Skydivers, unlimited Tequila, and Toga's.

What could possibly go wrong?
It's not like we're doing CRW!

WARNING!
The attached pictures are not suitable for all viewers.
In fact, one of them is not suitable for viewing by anybody. I include it out of a sense of duty in an attempt to convey the depths of depravity to which a human being can sink. The sender accepts no responsibility for any
trauma, mental, emotional, or spiritual, that may be suffered by anyone
viewing these photos. View at your own risk. All tattoos were applied by
Jesus.

I would like to further state that no Skydivers were injured during the
taking of these photos. But that would be a lie. At the height of the
festivities, one of the party-goers, well fortified by Margaritas, dropped
his toga, charged across the patio of the Tiki Bar, and threw himself over
the railing into the lake. One problem. There was another deck the other
side of the railing. The railing was immediately lined with Skydivers taking
pictures of the poor sod as he curled up into a ball on the unexpected
obstruction, ten feet below, barely conscious. It looked like the Paparazzi
at a Britney Spears wedding. Did I mention he was naked?

He suffered no permanent injuries, but he does have the longest bruise I
have ever seen. His entire side from shoulder to ankle, and it's the
prettiest colors. I'll try and get a picture when he's not covered in ice
packs.

6 Jumps today, weather came in and there were some problems with manifest.

But I have discovered Effen Vodka. And it's pretty Effin Good!
The adventure continues...........

I see Skydivers. They're everywhere!

One of the first people I ran into at registration in Shannonville was
Patrick from Nouvel Air. His girlfriend Sonia was there with her own racing
machine, that's her rear wheel I'm catching up to in the pic.

FAST was a BLAST, as expected. The morning sessions went well, and I was
running even with Jamie, another guy in my group, for fastest lap times. It
started raining just as we broke for lunch and I figured we were done for
the day which is when they started issuing rainsuits. My group kinda put
their heads together and we decided we'd see how it went for the first 2
groups before we decided if we were going to go out on the track as it was
really pouring by then. The first groups seemed to be going awfully fast,
scary fast in fact, and we all agreed that we were not going to go anywhere
near as quick as they were. When it was our turn we started off slow, and I
didn't notice that our instructors were gradually picking up the pace. It
wasn't until Lap 6 as I came screaming down the big straightaway in front of
the grandstand and started to set up for turn 1 that I realized we were
going about 150 kilometers an hour in the pouring rain and I was having FUN!

I slid off the seat and leaned in hard for the turn, rolling on even more
throttle as I was passing Kent on the inside when he went just a little wide
and I saw an opening. As I came out of the turn I passed Jamie and his
GSX-R. Problem was, I didn't pass them simultaneously. First I passed Jamie,
spread-eagle like a starfish, spinning on his back as he slid up the track,
shredded pieces of rainsuit trailing out behind him. A second or two later I
caught up to the bike, spinning on it's side, trailing shredded pieces of
plastic, fiberglass, and various assorted footpegs, shifters and handles.

As I drew abreast it disappeared off the track and vanished in a fountain of
mud and turf. Two thoughts flashed through my mind.: "I hope he bought the
extra insurance." and "Now I'm the fastest guy on the track!"

I started setting up for turn 2, my entire body off the seat, head up,
steering with the inside arm, outside arm relaxed, leaning in, calculating,
analyzing, aiming for the perfect turning point - apex - exit point, and
right into turn 3, pushing it well beyond what I would under normal
circumstances, secure in the knowledge that "It can't happen to Me!". In the
pouring rain.

Jamie was fine. He sat out the next round, and after paying the $250
deductible was back out on the track for the rest of the afternoon.

I got my comeuppance later in the day going into turn 5 when I ran out of
track and went splashing through the mud as the wall of tires came at me.
Despite my doing everything wrong, I managed to get the thing stopped a
couple of feet short of the wall, and returned to the Pits to be set upon by
a laughing group of Instructors armed with push broom, scrub brushes. and
buckets. After they cleaned the tires off they sent me back out with the
admonition " Take it easy on the next lap, they're probably going to be
slippery". Slippery? On turns 5 and 6 I was already spending more time
trying to dodge the machines that were going sideways headed for the
MotoCross Zone than I spent driving my own bike. What the heck did they mean
by slippery?

Anyway, I survived the day, and now I know how to drive really FAST in the
rain.

