Projekt
Registered
Saturday morning started out great with a ride over Mt Ham to Livermore via San Antonio Valley road and Mines Rd. The conditions could not have been better for riding that day. I took in all the sites and stopped to snap pictures of a herd of heifers with calves alongside as well as the rest of the beautiful scenery on those roads.
My meet up with Newbee immediately said to me that I would not try to keep up with his fully scrubbed race tires on a newer ZX-10r.
Newbee gave me the courtesy of stopping about a mile up the twisties of Hwy 130 to tell me that our pace was too slow and we would not make the ETA of 9:30 on the projected 90 min or less pace. My answer was rock on and I will chill on my pace. Cheers and Godspeed.
As I was approaching the last bit of high mountain twisties near Livermore, I saw Newbee in a trio of riders and waved him on to return to San Jose.
At the next left hand S curve, I was compelled to stop and chat with a pair of riders at rest in the shade.
"What's up? You guys good?"
"I just low-sided right here" said the guy on a white '09 CBR600rr.
He continued with "My bike is revving to 9000rpm and my throttle grip broke off."
I asked: " Do you have tools? Are you hurt? Let's take a look, let me get my tools."
His knee had a small impact cut from the low speed fall. The bike didn't look very damaged but the right handlebar was bent.
My screwdriver from the tool kit came in handy and soon, the throttle was off and the bike was idling healthily. I reinstalled the throttle and grip, got it to articulate and put the bar end back on.
Handshakes and thanks were exchanged and I headed out to meet my high school friend Alex at IHOP in Livermore.
Alex and I had not spoken in twenty years. We had a lot of nostalgia and he was riveted listening to my foreign adventures.
Just as I was about to leave, Alex asked me to do him a favor. He said, "Hey, are you busy tonight? I need you to help me bury a body." And giggled a bit.
I laughed and said sure, at worst I could get a good story out of it.
We went back to his house and had a few beers as the hours passed. The tally was a couple cases of Dos Equis give or take a few.
His family was absent and I didn't even get to ask where they were, just assumed he was free for the day.
As the darkness set in, he pulled the minivan into the garage and closed the door. I was tipsy and relaxed, it was a blur but I recall certain items. There was a couple of new shovels, tarpaulin, with a bunch of heavy duty trash bags. Also there was a large sack of Lime. Looked like we were going to mix some mortar for a project as he did mention that he wanted to put in a shed and pour a concrete slab first.
We get to work as the heat died down and I was stopping every thirty for a piss.
He seemed to know what he wanted and in the rapidly cooling night air we stripped the bark out of a small play area that he said he wanted to relocate. The containment area was perfectly squared 2x6" lumber and we dug it out.
Alex kept on digging a trench deeper and deeper. Saying it was for a natural cold cellar for wine and other cold temperature storage for the vegetable garden.
We got down so deep that we needed a ladder. We were clear down to clay and bedrock. About twelve feet down. He spread some lime down saying it was for the underlay on the bottom slab and for good concrete curing.
We took a break at about midnight and walked in the house to splash some water on ourselves and catch our breath.
As I exited the bathroom in the unfamiliar house, I took a right instead of a left and walk past an open door noticing a bright red rug over the tan carpet near the bed.
Alex was in there and closed the door saying he had to change. Told me to take my cigarette out front so the house wouldn't get smelly. His wife would never forgive him.
I was out smoking my Nat Sherman for about ten or so minutes as it burns that long.
Walking back through, I called out for Alex and he was nowhere to be found.
There was a trail leading to the worksite in the dewy grass looking like something had been dragged.
"Hey Alex!"
"I'm down here."
"What's up man, I lost you."
He was in there with a tape measure.
"You know what Jose? We went too deep. This needs to be only 9 feet deep."
"I backfilled it while you were out front. Sorry for the wasted work."
There was a strange smell in the air of the pit and it was up about three feet.
We mixed the concrete and poured it in rough then set about leveling it with a 2x4 piece of lumber.
It would set overnight.
I ended up staying on his couch and could hear him making noise for several hours into the night.
When I woke up, he had a fire going on the fire pit and it looked like he had been burning plastic but only the odor was lingering as I couldn't see any evidence of debris in the fire. He set up the spit roaster and asked if I had ever had roasted lamb. I said: "heck yes my friend, it is delicious."
You know, I have a lamb in the room, I picked it up this morning. It took a crap in there and I had to pull up the carpet. My wife would never let me live it down. Luckily, we've talked about putting in hardwood, so I am going to ask you to help me with that in the next few days.
You ready to get your hands dirty and maybe bloody?.
"No, **** bro? Really? Yeah, sure."
