Variations on a Theme.
My hands are trashed. Cut, scarred, and stained by unidentified substances. Sometimes they ache and don't close fully. Seems familiar.
My back is trashed. Pains come from various points depending on the stresses I placed on them the day before. Also seems familiar.
Before I was a bike racing guy, before I was a ski racing guy, I was a Jeep guy. My old CJ-5 would hammer my body as I traversed rough trails. Then I would do more muscular damage by wrenching on the Jeep so I could drive to work on Monday. That was the rhythm of my life: wheel-wrench-repeat. As much as my body and wallet could stand. I'd break stuff, upgrade it, then break something else. There wasn't a component within that 83.5" wheelbase I didn't lay hands on at one point or another during the 20+ years I owned it.
Eventually I couldn't do it anymore. The local culture changed to something I didn't identify with. I reached a point when the bang for my buck on upgrades didn't justify the expense. Gas prices killed me. Filling up the tank three times for a weekend of fun meant a large investment that couldn't be sustained week after week. It all added up to me moving on to other pursuits. My Jeep sat, unused, until I finally dismantled it and sold off the parts.
Lately I've been beating myself up working on the RV. Most of the interior work is done. Now I've moved onto the electrical system, rewiring and upgrading the house systems to better suit my family's needs. That involves contorting my already-battered body into uncomfortable positions to route new wiring in confined spaces.
The wire, batteries, and distribution systems I'm installing are several grades above what the job requires, but I've always liked doing the job with the "good stuff". As a result, just as with my Jeep, the RV is worth less than the sum of its parts.
It's fun, pouring through catalogs and cruising down aisles at the local electrical supply shops, looking for creative ways to combine components to get a desired effect. Building in expansion in case I want to install solar panels or some other nonsense in the future. When I build, I tend to overbuild.
That said, I'm seeing the light at the end of the tunnel with this project. The to-do lists are getting shorter. Every day I still get off work and immediately change into my grungy clothes, but I'm not diving into some half-finished modification. I have time to sit and contemplate what would be nice to do in the future. I have time to see how well the modifications I've made work. I have time to fire up the propane furnace and get stoned off the gas fumes because I didn't get that connection on quite tight enough. I knew there was a reason I installed that propane detector...
The Jeep, the bike, the RV... they all have something in common. They are a means to see what's around the next bend. A way to get away from everything. I've always loved exploring wide open spaces and I've always hated crowds. In each pursuit I end up beating myself into a pulp, and am happy to do it. When all is said and done, I'm happy making the effort.
'Cross season has started, and I don't have much time to get back on the bike. My last attempt resulted in a couple setbacks, but I'm going to try again before too much longer. I need the centering effect of a good, long ride or a series of intense efforts. My back and knees need the exercise to counteract the abuse and neglect I've heaped on them over the last couple months. I need to return to normal.
Pretty soon I'll winterize the RV and throw the cover over it. The garage will probably still be a wreck. Snow drifts will cover the tiny remnants of orange shag rug that litter the lawn. I'll transition to the trainer. Ski swaps will give away to early-season skiing on ribbons of death. I'll adapt to the conditions like I always do, even if I'm starting from a different place than I have for the last decade or so.
First I need to get back on the bike and stay there. Then I can see what's around the next corner.
My back is trashed. Pains come from various points depending on the stresses I placed on them the day before. Also seems familiar.
Before I was a bike racing guy, before I was a ski racing guy, I was a Jeep guy. My old CJ-5 would hammer my body as I traversed rough trails. Then I would do more muscular damage by wrenching on the Jeep so I could drive to work on Monday. That was the rhythm of my life: wheel-wrench-repeat. As much as my body and wallet could stand. I'd break stuff, upgrade it, then break something else. There wasn't a component within that 83.5" wheelbase I didn't lay hands on at one point or another during the 20+ years I owned it.
Eventually I couldn't do it anymore. The local culture changed to something I didn't identify with. I reached a point when the bang for my buck on upgrades didn't justify the expense. Gas prices killed me. Filling up the tank three times for a weekend of fun meant a large investment that couldn't be sustained week after week. It all added up to me moving on to other pursuits. My Jeep sat, unused, until I finally dismantled it and sold off the parts.
Lately I've been beating myself up working on the RV. Most of the interior work is done. Now I've moved onto the electrical system, rewiring and upgrading the house systems to better suit my family's needs. That involves contorting my already-battered body into uncomfortable positions to route new wiring in confined spaces.
The wire, batteries, and distribution systems I'm installing are several grades above what the job requires, but I've always liked doing the job with the "good stuff". As a result, just as with my Jeep, the RV is worth less than the sum of its parts.
It's fun, pouring through catalogs and cruising down aisles at the local electrical supply shops, looking for creative ways to combine components to get a desired effect. Building in expansion in case I want to install solar panels or some other nonsense in the future. When I build, I tend to overbuild.
That said, I'm seeing the light at the end of the tunnel with this project. The to-do lists are getting shorter. Every day I still get off work and immediately change into my grungy clothes, but I'm not diving into some half-finished modification. I have time to sit and contemplate what would be nice to do in the future. I have time to see how well the modifications I've made work. I have time to fire up the propane furnace and get stoned off the gas fumes because I didn't get that connection on quite tight enough. I knew there was a reason I installed that propane detector...
The Jeep, the bike, the RV... they all have something in common. They are a means to see what's around the next bend. A way to get away from everything. I've always loved exploring wide open spaces and I've always hated crowds. In each pursuit I end up beating myself into a pulp, and am happy to do it. When all is said and done, I'm happy making the effort.
'Cross season has started, and I don't have much time to get back on the bike. My last attempt resulted in a couple setbacks, but I'm going to try again before too much longer. I need the centering effect of a good, long ride or a series of intense efforts. My back and knees need the exercise to counteract the abuse and neglect I've heaped on them over the last couple months. I need to return to normal.
Pretty soon I'll winterize the RV and throw the cover over it. The garage will probably still be a wreck. Snow drifts will cover the tiny remnants of orange shag rug that litter the lawn. I'll transition to the trainer. Ski swaps will give away to early-season skiing on ribbons of death. I'll adapt to the conditions like I always do, even if I'm starting from a different place than I have for the last decade or so.
First I need to get back on the bike and stay there. Then I can see what's around the next corner.
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