Spent the night at Jean Hickmans place in Barrie, and after dinner we drank
large amounts of red wine as we watched skydiving videos late into the
night. Thanks for all your hospitality Jean, and I look forward to returning
the favor.

The drive took much longer than expected, in addition to the expected delay
in customs, I got stuck in traffic on the 401 and it took 2 1/2 hours to
cover 10 kilometers. I was stationary for so long I put the laptop on the
passenger seat and started editing pictures. When I finally passed the
accident they were loading the burnt-out skeletons of a couple of tractor
trailers onto flatbeds and into dump trucks using a crane and a front-end
loader. No matter how bad my day might go, somebody else's has already gone
a lot worse.

Finally reached Skydive Chicago on Friday night just after sunset. Man, this
place is HUGE! I got lost in the trailer park looking for Kelly and couldn't
find my way out. In addition to a huge covered packing area there's a
restaurant, Tiki Bar located next to the man made lake filled with regularly
filtered water, pro shop, WiFi, showers, laundry, and more.

Without Matt to egg me on I've been doing a pretty relaxed pace, 22 jumps in
3 days. There are 2 Twin Otters flying up to 30 loads a day each, plus a
Casa doing a dozen more. They're doing 100 to 130 Tandems a day. I've
already inquired about work when I retire. Larry and Joanne arrived
yesterday, and it's a good party so far, but Matt1 Matt2 and Bob are greatly
missed.

It's now Monday night and I'm getting ready to head over to the Flying
Hellfish Toga Party. Phil says he'll lend me a sheet he stole from an
ambulance. I'm afraid to ask for details.

In short, I'm having no fun at all. And Gerry, the next time I go anywhere,
you are the first person I'm going to invite.

I'll send pics of the Toga party when I get the chance
Crazy Larry

Off And Crawling Like A Herd Of Turtles

It's that time of year again, when a young mans fancy turns to thoughts
of.................BOOGIES!!!

I've just finished a last minute, warp speed blast around town on the FZ,
including a half-hour tearing up the Eastern Ramps seeking new limits in the
delicate balance of the laws of physics, gravity, traction, horsepower, and
acceleration, and as soon as I finish this and hit send, I'm OUTA HERE!

Vacation at last!

When most of you receive this I should be headed west at a dangerous and
unsafe rate of speed, stereo pounding to 70's and 80's rock and roll as I
careen down the 401 to Summerfest in Chicago, and you are all invited to
come with me. I promise to get you there, but my plans are kinda fluid so
you might have to get back on your own. Seriously, the offer is there.

I packed 3 tents so this time I shouldn't run out of tents before God runs
out of storms, a coupla' sets of gear, coolers, tarps, even more electronics
than last time, cash cash and more cash, and of course, lots and lots of
Smirnoff Ice. Having too much Vodka is like having too much fun, it just
isn't possible.

I'll sleep in the truck tonight, spend Thursday on the track in
Shannonville - Fast Riding School Phase II - stay at Jean's place in Barrie
on Thursday night, continue on to Chicago on Friday morning, and be jumping
by mid-afternoon.

I promise to drive fast and take chances, remembering that there are TWO
miles of ditches for every ONE mile of road, that danger never takes a
break, and that if things go bad that none of those yahoos I'll be jumping
with is gonna have to explain to my mother why I'm not coming home. (If it
come to that, Kevin, you can have the bike, Cathy the kitchen, Dan the
creepers, Al, go ahead and move in for as long as you want, and everybody
can come over and drink all the booze, there's plenty to go around). I
further promise to always use the appropriate safety equipment, and to watch
out for my friends, as I know they will watch out for me. All the while
keeping in mind my favorite Matt1 quote, "I don't think my helmet's thick
enough for this Skydive'.

All kidding aside, I fully expect to return in more or less the condition in
which I left. No doubt bruised and battered, scraped and scratched, feeling
every day of my 48 1/2 years, considerably poorer, but richer with new
friendships, and old ones renewed.

Many of the usual knuckleheads will not be joining us this year, and for the
first time since 2002 I know going in I'm gonna do more jumps in Illinois
than Matt. Ha! I win!

For the return trip, whenever that happens, I have programmed the address of
every Canadian and U.S. drop zone between Ottawa Illinois, and Ottawa
Ontario into the GPS, and will try and hit as many as possible on the way.
Unless Donald calls in which case I shall head for St. Esprit to Tandem my
ass off and get PAID to Skydive. It so sucks to be me.

