þÿ<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> <html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> <head> <meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> <meta name="generator" content="RapidWeaver" /> <link rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../styles.css" /><style type="text/css" media="all"></style><script type="text/javascript" src="../javascript.js"></script><script type="text/javascript" language="JavaScript"></script> <title>Mar 2010</title> </head> <body class="blog-archive-background"> <div class="blog-archive-headings-wrapper"> <div class="blog-archive-month">Mar 2010</div> <div class="blog-archive-link"><a href="../index.html">Thoughtpukes </a> | <a href="archive-39.html">Apr 2010</a> | <a href="archive-37.html">Feb 2010</a></div> </div> <div class="blog-archive-entries-wrapper"> <div id="unique-entry-id-409" class="blog-entry"><div class="blog-entry-title">Toad to the Pond</div><div class="blog-entry-date">03/31/10 09:04 PM <span class="blog-entry-category"> | <a href="category-7.html">Projectile</a></span><span class="blog-entry-permalink"> | <a href="bda0aca2e0c74c229758e76528366ddf-409.html">Permalink</a></span></div><div class="blog-entry-body"><img class="imageStyle" alt="toad_load" width="532" height="264" src="page11_blog_entry409_1.jpg"/><br />This morning I had to drive Jenni to work, and then return to the hacienda de junkyard, i.e. home. I too had to work, and did only half an hour late, but before I could earn money, I had to prepare to spend a lot more than my daily bread. What better way than to have two vehicles towed to my repair facility of choice; Downtown Car Care Center (ironically close to downtown Indy). The brakes being out on the convertible meant a tow was definitely in order, and the fact that the Dodge Ram was not starting got it a piggyback ride on an even bigger truck. Mike from ASAP Towing was the Transporter, but I didn't expect to see him in a BMW 850i, or a tricked out Audi S8, (that is a whole different Transporter). <br /><img class="imageStyle" alt="toad_truk" width="532" height="297" src="page11_blog_entry409_2.jpg"/><br />The fact is, I totally expected to see what I saw, a big flatbed car carrier, with a tow brace on the back. <br />After the two v ehix were taken away I went to work, not long after I got there I called Bob at DCCC and explained what I wanted. Hours passed, customers and lunch came and went, and finally Bob called to say that the Car was going to need two brake lines replaced, brake system bleeding, and new valve cover gaskets: along with tow charge, around $650.00. Just about the same amount Friends of Chris West were trying to get from other friends of Chris West to get his fun summer scooter running. I haven't heard the list of problems on the truck yet or guessed at the price, I can't afford too much more, but necessity dictated that I get the two cars worked on now rather than later. <br /><img class="imageStyle" alt="toad_final" width="532" height="288" src="page11_blog_entry409_3.jpg"/><br /><span style="font-size:13px; font-weight:bold; "><em>Baby you can drive my car, and baby I love you...<br /></em></span><span style="font-size:18px; font-weight:bold; color:#454545;"><em>Chuck Pace &copy;2010</em></span><span style="font-size:18px; font-weight:bold; color:#642413;"><em><br /></em></span><script type="text/javascript" src="http://www.haloscan.com/load/chuckpace"> </script><a href="javascript:HaloScan('3_3110');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('3_3110');</script></a> | <a href="javascript:HaloScanTB('3_3110');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCountTB('3_3110'); </script></a></div></div><div id="unique-entry-id-408" class="blog-entry"><div class="blog-entry-title">Woed Up Woes</div><div class="blog-entry-date">03/30/10 06:19 PM <span class="blog-entry-category"> | <a href="category-7.html">Projectile</a></span><span class="blog-entry-permalink"> | <a href="52cc1dc1dfebcf5d3b410367f5c27c13-408.html">Permalink</a></span></div><div class="blog-entry-body">Well here comes another chapter in the mystifying world of mechanical transportation. Sunday saw another crapter in the continuing saga of Chuck and Jenni's infinite hit list. Jenni went to get coffee, paper towels and essentials while I watched the NCAA Tennessee vs. Michigan State game. Before you know it I get a call. The brakes broke on the drop-top torpedo. She said the pedal was going almost all the way to the floor. Luckily she was only 5 stop lights from home, and to help further it was raining. <br />She could have parked the 'Vert and I'd come play fetch, or she could baby the two ton smash-compactor home. She drove. When she got home I went out and surveyed the damage. The brake fluid reservoir was completely dry. I refilled, started the car a pumped the brakes. Brief partial pressure, then mush again. Then I re-checked and almost all the fluid was gone again in the reservoir. After another refill, I moved the BMW Frankenstein out and the brakeless Sebring into the garage.