tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75049582024-02-26T10:38:21.490-06:00The Superbike BlogThe official blog site of Tim Kreitz AdventuresUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger430125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504958.post-76148345430416854042023-11-20T15:38:00.003-06:002023-11-20T15:38:45.226-06:00How could I let my bikes sit for almost two months? Will they run?<img src="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/blogspacer.jpg">
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I'm legit ashamed of myself.
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<iframe width="640" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/qo5HfxDWKuo" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
<P>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504958.post-24105951016003249432023-05-18T14:55:00.001-05:002023-05-18T14:55:16.896-05:00Taking comfort in the Three Twisted Sisters<img src="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/blogspacer.jpg">
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We ride a Yamaha MT-07 and a BWM F800GT through some of the most beautiful roads in Texas.
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<P>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504958.post-41413314641292775552023-05-18T14:53:00.003-05:002023-05-18T14:53:26.800-05:002023 Kawasaki Ninja H2 arrives! Uncrate, install Vandemon exhaust, ride!<img src="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/blogspacer.jpg">
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The 2023 Kawasaki Ninja H2 has finally arrived. Watch us uncrate it, ride it, and dig on a full Titanium exhaust from Vandemon.
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<iframe width="640" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/qh7qwKFMTjo" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
<P>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504958.post-845873235947158182022-09-05T14:05:00.005-05:002022-09-05T14:05:53.097-05:00I intentionally rode a BMW motorcycle into bad weather, for four days<img src="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/blogspacer.jpg">
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Monsooner or later, you're gonna get caught in a storm.
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<iframe width="640" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/k_XeAmt2T30" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
<P>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504958.post-85918136776947065362022-09-05T14:03:00.001-05:002022-09-05T14:03:11.159-05:00Motorcycling the chaotic Texas-Mexico border<img src="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/blogspacer.jpg">
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Big Bend National Park's river road is the stuff of legend.
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<iframe width="640" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Zm1Wa74SWbc" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
<P>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504958.post-56731416091467374292022-09-05T13:59:00.003-05:002022-09-05T13:59:40.682-05:00There are only two reasons you don't know what you want in life<img src="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/blogspacer.jpg">
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Alan Watts didn't have everything right, but he definitely had it right on this.
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<iframe width="640" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/QCSBGy41S0w" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
<P>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504958.post-7689841066127510442022-09-05T13:57:00.001-05:002022-09-05T13:57:14.065-05:00They took my silly motorcycle reviews waaay too seriously<img src="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/blogspacer.jpg">
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You are not your motorcycle.
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<iframe width="640" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/how6vpxJXGA" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
<P>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504958.post-82489282093556735022021-12-09T13:56:00.000-06:002021-12-09T13:56:00.150-06:00Is the 2021 Kawasaki ZX-10R too much for the street?<img src="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/blogspacer.jpg">
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The current king of the superbikes left me impressed and puzzled, all at the same time. It's the perfect track weapon, but is it too much for the street?
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<iframe width="640" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/bbrApOuJg_o" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
<P>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504958.post-18152898585046153172021-10-27T14:20:00.001-05:002021-10-27T14:20:27.123-05:00Let Burn the Fires of Autumn<img src="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/blogspacer.jpg">
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As we often do, we headed into the middle of nowhere and found some old, abandoned structures. It was a beautiful autumn day and perfect for being outdoors on motorcycles.
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<P>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504958.post-77925006502300218232021-10-05T14:33:00.000-05:002021-10-05T14:33:00.176-05:00A motorcycle ride through the folklore of the Trans-Pecos<img src="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/blogspacer.jpg">
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A motorcycle ride to McCamey, Texas for lunch inspires a short vignette about the legend of Pansy Carpenter, a reclusive Circus Performer who lived an eccentric life on the edge of the Trans-Pecos:
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<P>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504958.post-58451187313908077402021-09-23T13:44:00.003-05:002021-09-23T13:44:21.031-05:00Is the 2022 Kawasaki KLR650 awesome or terrible? The answer is, both!<img src="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/blogspacer.jpg">
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Behold, my ride and review of the 2022 Kawasaki KLR650. I loved it, then I hated it, then I loved it, then I hated it, then I loved it.
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<P>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504958.post-62323246360212549072021-08-07T01:28:00.001-05:002021-08-07T01:28:16.524-05:00Sometimes I make self-important short films<img src="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/blogspacer.jpg">
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This is one of them.
