# So... Once Upon a Time...



## Poppy (Nov 16, 2015)

Once upon a time... stories around the campfire.

Once when camping with some friends, we had cooked some burgers or steaks for dinner, and had all eaten. There were a couple left on the grill, and we were asked who wants the last one. Sitting there with my fork in hand, I reached for it and jabbed it to put it on my plate. Unfortunately for my friend, he reached for it with his bare hand. Opps! Sorry, fortunately I didn't break his skin, and I jabbed for it again... lol... opps! he had reached for it again... this happened THREE times! We all laughed, no one was injured and there was no malicious intent.

Sometimes, I guess the fork is an essential survival tool for obtaining food.


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## ven (Nov 16, 2015)

:laughing: so who ended up with the steak? Great idea for a thread


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## bykfixer (Nov 16, 2015)

^^ lol, I'd say the guy with a fork who aint afraid to use it...
But after stabbing my man 3 times hopefully he at least offered him half.


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## Poppy (Nov 18, 2015)

bykfixer said:


> ^^ lol, I'd say the guy with a fork who aint afraid to use it...
> But after stabbing my man 3 times hopefully he at least offered him half.


He was my best friend... yes I gave him half 

OK, so another story, a few years later, and we are in college. His girlfriend's slightly younger brother wanted to go camping, so we took him. My friend and I only had summer, or spring/fall bags, but this kid went out and got himself a winter rated mummy bag. Oh.. did he go on and on about how cold it was going to get, and that we were going to freeze our butts off, but that HE would be as cozy and snug as a bug in a rug!

Yeah... it got pretty darn cold, so when my buddy suggested that we both jump into one bag and throw the other over us, I immediately agreed! :thumbsup: We probably got 5-6 hours of solid sleep. 

When morning came the braggert was complaining that he froze all night long, and didn't get any sleep at all, and the worst part was; that the two of us were snoring away - All... night... long. :sleepy:

LOL... sometimes you just have to enjoy the little things in life.


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## Tre_Asay (Nov 18, 2015)

Ok, ~10 scouts around a campfire and a mosquito repellant candle that had been placed into the campfire and was now entirely melted and flaming in it's metal can. 

Someone decided to spit into the melted wax, and much like water in an oil fire it caused a small fireball. Knowing boy scouts we all lined up to take turns spitting into the candle to make the three foot fireball.

This went around for a minute or so until one of the older scouts had the bright idea of more water. He grabbed my water bottle (32 oz wide mouth) and poured half of it into the candle, Almost instantly like a flash bomb there was a 10 foot fireball above our campfire, needles to say we all jumped back and that put an end to it. 

In the end I had less water then the others for the rest of the outing.


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## bykfixer (Nov 18, 2015)

Poppy said:


> He was my best friend... yes I gave him half
> 
> OK, so another story, a few years later, and we are in college. His girlfriend's slightly younger brother wanted to go camping, so we took him. My friend and I only had summer, or spring/fall bags, but this kid went out and got himself a winter rated mummy bag. Oh.. did he go on and on about how cold it was going to get, and that we were going to freeze our butts off, but that HE would be as cozy and snug as a bug in a rug!
> 
> ...




Hmmmm sleeping in bag with other fella, or shivering? Hmmm

Tell ya what....You face that wall and I'll face the other. lol


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## Poppy (Nov 26, 2015)

Tre_Asay said:


> Ok, ~10 scouts around a campfire and a mosquito repellant candle that had been placed into the campfire and was now entirely melted and flaming in it's metal can.
> 
> Someone decided to spit into the melted wax, and much like water in an oil fire it caused a small fireball. Knowing boy scouts we all lined up to take turns spitting into the candle to make the three foot fireball.
> 
> ...



Yeah... so riddle me this: What can be more trouble than a scout around a campfire?
TEN SCOUTS!
For demonstration purposes, I got a youtube video of what happens when you add water to a grease fire.


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## nbp (Nov 26, 2015)

Also why you should not add your frozen turkey to a fryer.


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## bykfixer (Nov 30, 2015)

Tell us the one about the cougar window
Pleeeease.


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## bykfixer (Nov 30, 2015)

So at my work there's this guy who's breaking in his new pipe crew. Young guys who've never had real leadership. The superintendent was a former soldier. I gotta tell ya his crew thought he had lost his mind a few times when he'd blow his stack for little things.
The guy is one of the best at what he does and wanted to ensure his new crew had faith in him as he had to put them in 40' deep trenches with lots of water entering from the sides, while they installed pipe that weighed 20k #'s per section. 

A little time passes and one day a worker says "tell us an Army story boss". 

He starts out with "well there was this one day" tales...
Apparently they had run a buncha clicks and the seargent says "gimme 50!" They were on top of bazillions of pebbles. One guy found doing pushups on pebbles uncomfortable and flicked one. This leads the seargent to get down to the guys face level hollering "wtf are you doing to my rock?!, do you have a problem with my rock?!" Kid says "sir no sir"...
I can't tell it right without the visual of the superintendent telling the story eyes all bugged out, face viens throbbing and spit flying like some crazy drill seargant. Priceless theatrics. 

Well the story ends with sun setting, poor private being forced to turn over every single rock to prevent them from being sunburned.
"Can't you see my rocks are getting sunburned?!, get yer @$$ back down there and turn those ***-*** rocks back over!"

The crew would follow their new leader off a cliff after telling that story that day. He travels all over the East Coast of America putting pipes underground that no one else will, hiring local help....I follow him on facebook, and wherever he goes his crew is always very loyal.

He's one of those people you just know would jump on a hand gernade to save those around him. And if it didn't hurt him too bad he'd probably go beat the crap out of the guy who tossed it or die trying.


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## Poppy (Nov 30, 2015)

When 9-11 hit, my youngest brother could see the smoke of the twin towers from where he was working, on the New Jersey side of the river. He told his BA, Business Agent... "If they call the (Union) hall for help, put me on the list." IIRC, he was the general foreman, or maybe the supervisor on the construction job that he was running at the time. 
We're ten years apart, so no matter, he was always my little brother. Somewhere along the line, he must have grown-up to be a man. The planes hit Tuesday morning, I think it was Wednesday evening, just as he got home, that he got the call. 

He grabbed something to eat, called a friend, and drove the hour or so to the site. During the course of the day, at work, he had lost his voice. You have to remember, that the fire department brass set up their command center in the lobby of one of the towers, when it came down they were wiped out. So when my brother got there, things were still a bit disorganized. Many of the leadership appeared to be people that they pulled out of retirement. He could see that there were hundreds of people standing around, who wanted to help, but no one told them what to do.

He grabbed his friend, and told him... I lost my voice. YOU are my voice. You TELL these people to do what I tell you to tell them, OK? ...