<br />Prognosis, busted line or failing master cylinder. No collision, no immediate threat. No money. Carpool time.<br />In the next couple of days I will have the 'Vert towed to The Downtown Car Care Center on Virginia Avenue three blocks from where Jenni works. Towing, new brake line(s), bleeding the system. This won't be cheap.<br /><div class="image-left"><img class="imageStyle" alt="old truck2" width="259" height="205" src="page11_blog_entry408_1.jpg"/></div>That is one of three vehicles covered. You may remember that I also recently blogged my mouth off about the Old Dodge Truck. Well, I've had great fun with that particular albatross as well. New fuel filter, fuel pump and battery, still no running. That combined with the right front tire that goes flat in a matter of hours and you can see the fun has doubled! If I can get the wheel and tire to Indy tire I can get that fixed. But as it sits immobile on the 25&deg;driveway at present that too is a long shot for the immediate gratification award. Once it is re-tired there will be a tow-in in it's future too. Frabjous. So tonight when I come home there's an abandoned vehicle tag on the window, and less than 72 hours remain before it's tow to 700 South Belmont Ave, to be disposed of destroyed. Looks Like I'm having two vehicles towed to the Downtown Car Care Center tomorrow. Sumnabich<br />Still hungry? How about this. I've had an old dead car in the garage that has been awaiting the title for some time, (long story shortened, the company that loaned the moolah went out of business, and the loan-lien went elsewhere, car gets paid-off, 3 years to track down title, lawyers...). Anyway, a guy sees the car in my garage while I'm working on the Bimmer, wants it. Month's later he checks in again and I now have the title, he says he'll be back for it. Weeks go by, I move the car out into the drive so he can come get it, finally he pays me, and takes the key and title, still hasn't removed it from my driveway yet, over five weeks later. <br /><span style="font-size:18px; font-weight:bold; color:#e5902c;"><em>Chuck Pace &copy;2010</em></span><span style="font-size:18px; font-weight:bold; color:#642413;"><em><br /></em></span><script type="text/javascript" src="http://www.haloscan.com/load/chuckpace"> </script><a href="javascript:HaloScan('3_3010');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('3_3010');</script></a> | <a href="javascript:HaloScanTB('3_3010');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCountTB('3_3010'); </script></a></div></div><div id="unique-entry-id-407" class="blog-entry"><div class="blog-entry-title">Pinned Down</div><div class="blog-entry-date">03/29/10 10:37 PM <span class="blog-entry-category"> | <a href="category-5.html">Spurts</a></span><span class="blog-entry-permalink"> | <a href="d0be6e218021007ee3876aa305a9c8b4-407.html">Permalink</a></span></div><div class="blog-entry-body">We'll I was optimistic heading into the final night of the latest iteration of the Chatterbowling League at All*Star Bowl on Indy east side. I did the math before the first ball was rolled. My team, team 7, <strong><em>The Unholy Rollers</em></strong> still had an improbable but not impossible chance to win back 1st place, from the nights 5 place starting tier (in the previous 11 weeks we had held the 1st place spot 4 times). Unfortunately our opponents had a different plan. Team 1 (last leagues winners), <strong><em>Living On A Spare</em></strong>, dominated us in all three games with one player, Randy Brooks, setting new high personal marks in high game scratch, high series scratch and high handicap game. Mr. Brooks previous league high game was a 192, tonight's a stompin' 227 with hdcp that goes up to 270, and his evenings low score was a 191 which bookended one side of his series, while a 197 bookended the starting side, adding up to a season high series score of 615. Insurmountable numbers for team 7 this night.