Circumstances Beyond My Control...

Ever have one of those days?

I woke up this morning to -20C temperatures. Not unusual this winter. I work outside. I dress for it.

I packed my lunch, my thermos of coffee and my cup to go and headed out the door into the cold darkness of 6:00 a.m. to start my 60km, 45 minute trek to work. Also not unusual.

About 6:30 and past 1/2 way, circumstances beyond my control began.

My car started to bog down, and by the time I made it from the left lane on the highway to the right shoulder, it stalled.  Otto V. Dub is 13 years old and has more than 450,000 km on the ticker, the odd breakdown can be expected. I have the auto club, so I'm prepared.

The Auto Club answered quickly, and was eager to send me rescue. The lady on the phone was a little confused about my location at first, but after 3 tries she seemed to have me locked in. There is a jog between the north and south bound legs of the highway I am near. I'm just past the northbound exit. The south bound exit is 7km behind me. The phone lady tells me a truck is on it's way, and will be with me somewhere between now and 7:15 a.m.

Unbeknownst to me, whilst I was on the phone arranging my tow, more circumstances beyond my control were unfolding about 2 km ahead of me on the highway.

Transport truck, 3 cars, rollover, fuel spill.

Their day just got a whole lot worse than mine (radio reports that injuries were minor, thank goodness)

I see the traffic slow to a stop, and the radio keeps me informed of what's going on up ahead. I know I'm going to be  here a while now, so I go into action. I kill the hazard lights (not needed now) to spare the battery. To keep the heated seat (worth every penny!) active I cycle the ignition, 10 minutes on, 10 minutes off timed to the traffic reports.  I dig into my work bag and break out my spare gloves, spare socks, snow pants and thermos. Spare gloves into my coat to keep them warm, spare socks between the heated seat and my seat for the same reason.

Next traffic report states that the highway is now closed. Tie up behind me is now 10km. Time to change socks, gloves and have another coffee. Circumstances beyond my control.

This just in...the on ramps in the area are now closed. Circumstances beyond my control.

Repeat calisthenics. Preserve coffee supply.

I repeat this cycle as required until the phone rings at 7:45. It's the Tow Truck Driver. He can't find me. Dispatch sent him to the southbound exit, 7 kms behind me, and he is now stuck in traffic too. He can't use an alternate because the on ramps are closed, remember? And every other driver is clogging the city streets trying to get around the mess.

Circumstances beyond my control.

Just after 8:00 I called the Auto Club back to see if it was them or the Driver that messed up. It was the Auto Club. I told her I was a dissatisfied customer at the moment. Or words to that effect.

Minus 20 Celsius remember?

Had I been less prepared, hypothermia would have set in and I would be in need of an ambulance by now.

At 9:00 a.m. I call the Tow Truck Driver back to see how stuck he is. He is 2 km behind me now. Any minute.

At 9:30 a.m. the truck finally arrives, which is a very welcome relief.

Relief being the key word. Empty thermos = full bladder.

Just 5 minutes shy of 3 hours on the side of the road in freezing temps, in circumstances beyond my control.

As the Boy Scouts say, "Be Prepared"

DJW

...and you think swimming in cold water has adverse effects on the male anatomy?

You think that's cold?

The following entry was inspired by Lorraine Sommerfeld's Motherlode column posted Dec 30th, 2013

It was March Nineteen-Eighty-Something when 3 Soldiers left Brantford for Meaford in a 1951 2 1/2 ton 10 wheel drive Command Post, converted to use as a Supply Vehicle.

I was driving, my best friend in the middle, and another Supply Tech in the co-drivers seat.

It took 3 persons to operate that truck as the transmission leaked so badly you had to add fluid on the fly. A case of fluid under the seat, and a trap door in the floor to access the tranny filler.

We were in shirt sleeves.

North of Guelph the weather started to turn. Rain, then sleet. The vacuum operated wipers failed, and had to be operated manually via the little levers inside. I needed every inch of the 3 foot diameter steering wheel to keep that beast under us, so it was the guy in the middle who had to operate the wipers.

The defrost and heat didn’t work, so the 3rd guy used a squeegee to keep the windshield clean on the inside.
Somewhere near Arthur a spray of fluid (I won’t say beer) covered my glasses. When I took them off my glasses broke in the middle.