OKay!!! Form a line...
You... grab ten men, and go over there and get a bunch of buckets.
You.... grab ten men, and go over there and see what kind of digging tools are available.
You... take a few people to find what we need to do to communicate with the people who are working with the dogs. Bring a couple of their representatives back here.
Look at your watch, be back here in ten minutes. Now... GO!

My LITTLE brother started about 4 bucket lines, to remove debris at ground zero.
I am really proud of him.

I am really proud of my middle brother, he grabbed some cutting torches and went to cut steel.

It was only after this, that I realized that my kid brothers, weren't kids anymore, but adult men, and leaders of men. :thumbsup:


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## lightlover (Nov 30, 2015)

Poppy said:


> It was only after this, that I realized that my kid brothers, weren't kids anymore, but adult men, and leaders of men. :thumbsup:



Dear *Poppy,*

I think that you are one of a kind too. 
Love to your Grand Kids!


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## Poppy (Dec 1, 2015)

So... Once upon a time, I bought a 1967 Cougar. They are two door classics today, with hideaway headlights, and sequential tail lights. Mine had 3 speed shifter on the floor, with white leather interior.  I got it pretty cheap, back in 1973, for IIRC $350. One of the headlights didn't go up and down, (a vacuum leak, replaced the vacuum hose), the brakes pulled to the left, (rebuilt the right front wheel cylinder... $3.00 for the kit), and the sequential blinking directional tail-lights, they weren't working either  . Inside the trunk, above the left wheel well, there is a little motorized unit with three, or six (I don't quite recall) contact points that open and close, like ignition points on a cam, like a music box. I took a point file to them, cleaned the contacts, and they worked like new!

Well... One winter night a small group of us got together at a frat brother's house, had a few beers, and left to go home. I had my 3D maglight between the bucket seats. A few kids walked by, as I started the engine. I turned on the defrosters, and my rear windshield shattered! It friggin shattered!

WTF! I took my glove off, and felt the temp of the air coming out of the defroster, still ice cold, the engine hadn't warmed up yet. Totally dismayed... "how could cold air shatter my rear windshield?"

Hmmm, maybe it was those kids? I got out of the car, and my frat brother was all apologetic. Still puzzled?!? and now ever more puzzled, why is he apologizing?



He had an air gun/ bb gun and somehow missed my hubcap!

lol... so I got to drive his car, a first generation little mercury caprii, for a couple of days, while mine was in the shop.  I liked driving his car, and he mine. We would sometimes swap cars for the fun of it. :thumbsup: I now ALWAYS wear my seat-belt, but that's another story 

Yeah... it's a good thing I didn't use my mag-light that night.


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## ven (Dec 2, 2015)

Great reading poppy, thanks for sharing ..............oh and the other story is?


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## Poppy (Dec 2, 2015)

Hi ven, Thanks for the encouragement :thumbsup:

But hey... after all, you're a camper, a four wheel drive, road warrior, with a wife, and kids, Certainly YOU have some stories to tell, no?


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## ven (Dec 2, 2015)

:laughing: my memory is terrible , will try and jog it over the coming days and see what i can find in my abyss


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## Poppy (Dec 2, 2015)

ven said:


> :laughing: my memory is terrible , will try and jog it over the coming days and see what i can find in my abyss


Maybe something amazing that you had seen?

One time a friend of the family was getting married and my brothers and I attended the bachelor party. Of course there was a fair amount of beer drinking. Well my one brother had a beer in his hand and was leaning back on a chair, of course some clown had to lift the leg, so that he tumbled backwards. He had done a full, slow motion, backwards somersault, all the while keeping his beer vertical, so that he didn't waste a drop! LOL... he got a round of applause for that one. 

Now I'm sure you know how beer drinking, boating, and partying all go hand-in-hand. Or at least they did, back in the day.... 

There is a place called "Croton on the Hudson", just North of the Tapanzee bridge, in NY. I think that the water up there might be almost fresh water, as it's more than ten miles upstream from the ocean. Well at any rate, there is a sandy beach, and on a nice summer, weekend day you'll find a number of boaters, hanging out, anchored, and tied off to one another. Drinking, partying, and general socializing. Just a good group of people having a good time. 

One time, I was amazed when I saw this over-sized gentleman, fall off of a pontoon boat. He made a HUGE splash, he had a beer in one hand, and a cigar in the other. When he came back up, he celebrated by drinking the beer, because the cigar was still lit!

LOL... now that was a feat that beat my brother's somersault!


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## bykfixer (Dec 2, 2015)

I crashed on my skateboard in a high speed situation and my hat stayed on. 

Never one to ease into things I got a new speed board for Christmas in 07. 
My wifes 14 year old asked me to take him downhilling known as "bombing"...
So bombs away, we go down one hill and he's was keeping up with me. Can't have that!!!

So we find a big ole steep, long hill with long sweepers. Yesssssssss. 


We launch, I'm 2 lenghts ahead from the get go. But by the time we're 500' his crouched scrawny youthful physique was cutting the wind way better than my 43 year old stink-bug hunched over middle aged girth. By 1000' we're probably going 22mph. In a car that's nothing. But on an unfamiliar skateboard that's sketchy territory. 
I start to gyrate back n forth attempting to build speed. I turned back to look and hit a hunk of brick.
Skateboard stops instantly. I do not. The laws of inertia do not cooperate with gray haired teenagers. SPLATT!!!!! 
By the time I knew I was falling I'd already slammed my rib cage onto the asphalt. But instinct kicked in and I tucked my elbow under my sliding torsoe, lifted and rolled a flip or 3. 
By the time I stopped the Evil Knevil (seemingly endless) roll I stood up and ran out the last 20 steps or so.

Wife's son says "holy $h1t that looked painful"... I'm trying to walk off the pain and turn and ask "where's my hat?"...He chuckles and says "holy $h1t...it's still on your head, but here's your glasses" lol.

Needless to say that was the day I retired from downhill skateboarding.

When folks would ask "wanna go bomb some hills?" I'd answer "not since the 07 Christmas Crash" 

Ribs hurt for a few weeks and the left arm could straighten out all the way about a year later...until hanging a bird feeder in a tree while standing on the top of a step ladder on uneven ground...but that's another story...
That day I discovered it's possible to run down an 8' step ladder, 3 or 4 steps anyway...then I snagged. WHAM!!! Awe crap my arm is stuck bent again....
One day a year or so later I grabbed a grocery bag, heard a loud pop and it's been working normal ever since.


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## Poppy (Dec 2, 2015)

What a GREAT story!!!

I was already smiling at the end of the first paragraph, ... I Just Knew it was going to be good! 

And it WAS!!! :thumbsup:


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## scout24 (Dec 3, 2015)

Poppy- The Hudson is salt right up to almost Albany. I've fished for Stripers more than a few times off of Croton-on-Hudson, and a bunch of places from Albany south. The river tides are strong by the TZ bridge, still strong by Newburgh and West Point, and less so right on up to Albany. Strange to anchor up, and later see the boat pulled "upstream" against anchor after slack tide. Never saw the pontoon boat guy though!!! 

