One of the Funniest/Most Disturbing Interviews I Have Ever Seen

What's the deal with this guy?

The Devil's Punchbowl (The Tacoma Gravy Incident)

There is a certain mystery to boredom. Everyone reacts to it a different way. Some will just crawl into bed and wait for the phone to ring, others will seek out the solution, face the boredom like a matador and guide it to the side like a rampaging bull.

In that lies the spontaneity. Spontaneity is a curious thing, because whether the results are positive or not, it is very much like holding a match to the gasoline. Spontaneity, for the lack of a better description is the immediate release of reason and sense. It represents the desperation of a gambler taking his last five dollars to the Blackjack table looking to extend his final breath. His Magnum P.I. voice in his head is telling him "no, walk away." But he can't, he surrendered reason to that hard twenty he had 4 hands ago, the dealer's always going to flip a Blackjack on a hard twenty.

Back in the summer of '96 we were sitting around one Friday night. Everyone had an one of those weeks they just want to put behind them. The conversation was stale, if not muted. I found myself being entranced by the smoke dancing off the end of my cigarette to the music, I was thinking so intensely, the subject itself became distorted. Even the dogs that would normally be playing with one another just laid on their backs in the last light of the sun as it crept down behind Hollyburn Ridge.

My buddy Jeff came by with one of those sly goofy grins that meant he had "a plan." I had already talked to him on the phone earlier so he was well aware of my state of mind. Jeff was always the schemer, you know the type, always something up his sleeve but rarely wearing a shirt.

"I've got the deal for you Johnny!! Know what we're gonna do?"

Groan, "surprise me."

"We are loading up the surfboards and going to Oregon!!"

I had windsurfed for years, but I had only surfed once at a place called Grand Bend in the Great Lakes. As most know I have a very deep set fear of the ocean and have gone through life with the rule of thumb that I don't go in the water where the fish are bigger than me. But this is spontaneity, surrendering your fears, your reason, and your sense. Jeff was once again talking advantage of my boredom.

Our girlfriends let out a grunt of disapproval at first, but at the same time were drawn to the adventure of it. My Bronco was in being fixed at the time so we loaded up Jeff's Jeep with what we could. Quite the picture, a Jeep YJ with four adults and two full sized dogs. The roof couldn't be put on because it was the only way we attached the surfboards. It was a warm clear summer night anyhow, deceptively full of promise.

We made our run for the border. I already had about 8 beers in me, so I was just sitting in the passenger seat on cruise control. The girls were in the back with a few blankets wrapped around them and the dogs sitting across their laps. The border cross was easy, it was about 10 at night so no traffic.

We got about 10 minutes south of the border when the sky's opened up. We hadn't even noticed the clouds rolling in. We are talking torrential downpour. Without the roof the surfboards were offering us our only protection. Problem was the rain would just collect on their concave surface and roll like a waterfall over the sides. We knew there wasn't any sense turning back, we were already soaked to the bone in a matter of minutes, besides, the girls had already resorted to name calling. There was no turning back now. We drove on through the night. I actually found the rain quite cleansing as I always do, but I knew if I brought that up it would be met with some very sour comments so I kept it to myself.


None of us had eaten, and I was getting quite hungry, we still had a long road ahead of us. It was about midnight now and we found ourselves making great time despite the weather as we hydroplaned toward the city of Tacoma. I should have known something was wrong when spied a signpost up ahead (very Rod Serling like) for a Denny's. I told Jeff to pull off that way much to the chagrin of the girls. I spent a few minutes explaining the culinary dynamics of Tacoma at midnight. Once faced with the choice of a AM/PM hotdog, or Moons Over My Hammy, they quickly sided with me.

To be continued......

I Don't Know What it is...I Just Don't Have That New Car Feeling

So my business partner and I have this little thing where we like playing pranks on one another. Typically harmless, you know cancel someones hotel reservation, walk out on a bar tab, stuff like that. Childish, but ever so amusing...until now.

Let's go back in time a ways (feel free to wave your arms in front of your screen for effect). About 5 months ago I ordered a new vehicle for winter, a big SUV jobby to get me through any unforeseen winter madness. At the time who knew we would get one of the worst snowfalls on record.

I loaded it up with everything. Running boards, GPS, fog lights, and leather bum warmers of course. About a month later I got a call from my good buddy and business partner Laurence. He had a car he was having problems with, and was asking for a little help. There had been a shunting accident on one of the rail cars hauling our vehicles out from Illinois. One of the cars was damaged back enough that the depreciation allowance we provide our dealerships wouldn't cover the actual repairs.

The conversation basically went like this. "Buddy, it's like this car was made for you. Full load Eclipse, lowered, Sirius Satellite, ground effects, you name it."

"What kind of damage was it Laurence?"

"Johnny...it's like a few scuffs on the bumper, maybe a couple grand worth. Minor."

"You know Laurence, I already have a new truck arriving in a couple of weeks."

"Oh, I know, to make things easier, I'm just going to take that one off of your hands. That truck is more my style, not yours. This car has your name all over it."

I agreed, and have been mired in regret ever since.

When I was in meetings in Toronto in December one of my other partners asked me with a snicker if I had received my new ride yet. I asked him why it was so funny, only to find him break out in laughter and run out of the room. Once he returned, with watery eyes no less, he coughed up the truth. The car had gone clear off the top deck of a rail car and landed in a ditch on the prairies. The current estimate was $15,000 in damages.

That was 3 months ago. The car was sitting on a body shop for 3 months!! I finally had enough a couple of weeks ago and placed an irate call to Saskatoon. The manager stated the car was ready, but they just needed a part for the window. I told him to just send it, we would fix it on the coast.