<br /><div class="image-left"><img class="imageStyle" alt="pindown" width="92" height="31" src="page11_blog_entry407_1.jpg"/></div><br />My teammates Annelise, David and Roe were all above or on their averages tonight: 10 pins, 11 pins and dead on respectively, while I failed to hit my average by 7 pins. Also insurmountable when an opponent is having a career night. So instead of re-acquiring our elusive 1st place standing, we dropped two more spots and ended up the league right where we began, in 7th place. My optimism was not matched by my skill or able to overcome a break-out performance by the other teams anchor player. Congrats to Team 9 <strong><em> Blue Balls</em></strong> for their 1st place victory tonight, and of course to <strong><em>Living On A Spare</em></strong> for spanking us back into reality. <br />Thanks to David Andrichik, the Commish of the Chatterbox Bowling Empire, and to All*Star Bowl for hosting our games and leagues. We will return in May for another conflagration of Kegling competition. <br /><span style="font-size:18px; font-weight:bold; color:#9f1d1b;"><em>Chuck Pace &copy;2010</em></span><span style="font-size:18px; font-weight:bold; color:#642413;"><em><br /></em></span><script type="text/javascript" src="http://www.haloscan.com/load/chuckpace"> </script><a href="javascript:HaloScan('3_2910');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('3_2910');</script></a> | <a href="javascript:HaloScanTB('3_2910');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCountTB('3_2910'); </script></a></div></div><div id="unique-entry-id-406" class="blog-entry"><div class="blog-entry-title">Hip Checks!</div><div class="blog-entry-date">03/21/10 12:02 PM <span class="blog-entry-category"> | <a href="category-5.html">Spurts</a></span><span class="blog-entry-permalink"> | <a href="05a06ee0202cd7827ef2664c80de6e6a-406.html">Permalink</a></span></div><div class="blog-entry-body"><div class="image-right"><img class="imageStyle" alt="Hip_Muscles" width="243" height="263" src="page11_blog_entry406_1.jpg"/></div>I didn't take one ZApicture. I had a camera on my hip and an iPhone with the ability to snap shots too, and still nada, nix, nil, not, none nossir, nope, neigh, nein, negatory good buddy not one image was pixelated. At my accelerated age I was challenged to my physical limits just sitting through one half of the nights entertainment. Now granted I don't think of myself as being as old as I am, and to my credit most people are shocked when they learn my true age. However that is not a response to my outward appearance as much as a reaction to the immature way I act I'm fairly sure. Still Im too old to be sitting on a sheet of masonite over a concrete floor with my legs in a meditative Indian state for over an hour without passing out, dying or suffering for at least a week afterwards. As I sit here reliving the moments that led up this confessional blog my tensor fasciae latae and iliacus muscle groups are still singing like Ethel Merman on nitrous oxide and helium. <strong><em>"I'm not as young as I used to be! You're not as young as I used to be!"</em></strong> as Grouch Marks once said to Margaret Dumont. <br />Last night was Roller Derby night and the close action is in the suicide seats. Otherwise known as the floor. I was there with one of Indy's best known and renowned photographers, John Bragg. Neither of us had a serious camera with us. John did a couple of snaps on his iPhone, mostly of Wookies and enslaved Princesses, and I never pulled my iPhone or Oly P&S out for any instant recall. At the half-time break I attempted to purchase the event day shirt in my girth, but those were all sold out. I did the next best thing, I got a drinking glass and a dog bandana. John had friends in the stands so after a quick trip to the Sun*King dispensary we wandered over to find Scott and Terra (or Teran) I apologize for not hearing her name properly in the din and cacophony of the sold out Toyota pavilion. The only thing I was certain of is that she is indeed a Terran, a true Earthling. The half-time ended and regular time commenced and unlike DST, nobody had to adjust their watches. It was a close bout by half-time although The Sioux Falls girls had dominated and controlled the game right up to the break, with our NRG darlings making a strong showing in the final two or three jams to be within bitch slapping distance when the next too whistles sounded after the break.