Uncle Fred

My Uncle Fred passed away quietly on Sunday. He was 90, going on 18. He was living proof that you had to grow old, but you didn't have to grow up.
He never married, had no kids. But what he did have was a whole bunch of adoring nieces and nephews. There were seven of us Warrens, and five Glahes, who thought the world of him. He was always up for a little wrestling or a piggy-back ride. He didn't have a mean bone in his body. He was an even tempered man, the salt of the earth.
He stayed on the farm with Grandfather and Grandmother, then later with my family after the Grandparents passed on. For most of those years the farm was a dairy farm. The pace of the work was as steady as a metronome. He was a little hard of hearing, so he had one of those old Big Ben Alarm Clocks. You could hear it ticking from clear upstairs. It went off at precisely the same time every day. Rain, shine, blizzard or Christmas. Twice a day milking. he seemed as much a part of the place as the fields and barn. When we finally got out of the dairy business, he took a couple of days off. He remarked that it was the first time he had been off of the place for more than a few hours in forty years.
He was the most honest person I have ever known. I would have trusted him to keep safe anything left in his care. The down side of that innocence and trust is that he believed that everyone else was just as honest as he was, which made him a very bad businessman. I remember my dad having to take some critter back that one our less honest neighbors had sold him and get our money back.
He taught me how to Trout fish in the high country mountain streams. For quite an number of years I was his fishing partner. We fished with spinner and worm, and were of about equal skill, which was considerably above average. We seldom got skunked, even in August then the water was low and warm and the fish inactive.
When I last saw him last April, he asked me to go fish the home waters for him, as he couldn't do it. As we were having a Family "Meeting of the Cousins" in August I assured him I would.
Mrs A had never gone stream fishing, so I took a few minutes before we got down to it and showed her how to do it, just like Uncle Fred had done for me so many years before. Of course she caught the first fish. We brought home a couple of keepers from Deep Creek, and I went to Sand Creek and picked up a couple of Brookies. At Mrs A's suggestion I gave them to my cousin Ginger to take back to Oregon so she could fry them up for Uncle Fred.
When he retired from farming, much to every ones astonishment, he joined the Peace Corps. He was stationed first in Dominica, and then in Morocco, teaching large animal husbandry. He had a bad knee, the result of having been kicked one too many times by a recalcitrant milk cow, and eventually it led him to leave the Peace corps.
He took his cut from the sale of the farm and bought a small place in Oregon near Eugene, where he lived with his sister my Aunt Rose, and some of my cousins.
He seemed indestructible, but finally he came down with diabetes. Never the best a taking care of himself, he neglected his health and it eventually let to the amputation of one of his lower legs. He never really recovered. Last spring they discovered he had inoperable bone cancer.
He slowly slid into poorer condition, and was being given morphine for the pain.
He is now in a place where there is no pain.
We have all been trading Uncle Fred stories for the last couple of days, and it is a real testament to the man that each of us has a special memory of the man.
So long, Uncle Fred, you were and are loved. We'll all be coming to join you sooner or later.

Still here

So I guess the world did not come to an end. Or maybe it has and we just weren't aware. At any rate we are at the beginning of another cycle of the Mayan Calendar. Maybe the psychic flux has reversed it's modulation or some such, but I can't tell the difference.
On the emotional scale of the holidays, I tend more toward the Scrooge end of the scale than the Tiny Tim end. Too much emotional stuff, too many expectations, too much hype.
When I went off to work on Wednesday, as I left I told Mrs A "I'm glad the Holidays are over and life can return to normal". Or what passes for normal.
My nephew and his wife brought a brand new person into the world on January. My first grand niece. Welcome to the big blue marble Charlotte Irene. May your days be filled with wonder and love.
R is out there scamming anyone who will listen to her lies, especially family, who have become enablers rather than supporters. Oh well, I have no control over anyone's behavior but my own, and sometimes barely that.
My sweetie bought me a reproduction 1928 Thompson sub machine gun (fully automatic) with the big circular drum. A very well made reproduction. Before you call in the ATF, let me say that it is an airsoft gun, and shoots 6mm plastic pellets. But it is still cathartic to go down in the basement and put it on full auto and squeeze off a few rounds. Political posters of your choice available.
It was really nice seeing family over the Holidays. Unfortunately the Matriarch of the family came down with the flu right before Christmas and was still under the weather on New Years Day. This is a very unusual occurrence. She NEVER gets the flu. Well, almost never. Raising seven kids has given her  immunity to just about every disease known to man. Get better Ma.
I already quit smoking. Had to give up drinking beer because it made my stomach hurt, lost the 15 lbs I wanted to lose. It's disgusting, it's like I've become A GROWN-UP!. The shame of it all. I don't make New Year's Resolutions, but the plans for 2013 are all positive. I've already booked at The Lake Quinault Lodge for the tenth anniversary of my proposing to Mrs A. Tenth Wedding Anniversary to follow in April. I want to get the Z up to snuff, repainted and sold this year, money to go towards finishing up Frankenhealey. Continues upgrades to the Westie. I put VW LT Truck mirrors on it over the Holidays. No more Floppy mirror syndrome!
So I hope everyone out there had a good Holiday season. Pull up your jeans, sholder your burdens and get on with it. We're all in the same boat.

