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Bummer's Monthly Musings

Bummer, who's an ABATE institution, writes one of the most widely read articles in the Outspokin' each month. Now he's also right here on the web! Welcome to the Computer Age, Bummer! ~ Enjoy!

 

 

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Shootin’ the Breeze 

 November 2003

by Bummer

Email: bummer@abate.com

  

Time.
I’ve been thinkin’ a lot about time lately, probably because when you read this I’ll have retired from my day job and will be able to devote myself to doin’ whatever I want to do [as long as it doesn‘t cost money!]. I don’t mean to rub it in yer faces, but it is kind of a big thing to me. I won’t be wealthy, but that’s not important anyway. I will have lots of time. Hell, my columns might even get better. Maybe I’ll take a writing course or somethin’ and actually learn to do what I’ve been doin’ all these years.

Speaking of time, often I pull things out of the attic to tell ya about. They mark special moments in time. Without these milestones, everything would just be all jumbled together into one big blur. I’ve spent years in blurs, but occasionally things do stand out. Like the time a few friends and myself were out riding and stopped at an ice cream place next to a minature golf course.....
As we slurped our cones we sat at a picnic table listening to and watching a woman and her kids playing golf.

“JEREMY!! IF YOU DON’T STOP SCRATCHING YOURSELF I’M GONNA TAKE A WIREBRUSH TO YOUR BUTTHOLE!!!

Would anyone like some ice cream?”

‘Oh no! She’s bringin’ ‘em over here!’ I thought. The woman had been yellin’ and screamin’ at a litter of five of the baddest kids I’ve ever seen. Watchin’ ‘em was kinda like lookin’ at porn on the internet: Ya might not like what ya see but ya just can’t stop!
When she bent over to tie somebody’s shoe or somethin’ , Bad Boy Jeremy hit her across the rear end with a putter so hard she almost fell over. Next thing ya know she’s chasin’ him all over the mutual parking lot. I about choked when he sat down on my friend’s hot drag pipes for about a second before he started screamin’. We jumped up and started running.

“HEY KID!!! GET OFFA THERE!!!”
“WAHHH!!”

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Bummer's Shootin' the Breeze Page!
 

would hit me and I’d laugh hysterically. Soon, not only did they leave me alone, I had the back of the bus to myself. Though the trip started out being long and boring, the pace picked up and I didn’t notice the time slipping by ‘cause I was havin‘ so much fun.

Although I still talk to myself every now and then, that time was the most productive. I’ve also discovered that the only people who DON’T talk to themselves are folks that don’t have anything interesting to say, so why the hell do they want to hear it? But, once again the point of all this is time.

Ever notice that any trip seems to take less time on a bike? I used to travel almost forty miles one way to work, and in a car I really felt it. But on the scoot it wasn’t so bad and became a daily eighty mile bike ride that I looked forward to unless the weather was incredibly bad, and even then it was an experience rather than just another drive to work.

This lifestyle that I’ve chosen [and so have most of you] is one that allows us to feel the pure joy of the smell of fresh mown grass as we pass. The stars above you at night are still there twinkling when ya drive a car, but ya just can’t see ‘em.

Sometimes ya get so caught up in things yer lookin’ at as you travel down the road that ya have to remember to watch where yer goin’, and before ya know it you’re at your destination.

That’s also how life is: We get so caught up in paying attention to the little stuff, we have to remember to watch where we’re goin’. Things like money, petty personal problems, whether or not yer car is as nice as everyone else’s or yer lawn is as well kept really aren’t as important as yer destination.....where you wanna be.

I think the trick is to be where ya wanna be, or at least on yer way....you can still enjoy the ride.

         That's me, dammit!~Watch here for next month's installment!

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Then the crazy woman started smackin’ Jeremy on his butt before we could stop her!

“I think he’s had enough punishment lady! Those pipes are hot!!” I yelled, then she pulled down his pants and started freakin’. Jeremy’s screamin’, the woman’s screamin’, and me and my buds are still runnin’ across the parking lot as her other kids start to wander out onto the road and cars are slammin’ on their brakes.

Finally all the kids are deposited into her Bronco, and Jeremy is sittin’ on a pillow as the woman takes her mob on down the road. The whole episode lasted only a few minutes, but those brief moments seemed to last much longer than that.

Isn’t that how life is? We’ve all had accidents or close calls that seem to make time slow down, like watching a movie in slow motion. I remember a bike wreck that I know only took a few seconds, but it seemed to go on and on and on.

Astro physicists tell us that as an object travels faster, time [for that object] slows down. I can’t even begin to understand that, but I have a hard time understanding reality in general, so I gave up. I look on everyday as an adventure.
I remember a trip I had to make to Detroit back in the early 70’s. It was winter, my car was broken down and though it was union business I had to take a public bus, not being an elected official [they could fly, the sumbitches!].
On the bus were recent graduates of a Christian missionary school. I sat near the back, and since I was the only longhair on the bus they decided to practice spreading the word to me enthusiastically.

The trip seemed to be taking forever, and after trying almost everything to make them leave me alone, I did the only thing I could think of; I made farting noises while talking to myself loudly. Occasionally the humor of the situation

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