<br />Not too far into the 2nd period, what goes around came around, which is often the case in Flat track racing. One of our Jammers, Maiden America got through the SC blockers and proceeded to garner 5 Grand Slams plus 3 additional points before the time elapsed for a 28-0 jam! The announcers were as crazy as the fans in the seats, aisles and floors! This was a NRG record number of points for a single jam, and the Tornado Sirens were on top for the first time all bout.<br /><div class="image-left"><img class="imageStyle" alt="skate" width="113" height="128" src="page11_blog_entry406_2.jpg"/></div>The playground tactic atmosphere and the seesaw points battle went merry go round for the rest of the bout. Still the Sirens stayed close and eventually it came down to the last jam as it usually does (at the end) but the Sirens prevailed. Sioux Falls had beaten NRG in South Dakota last time the two met, now the books were balanced. <br />Now where's that Icy-Hot? <br /><span style="font-size:18px; font-weight:bold; color:#9f1d1b;"><em><br />Chuck Pace &copy;2010</em></span><span style="font-size:18px; font-weight:bold; color:#642413;"><em><br /></em></span><script type="text/javascript" src="http://www.haloscan.com/load/chuckpace"> </script><a href="javascript:HaloScan('3_2010');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('3_2010');</script></a> | <a href="javascript:HaloScanTB('3_2010');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCountTB('3_2010'); </script></a></div></div><div id="unique-entry-id-405" class="blog-entry"><div class="blog-entry-title">How It Was, How It Is.</div><div class="blog-entry-date">03/19/10 09:22 PM <span class="blog-entry-category"> | <a href="category-3.html">Toil It</a></span><span class="blog-entry-permalink"> | <a href="9c02f6f9adbdbef001fcacc0b205bf13-405.html">Permalink</a></span></div><div class="blog-entry-body">I said, &ldquo;This was a great night, I have to blog it!&rdquo; <br />She said absolutely nothing. <br />I had thought (hoped) she might ask, inquire, respond, shrug, wonder... something. <br />She didn&rsquo;t. <br />I got home only a few minutes after she did. I parked my car in the garage and moved hers (while she was walking the dog) to the the driveway; not because I think my car belongs under cover and hers doesn&rsquo;t, but because I leave after she does nearly every morning, (and it would be two cars to move every morning the other way around) and further more if I&rsquo;d gotten home a minute or two earlier I would be one walking the dog and she would be parking in the drive without a problem anyway what-so-ever. This was not the problem. <br />I went to beer club after work. Beer club is a Friday ritual, (the math is: each member of beer club brings <u>a</u> beer, then each member has an equal amount of <u>each</u> beer brought to beer club, so if 4 people bring one beer each, and it is divided by 4 each member ends up having 1 beer (5 members, 5 beers divided 5 combined beer consumption, 1 beer, etc, etc...). How many beers did you <em>taste</em> tonight? 5. This is scary, and yet, so far the death toll for beer club remains stable at 0. Tonight it was just RJ and I, the other members of BC were off to a Nascar Race. <br />After beer club I went to Taps & Dolls with RJ, we talked about the NCAA tournament, beauty, work and darts (which we did not intend to throw this evening). We watched the TV&rsquo;s over the bar and talked to Cassie and Brandy the current &ldquo;dolls&rdquo; in the establishments naming. The boss shows up and orders us another round and the tab for himself. We all leave together after the completion of that. It&rsquo;s not yet 6:20, I drive to the Avenue and park, talk to a few friends. Travis and Liz are on the patio. I sit and order, then Travis says, &ldquo; You just missed Brock.&rdquo; I look up the Avenue and see a Honda with windows up and bearing Ohio plates backing out of a parking spot. I jump up and head that way. I yell, &ldquo;BROCK, pull over and get out! He pulls the car into the parking spaces beside the Box and I run to the door. He gets out I assume a stand-off stance. legs spread, body balanced, arms out and ready for any move he might make. He moves forward deliberately and we hug! I apologize for missing the wedding, we exchange pleasantries, promise to be better at keeping up and hug again, then he leaves after another warm embrace. I walk back to the table and Travis and Liz. <br />My Osiris waits, as does Clayton the classic car aficionado and Melissa G. along with Travis and Liz. David comes over and says that the people across the Avenue thought there was going to be a