Shopping

I hate Christmas shopping.
I hate crowds.
I hate the hype and commercialism.
On Saturday I went Christmas shopping with R and 'i'. I am still pissed at R. This is the first time I have seen her in a year and a half. I had set up a day to take her to lunch for her birthday last month but she stood me up and never called.
So I set it up to take her to buy some new shoes and a teddy bear for "i". Of course she was three hours late. By the time she called me from the bus stop, I was so pissed I almost told her where to go. But if I did that I couldn't tell her what I wanted to say, so I went and picked them up at the bus stop, and we went shopping.
After I got done chewing her out, We went to The Landing. We went to Ross to get a pair of shoes. The last time I saw "i" he was not talking. Now he jabbers constantly. I can't understand what he is saying half of the time, but he has his own unique way of putting things.
While R was looking at shoes, "i" and I went to the toys, and he was having a great time looking over the toys. When I tole him we had to go back to the shoe section he told me "No, I'm too happy". He also referred to Mrs A as "Lady Grampa". On the way over to The Landing he kept telling me I was going the wrong way. Must get that from "Lady Grampa".
He was a little hard to handle, hyperactive and not responding well. At one point I was thinking "What the heck have I gotten myself into?"
Since Ross had no stuffed animals, we went down the block to Target. While R and "i" were looking around I snuck over and picked out a teddy bear. Big and soft.
When he saw the Teddy Bear, his face lit up like a Christmas Ornament, and he gave it a big hug and a couple of kisses.
Suddenly all the frustration and anger and impatience went away, and the whole day was worth it.
The smile of a grandchild is the food for the soul of a grandparent.

Turkey Separation Anxiety

Yesterday Mrs A cleaned up the turkey carcass and put the left over meat in the freezer. No more turkey sandwiches. Sigh. Next weekend I will pull one of the packages out along with a quart of turkey stock and make a batch of turkey and sausage Jambalaya, so the turkey goodness is not quite over with.
When they changed the dressing on my finger last week, I got my first post-op look at the incision site. Looks pretty ugly. There must be a dozen stitches. Tomorrow I get the stitches out, but I will still be in a splint for at least another month.
My right ring finger is my enter key finger, so I have had to adjust my typing. It's not too bad. What is really frustrating is that when I rest my hand on my mouse, the splint makes contact with the right enter button on the mouse. I will be navigating away, and all the sudden the screen starts jumping around doing things I didn't want. It always takes me a minute to realize what is happening.
And of course I can't play guitar, since I use my right hand for forming the cords.
We got our Christmas present for each other yesterday. A Nikon D camera with a zoom lens. I went ahead and assembled it and started in on the instruction manual. Had to charge the battery. The camera did not come with a memory card, so I will need to get one before We can do much of anything with it. I will probably do that this weekend. The goal is to be moderately competent with it before Christmas. It has been a few years since I have had a decent camera, and the new ones have so much automatic function that it will take a while to figure out things like how to set aperture and shutter speed.
On the other hand, one of my co-workers, Melody is playing Christmas music all day. I enjoy most Christmas music as well as anyone else, but I am at the mercy of commercial DJ's. Please for the love of God, do NOT play "Grandma got run over by a Reindeer". It was not cute the first time, it was lame and it does not improve with age. And please have mercy, no "Holly Jolly Christmas"! it was a monument to mediocrity when it came out. No Mitch Miller, no Spike Jones and No damn two front teeth.
Bah Humbug

it's just for the drugs

When I went to the Hand Surgeon on Wednesday, he did a two hour surgery to reattach the tendon on the back of the last digit on my right ring finger. It will be in a splint for six to twelve weeks.
The good news is, I can't do the dishes. "Sorry dear, I'd really like to help you, but I can't get my hand wet."
Then on Friday, I went to the Dental clinic and had four teeth pulled and inserts installed.
All this just to get my hands on some drugs.
Seriously though, I hate Percocet. It makes me fuzzy headed if I take one and barely coherent if I take two. I also can't sleep if I take two. I wish there was something I could take that just made the pain go away.
Tomorrow I go in to get the dressing changed, so I will get a look at how the incision looks. The following week I get the stitches out.

