Beginner with too big a kite, fifth expedition!
Beginner with too big a kite-Fifth Expedition.
legal disclaimer.....the events that produced this posting were performed by complete idiots without regards to personal safety without any safety
equipment. We here at Crankythunder Kites and Contraptions, Inc. (CKC,Inc), recomend that nobody take up the sport of kite flying, its just too
dangerous. CKC, Inc, assumes no responsibilities for other idiots trying to duplicate the events described herein. Furthermore, CKC, Inc, certifies
that absolutly no animals were harmed in the production of this posting!
SNOW!
At Last! Finally, we get a good snowfall, not the light dusting we have been getting but REAL SNOW! 12 beautiful inches of it and Andy Provanzono,
the weather dude over at Channel 10 must be wiping the egg off his face because he didn’t mention anything about snow last night! Time to dig out the
snow ski’s, Time to clean the mouse nests out of the Nordicas!
Rush home from work and disappear in a cloud of dust up in the attic! Gotta find my old Hexcel 210 cm skis! Gotta find my old neon yellow Nordica
size 10 ½ plastic ski boots. While the ski poles would help with Ralphie the kite eating dog, my hands are gonna be full muscling the monster kite
when I get out to the corn field. WEEEEHAAAAA……. Been waiting for this for a long time!!!
Musta made a heck of a racket digging for the old ski’s and boots, wifey was waiting for me ready to remind me that the dishwasher needed recycling!
Dang! Busted her favorite coffee mug so it’s the Regularly Scheduled Daily Argument….. and Off to the Kite Fields!!!!!! WOOOOO
HOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
When I get there the place is deserted! No rug rats! No Kamikaze Dodge caravan driving soccer moms! Not even the snow plows have been out yet! Just
pure snowy field from the parking lot all the way to Grand River Avenue! I cannot help but chuckle at the thought of Ralphie when he sees these
monster neon yellow Noridica 10 ½’s and the nutcrushing capabilities of antique ski boots! Once I get the boots on, I grab my skis and the kite and
head out to the field.
Skis on? Check! Kite laid out with snow holding her down in the wind? Check! Lines straight and untangled? Double Check! We are ready! A
brisk tug on the bar and the kite inflates; I quickly accelerate to over 30 MPH pulling across the wind, the kite just dancing in the power zone….WOW!
This is incredible! The pull of the kite, the whistling of the lines! The roostertail of the snow off my ancient Hexcel Ski’s, the spray coming
off my edges……..Man this is AWESOME!!!!!!!
I relax and calmly enjoy the sensations of flying across the snow, with the sun setting off to the side, the beautiful blue sky, the white fields, the
sensuous curve of the kite as it arcs across the sky, …………..that big dog running alongside enjoying a romp in the snow………….HEY WAIT!!!!!!!!
THAT’S MY ARCH NEMISIS, RALPHIE THE KITE EATING DOG!!!!!!!!
AND HE IS MAKING A BEE LINE FOR ME!!!!
I pull the kite into the power zone and gain substantially more speed, but Ralphie, realizing that his quarry was accelerating, chomps down onto the
heel of my ski boot, and unable to keep up, steps on the backs of my ski’s just behind the Salomon 505 Bindings! YIKES!
Realizing that my initial plan to turn at the end of the field will let Ralphie let go of my Nordica and make a quick lunch of my left leg, I quickly
abandon any thoughts of jibbing and concentrate on zigzags, keeping my speed up so that Ralphie has to hold onto my ski boot, thus immobilizing that
surgically implanted chain saw where his mouth should be!
So here we are, Ralphie chomped down on my Neon Yellow Flaming Banana Nordica Ski boot, standing on the backs of my ancient Hexcel 210 CM skis, with
me trying to keep as much speed up from the monster kite, zigging and zagging so that Ralphie stays unbalanced such that he is unable to chew my leg
off. I cross a fence line and pick up a long strand of wire off my other boot……..And here comes Grand River Avenue at a very uncomfortably high rate
of speed!!!!!
Now, as we are approaching Grand River Avenue, let me inform you about this vital transportation artery for the State of Michigan. Before the pale
face white man came to North America, There were quite a number of Indian Trails that were used by the Native Americans to get from place to place,
especially the lower income Native Americans who were unable to afford a birch bark canoe. The major East West Native American footpath in southern
Lower Michigan was along the current alignment of Grand River Avenue. As the paleface white man expanded his settlements from Plymouth Rock,
Massachusetts, these Indian foot paths became the main transportation network for the new world. So naturally, Grand River Avenue progressed from
narrow foot path, to a somewhat narrow pony express trail, and then it was widened to accommodate the stagecoach and, after Henry Ford did his thing
in Detroit, it became the main automobile highway between the Motor City and Lansing, the Capitol of the State of Michigan. Today, Grand River Avenue
is a multi-lane thoroughfare complete with 24 hour illumination, traffic lights, overhead utilities, and all the other improvements found with a major
transportation corridor. While a Native American in buckskins or a stagecoach might raise an eyebrow or two on the shoulder of Grand River Avenue, it
doesn’t come close to the confusion and clustermess that an idiot being pulled on skis by a monster kite with an angry kite eating dog riding shotgun!
