On" from the audience.
I was looking to show my friend Louisa the ugliest bike in the world...the new Honda VFR1200. I was bemoaning the direction the current designers were taking and saying I reckon the new VFR looks like a puppy-fat version of the obese Victory Vision when what do we see before us? Yes, a London double-decker bus with a saddle on it. The Victory Vision. Of course I watched the TYPES of guys that clambered onto the behemoth and sat there thinking 'Vroom Vroom, I wish I was in California instead of Clapham...' I assumed the top box contains the sauna.
Anyway, between the Suzuki Gladys and the new Edward Munch scream-faced VFR I have a horrid sensation that these designers LIKED the old Ford Sierra and want the jelly-mold, hospital-food bland styles back. The thing was not yet launched so the Honda was absent. I'm sure it will get rave reviews about purring power, touring nirvana and the usual over-inflated 'build quality' praise that Honda usually gets. Still looks like a pig. And not a cute piglet either... And since I'm ranting on about design and this fetish for faces on bikes, doesn't the new Ducati Multistrada look like Woody Woodpecker? The R1 is an alien insect. Very scary face which I approve of for scaring Rover drivers off the road. The Ducati 1198 is a shark. Super!
I found an interesting product that on face value would seem to be a British bikers dream. Heat In A Click re-usable gel pads. http://www.heatinaclick.com/. There is some little coin-like disc inside that when pressed releases 'salts' or whatever into the gel and it instantly heats to 54C (130F). Shove them in your gloves, boots, bum, whatever and for 45 minutes you get a local hot-spot. The kidney belt version seemed a good idea. Boil the bag when you get home and it returns to its re-usable form. Just don't do that at the same time the missus is cooking boil-in-the-bag rice you duffer.
So far so good. But Mr. Cynical/Sceptical/Sarcastic/Impatient here started to think about it. (Oh no I hear you saying...JK's attempting to think). Actually activating the thing and then getting it to where you want it doesn't seem so easy to me. Picture it. If its cold enough to warrant these heat pads (that'll be 10 months of the year in the UK) you will be wearing some Long-Way-Round Goretex weather-proof bike gear - right? So there I am at the petrol station, surrounded by mums in there 4x4's full of the 'little darlings' and I have cold thighs. So I take two big pads, massage the coin and then strip to my boxers (unless one goes commando when things really hot up) to insert the pads into my trousers all the while fighting my quilted bulky jacket. And how, pray tell, do I keep the pads on my thighs whilst pulling the trousers up? They will either drop to the underside or down into my boots where I already have 2 pads cooking my feet.
Obviously the idea is to PREPARE before you ride out. Ah, the simplicity of genius. But if like me you fight your way into your bike gear getting all clobbered up in the bedroom and are a melting puddle of sweat before you get to your bike, whereupon you remember your mobile, so back into the house fourteen times for items you forgot you needed, each time struggling out-of and into your backpack (which ALWAYS snag on the myriad tabs, buttons, pockets of your left arm)...by now you just want to freeze your nuts off in an icy wind to prevent self-combustion. Now that we have achieved our usual pre-ride operating temperature of Nebucadnezzar's furnace we remeber to ignite our heat pads... I can just see myself at my local Esso station stripped naked and hosing myself down with a cold jet-wash whilst stomping on the heat-pads in fiery fury. Then an hour later, shivering on the boring M25, I'd wish I had a couple of little glove pads...which I couldn't activate anyway because one may not stop on a Motorway and, as any biker knows, we HATE stopping to fuss over things and anyway whichever exit you take there will be no way to get back onto the Motorway for over 300 miles. Leave at Reading and end up in Inverness...all for the sake of some lumpy pad in my gloves that are too tight to allow for a pad in the first place! Ah the joys of British biking. Do you detect a touch of cynicism in me? I'm sure the problem is more me than these heat pads so check them out and if you figure out how to use them email me.
