A Motorcycle Ride Up to Haunted Hill

Just in time for Halloween, Kano comes up with a spooky account of his motorcycle ride into the realm of the supernatural:

It was an October day typical for around here. Cool and crisp as fresh apple cider, sunshine, but with threatening clouds looming in the distance. In other words; a perfect day for a motorcycle ride, or so I thought.

Aiming my Sportster east towards the foothills of the mountains, I was thinking there would be plenty of fall color to see up there.

I rode the hilly back roads for awhile before turning back towards home, a light wind began to get gusty, the clouds got darker, and daylight itself was failing.

Then on the top of a rise an old wooden church building surrounded by a cemetery came into view. I remembered my uncle was buried there a few years back and decided this would be an opportunity to pay my respects before heading home.

After stopping in front of the church, I dismounted the bike. Being a bit of an "old building buff" I grabbed my camera and climbed the steps up to the church. There was no one around, living that is, and the door was slightly ajar. I couldn't resist taking a peek inside.

A plaque by the door described the church and cemetery: Miller Cemetery was established in 1860. Miller Church, built in 1882 with its unique sloped floor identified it as a "burying church". The pews came from an older church in the area that was built in 1853.

Entering the building I noted no light switch or fixtures, apparently electricity had never been installed. This was a single purpose church, a last stop before the grave.

The wooden floor worn and weakened by many footsteps over the years creaked as I walked the aisle towards the back end of the room. I was looking for a good angle to take a picture. The air felt heavy, almost stifling, then it suddenly turned cold.

The hair on the back of my neck bristled. I had a dreadful sense that someone, or something was watching me. A sudden but silent movement in the periphery of my vision to the left caused me to gasp as I turned towards the source. I relaxed a little, relieved that nothing was there. Just an overactive imagination I thought. As I once again looked towards the front of the room a dark human shaped shadow darted across the front front wall and was gone in an instant.

Seriously creeped-out at this point, just wanting to get the heck out of there, I took a quick snapshot with the camera aimed at the place where the shadow had just been. Making a hasty exit seemed the prudent thing to do.

I was relieved to be outside in the fresh air once again. Once back on my bike I hit the starter button, the engine didn't catch. Being in such a hurry I had forgotten to turn the kill switch back into the on position which delayed my departure by moments that seemed like hours. Then I quickly sent my motorcycle through all the gears as I headed down the hill and away from the burying church and west towards the setting sun.


Uncle Bill would have to wait for another time for a visit from me. Next time though I think I will skip looking around the church.

Safely back home I downloaded the photos from my camera onto the computer. I was astonished to see that one of the pictures appeared to have captured the source of my fright. An orb clearly floated in the front of the room where I saw the shadow. When I was on the scene I didn't see the orb but my camera did.

I went to a ghost site on the internet and sure enough, plenty of similar "orb" pictures were there to see, looking hauntingly familiar to my photo. It seems that according to the website, ghosts sometimes can be captured on digital cameras and that the orbs are the energy of formerly living beings.

I thought about alternative explanations for the appearance of the orb. But there were none. I didn't use a flash when I took the picture, and there was no apparent source of direct or reflected light into my lens. Could it be I had captured an image of a real apparition? I'll let you be the judge. Happy Halloween!

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He Did It! A Honda Rebel Run - Las Vegas To N. Carolina & Back!

Our friend Ken over at Walk the Razor's Edge which you heard about in one of my previous posts finished his ride for charity on his Honda Rebel 250. He's now safely back home in Las Vegas after a 21 day journey covering a distance of 5,836 miles. And he did it to help support the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence. Good job Ken and congratulations!

And speaking of charity, Pro Italia, a California Ducati dealer is sponsoring a raffle to help support the International Rett Syndrome Foundation. Anyone can purchase online a $25.00 raffle ticket (or 5 for $100.00). First prize is a 2009 Ducati Monster 696. Second prize is a $550.00 "America" leather jacket from Vanson.

The deadline for purchasing tickets is October 24th and the winners will be announced on October 26th, so better hurry!

Purchase Tickets Online
Questions? Phone 818-249-5707 or sales@proitalia.com

National Coalition Against Domestic Violence (NCADV)

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Out Beyond the Noise is Music

Have you lost your job? Can't pay the mortgage? Is life getting you down? How about the war, global warming, melting icecaps, and the economy? Kano has something to say about that in this "Zen-like" post:

I arrived home from work feeling refreshed after riding my motorcycle through the foggy brisk air of a fine autumn morning. I work at night and sleep during the day, a mockery of everything my body says is normal.