He walked out this meaty, just weaned male lamb and we set about dispatching it.
He pull out a bowie knife and asked me to observe a moment of silence while he thanked God and said a prayer for the sacrifice.
In the name of God, the most gracious the most merciful.....
Guide us on the straight path.....
Then, without pause he caressed the Lamb's head and stood over it between his legs at the edge of the pit.
The knife was razor sharp and with one quick movement, he sliced into the lamb's neck. It stood there silently and spilled it's blood, quickly and quietly until it passed on.
We skinned and gutted it tossing the entrails into the hole next to the still moist slab.
The skin was set aside and stretched on the ground facing wool side down to dry in the days growing heat.
It went by quickly, Alex comes from Central Mexico where stuff like this is common for making Birria and I worked part time in a chicken processing plant in England when I was there in the Air Force, so it was no big deal.
The lamb was spinning slowly on the spit roaster over the coals of Mesquite hardwood and quickly got a nice juice trickling over itself in a self basting action. We occasionally poured beer over it and added lime, salt, pepper and garlic powder to it.
Alex diced up a nice Mediterranean salad medley and made some couscous to accompany the lamb. We relaxed by placing a bitumen sheet over the slab and began the course of bricks round and round. We were up to the eighth run chatting away and slinging mortar when the lamb was ready.
Taking a break to eat chunks of piping hot tender lamb with the couscous and salad, we filled up to the brim.
The rest of the day was spent running the cellar walls up to the surface and putting in the stringers for the steps. We screwed the last tread down and walked up to appreciate the accomplishment.
Alex mentioned his wife being out in Reno for the weekend gambling away the savings account. He said it with distaste and mentioned money problems and commenting that he hoped she would find a rich old fool to run off with.
The bricks and mortar were hardening up as we put it a framework of two by fours and laid down some tongue in groove chip board for the final floor. We lined the walls of the cellar with a thick membrane for waterproofing and backfilled the dirt to contain it all tamping down every few inches of fill and pressing on.
Breaks were taken to eat and rehydrate and by the end of the day, the area was neatly prepped for the top slab. We had the mixer running and poured out the concrete to fill the perimeter leaving room for electric and plumbing.
Next came the joists and that ended the day.
I'm going back to do the flooring tonight and will have a nice exhausted sleep there before running back in the morning to be at work by 8AM.
His wife was on the way home when I left so I said farewell and headed back to San Jose on the Hayabusa making it home by 10:30PM.
Man, good hard work really helps you sleep well.
My meet up with Newbee immediately said to me that I would not try to keep up with his fully scrubbed race tires on a newer ZX-10r.
Newbee gave me the courtesy of stopping about a mile up the twisties of Hwy 130 to tell me that our pace was too slow and we would not make the ETA of 9:30 on the projected 90 min or less pace. My answer was rock on and I will chill on my pace. Cheers and Godspeed.
As I was approaching the last bit of high mountain twisties near Livermore, I saw Newbee in a trio of riders and waved him on to return to San Jose.
At the next left hand S curve, I was compelled to stop and chat with a pair of riders at rest in the shade.
"What's up? You guys good?"
"I just low-sided right here" said the guy on a white '09 CBR600rr.
He continued with "My bike is revving to 9000rpm and my throttle grip broke off."
I asked: " Do you have tools? Are you hurt? Let's take a look, let me get my tools."
His knee had a small impact cut from the low speed fall. The bike didn't look very damaged but the right handlebar was bent.
My screwdriver from the tool kit came in handy and soon, the throttle was off and the bike was idling healthily. I reinstalled the throttle and grip, got it to articulate and put the bar end back on.
Handshakes and thanks were exchanged and I headed out to meet my high school friend Alex at IHOP in Livermore.
Alex and I had not spoken in twenty years. We had a lot of nostalgia and he was riveted listening to my foreign adventures.
Just as I was about to leave, Alex asked me to do him a favor. He said, "Hey, are you busy tonight? I need you to help me bury a body." And giggled a bit.
I laughed and said sure, at worst I could get a good story out of it.
We went back to his house and had a few beers as the hours passed. The tally was a couple cases of Dos Equis give or take a few.
His family was absent and I didn't even get to ask where they were, just assumed he was free for the day.
As the darkness set in, he pulled the minivan into the garage and closed the door. I was tipsy and relaxed, it was a blur but I recall certain items. There was a couple of new shovels, tarpaulin, with a bunch of heavy duty trash bags. Also there was a large sack of Lime. Looked like we were going to mix some mortar for a project as he did mention that he wanted to put in a shed and pour a concrete slab first.
We get to work as the heat died down and I was stopping every thirty for a piss.