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<P>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504958.post-34293700407471670552021-07-22T00:22:00.001-05:002021-07-22T00:22:17.264-05:002022 Suzuki Hayabusa Full Ride & Review for the Daily Rider<img src="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/blogspacer.jpg">
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I spent a fun afternoon riding and reviewing the new Gen-3 Suzuki Hayabusa earlier this week. Not only is the Hayabusa still a berserk rocket sled, but it's now one of the most electronically advanced motorcycles in the world. Thanks once again to Jason Heller and the rest of the staff at Midland Powersports for extending the invitation. Much appreciated as always.
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<P>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504958.post-62969935987525148082021-07-13T14:33:00.003-05:002021-07-13T14:33:52.321-05:00Crazy Texas weather brings out the creatures and punishes historic structures<img src="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/blogspacer.jpg">
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A day-ride through the West Texas trail of tears leads us to a few familiar places as we head to Lake Colorado City, Texas. Record rainfall has swollen the lake to near flood stage and it seemed important to document it on video. Join us for a fun time.
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<iframe width="640" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/YWyDFxRRILc" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
<P>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504958.post-33564145757032468282021-06-17T00:51:00.001-05:002021-06-17T00:51:12.763-05:00Is the Honda Grom right for you?<img src="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/blogspacer.jpg">
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I spend an afternoon getting to know the motorcycle that has become a miniature legend in its own time.
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<iframe width="640" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/PfHsEIPtOWs" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
<P>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504958.post-85721273528534934092021-06-08T17:12:00.001-05:002021-06-08T17:19:02.673-05:00The Cheesy '50s Biker Movies of American International Pictures<img src="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/blogspacer.jpg">
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Discussing films like Motorcycle Gang (1957) and Hot Rod Girl (1956), along with the enduring B-movie legacy left by AIP and Sam Arkoff.
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<P>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504958.post-61282519540447303142021-05-14T12:09:00.005-05:002021-05-14T12:09:53.403-05:00When motorcycling and ham radio meet<img src="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/blogspacer.jpg">
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When I got back into amateur radio during the pandemic, I knew it was only a matter of time before being a ham and being a motorcyclist intersected in a video. Here's a ride and a look at my simple HF station that talks around the world with ease:
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<P>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504958.post-7892868687224547102021-04-12T10:01:00.005-05:002021-04-12T10:01:55.504-05:00Raw Audio: Triumph Bonneville Emgo Exhaust | dB Killers Removed<img src="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/blogspacer.jpg">
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If you like excessively loud motorcycle exhaust sounds, you found the right video.
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<iframe width="640" height="360" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/sI9CT458dPE" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>
<P>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504958.post-87361991526679101142021-02-28T14:22:00.001-06:002021-02-28T14:22:19.239-06:00A pristine, unrestored blast from motorcycling's past: 1987 GSX-R750<img src="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/blogspacer.jpg">
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Enjoy a few minutes of time travel.
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<P>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504958.post-17355244525081857002021-02-09T03:02:00.001-06:002021-02-09T19:22:21.364-06:00Leo's 650 Special<IMG SRC="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/blogspacer.jpg">
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<I>A fictional motorcycle short story by Tim Kreitz</I>
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Leo Massengill stood quietly in his back yard on a cool but pleasant spring morning, lingering on a stone pathway he had built almost 40 years earlier. It made a semi-circle between the back door of his house and a small driveway leading to the overhead door of his well-weathered garage workshop. He hadn't slept very well the night before and figured his lack of rest was the perfect excuse not to go on a motorcycle ride that morning if he so chose. But the air was fresh, the early sun was beginning to blaze blindingly just above the horizon into a perfectly azure sky, and the birds chirped eagerly in the way they always do when singing away the last vestiges of winter.
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<I>'I can't keep putting this off,'</I> he thought. <I>'That bike has been sitting for six months. I've got to ride it today if I can get it to start. This morning is really pretty –– and I've got to get myself back into the swing of things.'</I>
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"Six months," he said aloud, wandering momentarily into a melancholy daydream centered on how quickly time passes. This wasn't the first time Leo had let this motorcycle, a jet black Yamaha 650 Special he purchased brand new in 1979, sit for so long. In fact, he had once let it sit for about a decade from the mid-'80s into the '90s while he was working his ass off and raising kids; a son, Josh, and a daughter, Meg. In fact, he had bought the 650 Special only a couple of weeks before learning Josh was on the way. His then-wife never really liked the idea of Leo having a motorcycle in the first place, and after learning she was pregnant, repeatedly attempted to convince him the bike should be sold.
