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Michigan is known for more then just Michael Moore. It is also the land of my birth and a place of raw beauty. You are looking west toward Minnesota along the shore of Lake Superior. To the right and on the bottom is the Edmond Fitzgerald. Farther to the right is Canada. Behind me is Whitefish Point. To the left is land that was timbered by my Grandfather.

My name is Queenie

My name is queenie.
My name is queenie, and I served a man. I died today, but before I went into that dark night I got to tell a small segment of a story. It is the story of my owner and my love, the man I served for over thirty years. The man who would not give me up even though my bones were old and brittle, and I ached in every fiber of my being. As you can see I'm a vintage Ford LTD. I was bought by a man as a new car many years ago, 1971 I believe. My man is a very powerful and well thought of man though I believe I was proceeded in death in some ways by my man. My man was a Football Coach at a major southern university where he compiled the best winning percentage of all that had coached there. He then retired and became a state senator that represented his people as only a southern gentleman would, with only their best interests at heart. It was my duty to ferry the Senator back and forth to work, and his many engagements including family activities. I have been very fortunate to have had the best care by mechanics that loved me, and my man. As the years rolled by and parts became impossible to get, my mechanics made and improvised parts to keep me alive. I've always been proud to be the Senators Queen, and He always proud of me. Time is a friend of no man, or car and we both have aged. My beloved man, the one I've shielded lo these many years is ill with the most foul of the devils work, Alzheimers. I know that I'm his memory train, storing thirty years of thoughts and memories but I grow weary. It is time now for me to pass and so I shall among friends that have cared for me these many years, only to await you dear Senator.
My name is queen, and I served a man.

All men are created equal

I had noticed that one of the posters on ITM had made light of one of our friends. Said she was the most childish person he had ever seen post. I was remiss in answering right away but decided that it had occupied too much of my time. Here is my response to you and those that think that way.

Ole Abe had it wrong when he spoke of all men being created equal, woman too! We come from many backgrounds that define us. Some of these things are economic, some are race, and some are class. We don't all get dealt the same deck of cards as one another nor the same means of dealing with the cards. The simple truth is that some of us are idiots. Lets not get a big head and think NO NOT ME!!! Yes You and Me and the guy next door!!! Wanna talk about intellect? gotta see the bell curve before we judge. I hate to call a person a dumbass under any circumstance because of life experience. I have passed the test and failed the test depending on who was administering it. Lets not forget cultural differences and the time of day can have a role in what we all think and perceive. Somewhere along the way we seem to have lost sight of the fact that some are more powerful then others, and with that comes some responsibility. The responsibility to act like a gentleman would be a good place to start. Don't worry I see the log in my eye as well.

Okey doke. Here it is.

1... Things that scare me.
a. The prospect of a long, lingering, degenerative death. I'd rather make my exit real quick, thank you very much.
b. Losing my eyesight and my brain before I can read all the books on my bookshelf.
c. The big crash when oil runs out. (I won’t be here, but my kids will be.)

2...People who make me laugh.
a. My staff at work. Coffee breaks are a riot.
b. Stephinkeln (aka, da 12th Anon) at ITM
c. My totally free-spirited daughter and her free-spirited friends.

3..Things I hate the most.
a. Political correctness.
b Apologists and appeasers
c. Arrogance.

4...Things I don't understand.
a. Why time passes very, very slowly when you’re young and at warp speed when you get old.
b. Lefties. (I guess I covered them in # 3)
c. People who are sour and negative all the time. (I’d put this one in # 3, too, but you won’t let me have four.)

5...Things I'm doing right now.
a. Answering Tom’s tag.
b. Hunched over my keyboard. (No wonder my back hurts.)
c. Thinking about the long day I have to put in tomorrow.

6...Things I want to do before I die.
a. Write a book.
b. Get fit.
c. Help my kids grow spiritually by doing that myself.

7... Things I can do.
a. Take risks.
b. Lay back and enjoy the journey.
c. Let go the things I cannot change.

8... Ways to describe my personality.
a. Analytical.
b. Funny.
c. Accepting (of most things).

9...Things I can't do.
a. Run a mile.
b. Any math more complicated than grade school arithmetic.
d. Vote democrat. (I can’t vote Republican, either. Hehehehehehe. ;-))

10...Things I think you should listen to (in no particular order).
a. The sounds of nature on a warm summer evening, far out in the country.
b. Children playing.
c. Your conscience.

11...Things you should never listen to.
a. Whiners and complainers.
b. Yourself, when you’re in a bad mood.
c. Self-righteous jerks, like Snot from Oregon and Leech from the Institution.

12...Things I'd like to learn.
a. Tai Chi.
b. How to do more on the computer. (No, I didn’t forget to change this one. I just want to do this, too.)
c. More about history.

13...Favorite foods.
a. Anything that I don’t have to cook myself.
b. Old fashioned Sunday dinners, with a roast of some dead farm animal.
c. Anything with a gazillion calories in it. Why is that?

14...Beverages I drink regularly.
a. Milk.
b. Orange juice.
c. Ice cold water

15...Shows I watched as a kid.
a. Bonanza.
b. Gun Smoke.
c. The Ed Sullivan Show.

16...People I'm tagging.
a. Sorry. Don’t know enough bloggers to feel comfortable doing this.

Anyway, thanks Tom, for giving me the keys to your blog. You may live to regret it. ;-)

Your friend, Louise.

I got tagged.

Time to get to Indigo Reds tag.

The MEME of three.
1... Things that scare me.
a. Losing a child.
B. Losing my wife.
C. Liberals.

2...People who make me laugh.
a. Andrea H.
B. The folks at Zipperfish.net. (Reginald)
C. My Dad.

3...Things I hate the most.
a. Cancer.
B. Bullies.
C. Arrogant people.

4...Things I don't understand.
a. How all the smoke gets inside electronic devices.
B. Why some people beat someone just because they can.
C. Why I can't let that pass.

5...Things I'm doing right now.
a. Answering Indi's tag.
B. Sipping a good Michigan red wine.
C. Waiting for the cloths to dry.

6...Things I want to do before I die.
a. Feel the breast of a female body builder.
B. Feel the breast of any other woman that's ok with it! :)
C. Fly an ultra light.

7... Things I can do.
a. Fix almost anything mechanical.
B. Speed read.
C. Listen.

8... Ways to describe my personality.
a. Outgoing.
B. Funny.
c.Tough.

9...Things I can't do.
a.Spell
B. Surgery.
C. Vote democrat.

10...Things I think you should listen to.
a. Wind and rain in the trees.
B. The sound of a fish jumping on a cool quiet morning.
C. Your conscience.

11...Things you should never listen to.
a. Rap
B. Liberals.
C. Nay sayers.

12...Things I'd like to learn.
a. How to ignore idiots.
B. How to do more on the computer.
C. How to write.

13...Favorite foods.
a. Filet Mignon with Garlic potatoes and snow peas.
B. Pork tenderloin.
C. Pizza.

14...Beverages I drink regularly.
a. Good Beer.
B. Wine.
C. Gatorade

15...Shows I watched as a kid.
a. The Night Stalker.
B. The Al E Cat show.
C. Wild wild West.

16...People I'm tagging.
a. Louise at Search. http://researchforafd.blogspot.com/
B. The educated Shoprat. http://gluxian.blogspot.com/
C. Bandit.http://bandit36.blogspot.com/

Pat Tillman

I will edit and have something to say in a day or two.

Time off

I'm going on vacation. Be back in a week. Peace all!

Are you ready?

Are you ready for the changing price of transportation? I believe the price of gas is going to near double in the next year and a half. I don't really need to get into the details of why I think this, just look at the middle east today. What I want to do is give you some knowledge about the new technology from a mechanics point of view. Remember that knowledge is power. I finally got out of my lil suv, (Jeep Cherokee) and into a newer Honda Civic. Country of origin is United States, and it gets 38 mpg on the highway. I chose this car over some other forms of transportation that are very fuel efficient. (Jessie the horse) In today's world there is a lot of (MIS)information about how to save energy when traveling, and what car to travel in.I'll try to give you the skinny on some of the popular choices. First let me say that we will not run out of oil any time soon. The reason is that as the price of a gallon of gas goes up the usage goes down. Sooner or later alternate sources will be cheaper. Is there a magic bullet that we can use now and keep from having to support the terrorists in the middle east with the purchase of their oil? No there isn't, but we do have many little sticks we can and should throw at them. My very efficient Honda is one of them. I noticed a man commenting on ITM about electric cars and how great they are. I too am a fan but know that half the things he said were not true of most electric cars. We have all heard about the Hybrid cars from Honda Toyota and Ford. Sound to good to be true? It is too good to be true, and I know why. GM has been making cars that can burn ethanol for years, and they work very well but is that the answer? Stay tuned.

Picking your battles.