Bykfixr- We don't buonce like we used to... Gotta let youth take over sooner or later.


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## bykfixer (Dec 3, 2015)

^^ tried giving the board away a couple of times but no takers.

The potential victim...uh, err I mean new owner looks at the vented ceramic core wheels and tend to go pale and hand it back...
"Ceramic core?" they ask and I retort "rated to go at least 75 without failure"

I went back to something safer...half pipe riding.
Very soon after I decided that doing anything that requires a crash helmet is not a good idea for this guy. 

So then I built a Wrights Bros style racing bike. A few laps around the block on that one and I got to thinking crash helmet required so I rode it home and deflated the tires. I had gone through every part and replaced factory parts with lightweight stuff, and put high pressure 22 mm tires on it.
Goes way too fast way too quickly.
Again, no takers...

Next was a sports car that can go 65mph in 2nd gear....

So now I play with flashlights while the car collects dust...for some reason lithium primaries are my favorite battery....


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## nbp (Dec 3, 2015)

I don't think lithium primaries are risky enough for you. I'd suggest high draw multi cell lights and low quality unprotected li-ions for an adrenaline junkie like yourself.  Hehehe.


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## Poppy (Dec 3, 2015)

Here comes a long introduction to one of the top ten stupidest things I have ever done.

I once discovered a bird's nest with little ones in it, in the eaves of our previous house. I don't know why I called the town hall to find out how to get rid of them... probably my wife made me. Well, apparently it is illegal to just pull them out and throw them away, so I had to call an exterminator. He'll locate how they got in, and will build a wire mesh cone around the entrance so that they can get out, but not back in. Then... when they are all out, he'll come back and seal it up so that no others can get back in.

Great... idk, $200 ?

Brilliant idea. The mother got out, but couldn't get back in to feed them! Guess what happened?

Yeah, so after their dead little bodies died and cooled off, the little parasitic mites, left, looking for warm bodies. They managed to get into the walls, and into my daughter's bedroom.

Called another exterminator, who closed all the windows and used a chemical bomb (actually a number of them). Of course when that was all done, all of the curtains had to come down and go to the dry cleaners, Stanley Steamer had to come in to clean the carpets, and furniture, all our clothes had to be washed and dried, and whatever had to go to the cleaners, did.

After all said and done, it was a couple of thousand dollar adventure, and palpable stress for weeks.

OK fast forward fifteen years or so, we're in our current house. And I can hear noises in the attic and in the wall of the second floor. Ah... I can see a gap just below the roofing shingles. Hmmm, how is he getting there. Ah.. I see a tree branch pretty much at the height of the roof, that is extending from the tree 30 feet away.

So I create the screen funnel thing and watch for him to escape. I set up a video camera and then fast forwarded through it. OK... now I can seal it up. Damn! I still hear him... must have been more than one!

So I borrow a "Have a Heart" Trap, and use peanut butter. Yahoo.... I take that little fur ball for a ride.

OK, now to cut back that branch. I get out my 20 foot ladder, and electric chain saw. I lean the ladder against the branch; the ladder is almost vertical because it isn't quite long enough. That's ok, I have my son there to keep it from going one way or the other, and I scamper up the ladder. I gave him specific instructions about the dangers of the chain saw, and if it starts to fall for any reason to get the heck out of the way!

So again.... I have the ladder leaning against the branch, a good 4-5 inches in diameter. I am near the top of the ladder, and have one hand on the branch, two feet on the ladder, and one hand on the chain saw. I start a cutting. The blade makes its' way through and the 15 foot section of the branch falls to the ground. I hadn't considered how heavy that section of the branch was, nor that the section of the branch that I was holding onto and had the ladder leaning against might spring UP due to the loss of all of that weight. Suddenly, the ladder wasn't leaning against the branch I was holding onto with one hand!

Fortunately the ladder was nearly vertical because it wasn't quite long enough to reach at a more comfortable angle. So I was able to hold onto the branch with one hand and the ladder with the other, and be like a clown on stilts. I was able to drop/lower the chain saw by allowing the electrical cord to slide through my hand. 

My son was able to give the ladder some support when I let go of the branch and scampered down the ladder. I think I came down two rungs at a time!

I have to say, that little episode in my life has to be among the top ten dumbest things I have ever done.


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## scs (Dec 3, 2015)

Poppy said:


> When 9-11 hit, my youngest brother could see the smoke of the twin towers from where he was working, on the New Jersey side of the river. He told his BA, Business Agent... "If they call the (Union) hall for help, put me on the list." IIRC, he was the general foreman, or maybe the supervisor on the construction job that he was running at the time.
> We're ten years apart, so no matter, he was always my little brother. Somewhere along the line, he must have grown-up to be a man. The planes hit Monday morning, I think it was Wednesday evening, just as he got home, that he got the call.
> 
> He grabbed something to eat, called a friend, and drove the hour or so to the site. During the course of the day, at work, he had lost his voice. You have to remember, that the fire department brass set up their command center in the lobby of one of the towers, when it came down they were wiped out. So when my brother got there, things were still a bit disorganized. Many of the leadership appeared to be people that they pulled out of retirement. He could see that there were hundreds of people standing around, who wanted to help, but no one told them what to do.
> ...



and selfless, courageous heroes :thumbsup:


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## nbp (Dec 3, 2015)

Those are some good ones Poppy! Gravity is undefeated. Lol


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## RedLED (Dec 3, 2015)

nbp said:


> Those are some good ones Poppy! Gravity is undefeated. Lol


Except when cats are involved in the trouble which they get themselves into. They can leave you thinking the laws of physics don't apply to them.


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## Poppy (Dec 3, 2015)

scs said:


> and selfless, courageous heroes :thumbsup:


Thank you scs. I'm not sure of what makes a hero, but I fully agree that they are selfless, and courageous.
I love them deeply.
Thank you! :thumbsup:


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## bykfixer (Dec 4, 2015)

Poppy stories are cool.

My little ladder episode occured because when my wife asked if she could help before leaving for the store I said "nah, I got this", and the branch I was hanging onto broke off in my hand...
So here I am standing on top of a step ladder that is on uneven ground. 

Suddenly ladder starts moving side to side. Uh oh!

When I was a young man I would've just jumped off. 
But the Christmas Crash had changed my thought process of how 'flexible' I was _not_ at 43...so in a panic I attempted to run down the ladder facing away from the rungs. 
Actually I had made it down to the last few. But I suppose the gravity propulsion suddenly being changed from vertical to horizontal was why the splat was a thud instead. That time my hat came off. 

The skateboard crash changed my whole way of thinking. 
See at some point as we age a little voice starts to whisper "you can't do that anymore"...Over time I drowned out that little voice with "a that aint a good idea" voice....