Giving you the finger

The news, that is.
Went to the Hand Surgeon today. He looked at my finger and told me to come back next week.
I have an appointment next Wednesday to check it out.
The thinking is that by then, if  the tendon is going to reattach itself it should have started by then. If not, then operate and reattach it.
I bet you can guess which one I vote for.

Finger Poppin'

Little did I expect yesterday when I went to work that I would end up in the Hospital Emergency Room.
I have two desks out on the factory floor, and I alternate between the two. I have a laptop, so the idea is that I am supposed to be able to roll my file drawer and take my laptop and be ready to go in about ten minutes. It usually works fine.
But on Tuesday when I went to move, someone had stolen my docking station, keyboard, power brick and mouse.
So I had to scrounge some new equipment, and get it set up. I was underneath the desk, plugging in equipment. When I backed out, I raised up too soon and hit my head on the keyboard tray, knocking it loose and  it fell down and landed right on my ring finger, right below the end knuckle. It hurt like hell and bled pretty good.
I started feeling woozy, and started going into shock, so I put my head between my knees. At this point, people decided they needed to call in the fire department. I really wish they had just let me tough it out.
So the fire department medical unit showed up and checked me out. My blood pressure was a little low, but not alarmingly so. I told them I was fine, but they felt I needed to go to Boeing Medical, also known as the Death Clinic.
My boss walked me over. I figured I was going to get a couple of stitches and go back to work. I should have known better.
The Medical Tech was getting ready to clean and suture my finger when he took the end of my finger and pushed down on it to open up the cut to clean it. When he did, he popped the extensor tendon on the back of my finger.
AT that point they sent me to the Emergency Room at Valley General Hospital. They have this brand new fancy multi-million dollar state-of-the-art facility. I was impressed with the facility. Not so much the service. But then a cut finger wouldn't rate real high on the list of emergencies..
Several hours later I was released with a couple of stitches, a dressing and splint and a referral to an Orthopedic Surgeon.
If people had left me alone I would have superglued it, put an bandaid on it and went on my way.
So I am restricted in my work assignment to "Light typing or writing".
What the heck is "Light typing"
I have an appointment with an Orthopedic Surgeon on the 15th.
The things some people will do to get  a day away from work.

Politics

Political punits
In too much abundance
will surely lead you astray
a little reflection
and B.S. detection
will probably show you the way

Bring it on

Lately I have been on a run of bad luck.
Some times stuff just happens.
The washing machine gave out this week. Rather than attempt to fix it myself (which is what I would normally do ) I had Mrs A call a Repair Service. They wanted $529.00 to repair the old machine.
So of course we bought a new one, which was $679.00.
Saturday, we were supposed to go to our grandson's sixth birthday party, but when I woke up from my nap, there was doggy diarrhea and vomited blood in the music room. Monk was hiding and looking mighty ashamed of himself.
So instead of going to a birthday we spent the afternoon and early evening in the veterinary emergency room.they never did figure out what was going on, except that the x-rays didn't show anything unusual. so for $300.00 we learned nothing.
So it goes.
So if you go with the superstition that bad luck comes in threes, I should be in the clear.
Kitchen sink
washing machine
Doggy vomit
done