I had an experience at work the other day that went beyond the normal. This says a lot because what is normal for my life is kinda out there. (reference the five foot grinch in the post last week)
I went next door to purchase some Gatorade to combat the high heat and humidity we have been having. While standing in line I heard a commotion behind me. I turned and saw the manager of the gas station yelling at a young black man to drop em and get the hell out! Also yelling for the man behind the counter to call 911. When I turned around I saw the man in question carrying three eighteen packs of Bud Light with a large black woman pulling on him and yelling. (she was the manager) He got out the door and was running across the street in seconds. On that day the place was being cleaned by a crew from the corporation that owns the station. I then saw a large overweight white male go tearing hell bent for leather after the thief. He chased him into the ghetto across the street. I've been in this neighborhood for about ten years now, and know a few folks around. I know it's no place for a white man to be fighting a black man over some Bud, especially Bobs Bud. Yes I know the owner of the corporation, slightly. We drink at the same bar sometimes. He would have a fit if his guy got hurt doing this so I elected to get involved. I thought it would be better if the man following had some help. It was about nine in the AM and the temps were about eighty two already with about ninety percent humidity. I had too much to drink the night before. This day was going to hell fast! We followed the thief about a block up the road and then a left turn into a side yard of an apartment building. We asked repeatedly for him to stop, saying we would continue following until he stopped. He stopped! He then set his beer down while we began to catch our breath. (not lying here) He then pulls a full sized ball bat out of his pants! Saying I wish you would!!! He comes at the man I was with. I circled around to get behind the thief. The thief, at a distance of about three feet does a Willy Mays imitation and tries to knock this mans head slam off! For a fat guy he could really move! He ducked the blow (barely) and jumped back. I, at that time, should have tackled the thief but was too far away! I couldn't make up the fifteen feet between us in time. I wasn't in a real hurry to close the gap as these guys have all kinds of things in and on their person that you don't want to touch. Needles an such. I feinted towards him to take the pressure off the other man, causing the thief to turn and run into a large mass of Kudzu. Kudzu is a vine that grows up to ten feet a day and can stop a battle tank! I, at this time, was talking to the police and asking them to hurry! I turned to follow the thief into the Kudzu. About four feet in I lost sight of him and everything else! They had a room carved into this stuff! It was dark and he was not where I could see him. I could hear the other man and several people from the neighborhood yelling at me to get the hell back out where they were. At that time I decided the beer wasn't worth all this. It was after all Bobs beer. I backed out and went back to work. What I didn't know was that I'd chased him right into the arms of the law as they came up the next street. I chose not to get into a fight and he got caught. Picking your battles! I won't be doing anything like that again.

Page two

So now we wonder what the solutions are to these, and other problems we are faced with. Can't say I'd do the right thing but here is what I'd do. Iraq: Hang Muqtada from a public lightpole and leave him there for no less then three months. Anybody wanna come get him? Shoot them. Shoot on sight anyone caught carrying a weapon in public. Use metal detectors (hand held) at check points to find weapons. Set up check points at random, no more then one hour in any single spot. Any foreign fighters found would be shot on sight and their bodies shipped back to the country of origin and dumped from ten thousand feet. Run all schools in Iraq according to American standards. Close down any mosque or madras preaching violence. Lebanon: Give an ultimatum to disarm Hezbollah and secure the border with Israel or face an invasion to protect the border by establishing a permanent buffer zone. Don't like it? Tough shit, come and do something about it. You'd rather face us then Hezbollah? Don't think so. Syria: Massive air bombardment of all government and military targets along with anyone else that stickes their head up and bitches about it. It's time Syrians died for their little war instead of leaving that part to others. Iran: Give them about one week to get rid of the nuke technology. If they even so much as say one damn thing take em out hard. I'm talking Nuke bunker busters followed up with conventional bombardment of all military targets. KSA and Egypt. You have one year to hold democratic elections and let the people decide their own fate. Said fate will be meted out by the U.S. military. All madrases to be destroyed. And now the bonus round. North Korea: You have taken far too many American lives to just let you off the hook. Bury small battlefield nukes along the border with South Korea. Tell China it's their baby to control, then starve them. One more missile launch will be met with a high value target being destroyed. No-body gives a damn how big their army is if kept in a small area. Think about killing Fire ants. Pakistan: Shut down the madrases and educate the people in something else besides Islam. Any high level terrorists caught to be hung by the neck and left on public display until the bodies have ceased to be offensive. This act is meant to inflame. Fire ants again. Kick a mound and get them out in the open.

The Midle East, my view

Did anyone read the USA Today the other day. It had a picture of an old woman waving a couple of pistols or some such. She was celebrating Hesbollahs attack on Israel.
Funny, she didn't look like an islamofascist to me. She is gonna drown in her own blood before this is over, taking god only knows how many of her begotten with her. I gotta tell ya I'm just about sick of that whole arab/muslim mindset. Never have I seen a people so bent on bloodshed and destruction. I have heard that Israel is over reacting to incidents of late. I dunno, I'd get kinda tired of scraping my friends and neighbors off the sides of buildings and outa the street. I'm also not much on the idea that it was palastinian land before Israel came into being. I could be wrong but I think it was a part of Jordan. What would they do with the land anyway? Sit and bitch cause no-body would feed them? It is my belief that those folks were born to fight, and islam keeps em stupid enough to. On that note we turn to Iraq! I have come to believe that there are some very fine people in Iraq, but by no means a majority. The majority seem islam stupid. They really don't have time for Jew killing, so they kill one another for being the wrong type of muslim. Even through all that they still find time to protest the war Israel is waging for her survival. Bloodthirsty bastards will take shots at our forces or their own people but scream bloody murder when the retaliation takes the lives of their loved ones.
How about them innocents? What innocents? You mean the Lebanese? The ones that won't purge their own democratic country of the terrorists? Makes them as bad as the French during WWll. It's funny to see the Syrians willing to fight to the last Palestinian, and The Iranians willing to fight to the last Syrian.
Geez everyone fallin all over themselves to push the other into a fight. Remember highschool? On that note lets look at The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. Sorry gang but any country where one of our fighter pilots has to be escorted around and wear a vail cause she is a woman aint no ally of ours. Don't even get me started on cultural correctness! (my word) More women then men are born in this world, and keeping them under subjugation is never correct. What was that? Islam? Sigh! Continued

Thanks to Louise

Words To Taps
(Note: there are no "official" words to Taps, below are the most popular.)Day is done,gone the sun,From the hills,from the lake,From the skies.All is well,safely rest,God is nigh.Go to sleep,peaceful sleep,May the soldieror sailor,God keep.On the landor the deep,Safe in sleep.Love, good night,Must thou go,When the day,And the nightNeed thee so?All is well.Speedeth allTo their rest.Fades the light;And afarGoeth day,And the starsShineth bright,Fare thee well;Day has gone,Night is on.Thanks and praise,For our days,'Neath the sun,Neath the stars,'Neath the sky,As we go,This we know,God is nigh.

I first learned the words to taps in summer camp as a child.

The Grinch

Well junk week resumed today at work with the arival of a fifty ford flathead, a 70 Toyota land cruisor, and The Grinch. The grinch was set down outside and next to our building by a nut. The man yelled and cursed Grinchy, then left for an hour only to return and yell and curse Grinchy again. He then left for about three hours then returned and took Grinchy with him.

Blackbirds an such

Ohh do you remember these? The black one is for sale...first 25 takes it. Sheesh. The other one is a one owner til death seperates them.

Aint to pretty in the heat of the afternoon. Temps about 100 in my area. Thought I'd mess with my new camera phone. Not a bad pic for such an ugly topic huh? I will get serious next post....Maybe

Life, dreams and yonder the next hill

K it's time to stick my nose in. Everyone has heard that life is short and to live hard, get what you can. My wife is fond of telling me life is an adventure, and with her it is. I was asked by a professional once what I liked best about my wife. I answered, "She takes me along on her adventures!" I moved about a thousand miles from home to be with my wife, leaving kids, parents, sister, friends galore, a business, and a career. Not a day went by that I didn't question myself or my motives. As things didn't go well I was tempted to throw in the towel on many occasions. It's been nine years now and I'm finally feeling at home. In the early months the homesickness was like a fist in the face. I was bewildered and lost. didn't have the social contacts I was used to, and no one to help sort it out. All the more reason I'm amazed at our forefathers coming to this land never to return home. As time goes by you make new friends, gain the respect of new groups. A partial list of problems would include some language issues, behavior issues, (we don't think and act the same under like circumstances) homesickness, and no support group. (who ya gonna talk to when you and the misses are fighting) pluses? Yep there's a few. Self confidence is gained. Financial discipline is a must. New friends, climate, and sites to see. This is just a small sample of what one is up against when one leaves their home space. The best thing I can say is that it's important to know and be comfortable with who and what you are. It's a mighty big apple out there. Make sure you can chew the bite you take.