He seemed to know what he wanted and in the rapidly cooling night air we stripped the bark out of a small play area that he said he wanted to relocate. The containment area was perfectly squared 2x6" lumber and we dug it out.
Alex kept on digging a trench deeper and deeper. Saying it was for a natural cold cellar for wine and other cold temperature storage for the vegetable garden.
We got down so deep that we needed a ladder. We were clear down to clay and bedrock. About twelve feet down. He spread some lime down saying it was for the underlay on the bottom slab and for good concrete curing.
We took a break at about midnight and walked in the house to splash some water on ourselves and catch our breath.
As I exited the bathroom in the unfamiliar house, I took a right instead of a left and walk past an open door noticing a bright red rug over the tan carpet near the bed.
Alex was in there and closed the door saying he had to change. Told me to take my cigarette out front so the house wouldn't get smelly. His wife would never forgive him.
I was out smoking my Nat Sherman for about ten or so minutes as it burns that long.
Walking back through, I called out for Alex and he was nowhere to be found.
There was a trail leading to the worksite in the dewy grass looking like something had been dragged.
"Hey Alex!"
"I'm down here."
"What's up man, I lost you."
He was in there with a tape measure.
"You know what Jose? We went too deep. This needs to be only 9 feet deep."
"I backfilled it while you were out front. Sorry for the wasted work."
There was a strange smell in the air of the pit and it was up about three feet.
We mixed the concrete and poured it in rough then set about leveling it with a 2x4 piece of lumber.
It would set overnight.
I ended up staying on his couch and could hear him making noise for several hours into the night.
When I woke up, he had a fire going on the fire pit and it looked like he had been burning plastic but only the odor was lingering as I couldn't see any evidence of debris in the fire. He set up the spit roaster and asked if I had ever had roasted lamb. I said: "heck yes my friend, it is delicious."
You know, I have a lamb in the room, I picked it up this morning. It took a crap in there and I had to pull up the carpet. My wife would never let me live it down. Luckily, we've talked about putting in hardwood, so I am going to ask you to help me with that in the next few days.
You ready to get your hands dirty and maybe bloody?.
"No, **** bro? Really? Yeah, sure."
He walked out this meaty, just weaned male lamb and we set about dispatching it.
He pull out a bowie knife and asked me to observe a moment of silence while he thanked God and said a prayer for the sacrifice.
In the name of God, the most gracious the most merciful.....
Guide us on the straight path.....
Then, without pause he caressed the Lamb's head and stood over it between his legs at the edge of the pit.
The knife was razor sharp and with one quick movement, he sliced into the lamb's neck. It stood there silently and spilled it's blood, quickly and quietly until it passed on.
We skinned and gutted it tossing the entrails into the hole next to the still moist slab.
The skin was set aside and stretched on the ground facing wool side down to dry in the days growing heat.
It went by quickly, Alex comes from Central Mexico where stuff like this is common for making Birria and I worked part time in a chicken processing plant in England when I was there in the Air Force, so it was no big deal.
The lamb was spinning slowly on the spit roaster over the coals of Mesquite hardwood and quickly got a nice juice trickling over itself in a self basting action. We occasionally poured beer over it and added lime, salt, pepper and garlic powder to it.
Alex diced up a nice Mediterranean salad medley and made some couscous to accompany the lamb. We relaxed by placing a bitumen sheet over the slab and began the course of bricks round and round. We were up to the eighth run chatting away and slinging mortar when the lamb was ready.
Taking a break to eat chunks of piping hot tender lamb with the couscous and salad, we filled up to the brim.
The rest of the day was spent running the cellar walls up to the surface and putting in the stringers for the steps. We screwed the last tread down and walked up to appreciate the accomplishment.
Alex mentioned his wife being out in Reno for the weekend gambling away the savings account. He said it with distaste and mentioned money problems and commenting that he hoped she would find a rich old fool to run off with.
The bricks and mortar were hardening up as we put it a framework of two by fours and laid down some tongue in groove chip board for the final floor. We lined the walls of the cellar with a thick membrane for waterproofing and backfilled the dirt to contain it all tamping down every few inches of fill and pressing on.
Breaks were taken to eat and rehydrate and by the end of the day, the area was neatly prepped for the top slab. We had the mixer running and poured out the concrete to fill the perimeter leaving room for electric and plumbing.
Next came the joists and that ended the day.
I'm going back to do the flooring tonight and will have a nice exhausted sleep there before running back in the morning to be at work by 8AM.
His wife was on the way home when I left so I said farewell and headed back to San Jose on the Hayabusa making it home by 10:30PM.
Man, good hard work really helps you sleep well.
She's a looker it was my room 
You might want to rethink the hole deal. 