Plumbing

God. I hate plumbing.
The kitchen sink was dripping, so I needed to get to work on it.
Just a simple job of replacing the washer, right? Right? Right?
Wrong.
I replaced the 00 washer, but instead of it dripping from the faucet, it started dripping underneath the sink. No Fair! I didn't even touch anything under the sink except to turn the water supply to the hot water tap off.
The kitchen sink fixture is a cheap one with plastic handles, and I had a different one with brass handles in the basement that someone gave me, so I decided to swap out the fixtures at the same time. I figured I would need to fix the brass fixture, because nobody would give away a solid brass fixture unless there was something wrong with it.
This was shortly after I started to pass a kidney stone. I had to rebuild the fixture, put it on, try it out, take it back apart and fix something else, put it back on. Every time I did this it irritated the kidney stone and I had to stop. After two weeks of working on it off and on, it still leaks, The compression seal at the bottom of the tap fixture for the cold water tap won't seal properly.
Well, I was going to swap out the sink anyway, so as soon as I get a day off, I am going to swap the old beat-up porcelain sink for a stainless steel sink.
While I'm at it I will go down and buy a good washerless fixture.
Meanwhile, I have tools and materials scattered all over the kitchen, the cleaning supplies  usually under the sink are scattered all over the kitchen, and a mixing bowl is under the sink catching the drip. It drips one drip every hour or so, but Mrs A. is getting impatient. For some reason, after working a ten hour day, I don't have the energy to tackle anything that isn't an emergency.
That and the fact that I won't go down and pick out a fixture without taking her along. So far it looks like I might get Sunday off, so I know what I will be doing.
God, I hate plumbing.

Stones

No, not the rolling Stones, although they could be called the moving stones.
Stones as in Kidney stones.
When I was working on the Westie, I got up from laying on my back, walked around doing something (I don't remember what) and it felt like somebody walked up and stuck an ice pick in my right kidney. This was a familiar feeling, as my body manufactures and disposes of kidney stones on a regular regimen. After I got done with the OH SH*T< OH SH*T< OH SHIT, I went back to work on the car. Since the pains did not completely go away, I called the consulting nurse and told her I was pretty sure I was passing a kidney stone, should I bother to come in?
She said it would be good to get a real diagnosis. Although she didn't say it, I got the distinct impression she thought that any one who does self diagnosis has a fool for a doctor.
So I went in and they x-rayed and I have three stones. Two on the left. one on the right. They are small and non-obstructing, so they sent me home with the instruction to take more drugs and come back if nothing changes. I declined a prescription for more Percocet 'cause I just don't like the stuff because it leaves me too foggy headed. (No remarks from the peanut gallery please)
Well, it has been two weeks, and I am still having occasional problems. Most of the time I am fine, but every once in a while someone runs up behind me and ice picks my kidney.
I have been working on the kitchen sink, putting in a new fixture and lines, so I have been laying on my back working at arms length. It has never bothered me when I am working, but after I get up and walk around it will kick in. Especially at night when I go to lay down.
I e-mailed the doc and told him it was maybe a pulled muscle, but he sticks with his original diagnosis.
Guess I'll just stick it out.

Naga Bhut Jolokia

Also known as the Ghost Pepper.
I like moderately hot stuff. A little burn is good for the digestion. Jalapenos are not particularly hot, Chilis Torredos are warm, but anything hotter and you begin to lose the flavor of what they are in and get into the territory of just macho.
I admit it. Sometimes I do stupid stuff just for the macho.
So when one of the guys at work brought around the Ghost Chili beef jerky, I took a piece.
In case you don't know, the Ghost Pepper was recognised by Guinness world records as the hottest pepper in the world, with over on million scoville units. It will eat it's way through latex gloves. It can cause blisters.
Your face will turn bright red, tears will run down, your nose will run, and it will be difficult to breathe.
And that's not talking about what it will do to your digestive system.
Let's just say burn twice and leave it at that.
Oh, and by the way, be sure to wash your hands before you rub your nose, or wipe your eyes or any other delicate skin.
Don't ask how I know

And God Laughed

We were going to spend the weekend at Scatter Creek Campground at the south end of Lake Taqualpa, an incredible beautiful setting this time of year. The wild rice growing in the shallow parts of the lake is brilliant green, the channel blue, reflecting the sky. The far shore is the dark green of pine and fir, and above them the mountains rise abruptly with their blacks and grays.
I have been there many times, but never to photograph it. That was my goal.
The dirt road is ten miles of incredibly bad road, with chuckholes and rocks the whole way.
I had just mentioned to MRS A "I really like the fact that the Westfalia has such Good ground clearance, I really don't have to worry about hitting a rock and putting a hole in the pan".
When will I ever learn?
God snickered and threw a particularly nasty rock in my path.
BAM!
Shortly thereafter the oil light came on.
I stopped and went to the back to check the oil. None showed on the dip stick. I climbed under the Van, and there was a hole the size of your fist in the pan.
Of course there was no cell service. Ten miles to the nearest pavement, twenty to the nearest town.
Luckily a Game Warden came by right after that and stopped.
I asked him to call me a tow truck.
An hour later the tow truck showed up. Two and a half hours and $810 later we were home.
I went to change out the pan, and tweaked a muscle in my back, so I had to send it to the shop. It will be $425.00 to put in a new pan. A steel pan this time, not cast aluminum.
With a skid plate made out of 1/4" plate steel.
But I'm not going to brag about how I don't have to worry about rocks.
And I'll probably slow down some when I'm off the pavement.