The fourth

I am the Flag
by Ruth Apperson Rous
I am the flag of the United States of America.
I was born on June 14, 1777, in Philadelphia.
There the Continental Congress adopted my stars and stripes as the national flag.
My thirteen stripes alternating red and white, with a union of thirteen white stars in a field of blue, represented a new constellation, a new nation dedicated to the personal and religious liberty of mankind.
Today fifty stars signal from my union, one for each of the fifty sovereign states in the greatest constitutional republic the world has ever known.
My colors symbolize the patriotic ideals and spiritual qualities of the citizens of my country.
My red stripes proclaim the fearless courage and integrity of American men and boys and the self-sacrifice and devotion of American mothers and daughters.
My white stripes stand for liberty and equality for all.
My blue is the blue of heaven, loyalty, and faith.
I represent these eternal principles: liberty, justice, and humanity.
I embody American freedom: freedom of speech, religion, assembly, the press, and the sanctity of the home.
I typify that indomitable spirit of determination brought to my land by Christopher Columbus and by all my forefathers - the Pilgrims, Puritans, settlers at James town and Plymouth.
I am as old as my nation.
I am a living symbol of my nation's law: the Constitution of the United States and the Bill of Rights.
I voice Abraham Lincoln's philosophy: "A government of the people, by the people,for the people."
I stand guard over my nation's schools, the seedbed of good citizenship and true patriotism.
I am displayed in every schoolroom throughout my nation; every schoolyard has a flag pole for my display.
Daily thousands upon thousands of boys and girls pledge their allegiance to me and my country.
I have my own law—Public Law 829, "The Flag Code" - which definitely states my correct use and display for all occasions and situations.
I have my special day, Flag Day. June 14 is set aside to honor my birth.
Americans, I am the sacred emblem of your country. I symbolize your birthright, your heritage of liberty purchased with blood and sorrow.
I am your title deed of freedom, which is yours to enjoy and hold in trust for posterity.
If you fail to keep this sacred trust inviolate, if I am nullified and destroyed, you and your children will become slaves to dictators and despots.
Eternal vigilance is your price of freedom.
As you see me silhouetted against the peaceful skies of my country, remind yourself that I am the flag of your country, that I stand for what you are - no more, no less.
Guard me well, lest your freedom perish from the earth.
Dedicate your lives to those principles for which I stand: "One nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."
I was created in freedom. I made my first appearance in a battle for human liberty.
God grant that I may spend eternity in my "land of the free and the home of the brave" and that I shall ever be known as "Old Glory," the flag of the United States of America.

Page two

In Racing we had a saying that was used at the bars in the winter when we would all get together. "If yer racin yer cheatin, if yer talkin yer lyin." It wasn't really cheatin so much as an intelligent reading of the rules. That's what I used. Some of the teams were blatant about cheating, and the tech inspectors had no clue how to catch them. Enter Billrilla. Bill would wear work cloths and show no affiliation with me or our group in the early days and at any new track. He could wander around and chat with the other teams as they worked on their cars, getting a good look at what they had. He would try to verify what he saw, and then bring me the info. In some cases I would just sit on the info and we would just go out and win. Every once in a while when the cheatin got way outa hand I would wait til we lost and then file a complaint to the tech guy. Usually had to hold their hands while they looked for what I told them. We gave that up after a while when they started shutting hoods at the sight of Bill. Bill called a few on the things he had seen, and some wanted to fight him. I made sure he didn't hurt anyone but let him answer the challenges after the night was over. Funny how everyone had somewhere else to be when the officials were out of the picture. One time we were working on a car in my shop. I was under it and Bill was on top in the engine bay. We were using some heavier then air solvents to clean stuff. I was breathing the fumes and soon noticed the world going black. The last thing I remember was reaching out and hitting Bill on the leg, and then I was out. When I came to, I was outside and on my side with Bill asking me if I was ok. If I hadn't hit him on the leg it might have been five or more minutes before he would have noticed a problem. As it was he had me outa there in seconds. Thanks bro.

My lil brothers page.

Billrilla is my lil brother. I don't remember exactly who named him that, I think the ex wife. The reason is simple. Bill V, the half brother to my best friend in highschool is somewhat an ape! The fun little boy we used to tease and Bro Mike used to call "The Runt" has an uncommon strength about his upper body. Bill is a very gifted auto tech that can build anything, and has the analytical skills to be among the best. Bill didn't have the cash to own his own shop so he worked for me or his brother Mike. His loss is our gain. This worked out well because I was never sure if Bill was comfortable with his ass swinging in the breeze. If something blew up it was always better if it was Toms or Greggs but it was in reality as much Bills. I remember one time we built a stationwagon to race on the street. "The Magenta Mauler" it was called for its purple and chrome engine. (built for ex wife.) The damn thing ate the starter and ring gear, requiring the removal of the transmission to fix the gear. Bill had assembled the unit and I disassembled it. When I got to take the ring gear off I couldn't budge the bolts. I propped my feet against the wrenches and pushed to no avail. Bill, with a double stack of wrenches tried and broke a couple of wrenches before getting the thing loose. That is where he got the nickname Billrilla. If Bill tightened it it was tight! Godamighty tight! Continued

Friendship

I want to say a few things about friendship. Some say that a man is truly blessed if he can count one true friend in this world. I've many! In the almost 44 years I've been here I have accumulated many friends, some very close and some not. I take friendships very seriously as I've had the opportunity to win and lose some. One of the things I have noticed about friendship is that distance is a killer. It isn't really distance so much as it is apathy. If you aren't the one to keep the fire stoked so to speak, then you will lose touch. If you stop and wonder; What ever happened to so and so? You are at fault. You took your eye off of your friend and the winds of time blew them away! Always remember that time has no effect over ones love of another human being so reach out! Always be willing to reach out, and take the initiative to preserve that which gives pleasure and comfort. I can think of nothing to this day that brings more comfort then friends. Doesn't matter if they are new or old, they bring warmth and comfort. That is why I had such a mad house as a young man, people coming and going, lots of laughter and fun. The one thing I miss about my old home is the close proximity of old friends. One of the things I love about my new home is the new friends. Friends can be of many types and from many arenas. Some you don't have to have met at all. (thanks to al gore and the internet..LOL) I am grateful to one and all. The reason I'm grateful is dependent on which friend I'm speaking of. Bill V, the one that drove 15 hours to my wedding, and Don, my soundingboard, Andrea, just makes me smile, and Donna, showing me that which I've never seen. I love Louise for her different point of view, always reminding me to keep an open mind. The list goes on forever, and I love you all. Don't lets ever forget one another! Our strength is in our belief and love in one another.

Ron's page

It takes a huge amount of effort to go racing. In our case we had it times 7. We built engines for anyone we thought would win and gain some recognition for our work. The objective was to have a salable product. It didn't work. Drivers are a tight lot and would rather do it themselves and lose then pay for a product that makes them a winner. When I came home from my day job about six, Bill V was usually already in the shop working. He would sometimes bring some of his friends to help out. One such person was Ron Grubb. It didn't take long for him to fit in, and do a huge amount of work as well. Some people aren't blessed with many gifts, and Ron was one of those. Big and kinda gumpy, not pretty and no money. His teen years were a bit rough. He was going to be your typical ne'er do well. About his gifts. A gentle soul that didn't hurt anyone with a quick wit, and good sense of humor. Would gladly play basketball all night if we would, and a nice hook shot. Would also work all night on a friends car just cause it needed to be done. Tirelessly cleaned and polished engine parts, laying them out for assembly making sure to remove any lint from the parts before we would use them. Always running errands and getting sodas. During breaks he was outside swinging my kids around by the feet, and otherwise contributing to the mayhem that was my house in those days. There wasn't any money to pay such help, but there was food, and parts, and all the skills to be very very fast. I sold Ron a Mustang on the cheap, and then Bill V and I made it damn fast on the cheap. When I left Michigan, he was one of the little pieces of my life that I left behind, secure in the knowledge that he would always be there when I went back. Somehow I never got to hook back up with him and share a soda, and a memory or two. Now I can't! Ron was never the most careful person, and he died because of it. While fixing someones car, he was under it when it fell. It's a little late, but thanks for all those hours Ron. God rest and God speed.

Charmin Carmen

This page is about a woman, and could be titled; Why I would make a lousy Muslim. Racing at the level that we did it is a family affair. I had many close friends among our competitors and worked on their cars as much as my own. The reason was simple. If my guy, or in this case gal was going to win, I wanted her to beat you at your best. On any given Saturday night I would work on between five and ten cars. If Bill V was there he would work on an additional three or four, in addition to helping me. One day Greg V decided to sponsor a woman that had no money, and a very old beat to hell racecar. We put something together for her, and got her out for the last biggest race of the year. She passed two thirds of the field on the first lap. As she got to turn four, she got wrecked by someone not wanting to give up the spot. Over the winter one of our people that we helped with tech stuff approached me about making Carmen a winner. We agreed to work together on this project, thus giving the lady the resources that only the guys with ten or twenty thou a year had to play with. We took the engine out of my wife's old station wagon and tried to race that! It was a little low on breath in the straightaways so we tore it down and rebuilt it over a Monday through Wednesday. During that time Bill V spent many hours trying to get more breath out of a set of heads that were just too damn short of breath. Thanks to his efforts we got about an other fivehundred rpms down the straightaways. Made practice on Thursday and raced on Friday. We wrecked on Friday and spent all night getting ready for Saturday. Saturday was a big track with lots of banking, we knew we were going to run out of breath about half way down the straightaways. On the other hand we could out pull anyone coming out of the corners. All we needed was for Carmen to be able to put the power to the track. We had about five people working on the car that night, three of them drivers from cars she competed against. Everyone loves an underdog, even if it beats you. She beat dear friends that night. I thought Doug, her benefactor was going to throw me off the back of the stands he was so excited. We worked our asses off all year, and she gave us two track championships. We knew she would go out and win, or break the car trying. She, more then anyone else taught me that given a reasonable chance a woman could do anything she set her mind to. I remember one time we finished a race and I was in the pits getting the trailer ready, and packing our stuff to go home. The guy next to us had a bad night and was taking it out on everyone. The pits used to be a forty acre cornfield, so there's not much light. He came in hot, and did a doughnut and hit the trailer I was standing on. It knocked me to the ground, while taking a Lil bit of daylight and sense with it. That girl grabbed him by the face and helped him from his car and over to me. She read him from the book about what she would do to the man that hurt her engine builder or any of her crew. He apologized and walked off. I was looking at her kind of funny so she grabbed her breasts and said, " I've got a pair too! I just wear em a lil higher then you do!"