I'm half tempted to drop by and pay for Dana to take me for a Tandem just
for sport. It would be fun to have her clip on, then stand up, and carry her
to the plane.

Consider yourself warned Ross: Farnham is dangerously close, and I might
have a few days to kill.

For that matter, Beth and Tim might want to think about checking to see
who's there before they answer the door, everywhere within a couple thousand
miles is within my reach.

In any case I shall be back for August 12th. Unless of course the staff
finally takes the hint and decides to use those matches I handed out to all
of them on my way out the door this morning. They are under standing orders
that if they smell smoke, they are to leave quietly, locking the door behind
them, and rather than calling the Fire Department, to call me and tell me
it's not necessary for me to return. And I shall continue merrily on my way,
skydiving through the insurance money.

If there's anybody down Toronto way who wants to tag along, call my cell at
613-853-2794, leave a message, and I'll pick you up as I pass through on
Friday. If not, well you can't say you never got invited!

Crazy Larry, C-3082, Coach II, Tandem Instructor, SSI (pending), PL-97, Muff
967, Skydog 156, Flying Hellfish 476, Dirty Sanchez 382.

Work Boots and Pink Shorts

I hurt

Everywhere.

But that just means I had fun.

8 Tandems Saturday. Not bad considering how the day looked starting out. At
8 a.m. Moe and I were standing around in fog wondering how long it would be
before we jumped. That's when a large pack of half-dressed, hungover french
rednecks arrived carrying a cooler of beer. The one at the front of the pack
was wearing pink shorts, a pink patterned t-shirt that was a couple sizes
too small, his hair was dyed orange, camouflage paint and eyeliner on his
face, wearing work boots. I didn't know what the story was, I just knew I wanted to take the guy in the pink shorts. Just so I could say I did.

The first question they asked was "Were you
serious about us not being allowed to drink?"

Turns out this is an honourable and long standing French-Canadian version of
a bachelor party. Once I got over my fear they were a lot of fun. By the
time Moe had the first two trained the fog had started to burn off, I geared
up the Groom and Best Man, and away we went. So I found myself on a lovely
summer morning, strapped to a 230 pound roofer in pink shorts, falling from
the sky, the first of 8 that day. There are times I really do enjoy my job.

Gonna rain all day, so I've made a list of all the things I've been putting
off doing for the last couple of months. No rest for the wicked.
Larry

Storms, Cutaways, and Aligators.

Quiet day yesterday. Ground fog in the morning followed by low cloud. We were on the first load which went off at noon, and got one more before an approaching storm forced everyone into cover. They put the jump ships, and every other plane that would fit, into the hangar. Watching the doors slowly close, sealing us into the vast hangar jammed with gear, planes, and people, it felt like I was in a B movie as the last survivors of humanity took shelter against the approaching Armageddon.

Once the storm passed we were soon up and jumping again. We got 3 more in and I was aiming to get 7 for the day when Tom cutaway. Phil, his niece, her boyfriend and I took off to get him. There was some urgency involved as from what Joanne had seen from the air and what we had seen from the ground it looked he was probably on the other side of the river which has very few outs, and the main was probably in the river.

 At the end of a dead end road we climbed over a fence with a "No Trespassing" sign hung on it and headed down a dirt road that was quickly fading to nothing. After passing a couple more barriers hung with various signs all based on the theme of "Hey Stupid, this is MY land, stay the f### out!", we passed a Mercedes Benz parked on what I think may have been a front lawn. Tires flat, covered in debris, apparently having found it's permanent resting place, I thought "at least they seem to have a good grade of hillbilly around here".

The road had become a trail, the trail a path, and the path a deer trail, that was petering out as we approached the dam and I realized we were still a couple hundred yards short of where Tom was. We plowed ahead, through spider webs so thick they were like curtains, dressed in shorts and t-shirts, me in my brand new shoes, raising clouds of mosquitoes, and discovering some kind of stinging plant that made it feel like someone had poured gasoline on our legs. I'm positive I could see alligators lurking on the edge of the swamp as we went deeper and deeper and as I dodged stinging plants, poisonous spiders, mosquitoes, snakes and god knows what the hell else I tried to tried to remember if there indeed were alligators in these here parts. It was when Phil stepped on a board with an old rusty nail sticking up out of it that we decided this was not a good idea, and decided to return in the morning when it was cooler, and with suitable clothing.

