Hippo_Snot

To those who know me salutations, those who have meet me hello, and to the one’s I am yet to cross paths with… I know why children laugh and people cry. Stories told over large glasses of sorrow and the joy’s of no worries. With open arms and respect I welcome all of you. It is easy to walk away much harder to stand and listen. Agree to argue, Argue for conversation, or hold silent not to be heard. There is no wrong when following your concise. Concerns mean little in the helping hand we hold out to one another. These are not the words of a god I press into the soul of your heart. Opinion’s that matter only to my self centered train of thought. Words soon washed my moving winds and waters. Carried to new views. Where theories emerge. I grew up in a small town. Where everyone has big dreams. My first real job sweeping fish poop and mowing lawns at a local recreational park. We called are selves fish environmental nutritionist. Are boss had woken us up more then once. Sleeping on picnic tables so not to be late after a fun night of parting(thanks max.) In the winter’s I would become a snowboard instructor. Spending my time on the hills teaching all types the joy’s of winter. That is the trick to not going crazy here in the north. Find a hobby that gets you out of the house. Then again that goes for all regions. From the hot, humid and very windy Florida keys to the Valley of the sun. Thanks Doc for teaching me the fundamental’s of sailing. Every Wednesday we would get out of school early to make are way to charliox. Josh and I would make are presence known at many different regatta’s and even set a few records. Then sailing was my passion. It beat threw us became a life style. Kept of out of as much trouble as it got us into. Breezy feeling of holding nothing back developed. The world only a marble. I wanted to see it all. Soak in the warmth of difference. Culture’s, food’s, and view’s. Realizing that there is all of this within are own boarder’s. Red woods, Smokey Mountains, Vermillion Cliff’s, the plains. All of which carry there special breed of people. It was not tell the age of twenty-two that I road my first Harley. Had grown up around bike’s my whole life. My grandfather was part of the Flint motorcycle club and did quit a bit of flat track racing. He still has not let me take his bike for a ride. My uncle Jim and his Daytona taught me that exhaust pipe’s are hot when they crackle. Then there is Larry who showed the respect a biker has. You see respect is not earned it can’t be. Respect is given until you get shit on then Respect is lost. That is when you have to earn it back which is much harder. Once you understand that life is pudding pie. So I found myself cooking for many years content. It was not tell Larry and I talked in his last few month that I understood that true happiness had not found me yet. So we talked some more about jobs… Then MMI came up. I rolled it over for a few month’s before the light came on and the dedication you need to move across the country. From a temperate Northern Michigan to the hot mountains of Arizona. Scared, nervous, and very little money I quite the U&I lounge to deliver ice from Grayling for the summer. Long hours and heavy work got to admit I was in pretty good shape. Physically, mentally, and with pockets full of money. Off I went.