The unfortunate part of being an age-ed adrenaline junkie is the part where you become a walking weather predictor. 
What's worse is when your family sees you twirling your arm to file down an old bone spur and they ask "rain coming?" lol.

At some point I'll describe why at 36 trying to do a 360 degree spin on a 20" bicycle while twirling the handlebar the opposite direction near a pine tree on Mothers Day was not a good idea. 

And then there was the time at 14 I went to New Jersey with some older dudes on a whim to ride in a skatepark and be home before dark...and end up waking up in a hospital 2 days later with your mom standing over you...frowning and tapping her feet..."thought I told you be home before dark" lol


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## Launch Mini (Dec 4, 2015)

We were in high school, and 4 of use decided to go camping.
One friend, Doug, didn't have much camping experience.
We had our tents pitched, sun was setting so the obligatory campfire was lit.
A few hours, and a few beverages later, Doug gets hungry, so put's a can of pork & bean into the edge of the fire to warm them up.
Not sure how much time past, but were sitting watching the fire, when his (unvented can due to lack of experience), BLOWS UP.
First the explosion scared the bezeebies out of us, then...
HOT beans were everywhere. Hitting us as as well as we could hear them splattering against our tents.
I don't think I have had a can of pork & beans since that night.


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## Poppy (Dec 4, 2015)

bykfixer said:


> Poppy stories are cool.
> 
> My little ladder episode occured because when my wife asked if she could help before leaving for the store I said "nah, I got this", and the branch I was hanging onto broke off in my hand...
> So here I am standing on top of a step ladder that is on uneven ground.
> ...


Hey bykfixer,
I really enjoy your stories too! :thumbsup:
and I look forward to more of them 

Now I have to wonder if Toby Keith had you and me in mind when he wrote this song?


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## bykfixer (Dec 5, 2015)

If 50 is the new 30, no wonder my dad was always grouchy in his 30's.....

Yup, recently tore a muscle scratching that hard to reach back itch....it's a drag when you have to limber up before scratching an itch. lol. 

So each day a couple of minutes of stretching is a necessary evil. No biggy, but the days of jumping out of bed, pedal to the metal results in crashing into walls, or worse. 

Ya just gotta slow down a little, realize the ole torsoe don't flex like it used to and enjoy all the sites you were whizzing by all those years...

Scouts 'urban' thread comes to mind.


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## Launch Mini (Dec 6, 2015)

bykfixer said:


> If 50 is the new 30, no wonder my dad was always grouchy in his 30's.....
> 
> Yup, recently tore a muscle scratching that hard to reach back itch....it's a drag when you have to limber up before scratching an itch. lol.
> 
> ...



Reminds me of something I read that was very fitting the other day, I will paraphrase a bit.


I may be 50, but I still feel like I'm 20.
Then I went drinking with some 20 year old.
Yeah, I'm 50.


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## Poppy (Dec 6, 2015)

When I was in my late 20's, I ran into a friend at a convention. He had on a golf shirt, and tastefully embroided on the pocket was this saying: "I may be getting older, but I refuse to grow up!"

I thought to myself, that if I ever see a shirt like that I would buy it.

Years went by, and I was in my 30-somethings. I finally saw a shirt with that saying, but it wasn't as classy, but rather it was a collarless T shirt with it written all over the front of it. For a fleeting moment I thought I would get it. Then... two things struck me:
1. Over the last ten years, I had grown up.
2. I would never wear a shirt like that even if I bought it.

So I guess... time does march on, and it takes us with it.


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## bykfixer (Dec 6, 2015)

Launch Mini said:


> Reminds me of something I read that was very fitting the other day, I will paraphrase a bit.
> 
> 
> I may be 50, but I still feel like I'm 20.
> ...



Last time I was in a bar (designated driver), when leaving at about 10:30, a buncha youngsters were filing in...I quipped "here comes our replacements"...one of the drunken gals I was with came back with "pfffft, they'll never replace me"...then she yawned...and says "I'm so sleeeeeepeeee" lol



Poppy said:


> When I was in my late 20's, I ran into a friend at a convention. He had on a golf shirt, and tastefully embroided on the pocket was this saying: "I may be getting older, but I refuse to grow up!"
> 
> I thought to myself, that if I ever see a shirt like that I would buy it.
> 
> ...



I have a coffee mug that says "old guys rule"
The back says "the older I get the better I was"...

I like being older. Finally there's enough age to justify the mileage.


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## Poppy (Dec 6, 2015)

bykfixer said:


> <SNIP>
> 
> 
> I have a coffee mug that says "old guys rule"
> ...



:hahaha: that's funny :laughing:


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## Hooked on Fenix (Dec 8, 2015)

Alright, I've got a campfire story.

When I was younger, I went on a winter men's retreat with my Dad and his friends from In His Steps, a Christian drug recovery home that he taught Bible studies at. I was enjoying the campfire with the guys and decided to show them a trick I learned from watching Survivorman. I told them that you could start a fire with corn chips. Since the fire was going already, I dumped about half a bag of Fritos into the fire and watched the fire double in size. Another guy said he had a trick too. This guy had a can of brake cleaner and proceeded to spray it in and around the fire on the 30 foot round concrete ring around the fire pit. We watched as the flames followed the trail of brake cleaner almost back to the can he was holding. Then he decided to up the ante. He threw the can in the fire. We ran as fast as we could and took cover. I hid behind a tall but narrow tree. Within five seconds, the can exploded, throwing sparks and shrapnel everywhere. When I came out from behind the tree, there were spot fires all around that concrete ring almost to the grass surrounding the area. Smoke and ash started raining down for minutes. What was worse was that the owners of the property heard the boom from far away and were racing toward us in their truck. Everyone scattered and ran to their cabins. We gladly ended up ratting out the guy that did it after he almost blew us up. Needless to say, he wasn't allowed back to that camp again.
The moral of the story is: Always stop and think about what you're about to do before you cause an accident.


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## bykfixer (Dec 8, 2015)

^^ shhh, don't tell isis

So once upon a time (as in today) I'm busy as a 2 p3ck3red dog with a mile of fence posts at work and the wife calls.."Christmas tree fell over" ...(again). She described the deal so I say "alright I'll fix it" (again)...

Get home and the stand is all shattered. All my c clamps and super glue wasn't going to fix this stand (again). This is stand I don't know how many...4-5?...17? lol
And that burning smell the last few years? 

We leave the lights on it each year. And when a strand of lights go out I don't bother finding the bulb. Nope. I get out wire cutters and hack out that strand then wire in a new (99¢) set. 
Today it was a broken stand (again), 1/3 of the 7' tree isn't lit(again)...not in a line. Oh no that would be too simple. A chunk here and a chunk there of darkness....alright! that's it!!!