When we got back to the truck we rinsed our legs with beer which took away the worst of the sting and headed back to the DZ.

Upon our return we discovered that Tom had been back for an hour, someone having taken a different route in and picked him up right where he landed. He had to scale a tree to recover the main, but the freebag probably went into the river and over the dam. Oh well, when your buddy chops and lands off, ya gotta go look for him, he'd come looking for you.

They held a foam party last night at the Tiki Hut. First you fence off an area with plastic, then take a foam machine and fill it. Then you toss in a bunch of well lubricated skydivers, and you can probably figure out the rest yourselves. Strange customs these Americans, but entertaining to observe from a safe distance.

Speaking of Stupid Skydiver Tricks.....

Did 9 jumps yesterday. The one that was supposed to be last was a no-suit no-show jump with Larry Dewey. Just before exit It occurred to me that I should have had him go outside and my dive so that when he started his count I could tackle him and take him off the plane. The bastard must have read my mind 'cause that's exactly what he did to me. Then it was : round, 360, round, front somersault, round, back somersault, round, barrel roll, and back to the top. Sounds easy, but you try it in shorts and a t-shirt.

As I finished packing they were making the 10 minute call for the Hit and
Chug. Grabbing a ticket, I managed to get the last slot, and the briefing
began immediately. "Okay, you must land before you reach the red flag, run
the obstacle course that continues up the field in the landing direction,
then chug your beer at the end." Obstacle course? Nobody said anything about
an obstacle course. I signed up for a hit and chug, not the Marines! More on
this later.

I had the lightest loaded canopy so I went out last, right after the Tandem.
Yes there was a Tandem pair entered as well. I dumped at 6,500, and wanting
to give myself every advantage I could decided to loosen my legstraps and
remove my chest strap so I could just step out of the gear on landing and
start running. When that was done, I reached up to grab my
toggles.............and now that my legstraps were loose........they were of
course........ about 10 inches out of reach. Hmmmm. This could be a problem.
In theory I could land on rear risers, but attempting this for the first
time in front of a crowd with my gear loosened off to the point it's barely
staying on didn't strike me as a good idea.

I grabbed a riser and hauled on it to get up to where I could reach a
toggle, resulting in the Stiletto taking off sideways and trying to throw me
out. Okay. need a new plan. Through careful trial and error I finally manage
to scale the risers, get hold of the toggles, and start setting up for
landing. I take advantage of the wind of the fact that I'm the last one
down, and sink it in hard-core accuracy style to land within feet of the
starting gate.

This is where the real fun starts. For the spectators. And there seem to be
an awful lot of spectators. The first obstacle is a stick, about 3 feet tall
that you have to put your head on and spin around 5 times. then it's on to
the tires, set up like a high school football drill, that you have to run
through, getting your feet in each one. That's where I passed the tandem,
gamely carrying his Instructor. Then the slalom. A series of pool noodles
standing upright that you have to weave through. A short sprint, then run up
a set of stairs (somebody put waaay to much thought into this!) throwing
yourself off the top onto a large cushion on the other side. Following the
cushion there was a strangely empty stretch of ground lined on one side by
skydivers, followed by the water slide. As I started across the grass, I
suddenly recalled something from the briefing about "The Gauntlet" That's
when the Skydivers opened fire with water balloons. They must have been
hoarding their ammunition and waiting for me as there was a veritable hail
of missiles hurled at me as I ran. Diving onto the water slide, I made it a
third of the way across before I even landed, arms out in front of me,
watching as my treasured Altimaster, my faithful and constant companion on
so many skydives, went splashing through the puddles.

Finally. I'm done. All I have to do is drink my beer and this version of
skydivers tormenting other skydivers is over. But I can't get my soaking wet
glove encased finger under the #&*%$#@ tab! And the glove is held on with
Velcro, so I use the only tool left to me, my teeth. And discover that the
guy who handed me the beer was kind enough to shake the bejesus out of it
first, resulting in it exploding in my face. Okay. Now I start to chug. And
realize there was one last obstacle. It seemed they had put the beer out in
the sun for a few hours so it would be the perfect temperature for guzzling.
I have no idea what my time was, it's not important. But if they do it again
tonight, I'll sign up. With a little surprise of my own. I went to Wal Mart
this morning and bought the biggest Super Soaker water pistol they had. This
time when I hit "The Gauntlet", I'm going to fight back!