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Leo stuck to his guns and kept it. He stuck to his guns about a lot of things during that marriage. So did she. Neither one of them were good at compromise. They split up in '96 when he found out her mid-life crisis had manifested itself as an extra-marital affair. She quickly moved in with the guy and eventually married him. Despite it all, Leo tried not to hold too big a grudge. He figured he bore as much of the blame as she did for the marriage's failure, maybe more. It had been long since over between them years before her affair, so they both did their best to keep the split friendly and make sure the kids got through the whole mess as well as possible. The upshot was that in the divorce settlement, Leo had managed to hang onto the house –– and the 650 Special.
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In the wake of that divorce, Leo got the bike running again. With it he rediscovered his love for motorcycles during a time when he needed riding the most. Soon there was a Harley sitting in the workshop alongside the old Yamaha. That Harley –– a Road King –– stayed for a few years, then got replaced by a Gold Wing, then by a BMW. But he always kept the 650 Special. The bike was just too much a part of him to let it go.
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Leo racked up many touring miles over a number of years. It was on a cross-country motorcycle trip during the summer of 2003 when Leo met his second wife, Tanya, at a campground near Colorado Springs. She was eight years younger than him and recently divorced with a college-aged daughter. Tanya told him she liked his bike so he offered to take her for a spin, which she accepted.
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It was the happiest ride of Leo's life and lasted almost 18 years. He was never more content and always told everyone how she made him a better person. Leo had finally figured out the whole marriage thing as a middle-aged man. He was much more mature and much less stubborn. But a big part of solving the Zen riddle that was marriage for Leo was in actually finding the right woman, and he had certainly won that lottery the second time around. They were perfect for each other. But very sadly, Tanya died unexpectedly in 2020 from a very rare form of genetic heart failure. Leo was shattered by the ordeal. Losing her was the hardest thing he ever had to endure, and he hadn't ridden the 650 Special a single time since her passing. In fact, he hadn't done much at all but stay home and wait out the winter; not a formula for healing or happiness.
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"Jesus, six months," he said again as he shook off the daydream and raised the workshop's overhead door.
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Inside the small building amidst a cluttered collection of tools, lawn equipment and old boxes sat Leo's motorcycles; his 650 Special and the high-mileage BMW which had once helped him win his dearly departed soulmate. Since losing Tanya, he had managed to ride the Beemer a few times over the winter when the weather was cooperative. But for some reason, he could never bring himself to fire up the 650. The only thing he had managed to do was keep air in the tires. He wasn't quite sure why he had avoided the bike, but the moment he grabbed onto the handgrips and pushed the 650 out of the workshop and into the sunshine, the reason became clear.
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As Leo sat on the 650 Special and looked down at its instruments, it was suddenly 1979 all over again. A flood of old memories rushed in of that cocky 28-year-old kid who wasn't about to give up his first motorcycle just because his wife was pregnant. He was so confident that her concerns were nonsense and that he could easily be both a dad and a free-spirit at the same time. He was sure nothing was going to change. Everything changed.
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He rested his hands on the tank and remembered a period during his thirties when there was absolutely no time to ride. There was only work and stress and bills and bullshit. A lot of yelling and arguing from that time period reverberated at a distance in his mind. The 650 Special sat in the back corner of his workshop during those years, covered in a bed sheet and for a while with two boxes full of old baby clothes stacked on the seat. He remembered having almost sold it to a neighbor at one point. Maybe he should've let it go at the time, but was glad he never did. The thought of that bike being ever in his possession, even comatose and covered in junk, had kept him sane a few times in his life. Even in its worst condition, it had been dusty hope and a protracted conduit back to Leo's bygone youth.
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The memories kept coming as he gave the 650 Special a mentally distracted once-over. There were old thoughts of 60-hour work weeks, his divorce, getting the 650 Special running again thereafter, meeting Tanya, marrying Tanya, losing Tanya, attempting to pick up the pieces, and everything in between. Friends had come and gone. He had worked 27 years at a job he hated and thankfully made it through to full retirement without getting himself fired. Josh and Meg had grown up and moved away. Neither had married or become parents and Leo wondered if he was somehow to blame for that. But through it all, the 650 Special was there.
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Leo turned on the ignition and got lights, but the battery was too weak for the starter button. He choked it, twisted the throttle a few times, and flipped the kick-starter outward.
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One kick, two kicks, three kicks, nine kicks, fifteen kicks and nothing; he couldn't even get a sputter. He tried again but Leo was quickly getting tired, and worse, he was getting upset. He would be 70 years old soon and repeatedly kicking the 650 Special was becoming physically difficult. It hurt, and the more Leo kicked, the more he kept thinking about just how alone he was. Just when he needed it to the most, the one thing that had been a constant in his life for over four decades refused to cooperate. He kicked a few more times, then sat down on the seat to rest for a minute just as a tear fell from his cheek and hit the top of the gas tank. He watched it roll down and onto the seat. The exertion, the frustration, the memories, and the lack of sleep had all culminated in that moment.