fight after I yelled and ran over to a car that pulled off the street into a side lot and then stood outside the door with my arms raised in a very challenging stance. <br />We all laughed about that and about dating and cars, and oil changes (long story). Then Liz had to tell us a great story about a midget, a mom and a mentally challenged member of society. It was an amusing story and a jaw dropper that was too ridiculous to not be true. <br />Travis and Liz left, Melissa and Clayton left and I went in to settle my tab and talk to Nicci about the passing of one of our Jazz friends. <br />On the way out I walked by Luna Music and saw my good friend Maggie in a rare appearance on a Friday night, and the joint was jumping with customers and beats! After waiting a few minutes we got to talk for a few. <br />Maggie says, &ldquo;I saw Brock!&rdquo; I said I did too he was pulling out and I hollered. I recapped the story and she said she heard through the open Luna door people saying that there was going to be a fight! <br />I picked out a CD and paid for it , just then Jenni called and told me she would pick up eats if I was coming home, I said I&rsquo;m coming home right now, then said I&rsquo;m at Luna and recommended a CD she had previously told me was coming out soon. She said, &ldquo;Yeah pick that up.&rdquo; <br />I did. Maggie tried to say something to Jenni on my phone but she had already hung up. I got the CD, and started listening to it as I drove home; about a 14 minute drive. I drove up as Jenni was walking Charlie. I pulled my car into the open garage. <br />I shut off the car, ejected the CD, gathered my jacket and bag and got out. Jenni and Charlie were coming back into the garage and headed to the door to the house as I said, &ldquo;This was a great night, I have to blog it!&rdquo; <br />She said absolutely nothing. <br />I left the CD's in front of Jenni's computer. <br /><span style="font-size:18px; font-weight:bold; color:#545454;"><em>Chuck Pace &copy;2010</em></span><span style="font-size:18px; font-weight:bold; color:#642413;"><em><br /></em></span><script type="text/javascript" src="http://www.haloscan.com/load/chuckpace"> </script><a href="javascript:HaloScan('3_1910');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('3_1910');</script></a> | <a href="javascript:HaloScanTB('3_1910');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCountTB('3_1910'); </script></a></div></div><div id="unique-entry-id-404" class="blog-entry"><div class="blog-entry-title">Moving, Making & Doing Things</div><div class="blog-entry-date">03/11/10 10:02 PM <span class="blog-entry-category"> | <a href="category-2.html">Up Chucks</a></span><span class="blog-entry-permalink"> | <a href="da33a4fa35bbb4fd61c864ae3715af47-404.html">Permalink</a></span></div><div class="blog-entry-body">I should get used to quiet week days off since I don't have a two day weekend for the next 3 weeks. Thursday (today) was my day off this week, I used much of this day going through and discarding a lot of stuff that has built up over the busy winter. Being in retail I only had three or four days off from Thanksgiving day to New Years day and the days I did have off were crucial to resetting my physical and mental bearings. So things piled up. Things got left behind. Things got forgotten. Today I did a lot of things for and to these things.<br />With Jenni back to work after five weeks, due to breaking the 5th metatarsal (the one that attaches to her left little toe) I had this day off and the world Headquarters all to myself. Charlie the blind Rat Terrier would argue that I didn't, since I had to take him out three times before Jenni's return home, but still, as I am the only verbally capable bipedal, opposable thumbed being in this place I claim solitude as my house guest. <br /><div class="image-left"><img class="imageStyle" alt="self profile" width="217" height="237" src="page11_blog_entry404_1.jpg"/></div>I didn't get rid of as much stuff as I did address it, order it and re-groupe it with its like partner stuff, still I did fill a trash bag with the disposed carcasses if three month's daily pocket and mail leavings. Did this leave much more room in the rooms? Grander gallery to gaze upon? Sparkling sparse surfaces to inspire and surprise? Nope. <br />I will say that each small success was a pleasant result, and I didn't break one sweat in the process. <br />I also added more photos to my Facebook albums, became fans and friends with more people places and things and played in