Fireworks last night that would put Parliament Hill on Canada Day to shame.
It started with Skydivers covered in glow sticks, more skydivers dragging
trails of flame, and then they set fire to a Twin Otter while it was doing a
buzz job. No Shit. True story. I'll see if I can get some pictures from
somebody.

I'm having no fun at all.
Larry

If you ever run out of stupid things to do, just call me......

I've got plenty of ideas. For instance: take a 35 year old canopy that last
saw daylight in the 70's, and after a perfunctory inspection, forming the
opinion that it "will probably work", having used a large vise, a big hammer
and a punch to help install it, using risers that "probably should be
grounded", muscle it into a tandem container with several important handles
removed and a pilot chute "borrowed" from a student rig. To make sure it's
not too easy, jump the contraption out of a non-standard jump plane at
minimal altitude next door to a control zone into a landing area the size of
a baseball diamond surrounded by tall trees with a quarry if you overshoot,
power lines if you undershoot, and forest on each side. Of course, since you
really don't know just what the heck is going to happen with the damn thing
you should leave your last line of defense - your AAD - off.
But really, what could possibly go wrong? It's not like we're doing CRW!
Thank-you, to Neil, Barry, Mike, Kjeld, and the guy who invented the PLF. A
special thankyou to Karina, who missed the first one, which caused me to go
up for "Round Two", which I almost relaxed enough to enjoy.
Been there, done that, and I don't ever intend to go there again.
Crazy Larry

Maybe It Wasn't So Bad

Did my first 4-way in a month this afternoon. I had to explain all the
slots, brief and detail the exit and every single move for the entire
skydive. Two grips got dropped on the exit, people sank out and popped up
all over the place, they grip-switched and grabbed everything they could
reach. When we went for the satellite the tail flyer took a sidebody on me
and dragged me away from the point so hard I had to go into a track to drag
us back. The whole formation was spinning the entire time, and there was
nothing I could do that so much as slowed it down. There was no discipline
whatsoever, they were all over-amped and wound up so tight it's a wonder
they remembered to breathe. I got slammed, hit, and slapped, I've got
bruises coming out on both arms from where people gripped me, and I had to
beat people off me at breakoff.
When I landed I was thoroughly ticked off and all I wanted to do was give
those idiots shit for their complete lack of control and for ignoring all my
instructions about focusing, eye contact, and grip discipline.
Then I could hear them landing behind me, laughing and shouting with
excitement, thrilled to pieces about the best and highest scoring skydive
any of them had ever been on.
Maybe the jump wasn't that bad after all.
Larry

Covention Epitaph

At least it wasn't unexpected....

8 Conventions, somewhere around 500 jumps, 2 trashed tents, enough cash to
buy that Mustang I've always wanted, a truly ridiculous amount of beer, so
many aircraft I lost track years ago, a Muff #, a Skydog #, a Pathetic Loser
#, a Flying Hellfish #, a world record, all the gear I presently own, a
whole bunch of out of focus pictures of half naked drunks, some memories,
some mammaries, a few storms........okay, a whole bunch of fuckin' wild blow
the farm into the next county prairie storms, floods, droughts, heat waves,
cold snaps, lots of Vodka, yeah, yeah, lots and lots of Vodka, Early Birds,
Dirty Birds, sunset loads, late nights, early mornings, great bands, burning
couches, some Bricks, some Brothers, some Darts, a girl with artificially
(spectacularly!) enhanced breasts in a bikini and a rig riding an inflatable
alligator, (Matt1 has video!) some tailgates, some tail, some attitude, some
altitude, no gratitude, a couple of Magic Carpet Rides, a Bloomin Idiot or
two, Blondes Brunettes and Baldies, some swoops, some swaps, autographs - a
whole bunch of kids actually asked me for my autograph!!!, the legendary
Matt Matt Larry Larry dive (you think you've been in a confusing dirt dive?
try that one after you've already done 8 dives that day), 2 Big Green
Torpedoes, one of which put Matt1 on a ceiling, and the other one made me
see stars, a drawer full of t-shirts, 2 Staff hats of which I am
inordinately proud, the mayors wife dressed in a shower curtain complete
with rod, a Margarita Bar inside a Herc, FREE BEER!!!!!, .............and on
and on and on.

That's what the Convention means to me, and a group of people who are some of my best friends.