Back to the good stuff. Aprilia and more Aprilia. I have somehow fallen for this brand and almost all that they are doing. I won't be bobbing about on that Piaggio MP3 player, that 3 wheeled leaning weirdo that is phenominal fun to all accounts. But that's just because I don't/won't do Burgmany things nor scoots of any size. Oh yes, Aprilia also blew away the competition in the 'battle of the brollie-babes'. Not that such sexist things are acceptable you understand. Totally unacceptable. But one must suffer these outrageous indignities bravely...it was almost as disgraceful as visiting the MotoZania website. You sickos.
The Moto Guzzi concept bike was pretty flippin' wierd. Interesting. I think the lights are bit off the mark but it sure looks like a must-ride-once.
I did like the look of the new Yamaha Tenere. Apparently it is extremely capable in all situations, and I did consider it for the Extra Mile Bike Tours this summer, but I've done the single cylinder enduro across German Autobahns and I can't do that again. I'll end up in a straight jacket and it won't be Goretex. I was very struck by Yamaha's cheap-and-cheerful new Diversion. I think it looks very good and I assume its to battle the Suzuki Bandit.
We bumped into Big Ed the MCE insurance mascot who seemed rather pleased to pose with Louisa. I was also pleased to get a very good quote on insurance for an Aprilia RSV from the Carol Nash stand. The girl even said I can insure multiple bikes. I'd be happy to have ONE bike right now! I think that thw RSV will be my next bike unless you can prove I'm daft to go with that choice. KTM are just tooooo pricey for my anorexic wallet. As are the beers in London pubs. Which is where we ended our day out before catching the train home.
Finally, I must apologise to you for the pathetic photos. My camera's auto focus appears to have rebelled. Probably after I took a photo of the Victory...
Photos: JK tries the Yamaha Tenere, Yamaha Diversion - cheap and cheerful, Louisa finds a boyfriend at last, from the Aprilia website: Aprilia RSV4 - bow down and worship now you heathens, Mattie Griffin - or was that me struggling to ride in a mini roundabout?, Steve Colley and my abstract photo, Twin Cylinders, Guzzi concept, Hypermotard detail, shark, Woody Woodpecker I and II, R1 alien insect, Aprilia test rider, cool BSA - if there is such a thing, Ducati stand, "Does my bum look big in these pants?", London pub. Loverly.
- Blog post
- 5 months ago
- Views: 248
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CROWN WITH LED'S BY ROCK AND R CROWN WITH LED'S BY ROCK AND ROLL CUSTOM PAINTWORKS
- From: rocknroll
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Description:
REAR FENDER WITH CROWN ARTWORK AND LED'S FOR BRAKE LIGHTS FOR A CLEAN FINISH
ROCK AND ROLL CUSTOM PAINTWORKS
714-744-0631
www.sales@rr-custompaintworks.com
- 5 months ago
- Views: 36
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Klock Werks Benchmark Front Fe Klock Werks Benchmark Front Fender
- From: klockwerks
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Description:
This is one stout fender with a little KICK! Klock Werks Benchmark front fender for the bagger - with versions available for your SOFTAIL too!
It is stamped out of cold rolled US steel.
It has been E-coated to prevent rust and corrosion. These bad boys are just screaming for fresh paint and painters love Klock Werks sheetmetal - one coat of fill primer and they are ready to paint (which saves YOU money at the paint shop!)
- 6 months ago
- Views: 54
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Klock Werks Flare Windshields Klock Werks Flare Windshields
- From: klockwerks
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Description:
Watch and discover everything you need to know about the Klock Werks Flare Windshield!!!
Brian Klock, of Klock Werks Kustom Cycles, actually takes a Flare Windshield and bends it in half—and it stays in perfect condition!! He also explains downforce and the concept behind the original, unsurpassed, most innovative windshield on the market today!
Mind-boggling!!! Unbelievable!!! Astonishing!!! - 6 months ago
- Views: 79
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Klock Werks Super Saver Muffle Klock Werks Super Saver Mufflers
- From: klockwerks
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Description:
If you want mufflers that are affordable but certainly do not lack in quality and performance - the Klock Werks SS Mufflers are the right fit. Big 4" slip-on mufflers with rolled-edge ends in three different designs.
Constructed of all steel with flawless chrome finish. Features 2" spiral-louvered fiberglass wrapped baffles that are removable and repackable.
