The last remnants of a passing storm gently rock my hammock
The mountain-like clouds of the eastward retreating storm reflect the last rays of the westward traveling Sun
The reflected light from the thunderhead falls calmly over my right shoulder and instead of turning to gaze at the towering storm clouds or the golden sunset I pick up my book
The distant thunder softly calls for my attention, but I don't listen
When I arrived at BYU one of the first things I noticed was that at least 3/4 of the guys -and a number the girls- wore polo shirts. Case and point, this BYU Library commercial. (Just count them, I saw 10!) I thought it was ridiculous! I mean where did these people think they were going, an up-scale badminton garden party or -in the case of the striped variety- a rugby match? So with few exceptions I wore a t-shirt to class 'til the day I graduated.
However, I discovered (or re-discovered) something during an internship in California: apart from Old Navy commercial models nobody in the rest of world seems to wear polo shirts unless they are playing polo, going to an up-scale badminton garden party, or trying to look dressy casual at work (or fighting terrorism and leading the free world, apparently).
Trying to find what you wear to work when you are your own boss has had me perplexed for the last little while.
Am I sitting in the office? Yes.
Am I traipsing around dirty job sites? Yes.
Am I meeting with clients? Yes.
(Am I still stuck at a dentist office part of the day? Also yes.)
Due to the dirt and conditions, I really need to have a pair of jeans on. My button up shirts generally ended up looking pretty shabby by lunch with all of the walking and dirt.
I still don't condone wearing a polo shirt just for fun, and that's my story and I'm sticking to it!
Where was yours truly last Tuesday night?: try some great seats at the Paul McCartney concert in Utah! That's right, the Sir Paul McCartney. The weather was nice, the crowd was good, and it was all topped off with three great hours of non-stop Paul. The 68 year old played the whole three hours without a break or drink as near as I could tell, only pausing to tell some great stories and to make us laugh. It was a fantastic concert.
I was a little skeptical that Sir McCartney would just be old and that the concert wouldn't be very good, but I couldn't have been more wrong. What a performer! It was thrilling to be in the presence of this amazing musician.
Years from now I will be able to tell my children that I saw Paul McCartney live in concert.
This clip is from his Liverpool concert, but it was the same bit he did for us (best version I could find).
The answer to the question in the title is, "Who really cares where this is, it's FANTASTIC!"
I am, of course, speaking of a store called "Bonners Books". Now I have been to my fair share of bookstores, and this one is one of my favorites. Bonners Books is located in an innocuous enough town known as Bonners Ferry in northern Idaho. Some of you may recall that I journey up to the 49th parallel to visit the parents of the goddaughter. There are usually two things that I always make a point to do while visiting in the North (besides eat and nap), go to the Mennonite store and buy whatever it is that Mennonites make and go to Bonners Books.
Bonners Books is located in an old building in downtown Bonners Ferry. As you walk in the store you notice all the community announcements in the entryway. If it's a rainy day there may be a black cat lounging near the entrance. The store is well organized and decorated with mostly books both old and new. The wood floor is not level. There is an old grad piano in the middle of the store with books arranged on the lid.
One of the best things about this store is that there is usually no one else there. The books are arranged by categories that make me smile: Too Good for General Fiction, Sort of Metaphysical, True Biographies, Probably Less Than True Biographies, etc.... The selection of books is great. I usually come out of the store with at least five books if not more. I credit Bonners Books with finding me one of the best Volkswagen history books that I've read. In fact, I haven't bought a bad book there yet.
If you ever find yourself 30 miles South of Canada in the Idaho Panhandle then you are close. Stop in, it's worth it!
I love the smell of old oil and the dingy sheen of old engines. I love how the rubbing of a slightly oily rag can clean the time and miles off dirty parts. I love being pleasantly surprised at the ingenuity of engineers and designers of times gone by.
This Blazer project has been none of that. I'm convinced that this engine is more dirt than oil. There is no smell of old oil. The smell you encounter is the smell of oil soak soil; like what you will encounter in a farmer's barn where he parks his tractor. The engine has no dingy sheen. I had to start scrapping away with a screw driver before I even found out that my engine had originally been orange.
I have taken the engine apart down to the block, scraped as much dirt off the outside as possible, and loaded everything up to be taken down and acid cleaned tomorrow.
In the aftermath I'm sitting in the biggest mess I've ever made and I'm not sure if I know how this whole thing goes back together (or if this garage floor will ever come clean). I will be relaying on the expertise of the friend that is helping me for assembly.
Within a week I hope to be putting things back together, but only time will tell....
So to recap: I'm in the middle of an engine rebuild (currently just a tear-down).
I would love to report that it is going well, but during the engine removal a plasma cutter had to be employed. Currently the engine is in as many pieces as it is possible for an engine to be in, and I am slightly panicked.
As it stands, the crank shaft is toast. On the plus side, now I have a crank shaft to make a mailbox stand out of.
Now I'm trying to decide whether to rebuild the engine or..........
(FYI: Robert Bentley publishes the factory repair manuals for my VW's. They are phenomenal.)
In a quick laps of mental consciousness on a Friday morning I purchased a 1975 Chevrolet Blazer. I'll pause while you pick yourself up off the floor........ I'd post a picture of the actual truck, but it is just too ugly. Why have I done such a thing you ask? I'm still not sure. This K5 Blazer comes with the 350 V8, conventional four wheel drive, and a 3 speed manual tranny with a compound low range 1st gear. As a bonus my new Blazer also comes with a fair amount of rust and a prodigious knock from the engine. Within minutes of arriving home I discovered that I own a grand total of 3 standard gauge tools, not to mention the fact that this square behemoth doesn't actually fit in my Volkswagen sized shop. Not an inspiring situation.
With much persuasion from my neighbor and another Chevrolet fan that he knows I was talked into rebuilding the engine. A repair manual came with my purchase, but I find the fact that every paragraph begins with the phrase "remove the rust and dirt from the...." to be disconcerting. As I work on the engine removal I routinely become incensed at the backwards engineering and pot-metal construction and then conversely pleased with the fact that I can climb into the spacious engine compartment with the part I'm working on without having to be a body contortionist.
I don't know what else to say about this. It cost $350 and it has an 8000lb winch, which is honestly what I'm most excited about. I plan on using it to drag other cars out of the parking spot I want.