Hidden thunder

The first page will be Mr V's page. The man I bought the house from was a Vietnam era vet with a need for speed. He was of the James Smoky Yunick type. He would do anything, and blow everything up for one more mile per hour. He can be seen in the movie Heart like a wheel ( The Shirley Muldowney story) if you look very fast. The scene at Pomona dragway in California, Greg is leaving the line in an Orange and blue Buick GS Stage One. It is the car he would set an NHRA record with in that same year. He also had at one time an IHRA record holder Chevy Kingswood stationwagon. Yep we all raced wagons at one time. I had a Chevy Malibu wagon with about 400 horses as a daily driver. I got it with the house, the engine came later. The thing about Greg was that he and his Buddy Jim Paquette were building and racing cars that were spanking the big money guys whenever they felt like it, or had the money to travel on. He himself could have been a big money guy but wouldn't play nice with the bean counters. He took a Chevy Camero to a major race and encountered the engineers from Oldsmobile (our home town) and when approached said "Damn! There's enough Oldsmobiles here to start a junkyard!" Yep Greg likes it his way. Olds went with Dick La'Hae, as did Miller Brewing. Greg didn't care he beat them anyway. When I met Greg he was very fat and way past his driving days, but still the smartest kid on the block. His fault was that he was lazy and didn't want to do the actual work of putting the engines together. Enter myself and best friends lil brother Bill V, no relation to Greg. Bill worked for me sometimes and with me some times and was always and still is a very dear friend. I created a company called Response Racing Engines. Privately we did the assemblies for Gregs people, and tuned them at the track. Thanks to Greg we learned on stuff that was about three to five years ahead of NASCAR. Continued

Toms Garage

People are everything to me. If I could, I would write about everyone I know. I try to see the good in everyone that I meet, and have a lot of friends because of it. I like to tell their stories. As best I know them. If I live long enough I'll tell yours as well......As best I know it. I need to write about a time in my life that I've put away for about nine years now. I will as I always do, start with a lil background so as not to lose you. This too will take a few posts. I used to live up north in Michigan, the place of my birth. As a young man I bought a house with my first wife. The man I bought the house from was a car guy. I'm a car guy. It was a great purchase because this man taught me a trade that I could turn into a passion. All that was asked of me was to leave his stuff in my garage and let him still work out of it. The rocket ship took off from there. The man, Greg V, built the hottest thumpinest racing engines I've ever seen. He taught me to make some thump too! This story is about that time, and those people that were special in my world at that time. The reason for the write is that I've learned one of them has died. A bit player in my life but as I've said, with me it's about the people. Continued.

Are we right to do the things we do? History will be the judge. This I know; someone has to do something and we are alone atop the mountain. I choose to believe that America is a good and honorable place full of people that care about their neighbors. I don't believe every soldier serves with honor, but most do. What we have here can't be found anywhere else in the world, and it's because of folks giving the final measure.

Busy

Sorry gang, been busy as hell. Will try to catch up over the long weekend. John... Now is the time to move any money from bonds to stock funds. Ill explain later. :)

100th post

I too have addictions, some I have beaten, and some I embrace. Now you know why I will never run for public office. Pat Kennedy can come over and hang out at my house any time he wants.....as long as he doesn't bring Swimmer. My boat with Swimmer on it, and 50,000 acres of water would be too much temptation.

Just desserts

Racism part five.

This may be the last on this topic. I hope so cause I'm tired of talking about it. I see nobody tried to answer the question I put forth in the last post. Here are the answers, yes there are more then one. (drum roll please) The Lottery, and various sin taxes. In my view, if you want to see a real racist, (white ones) look at the politicians that give us the Lottery in so many states. Rich people do not as a rule play the games, and if they do, they don't spend much. They know the odds are so very bad. Better to spend the money in Vegas. Odds are better, drinks are free, and the hookers regulated. Poor people on the other hand throw huge sums at the games in the hopes of hitting it. Blacks as a rule are poorer then whites, and with the exception of my ex, and a few others spend more. Yep, that's right, Blacks support the Lottery in droves, and with real money. It's a tax on you people! I have told them by the hundreds but they don't get it. "I'm gonna be rich!" Yeah right! If my mom had wheels she'd be a wagon. I make a living in the under fifty bracket. My body is slowly failing me, and I know I will never make it to retirement age in my current career. Time is short, and I don't make a lot. You can bet your butt I don't waste much on the Lottery. Since my divorce I've been able to put away a lil bit of money for a rainy day. I've made that money grow at around 12% a year by taking care of my own investments. Yeah, I'm good! I work at it. I do all of this on twenty bucks a week! I watch some of the people in the hood invest fifty to eighty bucks a week on powerball. My god if I had access to that much money I'd be retired by now. Wanna know where the twenty came from? I quit smoking. Hardest damn thing I've ever done. I stopped paying the .50 a pack tax on my two pack a day habit. I'm not so sure the sin tax affects Blacks at a higher rate then whites, but it affects them none the less. Why do I think the Lottery is a racist institution? Because I believe more money at least in percentage comes from blacks, and like me and my cigs, I don't think they can stop. It took me twenty years and a lot of help at home. I think of my friend Thomas the bum. It might be wrong, but every once in a while I'll buy him a beer to go with a meal. I know he can't stop and he never asks anymore. It's a dignity thing I can't explain. He chuckles at the Lotto players, and counts his blessings however few they are. That kind of money would kill him. He says some are better off spending it on the games.

Racism part four

As luck would have it, I find myself in traffic a lot these days. It is springtime here in the south so we have our windows down, and air off for now. I am forced to listen to the black folks and their rap music at a loud and obnoxious rate. I could respond with Butt hole surfers, or Metalica, or any of a bunch of white guy bands. I'm a mechanic. If I want 5,000 watts of sound per channel I can do that! I can deafen the pope from here if I choose! I don't! I try to keep my sounds in the car with me. If I really wanna hear it loud, I roll up the windows. I have a young friend with a loud as hell rock band that does the same thing. He says "I might not be your thing." He also removes his hat for the blessing, and leaves it off for the meal. I wonder about the word Nigger! Why if it is so offensive, do I hear it about every other word in a black persons car? I got a story for you pal.... If it's good for the goose it's good for the gander. I hate the stereotypical nigger, hate em with a passion. I don't however hate black people as a rule. I've had a few friends that were black living in my home when times were tough. I know they have my back, as I've had theirs. Good and decent people have no color. I met the wife downtown a week or two ago for lunch. We were driving through the ghetto when we stopped at a light. A black man pulled up next to us in a newer Impala with the words fuck and nigger and kill coming out of the car. I looked over at him; guess I pissed him off because he turned it up from loud as hell to earthquake! He then proceeded to sing the song at me while hanging out the window. You caught me on a generous day, I didn't spit at you. I could write a book about how to better get along with white or any one else but it would be lost in translation. Here is a question for you. How do you get a black man...or woman to pay more in taxes without bitching? The answer will be in another post, and it might surprise you.

Words after one year

I received another compliment today regarding the piece I wrote about my late boss. It seems Mike has shared it with some of our customers. (those that knew him) I also received a letter from Bob's older sister. It seems my words moved her. Hers in turn moved me. It got me to thinking about the power of words, and how one chooses to use them. I do make an attempt to correct my spelling, and grammar but I won't go out of my way. I feel that to make no effort is being slack, while having an editor goes to far the other way. (yes I have an editor) As a rule, I don't work on a post for more then it takes me to write it. This is sometimes a bad thing because I could surely do better, but then I'd be writing to you and not for me. The reason I started this blog was to give friends a place to go. A chatroom of sorts. I never intended to write anything for anyone else to read, except maybe "New post". Mike H beat me to the punch, and I had this blog sitting here doing nothing so I put a few thoughts down. It has led to this. I started about a year ago and have over 80 posts. Sometimes I say something that gets a lot of comments and sometimes no one says a word. Yep I've had 70 and 0 and everything in-between. Sometimes I think I've said something profound, and you didn't! Sometimes I think I wrote a bunch of garbage, and you didn't. Words are funny that way. It's like trying to wield a sword when you really don't know how. Sometimes I cut what I want, and sometimes I cut ME! Looking back on all of the posts and comments I'm reminded of a favorite movie; The Breakfast Club. No we aint all gonna get along and probably shouldn't, but what a ride! Back to the words.... I don't believe that I need to hurt someone to expose the truth, nor should I yell, or gloat. I've had some that wonder why I let this or that person comment, or why didn't you apply more force to that one, and on. I tell you this..... A stump is a stump. We all know that, but what we don't all know is that the stump knows it too! My heartfelt thanks to each and every one of you. During the last year you were sometimes all I had.