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It took some time, but Leo finally calmed himself down. He had waited too long to run the bike, he reckoned. The carburetors would have to be pulled off and cleaned.
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"We are officially old, you and I," Leo said quietly. "I'm sorry I neglected you. I'm sorry about a lot of things. Forgive me? Okay then, we'll try it another day."
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Leo shut off the key and reached down to close the petcock. That's when he realized he had forgotten to open it in the first place. He instantly felt a little stupid. He'd brought himself to the brink of tears over a bunch of self-indulgent nostalgia and a closed fuel valve.
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"It's been six months alright," he said with a sigh, cracking something approaching half a grin and opening the petcock.
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Several kicks later, the 650 Special lit off and Leo was soon rolling down the driveway. She wasn't idling too well and protested a bit as he pulled onto the road. He turned west with his back toward the warmth of the sun and started accelerating through the gears. Those carbs would definitely need some work, but she'd be fine for a short ride into town.
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With the wind in his hair and the 650's engine singing its familiar song into Leo's ears, better memories began to fill his head. He thought of past rides with dear friends and of the riding group he had first hooked up with shortly after buying the bike in '79. Gosh, it was such a great bunch of guys. He shared a lot of miles and a lot of laughs with that crew back in the day. One or two nights a week after work, they'd ride from early evening until around midnight, usually ending the festivities with a late-night slice of apple pie at an old truck stop just off the Interstate. That truck stop was long gone now. Most of those guys were long gone, too, in one way or another. Some had passed away. Others had moved away. Still others had given up motorcycling. But not Leo. He was still able to ride, though not as far or fast as he used to. In fact, the thought of having to eventually give up motorcycles due to either age or illness had crossed his mind many times in recent years. He knew the day would arrive at some point, but not today. He also knew he'd be sore tomorrow from all that kicking, but felt good enough right now, and now was the only thing there really was anyway.
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Leo remembered how much Tanya had loved to ride with him. He missed her so badly, and he knew she'd want him to keep enjoying life for as long as possible. He was determined to try, and as he turned onto the highway that led to his favorite coffee shop in town, a wonderful thing happened: Leo found himself completely in the moment. It was just him and his 650 Special. There was no soreness or tiredness or sadness or worry. For the first time in what seemed like forever, he felt like he might be happy again someday.
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At the stoplight just before the coffee shop, Leo waited for the light to turn green. As he sat there blipping the throttle through the 650's rough idle, he noticed movement in the passenger seat of the car next to him. It was a little kid waving, a blonde-headed boy who was maybe eight years old. Leo waved back with a grin as the boy's mom lowered the passenger window.
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"I like your motorcycle!" the boy exclaimed excitedly. "I'm gonna get one someday!"
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"That's wonderful, young man," Leo replied. "I promise you'll love it. Have a good day, now."
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Leo pulled into a parking spot in front of the coffee shop and dismounted his 650 Special, staring at it momentarily before heading in the door. Once inside, he'd sit at a table where he could continue to stare at it through the coffee shop's big plate-glass windows. That never got old. Some things never really get old, Leo reckoned, even despite their undeniable age.
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He went inside and ordered some coffee –– and a slice of apple pie.
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<CENTER><IMG SRC="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/650special.jpg" width="350"></CENTER>
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<I>Copyright ©2021 Tim Kreitz. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be re-used in any form without permission of the author.</I>
<IMG SRC="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/blogspacer.jpg"><BR>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504958.post-91595661227157480342020-12-30T17:44:00.004-06:002020-12-30T17:44:32.128-06:00En Requiem: A Tribute to Matt Vann (1970-2020)<img src="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/blogspacer.jpg">
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This is the hardest video, by far, that I've ever made.
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<b>Matthew Vann • 10/6/1970-12/10/2020<i></i></b>
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The dash between these dates is much too small to encompass the spirit of Matthew Vann. It’s difficult enough to compress someone’s life into a few paragraphs, but with a life as big and full as Matt’s, it’s fully impossible.
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Matt was a Renaissance Man in the truest sense of the term. Warrior, Musician, Adventurer, Pirate, Great Love, True Friend, and Chemo Sabe. He was captain of his own ship, literally. A keen conspiracy-debunking enthusiast, Matt was also an avid collector of hobbies; music, ham radio, hunting, fishing, archery, aviation, model rocketry, kites, photography, backpacking, sailing, fencing, motorcycles, bowling, podcasting, astrophotography and any other gear-intensive activity that caught his eye.
