If you lived in Thunderdome... you'd be home by now.

I worked for a friend of mine last summer on the mainland. He had an Ice Cream shop. It was on the corner of SummerTeeth and HopintheTruck road, Cleveland, Ohio. It was a fun job and the owner made his share of loot. I got the chance to see America with a cross-country drive. The other part of the agreement was that I would have unbridled use of his new motorcycle. A Kawasaki ZR1000. I was very stoked. I spent plenty of time taking the early morning drives. We drove ten miles for coffee and muffins at our favorite spot. The newspaper was already waiting when we pulled up, as we were on a first name basis with the owner and staff. The ride back had me daydreaming and I often found myself lost on back roads. It isn't hard to get lost when you don't know where you are anyway! The bike rides were awesome and the towns were great to drive through. Even if I was pushing 100 through most of them. When it came time to come home, my friend asked if I would like to keep it and take over payments. I had no way of getting it from B.F. Ohio to Cali, and then had no way to get it on the ship. I declined, but she shore was purty. And purty fast! My other friend sold my bike that I left here for the summer. Then he wrecked on his and almost lost his life. He just moved back to Big Island after taking a year to heal. So my piece of crap was gone when I got back. It was a needy machine, yes, this is true. But I loved it. Now there would be no piece of crap motorcycle for Bruno. For now. I needed to drive my car and was not happy about the Regal. I knew she needed attention when I pulled up after 6 months and found a cat skeleton in the back seat. I always felt like I was being watched in that car. Like Ray Liotta in Goodfellas. At least I know I wasn't paranoid for real. Good kitty. Play dead. Deader! I looked for a job right away that had nothing to do with the restaurant business. I found a car dealership that offered free cars to managers. I jumped in. Then I found out everything and more about cars and the drama behind the scenes that goes along with it. But I got the job and the car. I loaned my kitty car to a friend that lost hers. She subsequently stole it and totaled it. No Christmas card for her this year. I was happy with the new car every week, but I longed for the freedom of a motorcycle. The closest I could get was going topless in the Wrangler. A product of Jeep©. I like driving the Jeeps so much that I wrote "Bruno's Sweet Wheels" on the driver's window, in china marker of course, to deter others from moving it on the lot. An employee showed up on his *new* bike and so did Shardae, a former Miss Kona Coffee. "Does everyone have a bike but me?" Camera pulls back from Helicopter and hands are outstretched... and... end scene. Miss Kona Coffee is driving a Ninja and I don't even have my old piece of crap. I wanted a new bike. But I didn't want payments. So I wait. I had to be out from work for two months. (I was checked-in to the hospital in Oahu) and when I was able to work again, I opted to take it easy in the stress department and help my friend fix his restaurant up instead. But I lost the company car. So I decided it was time to get a bike. Finally. I went to look at them and found the prices quite high. Add a thousand dollars to anything shipped from somewhere else. The bike I wanted was 20,000 clams. The bike I could afford was the one they do a drawing for on the Fourth of July. *Must be present to win.* My search in the paper netted only 6 and 7 thousand dollar offers. What happened to the thousand dollar motorcycle? Where did it go? There was always a bike in the ads for a grand. I guess too much bike gets too high a payment and the buyer was too high when he thought he could afford two vehicle payments a month. FOR SALE HONDA CBR 750. ONLY 600 MILES. DROPPED ONLY ONCE. COMES W/ ALL THE EXTRA CRAP I THOUGHT WOULD BE COOL. $8000/ OFFER. I stopped at my favorite shop for coffee here in Kona, and saw a new Honda parked at the pump. I walked over to it like it was a puppy and I was waiting for it to notice me and let me pet it. The owner introduced himself as "Red". We talked story for a while and then I moved on. A week later I was at the cycle shop and looking at bikes when I thought to ask if they have a board that people could advertise on. The guy pointed me to the wall in front. All the bikes on it were in the thousands with the lowest being 3,200. I am going to Florida in a month and have no need to spend that kind of money. Then in the corner, I saw a white card. It read: VT 500 1983 $400.00 Red. Could it be? So I snatched it off of the board and pocketed it like Criss Angel. I called for two days. He answered on the third day and said I could come look. And