My dad used to do something like this in Korea

The sun beat like a hammer, not a cloud was in the sky.The mid-day air ran thick with dust, my throat was parched and dry.With microphone clutched tight in hand and cameraman in tow,I ducked beneath a fallen roof, surprised to hear, "Stay low."My eyes blinked several times before in shadow I could see,The figure stretched across the rubble, steps away from me.He wore a cloak of burlap strips, all shades of grey and brown,That hung in tatters till he seemed to melt into the ground.He never turned his head or took his eye from off the scope,But pointed through the broken wall and down the rocky slope."About eight hundred yards," he said, his whispered words concise,Beneath the baggy jacket he is wearing a device.A chill ran up my spine despite the swelter of the heat,"You think he's gonna set it off along the crowded street?"The sniper gave a weary sigh and said, "I wouldn't doubt it,""Unless there's something this old gun and I can do about it."A thunderclap, a tongue of flame, the still abruptly shattered;While citizens that walked the street were just as quickly scattered.Till only one remained, a body crumpled on the ground,The threat to oh, so many ended by a single round.And yet the sniper had no cheer, no hint of any gloat,Instead he pulled a logbook out and quietly he wrote."Hey, I could put you on TV, that shot was quite a story!"But he surprised me once again -- "I got no wish for glory.""Are you for real?" I asked in awe, "You don't want fame or credit?"He looked at me with saddened eyes and said, "You just don't get it.You see that shot-up length of wall, the one without a door?Before a mortar hit, it used to be a grocery store."But don't go thinking that to bomb a store is all that cruel,The rubble just across the street -- it used to be a school.The little kids played soccer in the field out by the road."His head hung low, "They never thought a car would just explode."As bad as all this is though, it could be a whole lot worse."He swallowed hard, the words came from his mouth just like a curse."Today the fight's on foreign land, on streets that aren't my own,""I'm here today 'cause if I fail, the next fight's back at home.""And I won't let my Safeway burn, my neighbors dead inside,Don't wanna get a call from school that says my daughter died;I pray that not a one of them will know the things I see,Nor have the work of terrorists etched in their memory.""So you can keep your trophies and your fleeting bit of fame,I don't care if I make the news, or if they speak my name."He glanced toward the camera and his brow began to knot,"If you're looking for a story, why not give this one a shot.""Just tell the truth of what you see, without the slant or spin;That most of us are OK and we're coming home again.And why not tell our folks back home about the good we've done,How when they see Americans, the kids come at a run.""You tell 'em what it means to folks here just to speak their mind,Without the fear that tyranny is just a step behind;Describe the desert miles they walk in their first chance to vote,Or ask a soldier if he's proud, I'm sure you'll get a quote."He turned and slid the rifle in a drag bag thickly padded,Then looked again with eyes of steel as quietly he added;"And maybe just remind the few, if ill of us they speak,That we are all that stands between the monsters and the weak."Michael MarksSomewhere in IraqJanuary 25, 2006

Matt

I stopped in at my favorite restaurant and had dinner with Mrs.C on Friday after work. The family that owns it are friends of ours and we share our successes and our failures. One of the waiters is a local school teacher by day, and comes in to help her brother in law at night on weekends. She and her husband have two kids the same ages as mine. I got there a lil early, and before the crowd. She saw me and came over to chat. I asked her how her oldest was doing. A lil background here. He graduated from high school, and went on to college to get his degree. He spent his school days in JROTC followed by ROTC in college, also an enlistment in the Army Reserves. He intends to make the Army his career. He has requested a transfer to a unit that will put him through Airbourn school and then on to Afghanistan or Iraq. He has done this while delaying going to officers candidate school. His reason for doing this is to get his combat patch (CIB?) before becoming an officer. Without going into details, I will tell you that she is proud of her son. Scared yes, but proud. I believe the tree of liberty is well defended for the time being thanks to families like hers.

New post

Geez what a slug. I have never been at a loss for words, and am not now. I just think my give a shit is busted. I've had a crew working on the problem for a while now, but to no avail. Work has been a handful, and the days long. I did however return MG's inTview, so I'm not a total sluggard. Know that during these times I'm reading everyone else's stuff. As a rule, I think there are too many of us out here cluttering up the space, but I won't quit. I'm selfish that way. There are a couple of folks I'd like to see with blogs, if for no other reason then I like to see them think. I would warn you though, a blog is a hell of a master, never satisfied. In that light I envy John, and Don, their ability to post and move on. I like my friend Diane, have a hard time getting to everyone I want to visit, and the newspaper be damned. Blogging has taught me a few things I might list. 1. The world is full of yappy people. 2. The world is full of stupid people. 3. The world is full of bright people. 4. I wish to be one of the few wise people. The lessons I learn from each and every one of you assure that my wish might one day be true. I knew an old woman, a long time ago. She taught school. She didn't just teach school, she taught idiots. I'm referring to the underachievers that suffer some form of handicap. She taught blind children that the others could not reach, or didn't deem useful to reach. I witnessed many miracles among her students that she considered part of the process. She believed that if you exercised the mind, it would grow. I saw (challenged) kids, (Johns word) win spelling bees, and type 70 cwper min. I was beaten by one of her students in a general knowledge bee. The kid, at seventeen needed help getting dressed in the morning, but smoked my butt! I call that Terry's lesson. Don't ever underestimate someone. The stats are against us, but I hope you're living a long and happy life Terry. I hope all of these lessons will teach me.........Some measure of wisdom.

Special Olympics

Mrs. C is a supporter of Special Olympics. She was telling me that she saw a mother and daughter at the grocery store, and noticed the daughter was retarded. She was also wearing two blue ribbons from the special Olympics. The young lady was very happy to have her ribbons. She should be! She earned them fair and square. Those ribbons are a symbol of achievement! It might seem a small thing to us, but to the winner of such! Well it could be a lifetime achievement. Honest Abe was wrong, all men aren't created equal. Some will never be president of a company, or command others. I do however believe that every success should be considered important, if only for what it allows the person to feel for a while. Self esteem is worth more then gold, even to the retarded. Your assignment if you choose to take it, is to realize that everyone has some value to someone though it might not be apparent.

Racism part three

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Racism part two

OK so I had a lot to say about the Mexican immigrant thing, but it will have to wait. As I’ve stated, I work in the ghetto. The things I see on a day to day basis do justice to the song “Doctor my eyes. I have done all that I could, to see the evil and the good.” Today was no exception. I got back from lunch and noticed some trash down the hill from where I work. I’m looking out the back door of the building down a hill at an empty lot that used to contain a church. I’ve always thought of it as hallowed ground. My building is a drive through garage, with a truck door at each end. As you go out the back, you have about thirty to forty feet before you come to the fence that separates the property from that below it. Beyond this point there used to be a small black church. By black I mean the people that went there, not the color of the building. The church only had about five members at service, and that only every other Sunday. The rest of the time the drive was used for hookers to do their tricks out of sight of all except us at the back door early in the morning. (No they don’t seem to mind if you watch. Or even puke.)
A few years ago the church burned down due to an electrical problem in an extension cord. Now it is just a lot, in the middle of a green space behind our building.
So after lunch I was talking to my manager when he asked me if that was a person lying out there by the trash along the fence. I can’t see well so I went to have a look. What I found was a Black male of undetermined age lying in the dirt of a recent sewer project. The day was warm, so his coat was besides him along with a large duffel bag. He seemed to be asleep. Continued

Racism part one

Lets talk about one of the tough subjects. Racism.
By definition, it means to believe in the superiority of a race over other races, and that race is the main factor in that superiority. Lets not confuse this with prejudice, which is a preconceived notion or opinion. I’ve been called a racist many times, when in reality I’m just prejudiced about certain things. I saw on fox news, a story about the minutemen watching our border. Some say they are racist, and only do this because they don’t like Mexicans. I’m not fond of Mexicans, but not because of their ethnicity. I’m not fond of them because I find them parasitic. One might ask how are they parasitic? Lets go back in the time machine to a time when Tom C was a young tough guy with no job. We had just given Carter the boot (incompetent dink!) and were hoping Reagan would get us some work. When federal money became available for new construction, and the interest rate came down, we started building houses. I remember my crew competing against a crew of Mexicans building basements, and pouring concrete. We held our own, but worked for about one third of union scale. Any more, and they worked and we didn’t. I didn’t dislike these people, even ate lunch with them some days. That’s where I got my love of jalapeno peppers. What I did dislike was the lack of money for a very hard job. There’s no harder job then humping mud and block for twelve hours a day, I promise! Especially at six bucks an hour, no time and a half over forty hours. I thought we were better, as far as quality but that might have just been my prejudice, or pride in my work. On some days the wives would show up with the kids, and I would wonder how the hell they could support all those kids. I had one, and another on the way, and a rented house in a blue-collar neighborhood. She worked, I worked, and we didn’t have much.
Fast forward to the present day.
I live in the country where they grow peaches. Lots of peaches. More peaches then anywhere else in the world. (No it’s not Georgia!) It takes a lot of labor to harvest those peaches. Guess who picks them? Yep, the Mexicans. I work in the ghetto. Lots of unemployed blacks around. HMM. How come they aren’t picking peaches? The growers have busses, and will provide transportation. Answer? It’s hot miserable work that doesn’t pay enough to live on. How do they do it? Does any body remember car stuffing? Continued….

