August 30, 2006
I think of days like these as "fateful" rather than "bad"
Current mood: drained
As I left for work at the Yogurt Pump today, I was in the usual frenzy to make sure I had everything with me, not only for work, but for welding classes at ACC. Namely, enough food. I saw my motocross helmet hanging on the handlebars of the Zuma and thought, "I don't have time to put that inside, it won't rain, anyway." Well, as the old adage goes, when it rains, it pours.
I went to work, my spot was blocked by a huge dump truck. Unusual and frustrating. I went to the other entrance to the alley. Blocked by yet another huge dump truck! I went to merge back into the lane I had just pulled over from, and the passenger in the van that was passing me gave me a dirty look, like "who taught you to drive?". So I nervously parked in the church lot across the street where I'd been instructed to park in case of emergencies like this, locking my keys in behind me. We were slow, and I had an hour and a half overlap time with my co-worker. So we eventually got permission for me to fo home for an hour to work on my cool carpentry project. I had to force open my back window to get the keys out of the truck. Good thing I don't have a truck cap, or this would be impossible. I worked a little bit of wood, cleaned up, got back and only had to work for a couple hours. After that it's off to welding.
I obviously sweated gallons of water like I usually do on tuesdays, because on Tuesdays I do stick welding. Stick welding creates a lot of heat because you're melting a big thick rod of metal as opposed to small wire like on Thursdays when I do MIG, which feeds the tiny wire as you go. I struck an arc accidentally without my mask down, which many of you know causes potentially harmful exposure to an intense amount of UV light. I learned today that this can burn either the retina, the white of the eye (which can cause a bacterial infection in the eye, which feels like you have something in the eye), or both. No symptoms of either yet, hopefully that was not enough U.V. rays to cause harm. Sweated, welded, welded some more, rehydrated, ate, sweated, welded, welded some more, for about 4 hours.
I got into the truck, started it, and noticed the idle was a little rougher than usual. I know it's in need of a tune-up, the distributor cap is pretty old, as are the wires and plugs. That, and I have been pushing it pretty hard on the highway trying to get to class on time. I'm still trying to figure out what time I need to leave for school. So I make it all the way with no noticeable problems. The rain has made it's way out of the Graham area, where I was at class, to Chapel Hill. Pouring buckets like this, and it can't last very long. I pull into the Citgo on Airport road for something caffienated like I did last week. I get a DoubleShot, not the best, but it'll have to do. I basically chug it on the spot because they're so small. I get back into the truck quickly, as it's still pouring, and fire it up. But it just keeps cranking and cranking and cranking! Damn it, I'll have to wait this rain out. I see my "Service
Engine Soon" light on, but isn't that one always on? I know they all come on when you first turn the key, and then some of them go off. "Check Gauges" is on too, isn't that one always on, just to remind you to keep an eye on the oil pressure, temperature, gas gauge, and voltmeter? Whatever, I'll have to wait out the rain. It stops, and I check all the wires, making sure none are loose, including all spark plug wires. But if one of those were loose, it would just be missing on a cylinder. I check the one going from the coil to the distributor. It's tight. I am pretty much all out of ideas. I keep trying to start it. It's got a new battery and a fairly new starter, so it's cranking like a champ. Maybe that rattly catalytic converter finally clogged up. It has been rattling more, and with a different sound lately. I call my parent's house from inside. The line's busy. I call Jesse's cell, knowing he's online. He's not picking up. I even call my own house, where nobody picks up the phone, unless they check the caller ID and it's someone they want to talk to. That is, when they actually feel like checking it. Mike picks up! I ask if anyone's good to drive. "Nope, everyone here's pretty much smashed." Well, if there's one thing I can count on at 107 Cathy, it's for everyone to be too smashed to help me when I need them most. He hands the phone to Tony, who suggests a Taxi or hitchhiking. I opt for the taxi, and call one. I wait over a half hour for one, and decide to try starting it again. It still won't start, but a car pulls up, and although it is not marked as a taxi, for some reason I get a taxi-like feeling about it, which is especially odd since all reasoning would lead anyone to believe that it's an ordinary early 90's Olds "88". A portly man in foggy glasses gets out and curiously asks "car trouble?" He comes over, and assuming he knows something about cars, start listing off the things I think it could be. Catalytic converter finally clogged, fuel pump, ignition, etc.... But he admits knowing nothing about cars and that a jump start is as far as he could go. But he helps me out by cranking it over while I smell for fuel at the tailpipe. He starts reminiscing about 60's cars with V8's, where there was enough room in the engine compartment for you, your friend, and a case of beer to fit while you worked on it. I admitted also loving these cars to him, but also stated that things changed for a reasons like emissions and fuel efficiency. He had an interesting comeback, saying that as long as the oil companies had us all by the balls, anyway, and that we could have had alternative fuels years ago. Good point. I told him I had a taxi on the way, and went back into the gas station. The cashier who had given me the number for the taxi called to make sure they were on their way. They said they had, but the guy called me outside and offerend me a ride. The gas station lady asked if I'd like her to cancel the taxi, and I said "yes please, and thanks for your help." I buckled myself into the strange smelling interior of the Olds "88", and we took off down Airport Road. He fumbled with his smokes, almost ran a red light while taking one out, and swerved a little as he lit it. He started talking about how smoking was his only bad habit and he'd only smoke pot if it were legal. I shared with him how I had to quit because of panic attacks associated with the extremely high potency sinsemilla weed I had been occasionaly able to smoke. He said it was the THC that did that and explained that a lot of sinsemilla was known for having high amounts of thc in it. I agreed with him that the stuff with seeds in it was better for not getting one as panicked when smoking it. He told me it had more cannabinoids and these different cannabinoids made for different highs. He almost seemed to know just where to go and I told him where to go when he asked. I was going to my parent's house to work on that project some more. So I busted ass, by choice, on my project until about 3AM. I really put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into it this time, using the rasp to shape the curved saber saw cuts by hand. I know my grandfather Eggleton would have smiled down upone me, woodworking and all around handiness runs in my blood apparently. So after all this, I walked home to eat finally, and what do I find? My rainwater-filled motocross helmet, hanging just so on the handlebars of my motorscooter.
I think of days like these as "fateful" rather than "bad"
Current mood: drained
As I left for work at the Yogurt Pump today, I was in the usual frenzy to make sure I had everything with me, not only for work, but for welding classes at ACC. Namely, enough food. I saw my motocross helmet hanging on the handlebars of the Zuma and thought, "I don't have time to put that inside, it won't rain, anyway." Well, as the old adage goes, when it rains, it pours.
I went to work, my spot was blocked by a huge dump truck. Unusual and frustrating. I went to the other entrance to the alley. Blocked by yet another huge dump truck! I went to merge back into the lane I had just pulled over from, and the passenger in the van that was passing me gave me a dirty look, like "who taught you to drive?". So I nervously parked in the church lot across the street where I'd been instructed to park in case of emergencies like this, locking my keys in behind me. We were slow, and I had an hour and a half overlap time with my co-worker. So we eventually got permission for me to fo home for an hour to work on my cool carpentry project. I had to force open my back window to get the keys out of the truck. Good thing I don't have a truck cap, or this would be impossible. I worked a little bit of wood, cleaned up, got back and only had to work for a couple hours. After that it's off to welding.
I obviously sweated gallons of water like I usually do on tuesdays, because on Tuesdays I do stick welding. Stick welding creates a lot of heat because you're melting a big thick rod of metal as opposed to small wire like on Thursdays when I do MIG, which feeds the tiny wire as you go. I struck an arc accidentally without my mask down, which many of you know causes potentially harmful exposure to an intense amount of UV light. I learned today that this can burn either the retina, the white of the eye (which can cause a bacterial infection in the eye, which feels like you have something in the eye), or both. No symptoms of either yet, hopefully that was not enough U.V. rays to cause harm. Sweated, welded, welded some more, rehydrated, ate, sweated, welded, welded some more, for about 4 hours.
