Friday was one of those days I’m used to where attempting to get one simple little thing done requires completion of many other tasks first. You know, one where you go look for your car keys and on the way you find the glass of water you were looking for before you had to go to the bathroom but there wasn’t any toilet paper which required a trip to the basement where you discovered your drill wouldn’t work because the battery is dead and you left your Dremel tool outside dangerously near the wet part of the patio? Ultimately, all that got done was the Dremel tool was returned to the tool bench and you’re left standing there wondering why you’re there. Complicating all that, sometimes, is when Diane innocently asks for assistance on something, or gives me a task to do later but if I don’t do it right away I’ll forget and I’ll fail her.
Now, where was I?
Oh, ya. I got the truck keys so I could warm up the truck for a dump run, but the license plate expired last December, and the new one was sitting on the table by my computer. It’s been there for six months. Then the truck wouldn’t start because the battery was dead as a doornail and you just gotta wonder how a doornail can possibly be dead. C’mon! There isn’t one doornail in all of existence that was ever alive … oh, I see now … that’s pretty dead, isn’t it?
The truck … battery … the dead battery in the truck was one I retained from one of the old Winnebagos we used to have and it worked just fine clear up to the point where I moved the truck last December. It didn’t fit in the battery tray so it sat a little cattywampus next to the radiator, but the hood closed so it was good. I hunted around in the garage for a while, looking for the original truck battery, which had died at some point before last December and had been recharged and placed in a prominent location where I was sure to find it. And I did … it was behind a spare piece of sheetrock I had propper up against Jeff’s drafting table in the garage. I knew that but was distracted by all the other nifty stuff in the garage … like the organ and the player piano. Probably not the best place for those things, but that’s where they are, and that’s where they’ll stay until I can gather up enough people to help me carry them downstairs.
To get the old battery out I had to find my wrenches, which were in the basement where they belonged. I only needed a 1/2 inch wrench but I took all of them with me. It seemed like the right thing to do because if I took just the one, it would never make it back to the holder. They have to stay together, always! Well, most of the time, anyway.
The truck has a BBC engine – that’s Big Block Chevy. It started out as a 454 but wound up a 462 after the engine was rebuilt but a guy that builds race car engines. Plenty beefy to pull pretty much anything, which was our intention. To start it requires a great deal of pumping the accelerator, like 30-40 times, before attempting to engage the starter then keep pumping as you do that. You keep pumping, but let the starter rest a bit, then to it again. Usually it starts on the third try. Once it’s warmed up, however, it starts just fine without turning a full revolution. Amazing.
Once started, I pulled it into the driveway in order to load up more junk for the dump, bur still had to replace the license plate. Then it turned out to be a good thing that I brought all the wrenches because now I needed a 3/8 to get the nuts off the screws holding the license plates in place. They were so rusted, however, that didn’t work so I got my Dremel, because I knew exactly where it was, and cut the nuts off the screws.
I put the new license plate in the back window of the truck, but one of these day’s I’ll bolt it in place. Just not now.
In the back of the truck were all the windows I removed from the 1968 Winnebago I salvaged, as well as all the residue from that evolution … like little bits of wood, some walls, and parts of the floor. It took me a while to extract all the glass from the window frames, and only one broke. So now I have 7 nice panes of glass for which I have absolutely no use. The thought of dropping them in the clear glass bin at the dump doesn’t set well with me so I’ll find a place to hide them in the basement. All of the wood bit were removed to the burn pile so all that’s left is about six pounds of real trash that will fit in the garbage can.
By the time all of that was done, it was time for me to shower up for the trip to Portland and our TVCC meeting. We had to go because the guest speaker was there at my request. It was the right thing to do. On the way we stopped at Red Robin to have dinner with five other TVCC members and Diane and I split a bacon cheeseburger. We split so I could have a chocolate malt. I LOVE those things! the meeting was good, the speaker spake very well, as I knew he would, and I was kinda offered a job writing database reports. Go figure. I’m going to have to think about that for a while because it would involve having to learn something new and I don’t know if my brain could handle that. The new stuff might overwrite something important that I’ll need, like forgetting what toilet paper is for. Something like that.
Today I fell victim to an old routine by taking an after breakfast nap that last three hours. As a result, I didn’t get started doing anything of consequence until 10am, or so. But, I did something important … wire brushed all the rust off, and painted primer on the laundry tub that I dismantled earlier in the week. The painting was simple, but the wire brushing part proved to be hazardous because I used a wire brush wheel attached to a plug in power drill. Those things spin faster, and last longer than a battery drill. And, when the wire brush gets tangled up in a T-shirt, painful things happen. Like, it could give you a terminal left nipple injury … well, not terminal, and not even bandaid worthy, but it hurts a lot … so I’m told. OK .. Yes, it was me … and it’s going to leave a mark. Now that I’ve admitted to that I may as well add that I nearly took out my right testicle, too. I still have a stomach ache from that one.
On that, I believe I’m done here, for now, except for this picture … it’s of Diane, her Mom Jean, and Jennie at Cedric’s graduation. Jeran took it and it’s evident that he’s centered on his Mom. But, I like it …
… and one of Alicia on her trampoline in Connecticut, from last week …