Friday, September 26, 2014

My House bike "Dingo Dizmal's flying Flophouse."

I used to live in this house bike.
It hides really well. See it?

  Once upon a "Once upon a time",
I was at one of life's cross roads. 
My situation had whittled itself down from a huge unmanageable monster to a small one. 
I made the painful decision to go on alone.
 I had to get my life on track without distractions.
 I commissioned a mobile house that gets pulled by a bike. I asked/bribed my old friend Brian to build it.

Until then I had only lived in huge houses with swarms of people. It was devastating to have to make that choice but it was the only choice left. When it was done I had my friend AJ take me to pick it up after an Open Mic.
It was splendid, just as I asked.
Light as a feather but strong. Smartly designed and ready to rock. I had to learn how to drive this thing. I spent some time in S.E. pdx (at dark thirty) crashing around. Eventually I got it. I loaded what I thought was a stream lined version of my possessions into the house.
I was wrong. both tires popped under the weight. I jettisoned more gear, popped the tires again. Soon I was gifting and leaving stuff everywhere until I was at true capacity. When i took clothes to the laundry I often would leave half of my stuff behind. It was great.
I parked outside my gigs and often was invisible to the general public.
One side of the rig was painted as dull as possible to blend in with the walls, the other side got a sharp paint job by one of my favorite artists.
The plan for when the weather is hot, open the door facing the wind, no wind? find some, it takes less that 5 min.s to go from parked mode to rolling mode.

 I think the Flophouse weighed about as much as 8 lawn chairs, 
4 blankets, 
two (empty) ice chests, 
two 26" wheels 
and the contents of a silverwear drawer. 
Just a guess
  I had a PA, system,
 parabolic mic/ recorder, 
internet antenna and video projector. 
All my money and a live tarantula.
The door lock was Velcro, nobody ever stole anything.

Snow cover makes it very warm inside.

Catching kitchen shifts when I can. 

 Sitting quiet, folks thought I was an electrical box. Folks would often shield from the wind screaming into a phone just inches from my face.

 This was a great way to get my head together.Fresh air, saving money, low stress. Plus it didnt hurt the moral to wake up Loudly loving a sweet Loveer and then open the door among lots of people sitting at outside cafe tables. We stumble in, get some drinks and return for round two. Good times.
At Carl Larson's house.

 We plugged into the kids pad every weekend. Co-parent would leave and we would be the parents on duty. Olive bonded with them over those times. It was easy for them, they adored each other.

 Popping tires means too much stuff. 
Yams and cabbage stay a long time un-refrigerated. The unfortunate side effect is the unwanted wind propulsion.
Outside I'm invisible inside it's a tiny Cape Canaveral of devices and gear. It was a pretty bitchin mobile command center.

I love Mr. Love. What other Barista would walk halfway around the block to deliver a white glove service Mocha? He is a gem.

It was sometimes scary to sleep near main roads. Sometimes the cars sounded like they were gonna end my trip permanently.

 The original plan was to install a flywheel on my bike to pull this. In the end I just constructed a bike to pull the house. That was a good decision.
I wrote my plans and wishes all over the interior detailing in a mystic language everything I needed to happen. I wrote it in code for privacy. If it ever gets cold, the trick is to close the door and take clothes off. It retains heat rather well. And so it should it's made out of ice chest materials.
I plugged the bike house into my baby Mamas house on weekends . She would leave and I would be parent on duty. When she returned I was gone for another week. Great system. 
On paper I looked like a homeless guy but I was always fed, had cash and any creature comfort I ever needed. I had blessings from high places, assurances that I was legal as long as I didn't park in the road. I had to defend my turf a few times but that's cool. Pushing that bike around and eating mostly raw veggies made me really strong. I was dialed into the zone.

"Scuse me, Do you mind if i take the night in your driveway? No? Thanks."

Cute lil fella knocked on my door. "Who are you and what's this all about?"

Drying clothes on the roof took very little time, it get's really hot up there in Summer.

Looks like I'm going downhill, I'm trudging up the Alameda rift to get to Last Thursday on Alberta. The speaker on top is the same one we used at storytime for many years. We still use it to this day. Roland Street Cube.

St.Meghan, the house deity. Looking at her every day reminded me to appreciate every moment.

 He was lighting his little pipe with a magnifying glass, brilliant!

 Every day was a different front yard. I wish I had photographed every time I open the door...or looked out the window. I couldn't sleep with my guitar so I just later got a much smaller flying V.

 Everything worked like clock work. Just the wheels popped before I had the correct weight ratio. There was a possibility of it being too light and kiting (dumping everything out)  I needed a ballast. Also you have to go a certain speed. Problems of you go too fast or slow. 
The gooseneck nut is kept loose so the handlbars lift to stand and see what;s behind me and go back down to power pedal.  I don't have the bike any longer.

watching an Iron Maiden DVD at Safeway

 Lots of romantic adventures. I was surprised. Lots of music and laughter.

night time. the battery powered lightbulb lasted a long time. Looked and sounded like any room (that you can't stand up in). I charged everything up at places I worked.

Looking for a place to park while watching Conan O'brian on a little tv . It lived behind me so I watched it in my rear view mirror.

All the people I met, and the places I stayed created who I am now. Now I have a code. I learned a lot and did eventually got the things accomplished that I wrote on my walls. One of them was Olive. If you believe in Magic, the house bike was the wand that bamphed Olive into my life. 
The only part of that is. I had to lose the magic wand to be with the girl. It's the first rule of having a girlfriend, "Women love living where there is plumbing". 
We didn't both fit very well but we did have some swell times before I lent the house bike to a friend. 
He had just had a new child and wanted a little place to keep in his own head space. Well guess what? His child is a full fledged kid and the house bike just returned after all these years (almost 6). It's beat all to hell and rusty raggedy. 
I'm trying to decide what to do with it. I had to hide it because it was attracting a lot of attention from the guys with the shopping carts full of bottles. I think it would be the bee's knee's if someone decided to trick the house bike back out and spend a year doing a documentary about Portland at street level.
Hope you like my pics!