War part three

So when you fight this war, do we fight against Islam? How about just the radicals? Are there any Muslims fighting with us? How far can we trust them? The answer is: It depends. Who fights with us and who fights against us is a matter of what day it is, and who's pissed at us that morning. My good friend Indigo Red, makes some fine points on his blog. See link at right. Also see comments in War part one. My point is this; There is no place for non-Muslims in islam. There is no place for Islam in its current form in the west. Do I think all Muslims are evil? No, I covered that earlier. I would phrase it like this. If you show tolerance for the west, you are not a good muslim. This doesn't bother some of them, just like it doesn't bother me that I don't go to church and am not a good christian. Will they come and try to kill me? Not likely. Will I try to kill them? Not without some real provocation. Here's where that apathy comes into play. The correct response of the people in Afghanistan to that convert should be a resounding "So what!"To kill or threaten to kill this man means you are wrong, and have already lost. Is islam salvageable? Not for me to say.

War, part two

Now lets look at the muslims. The funny thing is, you won’t see much difference. In varying degrees They all want the same things, but with the percentages higher in some aspects then others.
Someone like mullah Omar, just wants power. Note the finery in which he lived, before we performed a castle-ectomy, and separated him from his houses. Bin Ladin, on the other hand fancies himself as an intellect, and a power broker. That will stand, only as long as Zarquawi allows it. Zarquawi, is a ruthless killer of any and all. I believe he kills only to kill, trying to sate a bloodlust that only his blood can slake. The brothers Fadhil, only want to practice medicine, and live meaningful lives. Then you have the power brokers of Iraq, Sistani, and Al Sader. I have no idea what Sistani wants, but the other one is just a rat trying to get to the top of the heap. Iraq has enough sides to fight this war for all of us. To bad it doesn’t stop there. We have the madrases of Pakistan, and Saudi Arabia, spewing hate like the sun spews light! Against this, we have the moderate voices crying in the wilderness to THINK! Too bad they’re in the wilderness, never to be heard by those nutjobs in Pakistan, and elsewhere. We have the government of many nations walking a fine line, trying to stay in power, but having to appease the radicals or die. We have some of the moderate voices being silenced with bloodshed, and imprisonment. Don’t believe me? Try blogging in Egypt. So how many sides we got here? Who is gonna win? How?

War part one

I got a call from my oldest daughter on Friday. She was in tears. Her man has been ordered to Iraq. He joins a growing list of young people that I know, to serve over there. I had no words of comfort to give her, maybe my friends Don, and Mike H, have some. They both served, and have time to use as a means of some perspective. I did remind her that this could be her, in the near future. She told me she would rather it be her then him. Ahh to be young, and fearless. Make no mistake about it, this is the big one! The war for all of civilization. Some don’t see it that way, because they don’t see all of the fronts in which it is being fought. I don’t see all of the fronts, but I will tell you some of what I see, and you can make up your own mind about my sanity, and ability to reason. The trial in Afghanistan is a battle front between several sides. I find it most disturbing, because it flies in the face of what this country was founded on. Freedom of religion! Put that man to death, and you will make a strong case for those that believe we have been wasting our time fighting the war the way we do. I find myself wanting to give the death that keeps on giving, to those people. All of them. Then I remember our friends at Iraq The Model, Big Pharaoh, and a host of others. To begin to see the fronts, one must look at the participants in the conflict. Lets start with The west. Some, want to convert muslims to christianity, some don’t give a damn. Some are fearful of any conflict, and some live for it. Some simply don’t see a threat, and some don’t know what the threat is.
One threat is the removal of our source of oil. No oil means the death of our society as we know it. In short order, we would starve to death. Our best weapon against radical islam, is apathy. Not ours, theirs! A little apathy, allows for a liberalization of the core. We can live with a liberal muslim, they can’t.

Quick hit

From Associated PressMarch 19, 2006 10:50 AM EST
KABUL, Afghanistan - An Afghan man who allegedly converted from Islam to Christianity is being prosecuted in a Kabul court and could be sentenced to death, a judge said Sunday....................................................................More on this later.

Site hits

I noticed that I had my threethousandth visitor. I don't know who, I think it was Weesie, in Canada, or my sister Kate in Tennessee. I am very proud of this, but not sure what it means. I have very loyal friends, or y'all have no life! It could also be the five bucks I send out every so often, to buy hits! :) All jokes aside, I'm glad you're there!

Last page

On a beautiful September morning, I walked next door for a soda. When I got there, the radio was turned up, and they were talking about a plane that had hit the World Trade Center. As the morning unfolded, I remember just wanting to go home. All of the radios were now on and loud. No body knew what the hell to think, except Bob. He let the noise, and concern go on for an hour, then gathered us together, and said. "Even if it's the end of the world, we're gonna do our jobs. Folks are starting to panic, and they need to see you going about your day!" And so we did. When the customers were not in sight, Bob would come along and reassure us, this will be answered! It was about a month later that I needed the morning off for a doctors appointment. I went to Bob and told him. He then told me that he was taking the afternoon off to get ready for a doctors appointment in the morning. He then told me that he would see me when I got in, as he would be in before me. Later that afternoon, I noticed a commotion by the office, heard Mike (Bobs son) yell out that he would call us, and then burnt rubber getting gone! I went up to see what was the matter. It seems Bob had paged his wife, with the walkie talkie on his phone, and when she tried to page him back, there was no answer. I don't know the time line, but I believe someone was with him in a moment. His heart had stopped, and the paramedics couldn't get it going again. I didn't know he had an irregular heartbeat, that was treated with medicine. The meds he took for his procedure in the morning, reacted with his heart meds and killed him. I felt like I had been beaten. The next day, while at home waiting for the family to make the arrangements, I stepped out onto our front steps, and wept. My wife came out to comfort me, and stood with her arms around me, just looking out at the beautiful day. I then heard her say, oh my god! Look! I looked up in time to see a huge Bald Eagle pop over the trees and down to the yard, flew by and then popped over the trees at the other end, and was gone. In my mind I heard Bob remind me. "God is in his heaven." The funeral was at the church he helped build, and the procession was led by a small fleet of the prettiest Tow Trucks in town. All the chrome polished and every light flashing, drivers in their Sunday best! It was fitting, for a man that spent his life in the business, trying to improve its image. The graveside ceremony was marked by the release of a Hawk he had delivered to the Docs, some weeks before. I will never see a bird of prey, without thinking of you, my friend. God rest, and God speed.

Page five

Bob loved birds. He was fond of all animals, but he loved birds. As a younger man, he would hunt them. I saw an article from a long ago paper about him hunting, shooting, and missing a flock of ducks at close range. He was probably just looking for an excuse to be there. More background. We lived about twenty miles apart, and across the lake from each other. I asked him if he fished, and he replied. "I moved out there thirty years ago, and when I did, I made a deal with the fish. If they would leave me alone, I would leave them alone. So far the arrangement has been honored by both party's." One of the islands on the lake was home to two unusual phenomenon. The first was a herd of goats, put there by Bob. I never did ask why, but it was probably to keep the vegetation down. This island was where the famous Jimmy Doolittle, and Doolittle's Raiders practiced Bombing during WW11, before going to bomb Tokyo. The second thing the island has, is birds. Lots of birds. More birds then anywhere else in north America, except maybe Lake Pontarchrain La. I don't know how Bob set foot on the island with all that bird shit everywhere, but he did to feed the goats every day. He coined the term, "Lakel", short for lake lover, and he was that indeed. You could often see him with the crowd of boats that come out every summer evening to watch the birds arrive. Up to 750,000 to 1,000,000 purple martins every night. Bobs passion was raptors. He did a lot of work for the South Carolina Birds of Prey. A nonprofit group that found and healed sick and injured Hawks, owls, Osprey, and eagles. I got my first look at a real Owl, one day at work. He was hurt, and in a box. They transferred him to a cage to ship him to the hospital, and I got to see him up close. Man he was pissed! He near put holes in the thick leather gloves Bob wore, but he went! I think he liked the release back into the wild, more then anything on earth. Bob had put up man made nests for the Osprey, in several places on the lake. It is through his hard work that we can see them fishing, and raising families. I had a friend from Liverpool, and his wife out on the lake one day, and saw an Osprey come off a light pole and snatch a fish. He looked at me and told me that in Great Britain, people would pay big for that sight. Thanks to Bob, it was free.

Caroline's page

And so the crap begins to hit the fan. I don't remember the dates, but our lovely office lady, Bob's wife Caroline was stricken with lung cancer. More background, we have one of the oldest continues auto repair shops in the country. Started by Bob's Daddy, in 1923. We cater to old line city residents, lots of lawyers, a supreme court judge, and lots of doctors. We serve three hospitals, one a level 1 trauma center. Bob attacked the disease with information, spending hours on the web, looking for help. He was prepared to move heaven and earth for her, if he could just find out how. After all was said and done, our people did the surgery, and removed a lung. It didn't take too long before the news was bad, they didn't get it all. The hope then went to Chemo, and as always, God. It was then that she found the strength to quit smoking. She then inspired me to quit, and give my nagging wife the thing she most wanted. She told me to do something fun with the money I saved, she gave the kids a last great Christmas. I bought a boat. She offered me the last little bit I needed to be successful. I remember Bob telling me that he was concerned, the children didn't seem to realize their mother's time was short. This is the one and only time he seemed not to know what to say, or do. He used to tell me, "Leaders, lead.". I would have given anything to have been able to take that burden from him, and her.