photoshop making a new profile picture illustration which I'm also sharing with you right now.. <br /><span style="font-size:18px; font-weight:bold; color:#642413;"><em>Chuck Pace &copy;2010</em></span></div></div><div id="unique-entry-id-403" class="blog-entry"><div class="blog-entry-title">Pretend Day (A Dry Run)</div><div class="blog-entry-date">03/07/10 11:32 AM <span class="blog-entry-category"> | <a href="category-4.html">Gags</a></span><span class="blog-entry-permalink"> | <a href="6e5c49e75f431e3d44e54e0bc807fada-403.html">Permalink</a></span></div><div class="blog-entry-body">While still in the clutches of winter, central Indiana is trying on her spring ensemble again today. Yesterday was mild and most, but not all of the snow melted away. Today is a repeat of yesterday with higher temperatures and even more sunny goodness. Two days of non-precip! <br />Yesterday Jenni asked if we could grill out, and we couldn't. Today I made a trip to the grocery warehouse and came home with some items that, when placed on the grill in an enclosed grill with red-hot charcoal briquettes will indeed end up as grilled edible food. Today we can grill. Today we will grill. <br />Today We Grill for tomorrow we may Diet! <br /><div class="image-right"><img class="imageStyle" alt="meat" width="259" height="176" src="page11_blog_entry403_1.jpg"/></div>Today we will pretend that it is spring already and we will pretend to have no cares in the world, and we will pretend all that as long as the day lets us. It shall be grand and we will be the King and Queen of our yard domain! <br />Since I am so comported with pretend-ciousness, I Proclaim that I am the Sovereign King of Yardenania and I proclaim this day Proclamation day and grilling day and in Yardenania! Spring shall start on March 7th and there shall be no strife or war in Yardenania. <br />You may find some of our ways strange here, but as foreigners you must understand that some of your ways are strange to us as well. While much of our two languages are similar, and we can understand your tlevisbob (television), and read your newsaps (newspapers) and inter-web posits we do still have our own language and media here in Yardenania.<br />On Proclamation day any (or possibly all) statement(s) or shared ideas can be made into law. The Proclaimer need not walk 500 miles, and then walk 50 more, just to the nearest citizen or High Council member and speak his or her piece, which will be known as a pre-proclamation. <br />The High Council will weigh all pre-proclamations (or proclamations in waiting) and vote. Then a summary judgement delivered. <br />The Sovereigns (King and Queen) will have votes twice as potent as the High council, but all votes will be considered before the pre-proclaimed be defamed or framed as a New Yardenanian Proclamation of absoluteness. <br />The recognized High Council in alphabetic order are... Bela the Bashful, also known as Bela the Half-seeing, Bela the Beautifully Soft Yet TImid, or Bela the Half Blind (that from the glass is half empty crowd); Charlie the Mostly Blind, He's A Gooood Boy or Sir Pinball, and lastly but not at all leastly; Tweek the Not So Meek, or Tweek the Dapper, or Tweek the Clawing Lazy Grumbler. <br />In most voting situations a physical or verbal affirmation or negation is all that is required; Bela may also dignify and signify her choice by a show of paw, two quick one eyed winks, or a rapid terrified exit from the voting chamber and proceedings, which will be designated as a nay. A failure to cast a vote, or sleeping upon the Sovereigns' chair or couch arm's or backs will be listed as an abstention. <br />There can be no more adieu, so without further doing the adieu I leave you pondering my great nation. Later I will have to make a visit to the great country that surrounds mine and play a game (or three) of Kegling. It will be fun and challenging but not to much for the King of Yardenania, for my scores will be regal, to say the least!