- jimlouis 6-18-2008 7:30 pm [link]
...more recent posts
Jimbob's Driver's Ed
So are you driving yet?
Almost.
How old are you?
Getting ready to turn 16.
You want to try and drive this thing around the property?
OK.
Alright. Get in the driver's seat. It's only got one gear you need to worry about so you don't have to change anything. You can start it in gear but you have to have the brake on. Just turn the key and it's ready to go, but it goes very fast and you want to take it kind of slow out here.
OK. (turns key)
That's it, now just drive. Alright, a little slower. Now turn the wheel so you don't drive over the bushes, ok, ok, wait, stop. Now we need to put it in reverse, like this. Push the gas. Ok, not so fast, stop. See how the knobby tires eat up the grass when you go fast? So we need to go very slow on the grass around the house. Ok, let's go on. Don't forget to turn the wheel. Slowly, slowly, that's good, whoah, wait, stop. Let's not worry about it, those plants will probably grow back. Is this the first time you've ever driven anything?
Yes.
Oh well I think you're doing fine then. Let's take it out in the open field but remember to go very slow because there are ruts out here that will like to throw you out if you hit them too hard. OK, here comes one, slower, slower, whoah. So when you want to go slower just let your foot off the gas pedal and it will slow down immediately. And then when you want to go forward again you only need to barely push the pedal. OK, ready, go...a little slower, don't push the pedal too hard, wait, wait, stop. I tell you what, I want to get my camera so let's trade places and I'll drive it down to my house.
So you can take pictures of the plants I ran over?
Oh no, we got plenty of plants out here, we're not going to miss those few, I just want to take pictures of you and your sisters. There's no hurry to learn this driving thing, you can pick that up anytime.
So are you driving yet?
Almost.
How old are you?
Getting ready to turn 16.
You want to try and drive this thing around the property?
OK.
Alright. Get in the driver's seat. It's only got one gear you need to worry about so you don't have to change anything. You can start it in gear but you have to have the brake on. Just turn the key and it's ready to go, but it goes very fast and you want to take it kind of slow out here.
OK. (turns key)
That's it, now just drive. Alright, a little slower. Now turn the wheel so you don't drive over the bushes, ok, ok, wait, stop. Now we need to put it in reverse, like this. Push the gas. Ok, not so fast, stop. See how the knobby tires eat up the grass when you go fast? So we need to go very slow on the grass around the house. Ok, let's go on. Don't forget to turn the wheel. Slowly, slowly, that's good, whoah, wait, stop. Let's not worry about it, those plants will probably grow back. Is this the first time you've ever driven anything?
Yes.
Oh well I think you're doing fine then. Let's take it out in the open field but remember to go very slow because there are ruts out here that will like to throw you out if you hit them too hard. OK, here comes one, slower, slower, whoah. So when you want to go slower just let your foot off the gas pedal and it will slow down immediately. And then when you want to go forward again you only need to barely push the pedal. OK, ready, go...a little slower, don't push the pedal too hard, wait, wait, stop. I tell you what, I want to get my camera so let's trade places and I'll drive it down to my house.
So you can take pictures of the plants I ran over?
Oh no, we got plenty of plants out here, we're not going to miss those few, I just want to take pictures of you and your sisters. There's no hurry to learn this driving thing, you can pick that up anytime.
A Dead County Sticker
Cruising through "downtown" Woodville going 40 in a 35 and a Rappahannock trooper does a U-turn right after I pass him. He's doing the Woodville stakeout. I can't tell you how many times I've been warned about sticking to the speed limit through Woodville. Looks like he got me I tell Bernadette beside me. I don't have to tell her to hide the crack pipe. We're not junkies. We are good solid citizens even though 30 minutes in the future I won't sign that guy's petition at the Culpeper Farmers Market. I'm not harboring any ill feelings towards Ralph Nader but I don't want him on the ballot. I do not have that burning passion which is required to fix our election system. We came to Culpeper to buy vegetable matter. That is my focus. And I already signed a piece of paper in Woodville. Not an admission of guilt the trooper assured me. But sir I am guilty I wanted to tell him. He didn't get me for speeding, he got me for the expired Rappahannock County tag. He was nice. He didn't ruin my day or even give me anything particularly noteworthy to write about (Sir, do you think you could throw me up against the Jeep and verbally abuse me, I'm having a dry spell with my blog writing.) No, the cop stop was not really that unpleasant. Not like the cat pooping in Bernadette's lap coming back from N. Carolina last week. Could you pull over, she said, the cat pooped in my lap. We'd already pulled over once for a cat pooping incident but what was I going to say? I'm sorry lover, only one cat poop stop per trip allowed. Bernadette puts up with a fair amount of crap from me. I owe her, at the very least, this second cat poop pullover. Luckily we had already bought some paper towels and Windex during the previous poop pit stop. Well, I guess this will be on the blog Bernadette said after I gently extracted the two chocolate nuggets from where her white blouse curved over her lap. I would like to think I have better taste than to write about Bernadette's misfortune but if you can't even get noteworthy material from a state trooper, well, a man blogger has to do what a man blogger has to do.