The car arrived a week and a half ago. The owner of the dealership that received it called me and said there was no way the car could ever be sold. He sent me a list of deficiency's.

• The bumper is mounted crooked and painted the wrong colour
• The headlights are on crooked
• The passenger window is missing
• The entire front bulkhead is painted the wrong colour
• The top cover is missing off of the engine
• All splash shields are missing
• The speakers are sitting on the floor and one of the door panels is missing
• The door handles are missing
• All the clips are missing for the rear bumper
• There are scratches all over the instrument panel, console, and the one existing door panel

And the list goes on and on. 3 months this thing was in the shop!!! Then last night I found out that the new local body shop I have sent it to found that the entire front sub-frame is bent. You can literally put your fingers in the gaps between the fenders and the doors. The total repairs are now over $20,000 and heading higher.

You know for someone who goes through cars like toilet paper (I've had more than 40), I shouldn't really be one to complain. But at the same time, does anybody want to be the passenger in this car when I make one of my famous 2 and half hour drives to Kelowna??

I didn't think so.

From A to Zihuatanejo (How to Start a New Chapter)

The time quickly approaches. My 40th birthday is only one month plus two days away. I have always promised myself that I would go away when the day came, I just never really knew where.

I had a place in mind, but for the time being, that didn't work out. It let me focus my attention on another place that I have wanted to visit for a long time. Zihuatanejo. That normally draws the line Morgan Freeman's character always used in The Shawshank Redeption, "Zi-what?" Zihuatanejo is the Mexican fishing village where the Tim Robbins character always wanted to open a small hotel. It is also the former haunt of two very famous globetrotters, Ernest Hemingway, and Zane Grey.

They had been drawn by stories of the one that got away no doubt told by other of their kind as they sat around a fire drinking their bourbon. Zihua/Ixtapa is a mecca of Marlin and Sailfish angling, and yes, I do plan to take part.

It has been a long time since I have taken a trip where I didn't really have to do anything. Beach, beer, boat, that's about it. The packing will be far easier than New York. Shorts, a couple of shirts, flip flops, an Eric Clapton autobiography I have been saving, and my ipod. Pretty simple. Long lazy days in the hammock are cleansing for the soul.

I have been thinking a lot about my 40th. Even having dreams tied directly into incidents of my youth. I really don't like the number, and I definitely don't like the fact, but it is something I'm going to have to learn to live with.

Those who read this blog know the fond memories I have of my adventures as a boy. But the later years were also filled with a lot of dark moments, and I plan to say goodbye to them as if they were the sun sinking into the sea. A new chapter has already begun, and everyday words are spilling out on the page, and like a book I can't put down I look forward to what tomorrow will bring.



I'm glad the plans are done. Now my only fear is that I will come back looking like Hemingway himself. Fortunately, I'm keeping my grays in check, one pull at a time.

I Said 121 Dammit!!

I'm off in Victoria again. The business is done and I'm patiently waiting for the pleasure to begin. AKA happy hour at The Sticky Wicket.

I've checked into my hotel, the understated Queen Victoria. I have this thing that I always have to have the same room. 121. I love the hotel, and I love to have a consistent place to stay when I am on the road. The only thing is that as I've gotten older, I have come to despise heights. I don't know what the genesis is, hell, I used to jump off cliffs with my bike. I even used to jump from our roof to the neighbours when I was a pup.

The balconies at the QV just don't feel right, they are angled down toward the ground, and have open wrought iron railings. It is making my palms sweat just thinking about it as I gaze out the window. That is why I always get 121. I could literally slap somebody on the sidewalk on the back of the head (not that I do that often). I was informed that someone had rented my room (they actually call it my room, apparently I'm the only one that ever uses it) for the next two months and they would have to give me room 221. Egads!! The only advantage of this room is that I can drop water balloons on the jerk that took my room.

I really wish I could get over the height thing. On my 38th birthday I went gliding in a sailplane down in Hemet in an attempt to conquer my fear. I had no fear being in a plane though, whether it had an engine or not. (This does not include hot air balloons, don't get me started on hot air balloons).

The only fear I still have to conquer is the ocean, and to a larger extent sharks. My 45th birthday plans (yes, I'm stretching it out, do you think I'm stupid), is to jump in a Great White cage down off the Farallon Islands 20 miles west of the Golden Gate Bridge. Great White Capital U.S.A.. But it just makes me wonder, what happens if I conquer that fear. Will I then be afraid of bathtubs?

For Steve Jones

By special request.

Don't Make Me Go Glengarry On You

These economic times have not been kind to my industry. It is almost like a battle front that you would have in a war and the first line has already fallen. Nearly half of my stores have cycled through employees in the last two months.

When I first started looking after these stores I promised a gentle guiding hand, but when times are tough, it is time to dust off the riot act. I find it amazing that with all the media circus surrounding the current crisis, people just don't know what is going on. You find people goofing off, or just putting in a lacklustre performance. I've had many walks in the backlots of these stores lately with these individuals, pointing out "this is it man, this is your job, this is your income, this is your livelyhood. There isn't anything else, there are no other jobs in the business. If you are out of here, you are gone. All that you currently know is gone." But for the most part, they just don't get it.

So I've been thinking of dragging out the Alec Baldwin speech. Although I've been under so much stress lately, I don't know if I can hold his composure.

If you have never seen David Mamet's masterpiece that is Glengarry Glenross, do yourself a favour and go rent it this weekend. It is an acting and storytelling tour de force. I would say easily in the top 20 movies of the last 20 years. Lemmon, Pacino, Baldwin, Spacey, Pryce, Harris, Arkin, what more can you say?

In the meantime, put in your best effort. It's scary out there.