Bad Mojo

What is more powerful than a father's love?
Drugs.
What is more powerful than a mother's devotion?
Drugs.
What is more powerful than Maternal instinct?
drugs
What is more powerful than love of self?
Drugs.
After more than a year of absolutely no contact with my daughter, R, I got a call from my ex yesterday. The minute I heard her voice, the bottom of my stomach went down a couple of feet. This could not be good.
Was R. dead? My first thought.
In the hospital, O.D, in jail?
Not yet.
Had a fight with the a-hole she lives with, and he got physical with her and is in jail supposedly. (I have seen her when she is coming down and she is meaner than a snake in the blind.)
Did she call me?
No
She knows that as long as she is choosing drugs over caring for her son, I want nothing to do with her. So she tries to get her mother to do her dirty work for her.
I have bought into this so many times that I should have it down by now.
Will I drive up to Everett and get her? NO. No Christmas call, no father's day call, no birthday card or call. Nothing.
A relationship is supposed to go both ways. I need to get something out of it other than pain.
I decline to participate in her self mutilation. I will net be an enabler.
But it still makes me feel like shit.

Politics

Not that I think Politics has become divisive or anything, but if President Obama wants to be reelected, I think all he has to do is write an official memo stating that it his position that he is strongly in favor of breathing.
The Republicans would therefore have to come out strongly against breathing, thereby eliminating all opposition.

Home again

Vacation was wonderful.
Two weeks of wandering the back roads, mainly in Idaho.
We started out at Lake Easton State Park, just over the top of Snoqualmie Pass. We spent a couple of days camping there with friends. A good time was had by all. We went into Roslyn to The Brick for hte Macho Nachos and a couple of beers, played cards, told stories, and took a couple of hikes. Not to mention eating huckleberries right off of the bush.
On to southern Idaho. We spent the night in Emmett and went out to Sage Hen Reservoir to one of the campgrounds. Not a bad Park, but there were no showers and the outhouse was less than sanitary, so we only stayed for one night.
Then on to Peninsula State Park outside McCall Idaho. Beautiful little town and a very nice campground with nice modern facilities. We stayed a couple of days.
The trip up The North Fork of the Payette river was really beautiful. We stopped several times to just watch the water. Over the top and down the other side to follow the Clearwater. We crossed over the River at Ororins and went way back in the woods to Dent Acres Campground. We had only intended to stay one night, but the weather forcast was for 106 Degrees, and we didn't want to travel in that heat. So we hunkered down and hooked up the Air Conditioner and hung around the Westfalia all day. I spent the day under a tree whittlin' and reading, Managed to pick up a pretty good sunburn on my upper arms.
Then on to Sandpoint. We spent two nights in a Howard Johnson's.
I had promised Uncle Fred I would fish Deep Creek for him while I was up there, so Mrs a and I did. She Had never stream fished before, so I took a while when we first started out to show her how it was done and why a particular strategy worked. She caught the first fish, a little rainbow trout. We had a good time walking down the middle of the stream, talking and fishing. I caught the only two fish worth keeping ( a couple of rainbow trout about 8 and 10 inches). We went back to the Hotel, and she took a nap while I went back out to fish Sand Creek, where I picked up a couple of 8 inch Brookies to add to the take.
We got together with the family and went out to the Western Pleasures Ranch for a catered dinner. A beautiful lodge out in the woods. Hay ride before dinner, good home cooking.
Larry Glahe and his lovely wife, Jackie hosted the reunion. We went back to their house for nightcaps.
Saturday we were supposed to go out on the lake in their houseboat the Alibi, but muskrats had chewed holes in the gas line and after replacing the line, the engine never would run right. Rather than run the risk of breaking down in the middle of the lake we just partied on right there on the dock.
Prime rib dinner home made cherry and huckleberry pies for dessert. Much beer and other beverage was consumed, tall tales were told, and most of the world's problems were solved. My face hurt from  mso much laughter and smiling.
Then back home on Sunday.
My blood sugar was great the whole time, I actually lost five pounds, and I felt great.
I have come to the conclusion That for me health, I need more vacations.