And the sound?? Throaty rumble at idle and under acceleration which decreases to a low hum under steady cruising.
Sold in pairs and PROUDLY made in the U.S.A.
Available in Straight-cut, Forward slash and Back slash models.
$369.95 - 6 months ago
- Views: 137
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Klock Werks 8.5" Flare Windshi Klock Werks 8.5" Flare Windshield
- From: klockwerks
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Description:
Klock Werks has a genuine desire to honor our customer requests. Because of that caring the new 8.5" FLARE Windshield has been added to the performance line up. The original 6.5" is still the perfect replacement for the short stock shield. We designed the 11.5" to satisfy the touring market. Then you asked for just 2" more/less, so here it is - the 8.5"!
The 8.5" allows use of the 3 pack windshield back.
The ORIGINAL Flare Windshield - providing downforce in more sizes than ever before.
The 6.5" FLARE Windshield from Klock Werks is a direct replacement for your 1986 and newer FLHT, FLHTC, FLHX and the 3.5", 8.5" and 11.5" FLARE Windshields are a direct replacement for your 1996 and newer FLHT, FLHTC, and FLHX.
Custom-molded from premium quality, hard-coated polycarbonate to provide unmatched durability, and pre-drilled for easy mounting using stock windshield hardware. - 6 months ago
- Views: 92
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Of Grace and the North Wind Of Grace and the North Wind
- From: Nat
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Description:
Just a short Christmas note today before I go out to do chores. Almost like a matter of survival out here on the Poore farm today. Thirteen below with wind chill. All the adult dogs must be put out for an hour or so in this for food and water. Seven bags of pellets will be brought to the house from the garage, as we loaded the last one into the stove about an hour ago. I have been sorely disappointed but not surprised at the lack of Christ based Christmas programs on TV today but have spent the morning watching shows about Christmas lights and have now found a gospel music program to play in the background while I pound this out. Christmas was fun at Dylan's last night, he cooked and made an excellent turkey and noodle soup which was worth seconds. The grand kids were spoiled and the adults full and content. A bit of a bittersweet Christmas for us all as the surgeons in Memphis have deemed Sherry's tumor inoperable and left us to wait upon the mercy of the Lord. Perhaps our only real option all along. We will be contacting Mayo clinic after the holidays and cherish your prayers for Christ hand of grace upon us. I fear I must venture forth, but am reminded this day of others dealing with uncertainty going forth in faith to a strange city where they would find not even the warmth of our small farm house in which to bear a child of mystery born into the world in the most humble of circumstances. The King of Heaven laid in a feed bunk ,a manger of hay met for the feed and subsistence of humble creatures. Leaving the comfort and safety ,the glory and honor of Heaven to be born and die in humility for our transgressions. Greater love hath no man but that he give his life for another, thank you sweet Christmas child ,ransom for all. Your blood be mercy upon us all, Happy Birthday ,dear Jesus.
- Blog post
- 7 months ago
- Views: 70
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MOH Hero Rudy Hernandez MOH Hero Rudy Hernandez
- From: Scratch
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Description:
Citation:
Cpl. Hernandez, a member of Company G, distinguished himself by conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity above and beyond the call of duty in action against the enemy. His platoon, in defensive positions on Hill 420, came under ruthless attack by a numerically superior and fanatical hostile force, accompanied by heavy artillery, mortar, and machinegun fire which inflicted numerous casualties on the platoon. His comrades were forced to withdraw due to lack of ammunition but Cpl. Hernandez, although wounded in an exchange of grenades, continued to deliver deadly fire into the ranks of the onrushing assailants until a ruptured cartridge rendered his rifle inoperative. Immediately leaving his position, Cpl. Hernandez rushed the enemy armed only with rifle and bayonet. Fearlessly engaging the foe, he killed 6 of the enemy before falling unconscious from grenade, bayonet, and bullet wounds but his heroic action momentarily halted the enemy advance and enabled his unit to counterattack and retake the lost ground. The indomitable fighting spirit, outstanding courage, and tenacious devotion to duty clearly demonstrated by Cpl. Hernandez reflect the highest credit upon himself, the infantry, and the U.S. Army.