On a downhill run.

Buddy One fished my spare pair out from my parka pocket.

Near Owen Sound, it had turned into a full force Bruce Blizzard. Buddy 2 on the outside started to shiver badly. It was another 30 – 45 minutes to Range Rd Diner at the bottom of 7 Mile Hill. When we got there, Buddy 2 was hauled into the ambulance and treated for hypothermia. Buddy 1 left to join his Gun Crew.

That left me alone to get that overgrown wagon up the hill, with no wipers or heat.

 I did the only thing I could do, backed up a full concession, pulled my balaclava down over my face, took a swig of rum, opened the windshield up, kicked in the 10 wheel drive, said a Hail Mary (and I’m not even Catholic) and let her rip.

They said that when I broke the gate at the check point at the top, all 10 wheels were spinning and they could see the icicles on my glasses and mustache.

That, my friends, was cold.

DJW

A Little Patch of Grass...UPDATED

There exists a little patch of grass outside the south windows of Our Humble Castle.

Not very big, about 40 feet by about 60 feet.

A cedar tree on the corner of that little patch of grass that was no bigger than our toddler's were when we moved in 20 years ago.

Not ours, but looks like ours.


It belongs to The Duplex around the corner, and because of the lot configuration and building locations, looks like a side yard for both our properties.

When we moved into Our Humble Castle, the sunlight reflecting off the snow covering that little patch of grass warmed our home, our plants, our pets and our hearts.

Still does.

When the snow melted, it became apparent that no one was going to mow that little patch of grass, so I did. The then Owner of The Duplex was an Absentee Landlord, as have all the others have been since. (seven, by our count) Some of them maintained that little patch of grass, some did not.  Over the years, I've mowed that little patch of grass and cleared the walks for some of the Absentee Landlord's.

Sometimes because they asked.

Sometimes because I had to.

I entered into Gentleman's Agreements with some owners, maintaining that little patch of grass in exchange for use of it when Canada Day parties got large.


A few years ago, a tenant of The Duplex planted some nice flowering shrubs along the edge of that little patch of grass, close to the street. They didn't look like they were going to make it that first summer, so I watered them along with my own flowers and plants.

It makes for a nice little corner; flowering shrubs, that cedar tree is over my eaves now, and a blue spruce we planted our first spring here (it had been our Christmas tree the year before) is about 25 feet high now.

In May of this year, The Duplex was purchased by yet another Absentee Landlord. He immediately got into a disagreement with one of the current Tenants (a nice, quiet guy) who served notice and moved out. When Thing 2 was looking for a place to live, she applied and when the Absentee Landlord found out we were her parents, he signed her right up.

He told me when we signed the lease that he was going to make an addition to the rear of The Duplex next year, and that was fine.

What he didn't disclose was a plan to erect a whole new structure on that little patch of grass.

Not fine.

The implications of this new building on Our Humble Castle would be tremendous. I did calculations and made drawings that demonstrated that it would block our sunlight for 6 months a year, leaving us in a dungeon. There are also many engineering problems involving soil conditions, water tables, sewers and foundations.

But mostly it's the sunlight, or proposed lack thereof.

M.D.B. spends a lot of time at a table beside one of those windows, sewing and crafting. Preparing dinner. Visiting with friends. Watching the world on that street. What would she do if there was no sunlight?

There would be no more scenes of the dog and cat curled up in the same warm patch on a February afternoon.

Dark and stark for about half the year.

The Absentee Landlord of The Duplex needs variances and approvals for his plan, and at a meeting in July, he got told by The City to go back and try again. His plans weren't complete.

So now he's trying again, with virtually the same plan..

We will be at that meeting again, fighting to keep our sunlight...

...and a little patch of grass.

DJW

 I'm fighting for the right to mow someone else's lawn?

Well the City turned the Absentee Landlord of The Duplex down.

So the little patch of grass is safe.

For now.

 

Unwritten Instructions

Holy poop!

Has it really been 6 months?

Egads!

Time flies when your having fun...working on a classic travel trailer, fixing cars, having Grandchildren, working overtime, etc.

O.K. Some of those excuses were lame, but all true.

This one is for the gear-heads among you...and the people who love them.