Page Three

On of Bobs favorite sayings to me when we were talking about my kids was "I wasn't worth a bullet when I was twentytwo". He came from a house of privilege, and made himself into the human he was. He told me many stories about his younger years, most of which I won't repeat. I will tell you about Yella Godamighty, and Purple Jesus. Here on the coast, even back then the young folks liked to drink........a bunch! I'm sure some are familiar with the trash can mixes, well these were a southern version. The alcohol at the beach was clear moonshine, at about 180 proof or a lil higher. If you dumped a gallon or so into a cooler full of ice and lemonade, you had a drink that when you took a sip you could only say, Godamighty! Grape koolaid was the mix for purple Jesus. I remember a call I got from my sister one night telling me to come home, Mom wasn't going to make it through the night. I called Bob first thing in the morning, to tell him I couldn't make it in. He told me he needed to see me before I left town, and it was kinda on the way so Mrs. C drove me to the shop. His wife had quickly cut me a paycheck, and he and his son Mike, tried to give me cash to travel on. Mrs. C then drove me 15 hours through a damn ole snowstorm in the mountains so I could tell Momma I loved her one more time. Not bad for a southern Belle! It took almost a week for Mom to pass, and then the funeral too. I was gone a while. I called in to the shop, and was told to take care of family, but don't forget where home now was. I missed you too Bob. One of his other sayings was "Don't mess with them doctors, sooner or later they will kill you." A lil more background here. I have a bit of a handicap. I am blind in one eye, and don't see well out of the other, and have been since about eight years of age. Before that I simply didn't see well. A time came when I began to have some light sensitivity in my only good eye. It got so bad that even on a cloudy day, and indoors I would wear very dark glasses. I could only take my boat out at night to avoid the glare. I went to all the doctors, and finally convinced them the problem they couldn't find was in my blind eye, not the good one. I had lived through something like this once before. I did my best at work, but it was very hard. I got rides to and from by my wife. I remember being scared that I would lose my ability to make a living. The time finally came when I had to have the bad eye removed. On the last day I worked before surgery, Bob took me off to the side for a chat. He said to me, that I shouldn't worry about the future, because I always had a job with him, even if he didn't know what it would be. Continued.

Page two

Day Two, and beyond. I lived the farthest away of all the employees, so was the first to arrive each morning. Bob would get there about six am, followed by me at seventhirty, to start a eight am day. One of the first things I noticed about him was that he would meet every employee at the time clock every morning. He knew that I was paying huge amounts of child support every week, based on what I made up north, so he let me have a lil overtime each week to keep food on the table. When I arrived, I would be greeted by him, with a fresh ten dollar bill to run and get doughnuts from across the street. When I got back with our treats, he would have the first pot of coffee done. The first coffee and doughnut were consumed while he asked me how things were in my world. I learned about a million things during those fifteen minutes we had each morning. One thing I didn't know I was learning that he taught me was how to be southern. It is more than words, but a way of thinking, and seeing the world around us. Eventually, I would become known as Bobs Yankee. I knew I was Midwestern, but didn't mind. It was about two weeks into the job, I received the first of five raises I got the first year. So much for two raises a year. Bob's roots were the very roots of NASCAR, back in the day when they drove all kinds of tracks, dirt too. It was another bond we shared, him a former racer, and me an engine builder. He used to tell me stories about my heroes, Curtis Turner, Fireball Roberts, and of course, The Earnhardts, Ralph and Dale. He was buds with Jim Hunter, of Darlington raceway, now the head of public relations of NASCAR. He told me of a tale, one day Jim called him, and asked if he would like to ride to the airport to pick up one of the stars for the weekends race, I think it was at Dixieanna speedway. The man was stoned drunk when they got there. They collected him, and a bottle, and took him to the race. Poured him into his car, where he went out and WON the damn thing, still drinking! They poured him onto a plane, and went to get some comfort of there own.(continued)

Robert C Andrews JR

At this time I would like to remember a friend. I will fill in a little background so as to not lose you. I met and fell in love with a woman on AOL in 1996. She lived about a lifetime and another world from me. I courted this woman and won her heart, which I treasure to this day. I packed up my life, and moved to a strange land where I barely spoke the language, in 97. I am an auto mechanic so I always have a job. I tried a few jobs, and didn't like the people, or pay, all the while getting homesick, and broke. I lasted the last job about four days when the girlfriend (now wife) told me to quit before I went up someone's head. ( another story for another day) I was angry and tired of assholes telling me to "Go home Yankee!" I was sick at heart and about to call it quits on South Carolina, and my love, when I walked into a big ole drafty barn of a building by the university, for an interview. This is where I met the man I would come to think of as Daddy Bob. It was an old run down building, kinda dark , and short on equipment by my standards. The man that interviewed me, about in his early sixties. He told me, "We have an old rundown building, one day I'll replace it, but for now, it leaks. I have five employees that have been here twenty years or more. If you decide to come to work for me you will get up to two raises a year at as much as fifty cents each." He then offered me a small starting salary, and a hell of a lot of work. He told me that there would be no yelling or cursing in his shop, by him or anybody else. It sounded like a peaceful place so I signed on. Day one: I got there early to unload my tools, and make a good impression. I forgot to tighten two wheels on the first damn job I did. Bob moved the vehicle about ten feet then stopped, got out and whispered to me, "We usually tighten the wheels on the cars before we let them go to the owners!" (continued)

Birds of prey

We have a hawk that lives near my place of employment. He blasted a smaller bird, about ten feet from one of the other employees one day. The man was startled, and turned to face the noise he heard, and took a step that way. Mr. Hawk stepped over his fresh kill and bristeled at the man. The distance was now five feet so the man backed up til he could flee into the building. He told me what had happened, so I took a look. I saw nothing but feathers. I think it was the reincarnation of the man that hired me there eight years ago. That story is for another day, but I miss you Bob.

Klinger

All this time we thought Max Klinger was faking.Now as the president of Iran, we know better.

More on spring.

I noticed the grass is getting a little shaggy in spots. Time to get the mower ready to go. I have a big yard, about an acre, not all lawn, but still a lot to do. Now that there is some greenery, I hope what ever ate my golden eunymous shrub, will leave it alone. Something ate every leaf it had. I hope it will live, more leaves coming. I think the Chaste tree is dead, will wait a couple more weeks and then get another. I used to have a green thumb while I lived up north, down here I'm known in plant circles as the grim reaper. Soon I will begin attempt 5 at growing a confederate rose, otherwise known as a hybiscuss. Those things quake at the sight of me. My neighbor Judy, has a lovely yard full of neat plants. I would go steal some, but she reads this blog, and I'd kill them anyway.;) I miss the smell of Lilacs in the spring. It was my mothers favorite scented flower. You have been gone eight years now, and I still miss you mom, especially in the spring.

Olympics

I found myself watching the Olympics the other night. I'm not fond of the games, seems to be a bunch of cheating and whining brats to me. I found myself watching the U.S. speedskaters in the 1000 meter race. The topic of discussion was about one of our best people not skating in the team event, to save himself for the 1000, his best event. Seems we got our asses kicked. Our fastest man, in long distance (Chad Hedrick) was mad because our fastest medium distance guy,(Shani Davis) wouldn't skate with the team to go for gold. Shani says it wasn't a team, and he is the one that worked so hard to get there, so he was going to save himself for his best event. I have a few points to make about this event. Once, a long time ago, I was an athlete. I was a very good one! I too competed one on one, but I always wore the teams colors when I competed. I knew who I represented, and I represented more then just me! Shani, when you received your gold medal, they played a song.......Our national anthem! The song, represented America. It's a shame you did not! Much was made of the fact that you were the first African American man to win a winter medal. So how about it Shani? Are you an African? American? If African, which country? It is a continent you know. You acted pissed off in your after race interview. The woman was doing her job, Shani! You win gold and then treat someone like shit? I read that you didn't like people using the n word about you on your website. I would agree that it wasn't right for people to do that, but you made it easy for them. If you don't want to be stereotyped, then don't act stereotypical! Back to the colors for a moment Shani. You are an American athlete, not an African one. You represent us, all of us, Shani. Remember the stars and stripes?

Flag burning

By your deeds shall we know you.

Spring

For all my friends across the land, I have good news. I have been noticing things turning green around Carolina. It started with weeds, and is moving to grass and shrubs. I see some buds on trees as well. I think I will get some pics to share, in the next few weeks.

New post

Time to fix some stuff. I have noted that one can be smart, yet foolish. I have also noted one can be less then smart and very wise.

Cartoons

So you're pissed off about a few cartoons that depict the truth? This aint no cartoon, and I will never forget. When you kneel down to give Allah his due, don't forget to thank him for making sure I wasn't in charge of the WOT.(war on terror) The very earth you hide in would turn against you.