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Matt’s career was as full and varied as his interests. He began his law enforcement career as a Clerk in the Jail Division of the Midland County Sheriff’s Office in 1991. By the time he retired as a Criminal Investigator for the DA’s Office in 2019, he’d worn just about every law enforcement hat in between. He was especially proud of his time as a SWAT Team Leader and Special Victims Investigator.
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He joined the US Coast Guard Reserve after 9-11 and was honorably discharged in 2011. He enjoyed his time in active duty and kept in touch with his fellow Coasties by exchanging dirty jokes and random homo-erotic insults. It’s a coast guard thing.
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A musician at heart, Matt played bass with several bands, regularly fending off groupies. One in particular insisted on following him home after every show, claiming to be his wife. It worked out well in the end.
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Matt knew the value of a life well lived even before his diagnosis. He always said if it’s worth doing, it’s worth going completely over the top.
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With a cancer diagnosis in 2013, his no regrets philosophy took on a deeper meaning. Determined to make as many good memories as possible for himself, friends and family, he became an ordained Dudeist Priest (of the Order of the Latter Day Dude), bought a sailboat and cruised the lakes of west Texas with friends, family and his fat dog. He spent many happy hours in the motorcycle zen zone, worked toward getting his sport pilot license, obtained a Degree in Criminal Justice, earned an expert combat rating in Elite Dangerous, and built an observatory from which he contemplated the great mysteries of the universe—such as “If you choke a smurf, what color does it turn?” and “Do sheep shrink when it rains?”
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During his downtime he took up archery, bowling, ax throwing, massage and cooking like Gordon Ramsey. He also attained the honorable title of World’s 4th Best Podcast Host. Turns out, making good memories with cherished friends was his favorite hobby.
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Warrior that he was, Matt fought cancer for 7 years and faced the enemy with courage, heart and humor. He was fond of saying he was living proof that eating vegetables will kill you.
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Matt filled his life with remarkable friends and grand adventures, but the fight to stay with us took its toll. On 12/10/2020 his spirit was released from his worn-out body and he is now sailing among the stars that fascinated him so much.
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For many of us, his passing has left a hole that will never be filled and a hurt that will never stop. Despite that, we are deeply grateful for the time we had with him. He was such a thoughtful, honest, witty, wonderfully profane, half-cracked eccentric; a truly good man. He encouraged living a life so full there would be no room for regret at the end. His lesson for us is this:
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You have time enough now to make sure you have no regrets, so don’t wait. Learn something new, take that trip you’ve been putting off, buy that big-kid toy you’ve always wanted, tell your friends how much they mean to you, hold your loved ones close. Make good memories every day. Don’t wait, do it now. Because you’ll never know when you can’t.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504958.post-17559709692105609722020-12-19T16:05:00.002-06:002020-12-19T18:32:26.263-06:00Three generations of Suzuki Bandits together in one spot<img src="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/blogspacer.jpg">
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A 1998 Bandit, a 2005 Bandit, and a 2016 Bandit pose for photos. Also included is some cool footage I shot of a West Texas haboob sandstorm.
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<P>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504958.post-78444595951928752262020-11-26T10:10:00.003-06:002020-11-26T10:10:36.162-06:00Sometimes, you just have to add another bike to your stable | 2005 Suzuki Bandit 1200 S<img src="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/blogspacer.jpg">
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The deal was too sweet, the bike was too clean, and the miles were too low. Here's a quick rundown of my latest addition to the stable:
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504958.post-68128416483174371822020-10-24T11:38:00.001-05:002020-10-24T11:38:33.446-05:00The Test of the Machine<img src="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/blogspacer.jpg">
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Britt and I ride 400 miles into the Davis Mountains of West Texas to take a single photograph and I use the trip as an opportunity to wax poetic in self-important philosophization.
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7504958.post-40630470739443145312020-10-01T13:33:00.003-05:002020-10-14T17:27:35.365-05:00Boomtown Relic: The Yates Hotel in Rankin, Texas<img src="http://www.timkreitz.com/photosection/blogspacer.jpg">
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Clif and I take advantage of a late Indian Summer day to investigate an oil boomtown relic from the early 20th Century, the Yates Hotel in Rankin. Lawrence Welk, Benny Goodman, Louis Armstrong and others all played here when the hotel was in its heyday. You never know what abandoned historical gem you'll find next out in the vast expanses of West Texas:
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com