Now here is the rest of the story, in Rudy Hernandez' own words.
Touch of Smile
As told to Helen Ross by Rudolfo HernandezI had sacrificed almost everything as a Corporal in the U.S. Army. After seven engagements during the bitter fighting in one frigid winter in Korea, I had the right to breathe and that was about all.
Completely paralyzed on my right side and almost as bad on the left, I could neither talk nor swallow. Nor could I hear too well or think clearly. My bodily functions were beyond my control. And, though I could see, what I saw meant nothing to me. They told me later that I did one thing well. I could smile.
A month after my last battle I finally drifted up to a semi-conscious state in a hospital in South Korea. I was like a newborn babe, completely helpless. In some ways I was even more dependent on others than a baby is.
Although what caused my condition happened in a second or two there was plenty that led up to that. I was in so many danger spots that it’s a wonder I didn’t get mine earlier—and for good.
The account of those torturous months is another story. In that last battle a grenade tore away my helmet, a large part of my skull and a portion of my brain. It’s tough to lose an arm or leg but at least you know what you can or can’t do about it. You know what is going on. Luckily, doctors can help people with brain damage, and miraculously different parts of the brain can be taught to take over new jobs.
When I came to I was unable to move my arms or legs. Tubes and bottles suspended over my bed should have told me that I was being fed intravenously. But I knew nothing, understood nothing.
I didn’t know what I wanted or needed. I didn’t even realize at first that I was paralyzed. I lay there looking around, drifting in and out. I don’t remember much about that hospital or the next one in Japan where I stayed until the middle of July, one-and-a-half months after the action.
Just learning to eat was a struggle. I couldn’t swallow. Nurses urged me on, but I couldn’t get anything down, not a drop. Then when they brought in ice-cream it was sheer torture to almost taste it, but I couldn’t even get my lips open.
One afternoon there came this most precious Japanese girl. I took a good look at her and thought, "Ah—", and that’s as far as I got. When I thought, "Ah—", my chin dropped down and my mouth fell open. At that very moment she popped a tiny spoonful of ice cream into my mouth. It tasted and felt so good. I wanted more but I couldn’t get my mouth opened. Then I realized that if I looked at that pretty girl again and thought, "Ah—", it might work. And it did! She laughed and then I came as close to laughing as I could remember. Pretty soon I was eating everything that anyone would bring to me.
But I still couldn’t feed myself for a long time. I was constantly scolded because I didn’t drink the water. Care was taken to bring large pitchers of water to my bedside table as I was considerably dehydrated. But I could neither lift the pitcher nor tell anyone what the problem was. Then one day someone brought a straw. After I got the first sip going I couldn’t let go. I drank the entire pitcher of water without coming up for air. Another triumph.
Finally I was sent to Letterman Hospital in San Francisco. There surgeons labored endlessly to repair damage to my skull, face, arm, leg and other parts of my mangled body. Surgeons must have dulled dozens of needles and scissors sewing and snipping threads for the tiny stitches inside and outside of my body which was pretty muscular.
A large portion of my skull had been shot completely away. Surgeons performed a new operation giving me a pretty thick cranium covered with shiny hairless skin outside and shiny ideas inside, at least they’re shiny these days.
Damage to my brain was another thing. Most of my motor techniques had been interrupted. I had lost the simple abilities to move or talk. One of my ears had been damaged but I was lucky there. Hearing came back and I haven’t had to wear a hearing aid.
Several months passed by at Letterman before I uttered my first word. One day I wanted desperately to get the Doctor’s attention. He stood at the door of the ward listening to another patient. I pulled myself up to one elbow and took a couple of deep breaths. Just as he turned to go, I let out with, "D...d…d…Doc!" I was as surprised as everyone else in the ward. And the Doctor seemed genuinely overjoyed.
Every part of a step of progress was like a big victory, not only for me but for nurses and doctors. I could hear them, "Did you know Hernandez talked today?" "Did you hear that he sat up alone?" "Did you see him …"
My buddies cheered me on. I guess those old do-or-die days of sports and combat gave me the courage and stamina to keep on. They said my friendly smile and agreeable nod gave me an air of confidence—made me look tolerant of my failures. Actually, inside I was pretty miserable.
