The other day when I mentioned ASO’s Tour de France route announcement and Apple’s impending MacBook Air proclamation I neglected to mention the third leg of this consumer trifecta, the release of a new Thomas McGuane novel.
As it was cheaper than a ticket to France to chase dope fiends around in person or a new laptop to chase dope fiends around from home I dashed straight out and bought the sonofabitch. And not from Amazon, either. An actual working stiff from Bibleburg sold me my copy. Thus I support local industry while lashing a few pennies into the city’s dwindling sales-tax coffers.
Over the years I have admired (and shamelessly lifted) many a McGuane line:
“I am on top of the earth and I don’t work for the government.”
“The lady doesn’t marry the carpenter unless he’s got a second home in Santa Monica or a two-foot dick.”
“I feel sorry for the young people of today with their stupid fucking tuneless horseshit; that may be a generational judgment but I seriously doubt it.”
That sort of thing. When he’s not cranking out the Great Flyover Country Novel he writes a great essay, too. “Me and My Bike and Why,” about an impulsive motorcycle purchase, is simply one of the best things I’ve ever read, period. You can find it in “An Outside Chance: Essays On Sport.”
While you’re buying that one, pick up a copy of “Ninety-Two In the Shade,” which is said to be an autobiographical account of McGuane’s days as Captain Berserko. And don’t forget “Nothing But Blue Skies,” which is that rare McGuane novel with what appears to be a hint of a whisper of a twitch of a happy ending.
Hell, buy his whole catalog. It’s cheaper than a Cupertino paperweight, and a weak McGuane (and there are a couple) is still better than nine-tenths of The New York Times best-seller list.
Mad Blog Media 
I’m not familiar with Thomas McGuane, but I’ll look him up on my next trip to the local library, which should be in a day or two unless I feel like paying a couple fines.
Since we’ve wandered off the political and bike racing/doping themes and into the world of literature and art, might I ask if anyone else viewed and enjoyed the film “The Parking Lot Movie” that was featured on Independent Lens last evening? It profiled the experiences of the attendants of a parking lot across the street from the University of Virginia, and their interactions with the snobbish people that such a location attracts. The contemptuous attitude of many of the customers took me back to the bike shop days, except that I didn’t have the luxury of telling my customers “I don’t care”. Or the joy of occasionally throwing rocks at a fleeing SUV. It must be sadly universal that when some people perceive that others are near the bottom wrung on the social ladder, their worst Machevelian instincts take over and they treat these people like crap. Sad, but not surprising.
I guess I don’t need to watch the movie, John.
My first job outa high school was as a gofer for Manpower. I remember sitting in the labor pool and being excited that I got the chance to wash people’s cars and do other fine labor. Shit, it was money and without dead presidents, all else comes to a halt. Next was a janitor gig at the Airways Hotel next to the Buffalo Airport. Not very memorable, except for the day that I got called to deliver lunch to a hooker and her client (the maids refused to go to the room) and I got a five buck tip; unfortunately that was all I got. My third job, thank goodness, was work-study as a graveyard shift security guard, working myself through college. I had the pleasure of checking doctors and students into the University of Rochester Med School from 11 p.m. to 7 a.m. at the only open door, since if we left too many open, the place was pilfered faster than an unguarded flea market infested by crackheads. It was always fun to see the reaction of some MD/PhD who forgot his ID card and this low-life blocked the door. On exciting nights, I would help restrain outa control patients in the psych ward. That’s how the other half lives.
I don’t always respect the politics of the working stiffs but I do respect their predicament and humanity. I try to treat everyone with respect, as long as they don’t start preaching to me about how great Sarah Palin et al are. Then the gloves come off…
Nothing infuriated me more at the shop when an older gentleman made the quip: “You’ll enjoy retirement when you get older.” Needless to say I was nearing 40, working retail, making $9 and change w/out benies, and dealing with retired, over-privledged dorks. My come back was delivered straight to him: “Well, it would be nice to retire but with this economy I doubt that is going to happen.” I wonder where he is now.
The wife went to UVA and we moved back there for almost a year in the early ’90’s. Yeah, there were the rich folks but also a cross section from there all the way down to “Cletus, the slack-jawed yokel” level as well as folks of every color and creed. Overall it was pretty nice as was the cycling, as Albermarle County enjoyed the tax revenue collected from those rich folks and spent it on high-quality asphalt! My favorite bike-shop story was the affluent bank president customer — the kind with a couple of kids, high-maintenance wife, expensive mortgage (this was back in SoCal after all) and high-dollar German car — but ZERO time to enjoy any of it. One day he was in the store just after I’d returned from the Giro d’Italia with some great stories to tell. He said something like (with no sarcasm) “Wow, I wish I could be you”. To a part-time tour guide/mechanic and bike shop manager it was just more confirmation that being rich ain’t always as good as it seems.
Well, one of my fathers favorite sayings is: I’ve been rich and I’ve been poor and rich is better…
I don’t think it has anything to do with how much money you have, or don’t have for that matter.
the best mcguaneism I ever heard is you don’t move to Montana for fame, fortune or fashion. Don’t know if he said it. But is sure sounds like it came out of his head.