But in any case I was feeling good, and then I walked through the door of my house.

Waiting for me at the table was yesterday's mail, a pile of bills. After living off of credit cards for all too long, the proverbial chickens had come home to roost. I pushed the stack aside in no mood to look. Sipping on a steaming cup of tea I contemplated the recent news from my boss that no more overtime will be available at work. I had been depending on the extra hours to help make ends meet.

Wandering into the other room I listened for a moment to the TV with its news of the global economic collapse and government bailouts at the taxpayer's expense. Then they played a clip of the CEO of the now bankrupt Lehman Brothers. He was bullshitting his way through congressional questions on why he made millions while his corporation was going down in flames and why he gave out millions in perks to his top executives after asking the government for help.

With a click of the TV remote the noise was gone and I returned to my tea at the table. Then my wife joined me with more financial news; my son needs braces and wants a cell phone because he says "all the other kids have one". My daughters need money for picture day at school and one of them needs a Doctor's appointment. I'm also informed that the car is nearly out of gas and we need to pick up a gift for a birthday party...It just doesn't seem to get any easier saying no to the ones you love.

As I listened to my wife her voice became distant as my attention and gaze moved from her eyes and out the window, eventually focusing on the shed outside which housed my motorcycle. In 45 days or less that shed would be sitting empty and anxiously awaiting a new occupant. In the mean time I'm fine with the prospect of living without a bike. I'm past the stages of anger, denial, and so forth and am at the stage of acceptance. After all a motorcycle is just a thing and things aren't all that important.

While it would be easy to blame my financial woes on Clinton and his NAFTA or the Bush administration and it's de-regulated "trickle down economics", the price of food and fuel, the lack of health insurance because of sky high premiums, or the greedy mega-millionaire CEO's of giant multi-national corporations...ad nauseum. No, I won't go there. There's plenty of legitimate blame to go around but that would be of no use to me. I must take personal responsibility for my own situation in order to move past it.

I've come to understand that no matter how bad things seem, they still are not as bad as millions of others have endured in the past, are now enduring and will endure in the future. Keeping things in perspective. I've actually got it pretty good right now...I've got a loving family, a job, my health and a place to live. Beyond the noise of all that is going wrong in this world... is the quieter and sublime voice of all that's right in this world. The voice of God.

Standing in the open doorway I shut out the noise and listened to the sounds of my children's laughter as they played with a ball outside. Listening more attentively now, more sounds came into my awareness; the clanging of a clean pan being put away in the cupboard, the sweet voice of my wife calling out "breakfast is ready", the Canada geese in the sky above migrating south for the winter, and the wind blowing through the trees. Those were the sounds transcending the noise of the irrelevant and brought my attention to the right and perfect moment, which was that very moment. And with each and every tick of the clock, the universe is created anew, wonderful possibilities are born, new hope, and new beginnings emerge...Out beyond the noise, is music. One only has to listen...

National Coalition Against Domestic Violence (NCADV)

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The 1% Solution? This is my turf & I've got the patch to prove it!

A post and comment thread caught my eye over at motorcycle philosophy. The author wrote about some of the differences between clubs, pointing out that some have a lot of structure while others are more lax. It seemed like a pretty even handed analysis to me.

Then comes some comments about the post from an anonymous reader, "For me, a club like yours is a complete waste of time because there's no commitment and no standards. Any schmuck can buy the patch and play biker on the weekend. For you, a club like mine where you have to earn entry and you're held to high standards, well, maybe that's too much work."

I had to wonder what Mr. Anonymous had to do to earn entry into his club and if it was something to be proud of, like help an old lady across the street or something like that, I kind of doubt it. I'm usually a pretty mild mannered guy but some of his/her further comments really got me worked up:

"...I tried to clue you in once before about RCs emulating MCs and you blew me off, but now that I've seen your patch I have to tell you again. You're asking for real trouble with that patch, especially the SoCal rocker. you're claiming territory - or appearing to - and that won't fly with your local power club. You must be under their radar, because with your attitude I'm certain you haven't cleared it with them. They're not going to laugh it off when they finally notice you."

Then after a few more comments by others the anonymous 1%er came back with this:

"STAR and HOG are both brand-specific clubs known and accepted by the power clubs, that's why they can fly a location "patch" without fear. You guys? Not so much..."

The last time I checked anyway, this is America and its supposed to be a free country. It just seems to me so petty and juvenile that any club thinks they own territory and that no motorcycle rider should dare wear a patch on their jacket that doesn't meet their approval. Gimme a break!

So, what do you think?

National Coalition Against Domestic Violence (NCADV)

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