I have some garbage that has been super-heating in the garage so I took it to the dump after we got back from Culpeper. I thought maybe the attendant would verbally abuse me at the dump, because the county tag has no real purpose beyond allowing locals to dump their garbage. We are a quaint village without garbage pickup. I tossed the smelly garbage into the giant pit and then drove across the lot and unloaded some bottles for recycle. Not that many really. Three different colors, a little wine, a little beer, a few liquor bottles. Not enough to kill you. Uh oh, the attendant is walking over. I haven't had previous experience with this guy. And it's been almost two years since I was last hassled at the dump for some improper dumping protocol, either by that other attendant or a do-gooder citizen who would really be best advised to just mind their own damn business, the citizens I mean, not the attendant. Minding the business of dumping protocol is exactly his business.
I look this man in the eyes, imploring him, please sir, can you help me with my blog? He says, you got a dead county sticker. I nod, smile knowingly, and consider hugging the man. I don't mind hugging men, on occasion, but I felt it would be out of place under these circumstances. Yeah, I know, I just got a ticket earlier, in Woodville, I told the attendant. He shook his head, with a hint of commiseration, and said, that'll cost you about 50 or a hundred bucks. Damn, I said, not, well, a man who lets his county tag expire two months ago deserves whatever punishment comes his way. He went across the lot to tell the owners of a high end SUV about their dead county sticker. He was polite, even saying, I don't mean to be mean to you...and they were polite and now back at the house it's raining a gulley-washer. Earlier, on the way back from Culpeper we stopped and bought some locally grown hamburger. There were some piglets wallowing in mud puddles. The owner of the farm came over to say hi to Bernadette because he's been missing her. We stood around. The farmer called out to one of the piglets, hey, you're pissing in your own mud puddle. We watched the piglet pissing in the puddle it had just finished wallowing in. It's kind of amazing how these creatures come off as cute but they do, they pull it off.
Cruising through "downtown" Woodville going 40 in a 35 and a Rappahannock trooper does a U-turn right after I pass him. He's doing the Woodville stakeout. I can't tell you how many times I've been warned about sticking to the speed limit through Woodville. Looks like he got me I tell Bernadette beside me. I don't have to tell her to hide the crack pipe. We're not junkies. We are good solid citizens even though 30 minutes in the future I won't sign that guy's petition at the Culpeper Farmers Market. I'm not harboring any ill feelings towards Ralph Nader but I don't want him on the ballot. I do not have that burning passion which is required to fix our election system. We came to Culpeper to buy vegetable matter. That is my focus. And I already signed a piece of paper in Woodville. Not an admission of guilt the trooper assured me. But sir I am guilty I wanted to tell him. He didn't get me for speeding, he got me for the expired Rappahannock County tag. He was nice. He didn't ruin my day or even give me anything particularly noteworthy to write about (Sir, do you think you could throw me up against the Jeep and verbally abuse me, I'm having a dry spell with my blog writing.) No, the cop stop was not really that unpleasant. Not like the cat pooping in Bernadette's lap coming back from N. Carolina last week. Could you pull over, she said, the cat pooped in my lap. We'd already pulled over once for a cat pooping incident but what was I going to say? I'm sorry lover, only one cat poop stop per trip allowed. Bernadette puts up with a fair amount of crap from me. I owe her, at the very least, this second cat poop pullover. Luckily we had already bought some paper towels and Windex during the previous poop pit stop. Well, I guess this will be on the blog Bernadette said after I gently extracted the two chocolate nuggets from where her white blouse curved over her lap. I would like to think I have better taste than to write about Bernadette's misfortune but if you can't even get noteworthy material from a state trooper, well, a man blogger has to do what a man blogger has to do.