If any of you have worked on a vehicle built since 1970, you know that some of the jobs that were simple in the past have become much more complicated.

Changing the fuel pump on a 1960's era 292 CID  GMC motor took 2 wrenches and 10 minutes...changing the fuel pump on most newer vehicles involves removing the fuel tank.

Changing a fuel filter was 2 hose clamps... now it may be in the tank.

Changing the air filter on an old car involved removing a wing nut.

I changed an air filter last week.

The instructions (if I had some) would have read, "Un-clip 2 clips on Air Box, loosen air plenum clamps, remove lower hose, remove air box housing, replace filter. Re-install in reverse." They would not likely have pointed out that you have to disconnect or remove 3 sensors, loosen throttle cable assembly, and skin at least one knuckle getting the breather hose out.

Sure there are how to books, with written instructions, diagrams and photo's of smiley people doing work on their own vehicles with clean hands and no effort.

...and they are all wrong.

I have used those books in the past, and used the internet in the present, and almost all of the resources I have found leave out some important steps.

Last week, I started a tune up on Geri R. Buick, our 2004 Rendezvous. At 230,000 km she still had the factory plugs and wires. I say started because like with most front wheel drive V6's, the front three spark plugs and wires are easy to get to.  When it came time to get at the back three, I relied on past experience to get me through.

I tried from the top first. I could touch one wire. There was nothing I could easily remove to get at anything else.

I tried from the bottom next. Same result, same wire.

I put everything away and decided to do some research and get it done this weekend. (It was cold out)

So I consulted the internet. "It's easy", they all said...

1. Remove air intake hose (and the 3 sensors, skinning at least one knuckle. See above)
2. Remove upper torque link bolts
3. Chock wheels
4. Shift into neutral
5. Use a ratchet strap to roll engine forward
6. Taa Daa, Bippity-Boppity-Boo and Bobs' your Uncle! You can change the plugs and wires! They will practically fall out! 
7. Ha! We fooled you!

  Here are the missing steps...

1. Remove upper radiator hose
2. Spill coolant on everything nearby
3. Perform steps 1 thru 5 above
4. Attempt to get your hands around, over, or beside distributor assembly
5. Number all 6 plug wires before removing distributor assembly
6. Unplug 4 control plugs to distributor assembly
7. Disconnect alternator to give yourself enough room to get at rear mounting bracket nuts
8. Remove distributor assembly nuts and bolts using 2 different size wrenches
9. Consider removing wiper drive arms to get distributor assembly out
10. Wiggle and twist distributor assembly until it breaks free of the 2 inch long studs on the rear
11. You may now access the rear spark plugs and wires, Mortal.

Three spark plugs and wires...4 hours

Here are some more of  what I call, "Unwritten Instructions."

1990's Windstar # 1,3 & 5 Spark Plug Removal:

1. Remove radio antenna (I kid you not) 
2. Remove wiper blades
3. Remove cowl cover
4. Remove heater duct
5. Remove spark plug wires and plugs

1988 Sunbird Starter Removal:

1. Remove passenger side front wheel 
2. Reach though steering opening to remove starter bolts
3. Remove heater blower. 
4. Pull starter out and up through top (The starter is on the other side of the car, you just can't get it out that side)

2000's Jetta Starter Removal:

1. Remove Auxiliary Fuse Panel
2. Remove Battery
3. Remove Battery Box (rear starter mounting bolts are under the battery)

1980 GM X-Body Clutch Removal:

1. Remove engine (it's easier than pulling the trans-axle)

1990's Caravan #5 Spark Plug Removal:

1. Can't be done 

These are only a sample of what I have encountered.

I hope these tips help you in your quest to perform simple (!) auto maintenance, and if you have any tips to pass along, feel free.

DJW

To think, I once wanted to be a mechanic.

Have a Good What?!?!

Way back when, in days of yore, at the end of a transaction with the grocer, butcher, barber, etc, I would be dismissed with the following phrase, "Have a good day."

Or words to that effect.

An innocuous enough sentiment. Wishing me generally well for my immediate future.

But now, the clerk at my local Shopper's, Timmy's, Gas Bar and pretty much everywhere else I patronize ends the transaction with the following statement: "Have a good one."

But...have a good what?

Is it now up to me what I have a good one of?

Can they no longer offer me anything specific?

