Thank God I’m a Kountry Guy and a biker.

hcg1book of rw

It’s the start of yet another week in paradise. Or at least a life of misery, albeit comfortable in a way, there’s still troubled seas on the horizon. In the last few weeks, since I left that disaster in Jerome, albeit due to my over ambitious thoughts of building the radio op, being conned by some real operators. Seems as unlike states like Utah, Idaho has very little recourse to make dishonest landlords fess up to the real deal in a rental. That being said I have put it behind. That said a week or so ago when I went into the hospital for a collapsed lung and pneumonia amongst some minor maladies. I was in the hospital, upon release that following Monday came back to the room I rent, only to find that most of my stuff had been bundled up, some things missing including my squadron patch. Food, right down to my coffee pot. Now if this wasn’t enough the gear that powers the radio op is held in storage until I pay the rent there. All of this caused in October when PoohBear decided that she did not want to fork over her club dues. Which put me in a very difficult. Now the preceding month, in some conversations with some gal in some troubled area of Africa, was looking for help to get out of that war torn area. So I for all the idiotic reasons engaged the project. However this did nothing to help my financial cash flow. As I was spending night chatting with her when I should be sleeping, then not being able to sustain my duties for a Church industrial outlet. All in all my car got repossessed, which started an entire pile of events. Mid October, I lost my daughter due to a DVT, Blood clot. Then my son got assaulted. All in all I thought Cook, would be a bit compassionate. Not so, middle of November Got served with an eviction notice. Had everything set to move to Wyoming. But Mr. Winter said no, here came a series of storms right after another. Nothing moved including me. When December 1st came I couldn’t move yet, and was financially raped, at the rate of $100.00 a day, until I got a prompting to move here into the Old Towne Lodge. Not much different than what I was to move into in ETown Wyoming.

But then you come to my roots. I thank everyday I had the parents I had, the circumstances I grew up in and being on a farm in a very different era. When I started riding in 1969 I grew to love the breeze in my hair, just me, my bike, and an open road. All I wanted to do was ride and build bikes. Then the Marines came calling, and due to some legal issues, it was best I enlist rather than face the local authorities. The rest is pretty much history.

Next entry, We’ll explore TV and a severe lack of new quality programming, and ad creation.

Stay Tuned

my rodewolf sig1 NAME TITILE


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