So I'm like "ok dear even though this ones only 30 years old let's go get another one" (Home Depot, Rayovac Indestructable...yep we're going)

When you tell the little woman to pick out a tree while you go grab a flashlight...of course she picks out the most expensive one in the place. $500!!! Nope.

10 minutes later we're walking out the door with a $75 pre-lit tree, a flashlight and lots of batteries. Get it home, fry up some deer tenderloin, munch out, then..

Alright new tree!! Yay!!...pull it out the box, bend all those green bottle brushes to look like a tree and plug it in......

OH NO!!!

Big ole dark spot. I check like 2 bulbs and the fuses...get out the wire cutters.

An hour later our little tree was twinkling nice n bright. But there's a small dark spot.
I told the wife "that's where Ima hang a Streamlight Nano."

We agreed that we're going to find a white alluminum tree like the one they have in the Charlie Brown Christmas cartoon.


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## Poppy (Dec 17, 2015)

Christmas decorations... where to store them all...!?!
At an earlier house, we had an old victorian with a wrap around front porch, where we placed a dozen or so three foot high plastic lighted carolers, and "March of the Wooden Soldiers". We piped out music. Had a five foot lighted snow-man, and a lighted Santa and a couple reindeer on the roof. 

At our new house, all that stuff hit the trash.
Now we have a couple of those cloth blow-ups that pack down to a little more than a cubic foot each, and lights that we put around the roof-tops.

At the old house, we always got a fresh tree, which I hated because of the fire hazard. A few years ago, we finally got an artificial pre-lit tree, that hopefully if one led goes out the rest will stay lit.  I bought one of those three pulley bicycle hangers from harbor freight, and hang it/ hoist it, up to the garage ceiling, up above the garage door.

I'd like to downsize somewhat, but that isn't happening any time soon. We have enough decorations to do five full size trees in different themes.
1. victorian... ribbons and bows, and dainty frilly lace ornaments, its really pretty.
2. Disney
3. Old time Shiny Brites, with the oil filled bubbling things Some are more than fifty years old.
4. Hall-mark ornaments
5. All Red shiny ornaments, and an assortment of stringed pop-corn, cranberries, and yarn.

Then there are the boxes of interior decorations, garland for the stairway railings, and above both entertainment centers, swags above doors, things to hang on door knobs, and bells that chime with the opening and closing of the front door.

Of course, these are all "treasures" 
We can theme the outside of the house.
Strings of the big incandescent white light bulbs
Strings of the big incandescent colored light bulbs.
Strings of the little incan bulbs that hang like icycles, (although I think that I tossed most of those)
and we were thinking of getting one of those multi-colored laser projector lights.

Each year, it takes my wife and me, a week or more to decorate.


OTOH... On the Other Hand, my Grandmother would be done decorating in minutes.
I remember as a kid, I would go through the hole in the ceiling, and pull down her 3 1/2 foot Christmas tree out of her attic. It was prelit, the Christmas balls, and tinsel was still on it, and all I had to do was remove the plastic bag that covered it, and plug it in. :thumbsup: We strung a string across the wall in the living room for a place to put all of the Christmas cards as they came in, and we were done. Some times we would get out the Holiday stencils, and use glass wax, or spray on snow to decorate the windows and storm doors.

She had this large six burner stove with a built in grill, oven, and bread warmer, with a shelf above and across the top, all porcelain of course. She'd make custard, and pies, and place them up there to cool.

Ah yes... nice memories.


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## Tre_Asay (Dec 18, 2015)

bykfixer said:


> If 50 is the new 30, no wonder my dad was always grouchy in his 30's.....
> 
> Yup, recently tore a muscle scratching that hard to reach back itch....it's a drag when you have to limber up before scratching an itch. lol.
> 
> ...


I feel you, Even though I am 18 I know what that feels like.
The first time I remember tearing a muscle was when I tried doing a backflip on sand. I was able to do it but my abdominal muscles tore after the first try due to the tucking motion, despite the pain I wanted to show off so I did several more backflips that day anyways. I wasn't able to sit up for over a week after that. 

Just this last weekend I decided to build a track out in the desert for riding quads, all I had was a short shovel but I moved tons of sand anyways. I am still not recovered and I can't stretch my right hamstring at all due to my back hurting.

I try to look at the positive sides though, at least now I know that I need to exercise my back more and when I recover fully my back will be stronger In fact, riding quads hurts my knees but after a weekend of riding my legs were noticeably stronger. I was able to do a pistol squat for the first time ever(one leg only all the way down and up) but it still hurt my knee like a full day of riding.
I really do need to get in the habit of stretching more because I am not very flexible and it can get in the way sometimes (mostly if I try to step over something by swinging my leg out and feeling my hips stretch).


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## bykfixer (Dec 18, 2015)

Poppy said:


> Christmas decorations... where to store them all...!?!
> At an earlier house, we had an old victorian with a wrap around front porch, where we placed a dozen or so three foot high plastic lighted carolers, and "March of the Wooden Soldiers". We piped out music. Had a five foot lighted snow-man, and a lighted Santa and a couple reindeer on the roof.
> 
> At our new house, all that stuff hit the trash.
> ...



Another nice story.

My grandma started decorating at thankgiving.
My favorite memory was the Christmas music being piped in. When she passed away I found the accoustic research speakers hidden behind furniture and the Marantz am/fm stereo in a small cabinet disguised as furniture. 
I still have the cabinet but my brother wanted the stereo. 

When I was about 12 she planted her live tree outdoors. At 6' it was easily strung with lights.
At 22 we'd tie the lights to a tennis ball and some string to get them to the top. By then way more lights were required.
At 32 a fishing pole with a 3oz sinker was required.
She passed when I was 34.



Tre_Asay said:


> I feel you, Even though I am 18 I know what that feels like.
> The first time I remember tearing a muscle was when I tried doing a backflip on sand. I was able to do it but my abdominal muscles tore after the first try due to the tucking motion, despite the pain I wanted to show off so I did several more backflips that day anyways. I wasn't able to sit up for over a week after that.
> 
> Just this last weekend I decided to build a track out in the desert for riding quads, all I had was a short shovel but I moved tons of sand anyways. I am still not recovered and I can't stretch my right hamstring at all due to my back hurting.
> ...



At 18 you heal in a few hours...days perhaps.
At 48 a simple pulled muscle hurts for weeks. 
But I still have a good time. 
No more back flips....on purpose anyway.


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## Poppy (Dec 18, 2015)

bykfixer,
I really enjoy your stories too :thumbsup:
That's a pretty ingenious way to light up the tree.