yes, same guy, not the color. I looked at the gas dripping from the tank and a seat that looked like a vultures nest. Make that an abandoned vultures nest. It was covered in grease and the paint was missing from everything. The gas leak took care of most of the paint on the crotchety end of the tank. The rest of the tank looked like the Sea of Tranquility. It looked like it had been fished off the bottom at Kailua Pier. He had to push start it because it had a bad ignition. He needed a runway for speed and asked us to back up. I folded my arms and watched. The seat was wet like a stinky sponge you wouldn't want to wash a dump truck with. When he ran with it fast enough, he threw a leg over and plopped down on the seat with what I can only describe as a "Squish". All but one of the lights was dangling. Brakes??? We don't need no stinking brakes! It was straight out of Mad Max. I aptly named it Thunderdome. I have yet to hug her/him/it. It leaves an autograph in 10w30 everywhere it goes. The drips look like constellations in an alternate universe of asphalt and liquid planets. Each side of it looks like a Bomb Squad nightmare. Wires that appear and disappear through a forest of gook covered metal. Every time I park it (on a hilltop of course) I think the bike will either crush the kick-stand or drive it into the ground. If I ride Thunderdome for more than 20 minutes... in a row... It starts smoking. If it were a dog at the pound... it's name would be "Lucky". It would have been euthanized already too. My DC's have a greasy toe from shifting gears. They match my paint-laden shorts. I wonder how long before the last light accepts its fate and droops with the rest? It looks like the underneath of a carnival ride with handlebars. Thunderdome! Voted most flammable! So I take Thunderdome out and she growls her way down Alii Drive. Don't let her looks fool ya, that sucka makes up in speed for what it lacks in beauty. It even sounds like thunder. Coincidence? I love my piece of crap. I am Mad Max when I go through town. And when I'm parked... I'm King of the Hill! By the way... I took a china marker from Alex's pocket and wrote "Bruno's Sweet Wheels" on the dented tank.

I'm shakin' over here...

What a day. As you know, or at least will in the next few seconds, I live in Kailua-Kona Hawaii. I know that most wish they could live here, and for good reason. It is beautiful. And I am aware of it and am grateful for every morning I wake up and feel it's warm sunshine and every time I jump into the crystal clear water of any of our beaches. I feel it from balls to bone. "To blave." (inside joke). Today my love was put to the test. We had an earthquake at 7:07 am this morning. I must say that I am glad no one died. I mean, how often is there an earthquake in a city and nobody dies? Like... never. That just shows how laidback Hawaiians really are! "Eh... We need one new set dishes!" It all started last week. I was at my friend Brian's house in Town. We 'Henry the 8th'd' it and after the feast Brian made coffee. The only cream he had was the newest version of the crayola creamers in your grocer's dairy isle. This one was Chai. I don't think I have ever smelled Chai and thought "Ummm". It has always seemed like someone stirred my coffee with an incense stick. "Can I get a double half-caf nag chompa and a grande super-hit please?" But I tried it and liked it. I was amazed. That was Wednesday. I drove home and passed the Safeway on my way back to Palisades. Thursday I surfed and friday I passed the market again. On Saturday, last night, I stopped and walked to the back. I hit dairy and followed the colors behind the glass. Eggs are grey and yellow, milk is white, OJ is white and orange and then the multitude of colored creamers. I quickly scanned the lables and spotted the chai. I couldn't beieve I wanted it enough to stop and go in for that and nothing else. So I bought a breastmilk pump too. Seriously though, I grabbed a bottle and then I grabbed another. I put them both in my Little-Red-Riding-Hood gay basket. Then I wondered, "Why do I need TWO?" I can stop by and get a fresh one next week or so. In fact, I thought I should get another flavor and then I could switch on and off. But I couldn't put it back. I stood there, wondering what on earth I needed two of these big sucka's for? I took them anyway. I went to the counter with my breast pump and my creamers. The lady at the register looked at me with that "look" and I quickly commented "They're in case I can't get jump-started with the pump." She didn't understand. I drove home last night with dreams of creamy Chai shit in my morning java. When the alarm went off in my head at 5 something AM, I insisted on keeping my eyes shut. No light means I am still asleep dammit! I opened them