I have some garbage that has been super-heating in the garage so I took it to the dump after we got back from Culpeper. I thought maybe the attendant would verbally abuse me at the dump, because the county tag has no real purpose beyond allowing locals to dump their garbage. We are a quaint village without garbage pickup. I tossed the smelly garbage into the giant pit and then drove across the lot and unloaded some bottles for recycle. Not that many really. Three different colors, a little wine, a little beer, a few liquor bottles. Not enough to kill you. Uh oh, the attendant is walking over. I haven't had previous experience with this guy. And it's been almost two years since I was last hassled at the dump for some improper dumping protocol, either by that other attendant or a do-gooder citizen who would really be best advised to just mind their own damn business, the citizens I mean, not the attendant. Minding the business of dumping protocol is exactly his business.
I look this man in the eyes, imploring him, please sir, can you help me with my blog? He says, you got a dead county sticker. I nod, smile knowingly, and consider hugging the man. I don't mind hugging men, on occasion, but I felt it would be out of place under these circumstances. Yeah, I know, I just got a ticket earlier, in Woodville, I told the attendant. He shook his head, with a hint of commiseration, and said, that'll cost you about 50 or a hundred bucks. Damn, I said, not, well, a man who lets his county tag expire two months ago deserves whatever punishment comes his way. He went across the lot to tell the owners of a high end SUV about their dead county sticker. He was polite, even saying, I don't mean to be mean to you...and they were polite and now back at the house it's raining a gulley-washer. Earlier, on the way back from Culpeper we stopped and bought some locally grown hamburger. There were some piglets wallowing in mud puddles. The owner of the farm came over to say hi to Bernadette because he's been missing her. We stood around. The farmer called out to one of the piglets, hey, you're pissing in your own mud puddle. We watched the piglet pissing in the puddle it had just finished wallowing in. It's kind of amazing how these creatures come off as cute but they do, they pull it off.
Trees Fall Down
Meanwhile, back in Virginia, there was rumor of a severe storm while I was gone, but I think it was exaggerated somewhat. I can't find evidence of anything beyond the usual out here. This on the side of the barn.
And this big limb behind the barn
This limb over by the picnic table above the tennis court.
And this one from that tree behind my house that I have been expecting to fall on my bedroom but a big piece of it fell the other way. I guess this was my last warning. I should cut the tree down.
Meanwhile, back in Virginia, there was rumor of a severe storm while I was gone, but I think it was exaggerated somewhat. I can't find evidence of anything beyond the usual out here. This on the side of the barn.
And this big limb behind the barn
This limb over by the picnic table above the tennis court.
And this one from that tree behind my house that I have been expecting to fall on my bedroom but a big piece of it fell the other way. I guess this was my last warning. I should cut the tree down.
Global Bed Warming
People these days are all about the taking. Take, take, take. But I'm about the giving. And this morning I did my part by contributing to global warming. On a day that promises to reach nearly 100 degrees, I thought I would kick it off by building a fire, get rid of some of this wood out here and a box spring too.
It got going pretty good and then a little too good when an unforeseen wind starting blowing it horizontal (I didn't take a picture of that because I was panicking some.) I have a large pile of pretty clean wood that I think I will give to my neighbor, who heats his remodeled house with a nifty wood burning furnace system, located outside, that heats his house and his water. Also, I think I will wait for a good rain or two before I build another fire.
I was spraying the garden hose around the perimeter so the dry grass didn't catch and then run to the dry leaves in the woods. But I was a little worried for awhile about a spark settling in the leaves nearby and being that guy that burned down the woods out here in 08. Oh I'm sorry, did you want that box spring?
People these days are all about the taking. Take, take, take. But I'm about the giving. And this morning I did my part by contributing to global warming. On a day that promises to reach nearly 100 degrees, I thought I would kick it off by building a fire, get rid of some of this wood out here and a box spring too.