A few weeks ago, we took the kids to see the Radio City Music Hall, Rockettes, Christmas Spectacular. And right across the street was the Christmas Tree at Rockefeller Center that was wrapped in scaffolding so that they could dress the tree. I didn't see anyone with fishing poles 

Tre_Asay,
Yeah, when I read your post, where you said that you could relate... I chuckled to myself, and wanted to comment but didn't want to discourage you from participating, but since bykfixer already did, here it comes. Nah my friend.... you haven't a clue. It's the accumulation of injuries, and degenerative changes that occur that really put you down. My advice.... *accumulate as few injuries as possible.
*
Talking about acoustic memories...
back in the day when air conditioning meant... "open the window" I have many memories of my uncle playing his reel to reel tape player with all kinds of Polkas... "The Beer Barrel Polka" and "She's Too Fat For Me!" LOL... that's before the days when we became so politically correct, that we can't even say....


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## bykfixer (Dec 19, 2015)

^^ my brother used to use a reel to reel back in the days when to attain any sort of bass, furniture sized speakers were normal.

Ahhhh, the good ole days.
Back when nearby radio antenas signals bled into your electronics, so your doobie bros recording had a hint of a nascar race in the back ground...

Sounded something like this...
"Jesus is just alright, oh yeah" (quiet passage with only bongos part) "Donnie Allison and Cale Yarbough are nose to nose in the infield!"

^^ Note; you have to be old to understand what any of that means...
Old like when tube tv meant actual vacuum tubes..not picture tube tv's that the local best buy kid calls 'tube tv's'.


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## Poppy (Dec 19, 2015)

bykfixer said:


> ^^ my brother used to use a reel to reel back in the days when to attain any sort of bass, furniture sized speakers were normal.
> 
> <SNIP>
> ^^ Note; you have to be old to understand what any of that means...
> Old like when tube tv meant actual vacuum tubes..not picture tube tv's that the local best buy kid calls 'tube tv's'.


LOL... you're talking audio components, and vacuum tubes, and 6AU6 popped into my head. It's amazing what kind of information our brains might store.

Back in the day when places like Nidisco, and Radio Shack, were actually manned by radio and electronic geeks, my dad would try to fix our TVs before calling in a tech. He used to pull tubes and test them at home, and occasionally have to bring an odd ball tube to Nidisco to have it tested. Often when he was troubleshooting something, he'd have me sitting next to him, holding the flashlight for him. Of course I had to pay attention to what he was doing, or the light would wander off target, and I'd get yelled at. 

When working on something mechanical, again... I'd be holding the light, and hear this now and again... "You know, the sign of a good helper is that he'll have the next tool in hand to give it to the mechanic, before the mechanic actually needs it." That was his way to teach me. I had to watch what he was doing, follow his train of thought, think of what the next step might be, and how to go about it and then have the tool in hand.

Sometimes I'll take things apart that I am throwing away, just to see how it was designed.


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## bykfixer (Dec 20, 2015)

^^ amen brother.

I hated it when my pop had to fix the tv again. Hated it for him anyway. He worked in a factory around molten metal all day then had to fix the stupid tv so he could watch Walter Cronkite tell [email protected]#+ about how awfully our nasty ole troops in Nam were treating those _poor_ vietkong....
I learned not to trust the press at a young age. 
Anyway...
My pop had number sticker on each tube. Like your pop he did the diy thing, and yelled when the flashlight wandered off target. 
One year we got a _solid state_ tv. I still have some old hot wheels cars with a tube number sticker on the door of it

You mention having the next tool ready...today I was helping my son work on his car. A couple of times I'd jump in. You know, impatient dad thing....
And when it was time for a different tool he had it ready. I was dang proud of him. I don't recall teaching him that. 
My pop expected me to know what tool he needed next. He was a diehard Ford guy. So it didn't take long to know which tools he'd need and when. 
I suppose that's why I became a Ford guy...I knew what breaks and how to fix it since Ford will muck around and use the same flawed part for 30 years. lol. 

Dawg gone Poppy. It's sounds like we grew up on the same street. A street where you knew not to screw up when the neighbors were looking. Cause they'd give you a good chewing or a couple of whacks, then tell your parents. We weren't scared of the cops. We were scared the cops would tell our folks.
One day this guy down the street with a cool Impala went to war and never returned.
The first 2 weeks of summer break seemed like forever but the last 6 flew by. 
Air conditioning? Only rich people had those.
Color tv? Only rich people had those too. But ours had a clicky remote control that changed the channel...all 3. lol

Ahhh the good ole days. 
When pot was a cooking utensil and coke was a soft drink.


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## scout24 (Dec 20, 2015)

Tre Asay- Stretch all you can now... I was indestructable at 18, 28, a bit less at 38. Not so much staring at 48... Mechanic for 25 years, I am in physical therapy now after rupturing a lumbar disc in my back a couple months ago. Two more bulging, a bunch of degenerative associated wear and tear according to the MRI. Started wondering a few years ago why the first 10 minutes out of bed in the morning had me hobbling around like an old man. Dad was right, work smart, not hard. Wish I could tell him I get it now...


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## Poppy (Dec 21, 2015)

scout24,
I am sure that he knows, and so my Christmas wish for you, is that YOU KNOW that he knows. I am sorry that you can't tell him directly, and see him nod his head, with a little knowing grin.

Merry Christmas.

Oh... have you ever done any Klondike Derby/s with the kids? 
Our cub den has one coming up in January, and it will be our first time, and the camping trip where we would have taught the kids some of the principles/tasks they'll need, was cancelled due to really nasty weather.


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## bykfixer (Dec 21, 2015)

scout24 said:


> Tre Asay- Stretch all you can now... I was indestructable at 18, 28, a bit less at 38. Not so much staring at 48... Mechanic for 25 years, I am in physical therapy now after rupturing a lumbar disc in my back a couple months ago. Two more bulging, a bunch of degenerative associated wear and tear according to the MRI. Started wondering a few years ago why the first 10 minutes out of bed in the morning had me hobbling around like an old man. Dad was right, work smart, not hard. Wish I could tell him I get it now...



Eh,
Your pop is likely looking down from that big telescope in the sky going "kids...can't tell 'em anything". 
Then he smiles and tells an angel "that's _*my*_ son" and grabs a fishing pole to use in the great big pond in the sky, knowing his boy turned ok. 

Hope you get better soon and the therapy works.


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## scout24 (Dec 21, 2015)

You're both too kind... Aaah, the Klondike Derby. Some years we has snow, some years not. The kids always have a good time. Layer up, no cotton clothing, make sure they drink a bunch of water if they're running around sweating. Winter camping was almost always a treat!


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## bykfixer (Dec 24, 2015)

So it's nearly Christmas.

Anybody got a memorable Christmas morning story?

All of mine are special.
Yet one from my youth sticks out.
It was the year I discovered 'dad' was Santa. 




It was around 1973. 

I was awakened by tools clanking and peaked around the corner to see my pop assembling a new 20" columbia 3 speed. No sleep after that.

The next morning I'm all anxious to wake the folks. Well they weren't up to rising at 5am. What's a wide awake kid to do? Go wake up your brother and get him to hassle the grownups!!!

