A Faster Horse

[Gone in 60]

Late last year, while chatting with a driver at a racing trade show, he said "A lighter car goes faster. And it takes thousands to take weight out of the car, but it doesn't cost a dime to take weight off of the driver."

While he said this, I was gazing down at my prodigious stomach, and musing about how tight my dress trade show shirts, which are only worn twice a year, were fitting.
I thought back at when I had to get my new Real I.D., I listed a lofty weight that was about 30 pounds less than what I actually was, thinking that someday I'd actually try to hit it.

I figured if a lighter car goes faster, a lighter bike goes a heckuva lot faster. So, after I got home from the show, I went on an eat-less, move-more program, and as of this morning, according to the freight scale in my shop, I just hit the number on my I.D.

To celebrate, I walked to Costco to buy a few bundles of sale-priced microfiber towels. While I was there, I figured I needed some slimmer pants as well, to replace the ones that I've been wearing, zip-tying the belt loops together to tighten them up.

An ancient Chinese proverb states that "When a man starts buying his pants at Costco, he has truly given up." Well, I just bought five of em. Walking back to the office with my box, I got incredulous comments from people in the parking lot... "Did you just... walk... to Costco?"

[Cormanus]

Congratulations, Gone. Do you feel better for it?

[Nachodaddy]

Gone, congratulations on the weight loss and new Costco wardrobe. I like the idea of zip-tying the belt loops. So many things those zip-ties are useful for.

[Gone in 60]

Thanks, guys. I do feel much better for it. My job has become more physically demanding in the past few years as we add multiple elements to our events, and I'm working harder in my 50s than I did in my 30s. One or two weeks on the road, dozens of hours a day, unloading equipment, setting up, tearing down, reloading... it's basically a travelling circus. I ended last season in a back brace, elbow braces, and half-dead. Mrs. G and even my Mom were asking me how long I thought I could keep it up.

But, giving it some thought, I do have a pretty sweet gig. When I'm not on the road, I run my shop prepping and packing equipment and materials for our next events. As long as it gets done I can come and go as I please, park and store my motorcycles inside, work on them if I like, and take a five mile hike at lunch. I could probably find an easier job, but who would let me do all of that? Plus, the boss says the place would fall apart if I ever left.

And hard work, heavy family demands, and a glut of California traffic mean that motorycles are the one thing that bring me true joy. It's solitary time on a device that lets me circumvent traffic at will. And if things go to plan, Mrs. G and I will retire to a nice house in the San Diego area with my own little motorycle shop and some great riding roads just a short jaunt away. So, I need to be like some of you guys, riding into my 70s and 80s.

Lately, as I've come home from a week on the road, Mrs. G says I'm still as beat up and bruised as ever, but I'm not as exhausted. My bikes don't squat and graunch under me as much when I sit on them. And they can get up to speed easier, especially the little 48 hp Interceptor. I can maneuver through tight traffic and toss the bikes around more easily.

And, possibly most importantly, I'm catching more ladies glancing my way. I think a lot of that is the mustache, but you never know. Remember, you can look at the menu, but you gotta eat at home.