It got going pretty good and then a little too good when an unforeseen wind starting blowing it horizontal (I didn't take a picture of that because I was panicking some.) I have a large pile of pretty clean wood that I think I will give to my neighbor, who heats his remodeled house with a nifty wood burning furnace system, located outside, that heats his house and his water. Also, I think I will wait for a good rain or two before I build another fire.
I was spraying the garden hose around the perimeter so the dry grass didn't catch and then run to the dry leaves in the woods. But I was a little worried for awhile about a spark settling in the leaves nearby and being that guy that burned down the woods out here in 08. Oh I'm sorry, did you want that box spring?
Homestead Projects
I'm not sure just how to go about arranging this day. It's going to be a hot one and the next three days don't look much better.
It is definitely too hot to build another fire so that's out.
I could do some more painting on the inside before it heats up.
Or I could do some snake wrangling.
Or I could drag this stuff from the woods out closer to where my future trash haulers can reach it.
The basement is a very cool place to work, temperature-wise.
This was the day I thought about going to the beach, but as you can see I really have some work to do, so I'll just stick to it.
I'm not sure just how to go about arranging this day. It's going to be a hot one and the next three days don't look much better.
It is definitely too hot to build another fire so that's out.
I could do some more painting on the inside before it heats up.
Or I could do some snake wrangling.
Or I could drag this stuff from the woods out closer to where my future trash haulers can reach it.
The basement is a very cool place to work, temperature-wise.
This was the day I thought about going to the beach, but as you can see I really have some work to do, so I'll just stick to it.
Goodbye My Sweet 302
It had a high idle. Without pressing the gas pedal, left to reach its top speed on a straight away it would top out at just over 40 mph. I drove it to high school my senior year in Dallas. We didn't have an open campus but during my 35 minute lunch period I would sneak off campus in the Maverick and hit the buffet at Pizza Inn. I had a soft schedule my senior year, arrived late, after the parking restrictions expired on the street and therefore was able to park out front instead of in the guarded lot. The vice-principal, who's office faced the street and who I visited infrequently for minor infractions, asked me one day, Louis, are you leaving campus for lunch? Yessir I am. That is against school policy, he told me. I did not know that, I said, while looking through his drawer of confiscated weapons, before the days of guns in schools. We got along pretty well me and the vice-principal. He didn't see me as a serious threat and I didn't see him as one.
Several years later my father sold me the Maverick. He said, make me an offer. I said 600. He said 400. He was hoping, I think, that if I had a car I would stop hitchhiking. The car did slow down my hitchhiking some.
In 87 a friend in Austin wanted me to take him and his suitcase to California. We drove the Maverick from Austin to San Jose and there I left him. I scooted over to the coast freeway and took it up to the middle of Oregon and then back west to the Interstate and up north to Seattle and somewhere west of Seattle is where I decided I probably wouldn't spend the rest of my days in Texas. I called my employer at some point and told him this. During this leg of the trip I stopped in San Francisco but my friend was not home so I continued on and in Eureka I considered staying because there seemed to be a groove going on but I couldn't stop. I picked up some cool rocks on the beach at a place called Humboldt Lagoon.
I forgot, in Portland I had an adventure with a street person and sometime during this adventure the brakes went out. I couldn't stop then either (no pun) so I continued on with just the handbrake and would use that for braking all the way across country to New York and then down to DC.
I picked up a few pebbles at Custer's Battlefield to go with my beach rocks and then over to Minneapolis to visit the grandmother of my ex-girlfriend and then I had a brainstorm to go visit my friend in St. Louis. Had a good time there and then in Indiana I saw two girls hitchhiking, a French Canadian and a Parisian, so I picked them up and took them to Chicago. They didn't really want to have anything to do with me though so I spent my one night in Chicago at Kingston Mines, a blues club. And then to NY where I picked up Edgar and Helen and Bill and down to Great Falls, VA where Mr. BC was being a bachelor. We had a 4th of July party. My friend from St. Louis flew out, he almost had a romance with Mr. BC's ex-girlfriend.
And some other stuff, some adventures, some of them illicit but I'm not bragging.
Anyway, these are the things I thought about, seeing it dragged from the shed and then winched onto the trailer of the guy my neighbor hooked up.
It was a four door, not the sporty 2-door Grabber, but it had lines (and people think I'm kidding), that seen from just the right angle, were almost elegant.
