Welcome to the blog

Well.

Recently I was told that I was, and I kid you not, 'too funny'.

Too funny as in "we really liked your book and laughed out loud all the way through, but too much of a good thing is too much so we're passing."

I think the book is funny.  Outrageous.  Farcical.  Slightly demented.

The book is written as a series of missives to my daughter as she endured Navy Officer Candidate School, and chronicles a week long motorcycle trip from hell that my wife and I took to Banff National Park in Canada.

It's just chock full of insanity.  And bears.  Mostly insanity.

Apparently it also came across that I don't like Canadians. (Says the agent).   Nothing could be further from the truth.  I envy Canadians.  Canada is like the US except they got it right.

Do I poke fun of Canadians?  Of course I do.  But anyone that reads the book will understand that the person I make fun of the most is myself.

So here's what I'm going to do.

Over the next few months I will post the book .  You'll get to read the whole thing.

I've come to the conclusion that this is probably the only way "David & Suzanne's Big Frickin' Motorcycle Adventure" will ever reach a readership.

So, here it is  for your amusement.  All I ask is that if you find it funny and enjoyable you pass word of the blog to your friends.  Or, if you don't like it, to your enemies.

Feel free to post in the comments section.

So here we go . . . .

****************************************************************************

David & Suzanne's Big Frickin' Motorcycle Adventure

 September 8, 2008

 Dear Amber,

Mom says that you made it to your Navy Officer Candidate School in Rhode Island, and that I should fulfill a hasty yet heart-felt promise and tell you about our trip to Canada.

 Fine.  I almost killed your Mom last week.

Talk to you later.

 Love,

Dad

*         *          *

 September 9, 2008     

 Dear Amber,

 Mom says that was a horrible letter and I should elaborate to soothe your nerves.  

Fine.  I almost killed your mother last week --- multiple times.

Feel better?  

Love,

 Dad

 PS.  Was your bedroom always full of water?

*         *          *

September 10, 2008

Dear Amber,

Mom says I am an awful father and to tell you what happened.  

I would argue that I'm an adequate father but a horrible husband.

I came to this conclusion as I sat on a wet gravel road, high in the Canadian Rockies, in the dying light of one weird, weird day.  Hungry, hypothermic, lost, full of remorse, Grizzly spittle drying on the back of my neck, and alone.  Horribly and utterly alone.  Well, except for your mother sitting behind me, gently weeping and describing my character in what I think are very unflattering terms.  She could at least have used words with more than four letters and some hyphens. 

Oh, there was a moose there too.  Did I tell you that? 

 Anyway, as I sat there, shivering, shaking, highly paranoid that we were going to be eaten at any moment I promised myself one thing:  I promised myself should I live I would tell the complete, unvarnished, absolutely true tale to my daughters as a cautionary fable full of insight, wisdom, and delicious, delicious meats.   

 Since your sister, being the first-born, can smell my BS a mile away and is pretty quick to run I guess you're the lucky one.

 It's okay.  You can thank me later.

So, did I tell you we bought a new motorcycle?

 No?

Okay, I'll start at the beginning.  I have it on the highest authority that this is a very fine place to start.  But do me a favor.  Hold your opinion until the end. 

*         *          *

Tomorrow . . . The Journey Begins.  Sort of.