I got into the truck, started it, and noticed the idle was a little rougher than usual. I know it's in need of a tune-up, the distributor cap is pretty old, as are the wires and plugs. That, and I have been pushing it pretty hard on the highway trying to get to class on time. I'm still trying to figure out what time I need to leave for school. So I make it all the way with no noticeable problems. The rain has made it's way out of the Graham area, where I was at class, to Chapel Hill. Pouring buckets like this, and it can't last very long. I pull into the Citgo on Airport road for something caffienated like I did last week. I get a DoubleShot, not the best, but it'll have to do. I basically chug it on the spot because they're so small. I get back into the truck quickly, as it's still pouring, and fire it up. But it just keeps cranking and cranking and cranking! Damn it, I'll have to wait this rain out. I see my "Service
Engine Soon" light on, but isn't that one always on? I know they all come on when you first turn the key, and then some of them go off. "Check Gauges" is on too, isn't that one always on, just to remind you to keep an eye on the oil pressure, temperature, gas gauge, and voltmeter? Whatever, I'll have to wait out the rain. It stops, and I check all the wires, making sure none are loose, including all spark plug wires. But if one of those were loose, it would just be missing on a cylinder. I check the one going from the coil to the distributor. It's tight. I am pretty much all out of ideas. I keep trying to start it. It's got a new battery and a fairly new starter, so it's cranking like a champ. Maybe that rattly catalytic converter finally clogged up. It has been rattling more, and with a different sound lately. I call my parent's house from inside. The line's busy. I call Jesse's cell, knowing he's online. He's not picking up. I even call my own house, where nobody picks up the phone, unless they check the caller ID and it's someone they want to talk to. That is, when they actually feel like checking it. Mike picks up! I ask if anyone's good to drive. "Nope, everyone here's pretty much smashed." Well, if there's one thing I can count on at 107 Cathy, it's for everyone to be too smashed to help me when I need them most. He hands the phone to Tony, who suggests a Taxi or hitchhiking. I opt for the taxi, and call one. I wait over a half hour for one, and decide to try starting it again. It still won't start, but a car pulls up, and although it is not marked as a taxi, for some reason I get a taxi-like feeling about it, which is especially odd since all reasoning would lead anyone to believe that it's an ordinary early 90's Olds "88". A portly man in foggy glasses gets out and curiously asks "car trouble?" He comes over, and assuming he knows something about cars, start listing off the things I think it could be. Catalytic converter finally clogged, fuel pump, ignition, etc.... But he admits knowing nothing about cars and that a jump start is as far as he could go. But he helps me out by cranking it over while I smell for fuel at the tailpipe. He starts reminiscing about 60's cars with V8's, where there was enough room in the engine compartment for you, your friend, and a case of beer to fit while you worked on it. I admitted also loving these cars to him, but also stated that things changed for a reasons like emissions and fuel efficiency. He had an interesting comeback, saying that as long as the oil companies had us all by the balls, anyway, and that we could have had alternative fuels years ago. Good point. I told him I had a taxi on the way, and went back into the gas station. The cashier who had given me the number for the taxi called to make sure they were on their way. They said they had, but the guy called me outside and offerend me a ride. The gas station lady asked if I'd like her to cancel the taxi, and I said "yes please, and thanks for your help." I buckled myself into the strange smelling interior of the Olds "88", and we took off down Airport Road. He fumbled with his smokes, almost ran a red light while taking one out, and swerved a little as he lit it. He started talking about how smoking was his only bad habit and he'd only smoke pot if it were legal. I shared with him how I had to quit because of panic attacks associated with the extremely high potency sinsemilla weed I had been occasionaly able to smoke. He said it was the THC that did that and explained that a lot of sinsemilla was known for having high amounts of thc in it. I agreed with him that the stuff with seeds in it was better for not getting one as panicked when smoking it. He told me it had more cannabinoids and these different cannabinoids made for different highs. He almost seemed to know just where to go and I told him where to go when he asked. I was going to my parent's house to work on that project some more. So I busted ass, by choice, on my project until about 3AM. I really put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into it this time, using the rasp to shape the curved saber saw cuts by hand. I know my grandfather Eggleton would have smiled down upone me, woodworking and all around handiness runs in my blood apparently. So after all this, I walked home to eat finally, and what do I find? My rainwater-filled motocross helmet, hanging just so on the handlebars of my motorscooter.