It had a high idle. Without pressing the gas pedal, left to reach its top speed on a straight away it would top out at just over 40 mph. I drove it to high school my senior year in Dallas. We didn't have an open campus but during my 35 minute lunch period I would sneak off campus in the Maverick and hit the buffet at Pizza Inn. I had a soft schedule my senior year, arrived late, after the parking restrictions expired on the street and therefore was able to park out front instead of in the guarded lot. The vice-principal, who's office faced the street and who I visited infrequently for minor infractions, asked me one day, Louis, are you leaving campus for lunch? Yessir I am. That is against school policy, he told me. I did not know that, I said, while looking through his drawer of confiscated weapons, before the days of guns in schools. We got along pretty well me and the vice-principal. He didn't see me as a serious threat and I didn't see him as one.
Several years later my father sold me the Maverick. He said, make me an offer. I said 600. He said 400. He was hoping, I think, that if I had a car I would stop hitchhiking. The car did slow down my hitchhiking some.
In 87 a friend in Austin wanted me to take him and his suitcase to California. We drove the Maverick from Austin to San Jose and there I left him. I scooted over to the coast freeway and took it up to the middle of Oregon and then back west to the Interstate and up north to Seattle and somewhere west of Seattle is where I decided I probably wouldn't spend the rest of my days in Texas. I called my employer at some point and told him this. During this leg of the trip I stopped in San Francisco but my friend was not home so I continued on and in Eureka I considered staying because there seemed to be a groove going on but I couldn't stop. I picked up some cool rocks on the beach at a place called Humboldt Lagoon.
I forgot, in Portland I had an adventure with a street person and sometime during this adventure the brakes went out. I couldn't stop then either (no pun) so I continued on with just the handbrake and would use that for braking all the way across country to New York and then down to DC.
I picked up a few pebbles at Custer's Battlefield to go with my beach rocks and then over to Minneapolis to visit the grandmother of my ex-girlfriend and then I had a brainstorm to go visit my friend in St. Louis. Had a good time there and then in Indiana I saw two girls hitchhiking, a French Canadian and a Parisian, so I picked them up and took them to Chicago. They didn't really want to have anything to do with me though so I spent my one night in Chicago at Kingston Mines, a blues club. And then to NY where I picked up Edgar and Helen and Bill and down to Great Falls, VA where Mr. BC was being a bachelor. We had a 4th of July party. My friend from St. Louis flew out, he almost had a romance with Mr. BC's ex-girlfriend.
And some other stuff, some adventures, some of them illicit but I'm not bragging.
Anyway, these are the things I thought about, seeing it dragged from the shed and then winched onto the trailer of the guy my neighbor hooked up.
It was a four door, not the sporty 2-door Grabber, but it had lines (and people think I'm kidding), that seen from just the right angle, were almost elegant.
Chili Dogs For Breakfast
My knees are open wide to about 75 degrees and are pressed up against the wood paneled counter-front at the diner in Roxboro.
I took the storm windows off the other day so I have no screens but the windows are open and flies are landing on me. You MUST close the windows by 5p.m. or you will have mosquitoes to pay for it. No, it doesn't matter if you just painted three rooms with oil-based Kilz, close the windows.
At the diner I am an early customer at 7 a.m. because I woke up at 4 a.m. because I went to bed at 9 a.m. because I was doped on Kilz. I'm done with that now unless I'm mistaken about being done with it.
I watch an order come out and I crane my neck to see into the other room because I am curious who is ordering three chili dogs with onions at 7 a.m.
I head on over to the home improvement super store. I've been gone 14 years and Roxboro (which is ten miles away from the house) finally got a national chain home improvement store. It's been open six months. The locals are resisting it. I don't mind being one of five customers in a great big store.
The flies are wily and fresh, just born I guess and quick and full of life and hard to kill. I have a fly-swatter near me and I make an occasional effort but who am I kidding, not these flies. Wait, just got one, right on my shin. That kind of hurt. Got another one. I'm killing them now, boy.
My new phone keeps ringing but I ignore it. I put my name on the solicitor no call list yesterday but I don't think it takes effect right away so I'm playing it safe.
I think that fly I just swatted was already dead. I'm not taking credit for that one, not twice anyway.