They told me later on that I was always smiling—just a little smile, most of the time. I didn’t feel too happy and I didn’t realize that I had this rather contented look on my face. When they sewed up my under lip which had been ripped by a bayonet, they must have sewn in this touch of a smile. Sometimes it got me in trouble.
Since I could nod "Yes", but couldn’t shake my head for "No", more than once I received what I didn’t want or failed to get what I wanted or needed. On one occasion a Red Cross lady asked me if I had written my mother. I hadn’t, but I smiled and nodded cheerfully, actually trying to indicate, Yes, I would like to write to her. The Red Cross lady moved on.
The next day I followed her around with my eyes. I got her attention and after just a few motions she gave me paper and pen. I must have spent half-an-hour jabbing and scratching at that paper. Finally, a fellow patient took pity on me and volunteered to write the letter. And because I still couldn’t talk, he had to question me endlessly for the message. There was a lot of nodding and frowning, grunting and brow-wrinkling on my part, some laughter on his. The letter took most of the day. After evening chow we tackled the envelope and by "lights out" the letter was sealed and ready to go.
Two days later, the same day she received the letter, my mother came to the hospital. A nurse told me she was there and I had no trouble rolling out of bed and getting to the door of the ward. I saw her at the end of the hall, started towards her, jerkily, of course, and I couldn’t reach her fast enough to hold her in my arms. She just stood there. I could see her smile building up, but when I got close enough for her to see my face, there was just a touch of shock, maybe pity.
When I finally got to her and held her in my arms, all the pain and trials and torment slipped away. We stood there, swaying and crying and laughing—and swallowing, me, who had had such a time learning to swallow. I don’t know how long we rocked back and forth or what she thought. She never told me. When I finally looked into her face it was so full of love, I knew everything was going to be all right. I’ve never known such emotion since. I’ve thought about it a lot and I can almost bring the feeling back when I think of my mother.
After her visit, I wanted to sing. The very next day, in speech therapy class, I discovered that even though I still could not talk that I could sing. The therapist was delighted to substitute simple nursery rhymes for my "mmms" and "d-d-s"". At first I felt silly, a grown man singing little kid verses. But I understood that it would help loosen my vocal chords and help my mind. So I wandered around singing and relearning tunes and words that I knew as a child.
After five long years of surgeons, doctors, nurses, therapists of many sorts and qualifications, there came another period of eight years of work and struggles to attain almost complete control of my body. I still don’t have complete mastery of my right arm, but I’ve learned to write with my left and do most everything with one hand. I can use my right arm for a little leverage, but the hand is not much use. But, that’s a small thing.
I’ll never forget the first time that I did anything at all with that right arm. I hadn’t been walking very long and wasn’t supposed to go anywhere alone. But one night I had to go to the bathroom and didn’t want to bother anybody. I got down the hall, leaned against the door and slowly turned the doorknob with the palm of my left hand. But, when I was ready to come out I realized that I couldn’t turn the knob and pull the door back as I had absolutely no strength in my right arm and no grasping ability with my left hand at that time. I couldn’t talk at all and it did no good to kick the door with my soft bedroom slippers.
I sat down hoping somebody else would come in, but nobody did and it wasn’t too warm in there. So I got up and with my left hand I placed the fingers of my right hand around the knob. I put my left wrist across my right arm and rotated that part of my arm. I figured if I could turn the knob enough to open the door just a crack I could put my foot in the door. The only trouble was that I couldn’t keep my balance when I stood on my right foot as that was my weak side. I’d have to cross my right foot over my left leg and put my toes in the crack of the door—if I was lucky enough to get that far.
I had it all worked out in my mind. As they say, the spirit was willing but the flesh was weak. I tried so darn hard but every time I’d get the door open about half-an-inch, my grasp would slip. I was getting pretty frustrated but after what I’d been through just learning to swallow and eat, get in and out of bed, and to walk, it didn’t seem like such a big thing getting locked in a bathroom.