Is it a politically correct, gender neutral thing?

Should I have a good drive home?

A good time picking my lottery numbers?

Maybe a good dinner?

Fergawdssake, help me out here!

A good walk with my dog?

How about good time with my spouse?

Perhaps a good hair day?

Throw me a bone!

A good belch at the end of my meal?

A good cup of coffee?

A good nights sleep?

Give me a goal!

Have a good life?

Have a good bowel movement?

A good colonoscopy?


For crying out loud, don't be namby-pamby about it, be specific!

I CAN'T TAKE THE PRESSURE!

DJW

"I'm not crazy I'm just a little unwell..."

 

Born a Rebel

Born in a small town in South Ontario in the 50's,
it wasn't hard to want more from life than farm country could offer.

In a house full of music, she taught herself guitar, then eventually fiddle.

But it was her voice that was her true instrument.

In the 70's, she chased a dream to the west coast. Her dream chased her back.

She picked up work singing for some local Country Bands, and was good at it.

She earned a living as a bookkeeper, but music was always her passion.

Still the rebel, even with her job, she could be seen riding from client to client, on a Harley in a flowing dress, fur coat and an Easy Rider red white and blue helmet. Her employer at the time, a respectable art agency strongly urged her to change her mode of transportation, so she traded the Harley on a Cordoba. That didn't work for her, so she dumped the Cordoba for a T-Bird. 460 4bbl. White-on-white-on-white.

That fit.

A brunette Suzanne Sommers.

But the dream still beckoned.

She eventually found herself back on the left coast, this time in California. And the car for her now was a 68 Charger, 440 6-pack, red with a maple leaf in the middle of the white roof. She called it the Norma Lee.

Take that, General Lee!

She adopted Norma Lee as her name, a truncated version of her given name, Norma Louise.  

It wasn't long before she hooked up with the local Country Music scene, and then found the right music for her, Western Swing

She had some success, a few recordings. More than most of us could expect.

Writing music became a profitable sideline.

She still preferred performing, and did it whenever she could. 

A number of years ago, some strange things started happening, her fingers weren't working properly.

Parkinson's Disease.

Playing music became a problem. But she still sang and wrote.

Then Parkinson's took her signing voice.

She still wrote and collaborated.

When her husband died last year, he had the forethought to set her up in an assisted care community. Still her own home, but help on-site if she needed it.

About a month ago they diagnosed her with cancer. Liver, gall bladder, lungs and tumours in her brain.

Music was her passion.

Poetry her forte.

She is singing again, with a great back up band, and a huge audience.

DJW

When I turned 30, she declared me her older brother.

Farewell to my younger sister.

Enjoy the music. 

Again? Already?

 

 It's that time of the year again. 

Some people use New Years to reflect, I use my birthday.

My birthday traditionally falls on the Victoria Day long weekend. Here that means the un-official start to summer, parties, BBQ's, camping and fireworks.

When I was little, I thought they had fireworks just because it was my birthday.

When I was a younger, immortal man, it meant a weekend long camping party, the ones that movies are made of now.

A number of years ago, we went on a fruitless search of fireworks, and I was left feeling empty. That was near the time that the Old Man's health was deteriorating, and I was coming to grips with being a mere mortal.

Two years ago, My Darling Bride and several cohorts managed to pull off a surprise party on me. The first one I ever had.

This year, as I sat on the back patio listening to the fireworks going off around me, and thinking about the past year, I realize that all things considered, I'm pretty lucky.

Sure, I've got creaks and kinks that take an hour to work out every morning. A new health challenge, but it's not life threatening. Old health quirks that make life a little interesting, but that is just normal wear and tear as far as I'm concerned.

But the pluses outweigh the minuses.

I've been married for over twenty years to My Darling Bride who is also my best friend. (can you believe that? over 20!)

Thing One had her live debut last night, with much applause.

Thing Two has a steady job and is getting her feet under her.

Boy Thing has his life organized, if not his day.

I have a good job.

The yard is getting back in shape.

Project Bubble is coming along. (more on that later).

The bills are paid.

All in all, I'm pretty well off!

Cue the fireworks!

DJW 

In honour of the anniversary of DJ's 29th birthday, 

Canadians may have a day off with pay...

...and fireworks.

You're welcome.