At some point my folks arose and we got to open our usual socks, long johns, am radio and what-not. But that bike....

It was time to go on the maiden voyage. I'm walking it out and hear my dad saying "take the brakes off and I'll never"... I was out in the garage pulling off the brakes before he'd finished saying if I modified it he'd not help me fix it back.

It seems like every kid in the neighborhood got a new bike that year. Some were choppers, some had ram handle bars and others had road bikes.
But I had a brakeless Columbia, and by now had swapped the handle bars to motorcycle type.
Evel Knevel would be proud I thought.

Eventually that bike became one of the first real bmx type bicycles in my area and that Columbia frame held up to a whole lot of abuse. Motorcycle style handle bars, 10 speed mini seat and heavy duty wheels with knobby tires. At one point I'd begun experimenting with differing cog sizes and crank arm lengths. This was oh, say '76/77?
Other kids got bmx bikes for Christmas but I still had that Columbia. It was fast and durable. Then one night our garage burned to the ground. So much for the Columbia. 
Yet by then skateboarding had stolen all of my thoughts and energy. 
That's another story that causes certain body parts to be weather predictors these days.



CPF


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## Poppy (Dec 25, 2015)

During the early 1990s, my wife and I used to run a toy drive for about 25-30 children who lived in a home for battered and abused children. We picked up a few Sears Christmas Catalogs, and let each child select toys totaling $50. If we didn't have enough donators, we'd make up the difference. A Police officer friend had a professional Santa suit, and would deliver the gifts to the kids at a party.

Of course, when at the party, he would see my kids, and know them by name. That was special. :thumbsup:

We used to take the kids to a Mall for pictures with Santa, and while I don't know for sure if he was the REAL Santa, or not, but he sure looked like the one who did all of those Coke commercials at the time. Real beard, rosey cheeks, and he really filled out his suit. Well... just to be sure that he REMEMBERED my kids names, I would be the first in line to go sit on his lap, and remind him of their names, and why he knew them in particular... (he helped my wife and I with the toy drive). 

One year, my wife made arrangements with two or three other couples to meet in NYC, and see the Tree at Rockefeller Center, St. Patrick's Cathedral, the windows at Macy's, and most importantly... to have Breakfast with Santa! Of course my daughter would know that he wasn't the REAL Santa, if he didn't recognize her, so before he got to our table, I had to chat with him.

When he came to her table, and called her by name, I hope I never forget how brilliantly she BEAMED and delightedly explained to her friends why Santa knew her in particular. She wasn't bragging, she just wanted to explain, so the other kids didn't feel badly.

Last week my daughter and I took her kids to NYC, and we did the tour. When we met with Santa, in Macys, I asked her if she was going to sit on his lap first, and she said, no. lol... she DID speak with one of the elves though.


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## Poppy (Jan 5, 2016)

My first dentist was an old-timer with OLD slow, painful drills, that just grinded away at the cavities in your teeth, and when the pain got too much we had to raise our hand. Sometimes if he was going to do a lot of work, he would use Novocain. Then he really went to town, and I could feel my jaw vibrating, and smell something burning as he ground away.

Yeah, it was a blessing when he, either died, or retired, but at any rate we switched to a new, young dentist who had just bought all new equipment. Vacuum suction, water cooled, high speed drills, with sharp drill bits! He was young and caring... a nice guy.

I believe that it is said that Dentists have the highest suicidal rate of all professionals. It's been explained to me that it is because they bring pain to their patients, most patients are afraid to go to them, and their world in within a few square inches, all the while looking at a wide eyed, person who is in a near panic state, afraid they are going to be suddenly hurt! 

Slowly, but gradually this new, nice dentist, became a little less patient, and wasn't as friendly. And just like the song (Some Beach) he'd often start drilling before I was numb. Regardless, his practice grew, and he had to take on a new young doctor. He was a really nice guy, always with entertaining stories to tell. He also always had a tan, because he would take week-end trips to various islands. We don't get winter tans, here in New Jersey  At any rate, more often then not, our family saw this new guy. He'd use novocain, and be patient, and wouldn't start drilling unless we were ready to go. :thumbsup:

One day, I was out in the waiting room. 
I heard that un-nerving sound of that high speed drill,
AND the sounds of a very uncomfortable patient.
Oh... he was grunting, and errh! ERRHH!!! AAAGGGHHHH!!!! ing, and the drill continued to whine!!!
Oh... my heart started beating faster and harder, and I started taking deeper, and slower breaths... 
Close your eyes... deep breath IN... slowly exhale.... oh no.... OPEN your eyes, fix them on that picture of the sail boat and the beach. Deep breath. 
OK... that's a bit better. Finally that poor tortured patient was finished... Oh NO! I'm next!

As I walked by the first dental chair to mine, I looked into the room, and who was in the chair? 



The other dentist! Yep, the one who became ornery and didn't wait for the Novocain to kick in.


Lol... what goes around, comes around.
I sat in the chair with a smile on my face and a cavity waiting to be filled. 
You see... there is such a thing as Karma


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## bykfixer (Jan 6, 2016)

Love the end! 
Karma is a ______ (you fill in blank) 
No pun intended.


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## bykfixer (Jan 23, 2016)

Once upon a time there was this winter storm called Jonas...

Apparently something coasters in New Jersey and Delaware won't soon forget...


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## TEEJ (Jan 23, 2016)

Jonas is a whale of a storm.


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## bykfixer (Jan 23, 2016)

I haven't watched tv in 10+ years. But looking at my radar the storm had seemingly passed...but it was snowing even harder. Whut-thuh?!

So I pulled up some video feed on the phone to see why and saw that some of what was replaced after Sandy is gone again. 

Not so far from me...Aseteague Island had been pounded over night by 85mph! wind gusts and parts of Delaware might now be located somewhere north east of the Hamptons. 

I'll know Monday what was what... For now we're just dealing with the whiplash effect of it where I am. 
It drizzled all night here, so the 6-8" of snow had a 3/4" ceramic hard glaze over it. But that's now buried under the eh, 3-4 more additional inches (so far)


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## Poppy (Feb 7, 2016)

Another Christmas story:

It seems that each year there's a gift that Santa can't bring, so it is up to the parents to get. Yes... it is that ONE gift that is virtually unobtainable. Maybe a few are available on ebay at five times their cost. You know what I mean.

Well one year, at the last moment, it was decided that my son wanted one of those 2'x3'x4'High work bench with hanging tools. It was primarily plastic and bulky. 

Well, my wife was determined that we were going to get this. She must have called 50 stores, and found a Macy's, 40 miles away in a huge six anchor store mall, (about 150 smaller stores too). The mall had multiple parking lots, acres of lots. All jammed full of cars. It was the last weekend before Christmas. Traffic was bumper to bumper, through-out the lot and in the four lane road that ran around the perimeter of the lots.