again at 6:14. I unplugged my phone from its charger and called Diana. It was already noon-thirty over there and she was well on her way to a serious drunk. Just kidding, she had the kids at the costume shop and was trying on all kine stuff. I hung up a few moments later and made my way to the kitchen. Man was I stoked to have coffee this fine morning. I was the guy in every commercial you have ever seen for a smooth cup of joe. Jellin' like Magellan. I cleaned the machine and poured the beans. I wiped the counter and tidied up. I went in my room and fired up the computer. I read my emails and waited for the Java. I got up at 7:05 and went back for my reward. I opened the cupboard and took out my favorite mug. Oversized. I poured a cup of 100% Kona and was pleased with my bean to color ratio. I opened the fridge door and took out one of the bottles of Chai creamer. I unscrewed the red cap and was trying to peel off the foil layer. I couldn't get it off right away so I picked at the "pull here" tab and got something to give. As I began to remove the top, the strangest noise came from under the house. Like a washing machine spinning with the tub off balance. Klung klung klung klung KLUNG KLUNG NG NG NG NG NG NG. And that's when I looked up at the fridge. It seemed like something was pulling my hips down to the ground. I grabbed the counter as the kitchen began to shake violently. Glass seemed to break where it stood. Everything was trying to get to the floor as fast as possible. Smashing and shaking all around me. I tried to steady myself and shield my eyes from the debris that seemed to be flying everywhere. I was being painted into a corner with knives of porceline and glass needles with food exploding like bombs. The floor quickly filled with liquid of all types. I may have peed in there somewhere too. The dishwasher screamed as the big door flew open and it vomited it's contents onto the kitchen tile. After about 4 seconds, I realized it was not going to stop anytime soon. I turned and tried to open the door behind me. I was making noise, but I don't remember yelling "Earthquake"! How could someone sleep though a plane landing in their living-room? I turned the knob but the door didn't open. The house had shifted and the door was not going to open. I pulled like a guy that pulls A-Lot. It finally ripped open and with my hands over my head, I bolted into the drive. My roommate was right behind and his girlfriend was right in stride. It lasted for what was calculated as 15 seconds, but felt like 3 minutes. I thought North Korea launced a nuke at Honolulu for a moment. I was covered with coffee and Chai cream. So was everything else. The radio in the car supplied only one station and that was an AM from Hilo side. It seemed they were the only station that had power. They also had no connection to anyone. No phones, no planes, no power, no camera crews, no reporters. The world had no idea what happened to us and neither did we! Except the fact that we were hit by a 6.6 magnitude quake. The epicenter was 6 miles from my house. Besides the airport, we were closest to the button. A quick recon of the neighbors and I went back in the house. Shit all over the place. My computer desk was the main casualty in my room. Thank God the hard drive was safe on the floor, buried under all the other stuff. I began to clean it up when a 5.8 slapped us. What didn't fall the first time, made an attempt then. I was out the door quick the second time. I cleaned for about ten minutes with one hand shaking. Then I grabbed my camera and snapped a couple shots. It looks half clean because it was. I like the kitchen shot because it shows where I got trapped in the corner. I cleaned for a long while and then saw that the coffee pot was not molested. Like, the ONLY thing that didn't fall somewhere. So I poured a cup after I rewashed my old favorite. It had hit the floor flat and didn't even chip! I looked for the cream and saw the bottle in the sink. Empty with glass chardes all over it. Then I smiled and opened the door to the fridge to get the second bottle. The next 20 aftershocks were dealt with accordingly. After I had my Java, of course. The roads are filled with rocks big as a house. Kealekekua is changed forever. I saw a photo of it on the news 6 hours later. Roof collapses, roads out and the hospital evacuated. Not to mention the entire island has been reported to have sunk a full inch into the ocean. That is supposed to take 10 years. What does that mean? I guess we will all find out in the near future. Below are three shots of where I live. The epicenter was 6 miles west of the Island, in the ocean. That's about a pinky-nail from the airport at the bottom of the volcano we live on. Luckily, no virgin sacrifices were planned for that day.