<br /><span style="font-size:18px; font-weight:bold; color:#6b1189;"><em>Chuck Pace &copy;2010</em></span><span style="font:18px 'Lucida Grande', LucidaGrande, Verdana, sans-serif; font-weight:bold; color:#000f55;"><br /></span><script type="text/javascript" src="http://www.haloscan.com/load/chuckpace"> </script><a href="javascript:HaloScan('3_0710');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('3_0710');</script></a> | <a href="javascript:HaloScanTB('3_0710');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCountTB('3_0710'); </script></a></div></div><div id="unique-entry-id-402" class="blog-entry"><div class="blog-entry-title">To Leech His Own</div><div class="blog-entry-date">03/04/10 06:59 AM <span class="blog-entry-category"> | <a href="category-4.html">Gags</a></span><span class="blog-entry-permalink"> | <a href="3b374b78a79acbe092846384927db06c-402.html">Permalink</a></span></div><div class="blog-entry-body">Clean slate, white board, blank canvas. I sit here with nothing on my mind worth sharing. Not that I have nothing on my mind, I always do, but it is often trivial and uninspiring, to say the least. <br />No major life changing events happened in the last two days. No catastrophe was witnessed by me, or told profoundly to me by another so that it could grace these clean and blank spaces. Still, I sit and type because I decided that I need the practice. I need to continue to pull words out of my mind like the medical practitioners and barbers of the early days of the Americas did with body humors using leeches. This is not a telling of a particular tale or the disgorging of a monster of literature, this is a mental blood letting. <br /><img class="imageStyle" alt="leeches large" width="537" height="106" src="page11_blog_entry402_1.jpg"/><br />I love words and word play. I use them as toys, tools and even weapons occasionally. I don't pretend to be eloquent, but I can turn a phrase when it seems to be headed down the wrong path. I enjoy playing with the similes and the homilies as much as the next guy, and shaping them into a cogent description others can embrace too. I never hesitate or ask to risk an asterisk, if one is needed it goes into the fray without a tear or a frazzled, nay! <br />Metaphor? Yes, many times, we've metaphor and we will meet again on the battlefields of verbal conflict! (It's all so silly that the human mind can be a hopper waiting for an idea or odd description to fall out and be arranged into a thought. <br />How do lesser beings communicate? How does the work-a-day life of a cockroach, termite, field mouse or titmouse work? Pheromones and reflexes I guess, but this is why the mice and insects aren't building libraries! I would venture to say somewhere in the world there are mice or insects eating away at someone's prized books or papers as I write! Printed paper has proteins and is palatable in situations where other nourishment may not be available, and I don't blame the mice and insects for getting something out of a good book, it's just not literature! <br />Who knows, some unforeseen crisis down the road may even cause me to eat my own words! (Well the leeches have done their job. They have had their fill, detached from my cerebellum and flopped to the imagined floor to digest my words while you poor unwitting readers digest them as well. <span style="font:12px Times, Georgia, Courier, serif; "><br /></span><br /><img class="imageStyle" alt="leech border" width="537" height="40" src="page11_blog_entry402_2.jpg"/><br /><span style="font-size:18px; font-weight:bold; color:#985206;"><em>Chuck Pace &copy;2010</em></span><span style="font:18px 'Lucida Grande', LucidaGrande, Verdana, sans-serif; font-weight:bold; color:#000f55;"><br /></span><script type="text/javascript" src="http://www.haloscan.com/load/chuckpace"> </script><a href="javascript:HaloScan('3_0410');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('3_0410');</script></a> | <a href="javascript:HaloScanTB('3_0410');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCountTB('3_0410'); </script></a></div></div><div id="unique-entry-id-401" class="blog-entry"><div class="blog-entry-title">A Tired Old Truck Story</div><div class="blog-entry-date">03/01/10 06:15 PM <span class="blog-entry-category"> | <a href="category-7.html">Projectile</a></span><span class="blog-entry-permalink"> | <a href="1627264a5402e11951d5794ecaad9eb2-401.html">Permalink</a></span></div><div class="blog-entry-body">The old Dodge truck sits waiting in the driveway. The odometer says 114550 miles. That is all the old truck has said for three months or better, and it may say that for some time more to come. <br /><div class="image-right"><img class="imageStyle" alt="speedo_trucko" width="223" height="223" src="page11_blog_entry401_1.jpg"/></div>About three months ago that old Dodge truck staggered home, dying every few miles and getting progressively harder to start. The last five miles were an exercise in patience and pious prayer, though not all the words that came from the drivers mouth would normally be thought of