Wandering off

Sunday we set off on a two week wander. We only have two firm dates. We are meeting friends at Lake Easton State Park for a couple of days at this end, and are meeting family at Sandpoint Idaho at the other end. In between we are wandering around in Idaho, starting at Emmett to see our daughter,SIL and grandkid, then going up Hiway 95 N all the way to Sandpoint camping and fishing our way up the spine of Idaho.
Two weeks in the Westfalia. We will probably stop at a motel here and there depending on the facilities along the way. We can go two days without a shower, but three is a little much. I can do it, but Mrs A. couldn't without being very uncomfortable.

GEARS

I love the Westie, but there are a couple of things I want to improve yet.
I had talked about doing a syncro conversion, but the bill is around ten grand. Not really justifiable in my book if I want to retire any time soon.
The rear gearing in the vanagon automatic is way low, so at freeway speed (70 MPH) you are doing about 4ooo RPM. It is not approaching the redline of the engine, but is still higher that I would like. It affects both the gas mileage and the wear and tear on the engine and transmission.
I currently get around 17 mpg with the Subaru engine transplant, Not terrible for a camper/SUV, but not all that great.
While surfing the net last week, I found a site where they just completed a couple of years of experimenting and testing to put together a higher gear ratio set for the Vanagon automatic. The gears are 3.27 as opposed to the stock 4.05 gears. According to them this translates into much better gas mileage (21 as opposed to 17 MPG) and lower RPMs at speed (3500 versus 4100 RPM). The downside is of course the cost. The ring and pinon set is $1200, and figure another $1500 to put it in.
With the price of gas where it is, it will pay for itself in the long run.

Uncles and Cousins and such

Spent the weekend in Coberg,  Oregon. My cousin Ginger lives there. We were close when we were growing up, but their family moved away about when we hit our teens, and I lost contact with her for about 35 years. When we finally got back together, it was like we had never lost contact.
Going to see her was enough of a reason to drive the five hours, but there were a couple of other reasons for making the trip. My Uncle Ben and his wife Vicki were visiting from Morelia Mexico. They don't get up this way very often, so it was great seeing them. He had just received an award that made him "Generalissimo de Morelia" the highest award a foreigner can receive from the city/county. He has already received the highest award a foreigner can receive from the Government of Mexico.
The reason he was up this way, is because his Brother, my Uncle Fred was in the hospital, and in addition to being diabetic and having one foot amputated, has been diagnosed with bone cancer, so his future is very uncertain.
My Uncle Fred and I were fishing buddies for years. Over on the farm, on Sunday, after milking and after church, we pretty much always went fishing. Stream fishing for trout. That area of Idaho had some of the best trout fishing water anywhere.
When we went to see him in the hospital, when he saw me he started out with "Remember the time you and I went up Deep Creek? The limit was 15 fish and we brought home 30 trout and one whitefish." That is indeed one of my favorite fishing memories. the biggest fish was 18", several around 15", not a one under 10". I have never seen a finer stringer of fish.
 Long gone are the days of 15 fish limits.
We traded fishing stories and other matters of great importance.
He knows that we are having a family reunion in Sandpoint in August. When I was about to leave, He stopped me and said "Allen, I want you to do me a favor. When you go to the reunion, I want you to go fish Deep Creek for me."
Of course I will, but it won't be easy. So many memories are tied up in the stretch of creek between the two bridges.
I hope it rains so no one can see the tears in my eyes.

So damn slow

Patience is not one of my better virtues. I admit it. Everything just takes about five times as long as it should to accomplish.
I had decided to get rid of my Jensen Healey parts car, so I advertised it on Craigslist. I know I could have made a quite a bit of money parting it out, but just didn't want to go through the hassle of tearing it apart, listing the parts on E-bay and arranging shipping and all that. So I advertised it for $200.00 as a parts car.
I received a couple of inquiries, and then a guy operating a parts yard offered my $150. Hey, I got it for free, and took the stuff I wanted, so anything I got for it was just gravy.
It took the guy a week to come and get it. But it is now gone.
The Westie is in the shop. They replaced the skylight. I asked them to figure out what was draining the battery, and they are still working on it. I delivered it to them last Friday. I need it by this Friday. I don't feel so bad about not being able to figure out where the drain on the battery was coming from since the experts can't figure it out either.
We are supposed to head out Saturday morning for Oregon, and I am starting to get a little antsy. There are things I want to check on and get packed up for the trip. I hate waiting until the last minute.
Some times you have to slow down and let things happen at their own pace.
But I don't have to like it.