I sat down again for about ten minutes, breathing hard and flexing my muscles. Then, using some of the breathing exercises I had learned recently, I tried again. And the first time, it worked! I got my foot in the door, then my knee, and before I knew it, I was out in the hall. I wanted to shout, "I got out! I got out! Hear me? Rudy Hernandez turned the door knob and got out of the john!"
The best I could do was smile at a night nurse and point down the hall. She smiled back and said, "Oh, you went to the bathroom. Bully for you." She had no idea how hard getting out was or what I had gone through behind that door.
A few months after I learned to walk, I was told to get ready for a trip to Washington, D.C. I still couldn’t talk but my brother went with me and that helped. I felt pretty good in a smart looking uniform and a bald new look. We went to the White House where President Truman decorated me with the Medal of Honor.
At the time I didn’t really understand what was going on. An Aide read my Citation that said that the grenade that blew off part of my head didn’t stop me, that I jumped out of the hole and bayoneted six enemy soldiers right in front of me. I fell unconscious, full of bullet holes, grenade splinters and bayonet wounds. One even got me through the lower lip. It was so bad that they sewed it down giving me a full generous lower lip. That’s probably when they stitched in the little smile.
They also said that I halted the enemy advance which enabled my unit to counterattack and retake the lost ground at Hill 420. That’s why I was awarded the Medal of Honor. I was just glad to be alive and able to function fairly well.
You never realize how precious each system of your body is until you lose it and have to work like the devil to get it back. Who would have thought it possible to retrieve all of those many abilities? It couldn’t have happened without the doctors, nurses, and therapists who knew more than I did about my body. They encouraged me and often seated as much as I did, especially when I was learning to sit, stand and walk. That was torture. But, then would come a day of success, a step forward and all the excruciating pain was forgotten, at least for a time. I guess the total experience will be part of me for the rest of my days.
Twelve years after the ordeal in Korea, I went to work for the Veterans’ Administration in Los Angeles. I still went to therapy sessions, mostly for improvement. For awhile I’d go back into the hospital for short spells, but even that lessened after I married Bertha. And when the three children came along, that was another new lease on life. They depend on me and I have to deliver.
Soon I will have completed seventeen years with the VA as a counselor. My clients are the ones who are badly beaten up, both mentally and physically. I don’t have any formula for talking to them, but somehow they get the idea that if I could make it back to a happy and productive life, they can at least try and hope for some happy years ahead. The pain comes and goes, even as I sit here telling my story. I can fool almost everyone except my wife and mother. They look into my eyes. No matter what the eyes say, I know my lips still wear a little smile, even though, like Raggedy Andy, some of it is stitched in – just a touch of smile.
- 7 months ago
- Views: 82
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ausinusa
- Views: 53
- Since: 7 months ago
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It Came Out of The Sky It Came Out of The Sky
- From: Nat
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Description:
My wife, was she abducted by Aliens? She has become menopausal to the point of micro managing every minute detail of my life. But what really makes me wonder is the fact that my hair is down to my shoulders again and I have offered for her to cut it numerous times. In any style that pleases her, but still my hair that she hates worn long is down to my shoulders. Was my wife replaced by aliens, nope its just menopause, I don't believe in aliens, but I do believe in Menopause
I have considered this post for some time, but don't want to be drug into a debate about whether they are Alien space ships, spiritual beings from a separate spiritual dimension, or government technology being cleverly concealed from the general public. My personal belief is that they are demons and if they come to abduct me I am doing some serious rebuking in the name of Jesus. That said, you are welcome to your own opinion as we head on down the mysterious road to strange lights in the autumn sky devoid of all but the known facts.