Too funny!

This was supposed to be in New York.

Hamas Too.

Hamas has now won an election, and is free to govern with something other then exploding people. This is a good thing, because now we can hold the palestinian people accountable for the actions of their government. Can you say "The beginning of the end?"

Moonbats.

The weapon of choice to use on your moonbat, depends on the size and type of moonbat. For small ones, I like the Racquet. The feel of the sweetspot making contact and sending Mr Moonbat sailing. The machette works as a paddle as well as a big knife. The hammer is self explanatory. Remember that Moonbats, like their cousins the blood sucking vampires can't enter your home without permission.

Words

I've been having too much fun messin with Lee at http://iraqthemodel.blogspot.com/.
There are some smart folks that hang out at ITM, and some that think they are. I for one won't debate some of that garbage, for a number of reasons. Facts mean little to those folks, and truth even less. I shall continue to play Lee and Snott, et al for the simple pleasure that it gives me. Always remember my friends, "It's the simple shit that counts." In this computer, we have a series of switches, off and on. Everything comes from off and on, and yes and no. There is always a grey area, but that is why I might see yes, and you no. If you look for my yes, I promise to look for your no. Don't sweat the details, just go in the direction you wish to travel, and may the wind be at your backs.
T

New post

Sorry gang, I've had some hardware problems at this time. On another front, Cooper got his stitches out today, and is doing fine. I need Dcat to come up with a Moonbat bane to add to my list and next post. Help us out Cat! :) Be back soon.
T

Cooper Dog

Hey all, I've been busy babysitting Cooper. We came home from shopping Monday, and found him with a massive wound to his neck. He now has stitches half way around his neck, and more inside. Sometimes I wish he would have fewer adventures.

Seasons Greetings

Merry Christmas everyone. For those that are of another faith, Happy what ever! For those without a faith, you are beyond any help we can give! Peace y'all!

Click on snowman

Noise

Been to ITM lately? The noise from all the talking heads is deafening. I’ve never seen so many that were absolutely right about everything. I’m beginning to think that some of them are paid by the word, and if you can’t spit out at least five paragraphs of thought then you are a dumb ass. Lots of folks are ignoring the simplicity of all that is going on.
On September 11 we were attacked by an idea. This idea was created by one man and is ensnaring the whole human race. The driving force behind all of this is power over others, mainly women. Think of the idea as a computer virus, it’s only job is to replicate, and spread. The solution? Ah that is where all the noise is coming from. Most people that have studied history, and war, understand that a certain amount of loss brings about peace. I’ve heard the number to be about ten percent. The use of terror is a way to frighten us into submission with less then ten percent loss. Even the most diehard terrorist can’t really believe they can kill twenty five million Americans in one lifetime. Mr. Bush is able to achieve ten percent and higher loss to the virus, but with massive collateral damage. The virus is spread through human contact in mosques and madrases. There are many antibiotics to slow or stop the virus. Some of these are books, the study of any non-religious topic, other religions, and sex before death, if you’re a young person. We have chosen freedom as our antibiotic of choice. It is a slow acting poison to the virus, and if administered in time, always cures. The problem with freedom is that it must be administered often, over a long period of time. If you stop then you have to start over again, against an even stronger virus. If the virus gets too strong, the antibiotic may have to be of the ten percent or more lose type. There is at present no way to see into the future, and know the outcome. This will be ten years or more down the road, but when you look at signs, look at all of them.

E.T. And Me

Did I really see that thing on the news about the former defense minister of Canada wanting to defend et from us? I wasn't paying that much attention, and must be hearing things. I saw no mention of it on Search AFD and didn't want to offend by asking. If I really heard that, then it is more than mosquitoes that are bigger in Canada. That moonbat is going to require more then a tennis racket!

Grillin

Hey all!
Hope your t day was as good as mine. I grilled the turkey with charcoal and lots of hickory. I've never had it so good! The maple syrup brine worked well, and the maple red eye gravy was great. Mrs. C made and apple pie, and pumpkin ice cream for dessert. I got the recipe here, http://www.bbqu.net/index.html in case anyone cares to play with food.

T day

Lots to be thankful for this year. Lets make a list in the comments section. I'm grilling the bird on the grill with hickory for flavor. Plenty for all!

Bullies part two

I remember one of you mentioned the bully that talks behind everyone's back. I have now finished my tour of duty in Batesburg as a mechanic. It is time to get back to the big city, and finish my career. I worked for a small mom and pop outfit that sold tires and some mechanical services. Mom wasn't around much but had a big reputation in town as being mean and tough. Pop was a very gruff old man that drove his people with fear and a loud voice. Son was in charge one day a week and a manager the rest. The employee before me was a coke head that did very fast work, though not necessarily correct. They loved him. I came along, and wasn't as fast though still beating the book times that given our industry's pay. Old man came out and told me that he didn't think I knew what I was doing one day. I was taking to long to align a car. I offered him my wrench. He declined. One week the son asked me to drive a car and give an opinion. I drove the car, and couldn't make up my mind if there was a problem or not. He asked and I hemmed and hawwed. He accused me of being a smart mouth and threatened to send me home. I explained that I didn't deserve that treatment. He then went around and told everyone that I was this and that. He talks to everyone about everyone else. Eight months I put up with this crap, bills to pay and all that! This week I got my revenge. I left! I was polite, and worked hard right to the end. I was asked to reconsider, to have a beer," are you sure?". Yes I'm sure. I took with me a secret! There are three more leaving though without notice. They will have two left, none are mechanics. Reputation is bad so no local will work there for long. It is a shame, because I grew to like those two people for what they pretended to be. I am now back with people that think of me as family, and treat me accordingly.

New Job, Kinda

I have a new job, starting Monday I will be back at my old job doing what I did for the last 7 plus years. My old boss called and made an offer and I accepted. Thank God! I now will not have to shoot myself in the temple, and can continue to eat lots of bacon and bad things moving towards my heart attack! Life is not all bad. More to come in a couple of days.

Thanks for the tip Weesie, but I think any skiing done by me will look like this! I remember driving in snow and black ice. Best bet is front wheel drive, and don't hit the brakes, stay steady on the throttle. The wheels will pull you where you point them, even on ice if you don't expect too much to fast. Same thing with 4 wheel drive! Most folks don't know this but, in 4wd the front wheels turn a slight bit faster then the rears. This is to keep the back from coming around on a curve or heavy throttle application. When stopping, trust anti lock brakes and stay on the pedal! The noise scares people into letting off. End of mechanic and winter driving nut's lesson. Talked to oldest daughter yesterday. It seems someone stole a credit and debit card from her while at work. She was very upset about it all. Yes they were used. As bad as she felt, at 21 she is gonna have lots worse stuff happen to her over the years. Wish I could shield her from the crap life throws at us, but then she would become weak.

What the hell?

Is France still burning? So they have a military that can shoot unarmed people in Ivory Coast, but not a few rioters in and around Paris. Why? Is it because these guys are not black? Let em burn the place to the ground, I'm not going there for a visit. Anything to do with France that is near and dear to me is either my wife or a Canadian friend. Speaking of Canadian friends, I had one point out to me that Iran might not be that far along in her attempts at a nuke. He believes that the program would be taken out, as was the Iraqis in the 80's. I spoke to a former SEAL that says he and friends were there a few years back, got into a fight and left. They brought their dead home with them. He wouldn't say where or why they were there. Also told me they were anywhere Uncle Sam wanted eyes and ears. I think Mosad has better eyes and ears then we do. I think Collin is right!

Hillbillies and such

Hey all! I just got in from dinner, wife's out of town. I don't starve though, I go out. My wife is the worlds greatest cook, so if I want to eat well I have to pay dearly. We, I and Dcat, and also Mike, have been called Red Necks Hillbillies and such by some of our fans. :) These things are true on my part, I doubt on the parts of the others. I have learned to enjoy a good meal, and good wine. Tonight was Pork Forrester. A tenderloin stuffed with apples, on a bed of cornbread dressing, mashed taters n gravy, Veggies, squash, carrots and peppers in a mushroom sauce with herbs. Wash it down with a couple of Amber Bocks, then home and a good bottle of Merlot. Spending time with my favorite bartender (Jeff you will make a great lawyer some day) a Democrat, to top off the evening. I saw on Fox news the feed from Argentina, people throwing firebombs and burning the stars and stripes ( I got one they can try an burn!) setting fire to their own city! Dummern dirt, without the use! I remember the riots in LA, I saw a sign on a building that said "black owned" it was a fried chicken place full of fat black looters. If that was a smart black man, he took his insurance money and opened up in a different part of town. I hurt my arm yesterday at work, got up and went in again today. Am I missing something here?

Birthdays

Hey all! Tonight I spoke with my best friend from high school. I had the opportunity to wish him a happy 43rd. He was born three days after me, on the 5th of November 1962. We were the wild ones in school, still are. My friend races motorcycles at places like Gratton, Road Atlanta, and Watkins Glen. The first bike he ever road was my trail bike, so many years ago. Where did the time go? I really hate birthdays, but the alternative is far worse. I hope to still be talking nonsense a year from now.