Well, let's see. How did I do?
Wesley Tucker wrote:My New Year's Resolutions:
• Get to more races than in 2003. (That would be a total of at least THREE in 2004.)
YES!
• Continue to upgrade my quiver and eliminate all my exuses for never seeing the podium.
DITTO!
• Practice like an SOB on fire.
Not quite. Barely able to skate through the last half of the year.
• Train like heavyweight boxer.
If you consider Michael Moore a pugilist, then maybe I made it?
• Skate at least twice as much as Tway and Parsons. (They both now have kids. I got this one licked!)
Tway, yes; Brian "the thin man" Parsons? Not hardly
• Order more than just an egg roll and a coke this year in Boston.
I wish I coulda, but I didn't
• Continue to explain in great detail why Slappy Maxwell doesn't have a clue when it comes to American politics.
Oh, how sweet it is!
• Ignore any posts on any website from loud mouthed hypocrites who have nothing positive to add to our sport.
I did pretty good this year. I broke down once or twice, but sometimes it's hard to hold you tongue in the face of rampant adsurdity.
• Spend a lot more time eating and drinking with the coolest cats in any sport anywhere.
Eh, almost. Time and budget didn't lend itself to much after hours socializing. Usually after hours I was on the road heading home.
• Continue to insult and deride shamelessly the coolest cats in any sport anywhere.
Now, THAT is a given.
• Read one of Gilmour's posts all the way to the end without jumping over the middle and pretending I know what he's talking about.
Damn, so close, and yet so far.
• Make it to California and race again where you don't sweat.
I was lucky this year to make it out of bed and breathe on my own.
• Make it to an all-you-can-eat Bar-B-que with FiveDime, Damnarino, McCree, Ga Tom, Patio, Hollien, that bastard 66 and anyone else with a penchant for pulled pork and steamed rice.
Sort of. 66 and I made it to a good BBQ hut. Too bad there wasn't more of a crew.
• Ignore everything without comment posted by the South Florida God Of All That Is Slalom In The Comfort Of His Easy Chair.
Yeah. He made a fool of himself a few times this year and I let it slide. Others were more than able to take up the slack.
• Get a 3TC of my own.
Nah, but I do have some awesome Indy Offsets. And more on the way . . . eventually.
• Strive to appreciate Chaput's ability to express himself . . . endlessly.
Still striving.
• Stay at Steve's house at 'Da farm longer than 10:30.
Long story, y'all know most of it.
• Call Vlad a Stalinist-Leninst-Red-Pinko-Commie-Bastard at least twice on a given Saturday afternoon.
Not only that, I think I also threw in "liberal."
• Call Victoria . . . when I'm in town. (heh, heh, heh.)
I'm not saying.
• Beat John Gilmour.
Hah. Never had a chance. Did anybody get the license number of that tree?
• Continue to call 66 "that bastard."
66 said he'd head up to Exit 46 for a session if I'd quit calling him "that bastard." So he did and I did.
• Promote slalom at my local level so I can quit SKATING ALONE.
Nope. But there's always next year!
• Make it to Exit 46 at least once a month.
Two out of 12 ain't bad.
• Make Henry J skate in a dress ONE MORE TIME!
Never saw the boy all year.
• Celebrate to the wee hours of the morning George W. Bush's re-election.
We made party hats out of chads and danced the Macarena,
• Make it to Atlanta at least once every two months.
Made it to Atlanta three times, once to skate. Getting there, but it ain't nothing to write about . . . so I'll stop.
• Pretend the Gout doesn't really exist.
A thing in the distant past.
• Teach Brewington how to slalom.
'Da boy done gave up on me.
• Make it to the Bus Terminal at least once a week.
52 weeks, a few BT sessions . . . close, but nowhere near a Macanudo.
• Celebrate to the wee hours of the morning Fritz Holling's departure from the US Senate.
You shoulda' been there. It was EPIC.
• Go to Mississippi and drink all of Byrddog's liquor.
Did that. Stayed sober.
• Take my Z-28 to St. Louis and see if Goad knows how to drive?
Nope. I think Goad's Z is a pigment of his colorful imagination!
• Eat another Omelette at Jimmy's grill in Pound Ridge (Lewisboro? Vista? Wherever the hell that place is. Does anybody really know?)
Another chapter lost in a continuing saga.
And finally . . .
• Convince Ilva that humidity is really a good thing and it's best to live in America far away from New York in a place with Magnolia blossoms and grits on the menu.
I wonder if the girl would know a bowl of grits if it fell on her?