My mother was and is a sensible hard working woman. A stay at home mom till I was well into grade school when she took a job at the local bakery then later at the hospital kitchen in our small town of 2500. Thus it was that she was up and off to work before the sun and home in the early afternoon. Her hours were were absolutely crucial to the following accounts. I will add this disclaimer before relating the following my mother is neither a lunatic or a liar. It was the late 60's, UFO paranoia was at full force with pictures of made up aliens in the pulp magazines my sisters bought at the news stand which combined with a talk by my oldest sister of a trip to the country one night with a girlfriend who's brother claimed to have spotted a UFO landing in their pasture was enough to have me hiding under the bed in my own 10 year old fit of UFO paranoia. When my own mother joined in it was almost to much. Especially when there was a collaborator to her story. One afternoon after work as the story goes she was out in the back yard when a large silver disc flew over . it slowed to a hover she said and two smaller red disc detached from it and circled for some time before reattaching and suddenly disappearing from view in a whoosh. Her story was later reported by someone who later wrote in to report an identical account in the newspaper.I guess she took quite a ribbing for it because it wasn't till several years later as a young adult that she told me that one morning on her way to the hospital for work ,( a mere 4 blocks from the house and therefore reached on foot in good weather).She was coming down an east west street when at tree top level a disc shaped object flew by in a slow hover. as it passed she ran to the intersection of the north south street to see it move off down the street and then suddenly disappear at a rapid rate to the north.
It was after the days of summer , those still warm evenings after the start of school and before the full advent of fall when children lament another summers passing. My neighbor kid and I were playing in his front yard , with another older kid from down the block. Tag or who ever gets it gets it or who knows what other game that eventually left us temporarily exhausted and laying in his front yard looking at the clouds in the evening sky. Something strange was moving through that evening sky. In and out of the clouds in strange patterns of flight, soon parents were called out into the front yard to join in the observance and wonder, eventually a call was made to the police and an officer showed up who was disrespectfully called Barney Fife by the locals, He quickly concluded that multiple weather balloons were popping in and out of the clouds and left. Thats why they called him Barney and that's why Andy only gave Barney one bullet. The objects continued to circle until it became dark at which time they became lights. The clouds now passed we watched as they exited out of sight eventually into the northern sky. The next year in the fall it happened again almost the same way.
It was the late 80's incredibly in the midst of Reginamics I managed to hold on to a job building recreational vehicles for 6 years before the company went bankrupt. I had been talking about UFO's with a friend at work and one night my wife , three kids and I were coming home from my in-laws about ten miles east of town in our Chevette. Three kids in a Chevette, and no car seats, that would get you a trip to jail now. I guess we could have used one for my daughter at least, she fell out the passenger door of that Chevette one day going around a corner, her and her brother both in the front seat together, I heard a scream and when I looked over I had one less kid in the front seat, still gives me chills, We wouldn't allow her to sit by doors for a long time. We were stopped at the intersection on the southeast side of Bennington lake . My wife and I had noticed a star on the western horizon several nights and we thought we were looking at it again. "That star is really bright tonight" my wife commented we paused to watch it. Suddenly to both our surprise it began to move toward us. When it got closer we observed it was in the shape of a T flying sideways with the cross bar of the T pointing east and west and the long tail of the T pointing to the north. as we watched it headed east over our car with a single red light following behind. I got out of the car to see if I could still see it as it disappeared from view behind the trees. All around the sky was filled with aircraft, most looked like conventional aircraft. Suddenly from the south came a triangle shaped craft with a white light on each point. As I watched it fly over I was able to see stars shine through the middle of it. Sherry was beating on the door now and the kids were crying. No one wanted to stay but me. We drove to town looking out the side windows of the car and it was agreed we would stop by the house of the coworker who had been discussing UFO's with me at work. My wife and kids would stay at his house with his wife and I would drag him out to the scene of the crime. We arrived at his house and confirmed our plan. As we stepped out from his front porch, ten miles from where we had made the first sighting we saw a group of lights flying low down his street from the west. two white lights followed by a diamond shape of 4 white lights and two more white lights in a row. a single red light flew back and forth in random patterns through the other lights. We heard no noise. We regrouped as neighbors joined us in his yard, minutes later it made another pass west to east and disappeared into the eastern sky. We called McConnell air base and made a report. within a half an hour a flight of of f-15's made a low pass though town from the north. By then there was hardly any sign of even conventional aircraft to be seen.
Just the facts mam, I could speculate on what we saw, no need don't care, won't do it, but it happened just like I said so now you think I'm crazy too. Your in good company, but remember if they show up in your neighborhood rebuke and ask questions later. Over and Out - Blog post
- 7 months ago
- Views: 61
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