as prayer. During those last miles God was spoken to and about a lot by the lone occupant in the old Dodge truck. That truck had died at least six times in the last three miles, and the cranking to get it re-fired for more belching and sputtering, and most importantly rolling taxed the battery to it's limits. <br />The driver got that old truck off the highway ramp as it again died, momentum and a down hill grade allowed the driver get into the Marsh Supermarket parking lot. Momentum also allowed the driver to get out of the path of others and coast to a stop sideways covering three spots. The driver feared that there it would sit for eternity, or at least until a decent human willing to offer a battery jump came by. The driver had his cables out and waited. Mercifully the wait was not long. <br />The hood was up, the driver was down when a gentleman stopped and asked, "Need a jump?" <br />"Yes, I do, but I'm afraid it may take a while, this battery is barely cranking now."<br />The savior jockeyed his car into position and then popped open his own hood, the driver found the battery posts and attached the cables to either vehicle and asked the man to run his car for a few minutes before attempting to crank 'er over. <br />It was cold; barely 25&deg;, both men went to their respective vehicles, one running and warm, the other silent and cold. After an interminable wait the driver hit the key, the old truck grunted like a pregnant sow stuck in the mud, cranked over twice and wheezed to silence. <br />The gentleman got out so the driver did too. "What's wrong with it?" <br />"Starving for fuel I think, maybe clogged filter or dying fuel pump, I'm less than two miles from home, if I can get it started and with a little luck I can get it there," the driver explained. <br />They went back to their vehicles and waited another handful of minutes. After the driver decided he couldn't take the cold any more he gestured to the gentleman, who revved his motor a bit as he again turned the key and massaged the accelerator pedal. The engine balked then fired, the driver played the peddle like an impresario for a few seconds and the engine seemed to be getting enough gas to idle. The driver leapt from the door, slipped and went down on one knee in the parking lot trying to get to the cables and get the hood closed before the gas lines and pump again failed him. <br />The Driver unhooked the clamps from the gentleman's battery terminals, closed his hood and thanked him even as he was backing away to get the old trucks connections undone and to get rolling. The old truck was on its last legs. The challenge was to get the old truck safely home. The aspiration of the old truck was sporadic and unreliable, too much throttle pressure and it choked, not enough and it gasps and tries to die, the solution was to keep nerfing the peddle and surging forward, ever aware of the pulse of the foundering mechanical creature around the driver. <br />This nerfing process was also confounded by traffic, though sparse still a challenge in an old truck that would barely get to 30 mph and was further exacerbated by traffic lights, yet the old Dodge truck limped home like an African Elephant to die in it's sacred burial ground (or driveway, as the metaphor may be).<br /><img class="imageStyle" alt="old truck blues" width="530" height="353" src="page11_blog_entry401_2.jpg"/><br /><span style="color:#975222;"><em>That tire was aired up two days before the photo, </em></span><span style="color:#975222;"><em><br />(this truck is trying to die and doing a good job of it!)</em></span><br />The truck has waited in the driveway for suitable weather, parts and timing. The Old Truck has a tire that won't hold air for more than a few days. It has a new fuel pump, and a new fuel filter, there is gas in the old Dodge truck and still, it just won't start. The odometer says 114550 miles. The old Dodge truck sits waiting.<br /> <br /><span style="font-size:18px; font-weight:bold; color:#985206;"><em>Chuck Pace &copy;2010</em></span><span style="font:18px 'Lucida Grande', LucidaGrande, Verdana, sans-serif; font-weight:bold; color:#000f55;"><br /></span><script type="text/javascript" src="http://www.haloscan.com/load/chuckpace"> </script><a href="javascript:HaloScan('3_0110');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCount('3_0110');</script></a> | <a href="javascript:HaloScanTB('3_0110');" target="_self"><script type="text/javascript">postCountTB('3_0110'); </script></a></div></div> </div> </body> </html>