Some quotes: Matt1: "Put me down for whatever, I'm gonna go lower my wing
loading and be back for the dirt dive". Kelly: " I'm not going to do that in
public, but I'll take pictures if you want to give it a try". Bob: "Are you
on medication? Would you like to try some of mine?" Larry Dewey: "So, is
that Canadian Beer?". Joanne: "You should be on medication, here, have
another beer". Matt2 - actually, I couldn't do Matt2 justice, he sends some
of the funniest emails I've ever read. Downwind: "Can I get hurt doing
this?" Scuba Joe: "Do you have a faster suit than that? Maybe you should
just go naked and wear weights." Garage Door Ray: "Are you sure your helmet
is thick enough for this skydive?" Anita: "Now everybody take a deep breath,
get into your warm fuzzy place, relax, have a good time, and don't worry
about the planet that that's about to get jammed up your ass". Rick: "Can't
we all, just, get along?". Don Kirlin: "The jet will be here tomorrow".
Brent:" Okay here's the plan, I saw it in a cartoon once but I think I know
where they went wrong". Darryld: " Okay here's the plan, oh wait, there's
one more person, okay, here's the plan, oh wait, there's two more people,
okay, here's the plan, oh wait, the General just showed up, here's the plan,
yadda yadda yadda" (But his dives were always entertaining). Nuclear George:
"Have you seen my wife's breasts? Would you like to?"

The Convention that will not be would have started tomorrow. But instead of
sitting in a lawn chair surrounded by my idiot friends, in the middle of a
rapidly filling campground in what would've become the Worlds Biggest Drop
Zone for 10 days, I am at home, sitting on the deck. Tomorrow, instead of
rising to the sound of the King Air starting its high-speed descent, I'll be
getting up and tearing the roof off the garage. And every morning for the
next 9 days, everytime I drag my ass out of bed, I will have to suppress the
urge to grab my gear, and, rattling Matts tent on the way past, head for the
loading tents to make the Dirty Bird Load at 7:15.

No Casa's, no Biplane, no Jet, no live band every night. My friends
scattered to different events, where we're all making new friends, and
waiting for our next chance to jump together.

On Monday I will be leaving for the Canadian Nationals with my carefully
selected, hand-picked 4-way team. Translation: 3 poor souls I convinced to
go with me. And an 8-way team, and a 10-way Speed team. At least, that's the
plan. But everybody knows what usually happens to my plans.

To those who are going to the Un-Conventional, or to Summerfest, I wish you
Blue Skies, Light Winds, Hot Skydives, and I miss you already. To anyone
foolish enough to come join me in Burnaby, Bring all the booze you can
carry!, we'll need it!

Crazy Larry

Training for Airspeed 4-Way Camp

This was what I sent out to all participants of a 4-way camp I was going to attend when the organizer of the camp sent out a detailed letter on how to prepare for the camp, and what equipment to bring. I had attended several of these camps before and based on my experiences came up with my own plan on how to best prepare myself.

I've taken your advice right to heart and have been training hard to prepare myself for the camp. I rise everyday at 6:00, have a cool shower, and after choking down a stale bagel washed down with bad lukewarm coffee, I put myself through a series of stretches that would make Chris proud. Then, to simulate time in the tunnel, I get on one of my creepers (yes, I have my own creepers), and after blindfolding myself, I start working through the blocks, crashing into the pool table, the concrete walls, the jackposts and the workbench, bouncing off the Beer Machine, the table saw and the wine racks. Once I feel sufficiently beaten up, I go out onto the deck over the garage and hang off the railing for about a minute before I throw myself off, landing in the bed of the pickup truck. Following that, I bodyslam myself off the walls in the garage every 10 seconds for a minute at a time.

After about 9 hours of this, eating next to nothing and drinking more water than any normal person could suck down in a week, I head for the bar at the end of the street and order the greasiest thing they have on the menu and wash it down with all the beer and Vodka I can hold. I'll stay there drinking and shooting pool until closing time, then stagger home to get a few hours sleep before rising the next day to start the cycle all over again.

The temperature in the house has been set to 95F for the last week, and anytime I have to drive anywhere I keep my foot on the floor for the whole trip, sliding sideways through intersections and ignoring all traffic signs.

I'm scraped and scratched, beaten and bruised, dehydrated, and hurt everywhere.

Usually I don't feel like this till the end of the skills camp.

I think I'm starting to hit my stride.

Run away. Be afraid. Be very afraid.  

Larry