Now I have to give all the car drivers credit, upon being surprised by an idiot being pulled on skis by a monster kite with an angry kite eating dog
riding shotgun, they calmly pulled to the shoulder of the road and gave me the clearance I needed. Remember, I gotta keep my speed up or Ralphie is
going to chew my leg off. I quickly get the hang of it, lowering the kite under traffic signals, slaloming around slow vehicles, even Ralphie is
getting the hang of it by anticipating the turns and leaning into them. The sparks that fly off my edges are spectacular when I hit a dry spot of
pavement where the snow has been brushed off. I gotta think of something in the next 80 miles, cause in 80 miles, Grand River Avenue dead ends in
Downtown Detroit at the foot of the Detroit River, with the Canadian Provence of Ontario on the other side. Even if the Detroit River is Iced Over, I
still am in trouble because I do not have my passport and the homeland security dudes would not look kindly on an idiot being pulled on skis by a
monster kite with an angry kite eating dog riding shotgun trying to escape from the United States of America across the frozen Detroit River to
Canada!
So while I am weighing the options available to me, I come up on Toivel Saarbruuckee, A displaced Finnish yooper hillbilly redneck farmer in his
ancient F-100 inline six banger pickup truck, loaded down with a full bed of straw, fully engrossed in the Willie Nelson 8 track tape he has playing
in his tape deck duct taped to the dash of the old six banger. While I easily swerve around him, the wire that I picked up a couple miles back was
not so fortunate. I expected to be jerked in two when the wire caught Toivel's bumper hitch, but was pleasantly surprised when I was gently lifted
into the air by my monster power kite. Ralphie still had his jaw bone melted into my neon yellow banana peel Nordica ski boot. As we were elevated
up by the kite, being towed by Toivel listening to his Willie Nelson tape, I could see all the cars pulling back onto the road from the shoulders
along the road we had just kite skied down, although some drivers had climbed out and were pointing at us up here, over 400 feet in the air. As we
proceeded back to town, I tried to point out some landmarks to Ralphie, but Ralphie wasn’t buying it, he still had his jaws firmly latched onto my
Nordica. Glancing down, I noted that even more people had pulled off to the shoulder, climbed out of their vehicles, and were pointing up at me.
Whatsa mater? Haven’t you guys ever seen an idiot floating 400 feet in the air on a Monster kite with a rabid dog riding shotgun while parasailing
down Grand River avenue by a hillbilly redneck farmer listening to Willie Nelson in an ancient six banger?
As all them drivers were on the side of the road looking up at me, I was doing the redneck parasail thing and looking down at them, and Ralphie was
reminding me that he was going to chew my leg off as soon as he could with the appropriate grunts and growls, I noticed another vehicle quickly
accelerating up behind Toivel's six banger. Only this one had flashing lights on the roof!!!!!!
THE DONUT EATERS ARE HERE!!!
Well, Toivel, being a real true American that he is, upon seeing the flashing lights in his mirror, reduced his speed from the posted 55 MPH to 45
MPH, hoping that the donut eating cops would pass him buy and give a ticket to someone else. When they did not pass him, he slowed down to 35 MPH and
moved over to the shoulder of the road, still hoping that the cops would pass and he wouldn’t get a ticket. What Toivel did not realize that he had
an idiot on skis and a monster kite with an angry kite eating dog riding shotgun tied to his bumper hitch that was losing altitude at a very alarming
rate!
Now……… I do not remember everything that happened on that decent from 400 feet when Toivel slowed down because he thought he was getting a ticket. My
recollection is more of a series of snapshots…….The squeal of Ralphie as he realized the rate of our decent, my shucking ralphie off my neon yellow
Nordica ski boot as he squealed, the surprised faces of the donut eaters as I came down on top of their car, The roof mounted lights splintering as my
skis sliced through them, Ralphie laying on the windshield blocking any view they had as the donut eaters fishtailed down Grand River Avenue, The pull
as the kite re-powered, accelerating me down the road, the sonic boom as the donut eaters cop car creamed the majestic white oak just this side of
Dead Man’s curve, and finally, the way the lights from McDonalds played across the mushroom cloud that was rising up from the base of that majestic
oak just this side of Dead Man’s Curve!
As I was making my getaway, I noticed Bob the Dogwalker stooped over Ralphie, dialing Doggie 911 on his cell phone. The donut eaters saluted me and
my expert kite skills by waving their nightsticks as I passed their totaled cop car on the way back to my vehicle.
I do not think Toivel realized that he had a couple hitch Hikers tied to his bumper for a good ten miles down Grand River Avenue Either!
God I hope I have as much fun next time!
Regards,
Cranky
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