I stop at another great big everything under one roof store and pick up a 2gb flash disc because I took some videos of the travesty out here and they are taking up too much room on my computer. I have one more video I want to take of the hidden cache of junk stashed out in the woods, some years ago I guess because small trees have grown up around it. I was out there day before yesterday with a chainsaw and a hand saw and a pruner, cutting a path big enough for a vehicle. I threw the green stuff on the burn pile.
After getting back from town I climbed up on the roof and smeared some patching cement on a bad spot where a shingle came off and around the chimney flashing, as a stop gap until I can replace the roof. It rained inside the house last week.
Phone's ringing again. I had to get up anyway and kill a bee that was buzzing by the front door so I checked the ID on the phone. Those people at V*k*ngMag*z*ne are relentless.
I got off the roof and snipped the bailing wire from the wood pallets leaned up against the hog wire attached to the two by fours nailed to my trees which were all part of Jethro's dog pen. I drag a few of the pallets, the heavy ones, and carry a couple more, the light ones, one in each hand, over to the burn pile. I am using my last dead cedar tree kindling which makes starting a fire a simple flick of the bic. I will have to construct the piles more carefully now because paint thinner is almost 10 bucks a gallon out here and gasoline's flash point I am not fond of. I have lots more to burn.
I have a pot to piss in, literally. I am afraid of the bathroom, but use it when I have to.
The cat just came inside. She is trying to catch flies. She seems to love it out here.
My knees are open wide to about 75 degrees and are pressed up against the wood paneled counter-front at the diner in Roxboro.
I took the storm windows off the other day so I have no screens but the windows are open and flies are landing on me. You MUST close the windows by 5p.m. or you will have mosquitoes to pay for it. No, it doesn't matter if you just painted three rooms with oil-based Kilz, close the windows.
At the diner I am an early customer at 7 a.m. because I woke up at 4 a.m. because I went to bed at 9 a.m. because I was doped on Kilz. I'm done with that now unless I'm mistaken about being done with it.
I watch an order come out and I crane my neck to see into the other room because I am curious who is ordering three chili dogs with onions at 7 a.m.
I head on over to the home improvement super store. I've been gone 14 years and Roxboro (which is ten miles away from the house) finally got a national chain home improvement store. It's been open six months. The locals are resisting it. I don't mind being one of five customers in a great big store.
The flies are wily and fresh, just born I guess and quick and full of life and hard to kill. I have a fly-swatter near me and I make an occasional effort but who am I kidding, not these flies. Wait, just got one, right on my shin. That kind of hurt. Got another one. I'm killing them now, boy.
My new phone keeps ringing but I ignore it. I put my name on the solicitor no call list yesterday but I don't think it takes effect right away so I'm playing it safe.
I think that fly I just swatted was already dead. I'm not taking credit for that one, not twice anyway.
I stop at another great big everything under one roof store and pick up a 2gb flash disc because I took some videos of the travesty out here and they are taking up too much room on my computer. I have one more video I want to take of the hidden cache of junk stashed out in the woods, some years ago I guess because small trees have grown up around it. I was out there day before yesterday with a chainsaw and a hand saw and a pruner, cutting a path big enough for a vehicle. I threw the green stuff on the burn pile.
After getting back from town I climbed up on the roof and smeared some patching cement on a bad spot where a shingle came off and around the chimney flashing, as a stop gap until I can replace the roof. It rained inside the house last week.
Phone's ringing again. I had to get up anyway and kill a bee that was buzzing by the front door so I checked the ID on the phone. Those people at V*k*ngMag*z*ne are relentless.
I got off the roof and snipped the bailing wire from the wood pallets leaned up against the hog wire attached to the two by fours nailed to my trees which were all part of Jethro's dog pen. I drag a few of the pallets, the heavy ones, and carry a couple more, the light ones, one in each hand, over to the burn pile. I am using my last dead cedar tree kindling which makes starting a fire a simple flick of the bic. I will have to construct the piles more carefully now because paint thinner is almost 10 bucks a gallon out here and gasoline's flash point I am not fond of. I have lots more to burn.
I have a pot to piss in, literally. I am afraid of the bathroom, but use it when I have to.
The cat just came inside. She is trying to catch flies. She seems to love it out here.