The gal at Macy's promised to hold onto the work-bench, it was the last one that they had, she would hold it until she left for lunch at 1:00. I was working that Saturday morning, and closed the office a little early so that I would have over an hour to get there. Oh... boy! It took a little longer than expected, with all the traffic and all, and from the looks of those parking lots, it might take an hour to find a spot.

OK... get off property. Ah... here's a pretty empty lot. An electronic trade school. I'll just pull in here and walk over. 
Hmmm shucks... a six foot cyclone fence surrounds the property. Ah... there's a split in the fence near one corner. OK, so I step on through, then up the embankment, across the rail road tracks, down the ravine, three steps on rocks (across the brook) back up the other side of the ravine, over the guard rail, across four lanes of slow moving traffic, across acres of parking lot, into the mall, find my way to Macy's, and finally to the counter. Whew... just in time!

OH NOooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!
Look at the size of that box!!!!!

It's like the size of a dish-washer. If I try to carry it in front of me, I won't be able to see where I am going. OK... so up on my right shoulder like a case of water. I have to lean about 30 degrees to the left to somewhat balance it. Ouch, the edge of the box is digging into my neck. Alright dad... suck it up.

So I make it out of Macy's across the parking lot, and I can only see directly in front of me, and to the left, but not the right, because I have this big friggen box on my shoulder. I make it to the edge of the lot, and step out into the road. I could see the traffic stop for me on the left. I cross two lanes of traffic, and pray that God is with me and stops traffic coming from the right, because I can't see them. Fingers crossed.... here I go!

OK... across all four lanes of traffic, place the box on the other side of the guard rail, slide down the ravine, with it sliding behind me. Pick it up, back onto my shoulder, across the brook, back up the other side of the ravine, across the rail road tracks, and through the fence. Toss that box into the back of the minivan, and back on the road home.

The things we do for our kids, eh?


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## Poppy (May 12, 2016)

Yesterday I was reminded of a story when I saw my friend get out of his car with is doctor's bag in hand, but it was a denier nylon/leather combo rather than his traditional black leather bag. $15 for this... and over a $100 to take the other to a leather smith to be repaired. He knows of one who works with a shoe-maker.

Of course, I had to tell him that if I didn't fix something right, or someone else didn't, my Dad might comment... "What kind of a shoe-maker job did you do there?" or "What the Hell kind of a shoe-maker are you?" well... you get the picture.

When my daughter was about 12 years old, she was taking a tap class, and needed a new set of tap shoes. Well you buy the shoes, and then the taps, and put them on. Really a simple task. The taps come pre-drilled, and counter sunk so that the tapered flat head screws are a little recessed. My wife being the perfectionist that she is, and me being the "just get it done" kind of guy, she didn't believe that I could do good enough a job, and they had to be installed by a "professional" someone "who knows what he is doing!" 

OK, so there is a shoe maker 10 minutes away, and he agrees to install the taps. Just drop the shoes off and pick them up at the end of the week.

A week later, I pay and pick up the shoes.

My daughter goes to class, puts them on, and is tripping all over the place. Her taps aren't sliding, they are getting stuck to the floor.

I said... let me take a look at them. I couldn't believe it. The professional! He put the taps on upside down so that the recessed holes were up against the leather, and the screw heads were sticking out of the bottom! The sharp edges of the screw heads were digging into the wooden floor!

Now... I was furious, for two reasons, my wife insulted my manly manliness, and that this guy was such a fool.

I walked into his shop, with the shoes in hand and said... "What the hell kind of shoe maker are you!"

Shocked... he replied, "I'm a professional!"


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## nbp (May 13, 2016)

Then what happened?!


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## Poppy (May 13, 2016)

It was just he and I in the store, so I didn't have to worry about embarrassing him in front of anyone.

I asked him "How can you be so F..ing Stupid!?" Of course he had a dazed look, so I continued... "Look at these... you put them on back wards!"

He tried to come up with something, but when he realized his mistake, he offered to put them on correctly. I don't remember if I had to come back or if he did it then and there.

Nothing came of it. I didn't want my money back, I just wanted to lash out at him, and get them put on properly.

Part of my anger was because I dislike paying people to do something that I would just prefer to do myself, and it was inconvenient. 20 minutes round trip, so it was at least 60 minutes, when I could have installed them my self for free in five minutes or less. But no... I had to keep my wife happy, and have a professional do it.


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## xtn (May 14, 2016)

Campfire story, huh?

Two buddies and myself, all with our girlfriends, so six teenagers. It was freezing cold. Like the kind of cold where your sock fabric is melting to the skin of your feet by the fire but there is frost accumulating on your face. We made the fire pretty big. The fire and us...we were all down in the bottom of a dry creek. Creek had about ten foot high banks. It was about twenty feet across at the bottom. Clean, hard shale rock bottom.

Well, sometime early into the morning, the fire exploded. Half-burned, flaming logs and embers flying up into the air and coming down all over our circle of sleeping bags. We figured the shale creek bed underneath had been trying to expand from the heat and finally popped from the stress. The girlfriends were NOT impressed like we were.

xtn


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## Poppy (May 14, 2016)

LOL... funny story.
It sounds like no one got hurt.


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## xtn (May 15, 2016)

Sleeping bags had dozens of various size melted holes, but that was it.


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## bykfixer (May 16, 2016)

Kinda reminds me of the day a fellow hit an unknown gas line at work.

He and the crew carefully dug around the area of the paint markings that indicate a gas line is below.

There was a new business that was getting a sewer line attached to an existing one on the opposite side of the road. I was inspecting the work. 

When they had dug around and found said gas line using a small machine and shovels they began chopping through the dirt with a big ole excavator. Yee-hah! Giant Tonka toys are cool. 

Then there was a bit of resistance and "shppppeeeee"... uh oh, gas service... nothing but a 1/2" tube that makes noise but no big deal...right? Uh huh...


Then "kaplew-ee", "poof"..... dozens of 5 gallon bucket size hunks of earth are suddenly erupting 50' in the air.
Oh crap! 

More explosions of earth lead folks to scramble faster than a hooker in church. Not being known for my bravery I was one of said scramblers. 

Well there was this old dude next to me. (I was 30 something and back then people my age were 'old'). When I turned to run I cloths-lined the guy. 

But I had enough wits to grab his shirt collar and pull him with me. I couldn't let the ole [email protected] die in all those explosions... after all the world is ending just over there (pointing to the explosions 50 yards away)

I ran about 50 yards with the guy hollering at me to let him go. I'm thinking I'm saving the guy, but it turns out by holding him by the collar I was choking him. 
At one point I stopped and let him go. He cussed n fussed for the next few minutes too. Some stuff I'd never heard before (or come to think of it ever since.)

Turns out they had hit a big ole high pressure gas main that wasn't on the locators map yet.


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## Poppy (May 18, 2016)

Great story!
Boy, that's a day in your life, that you'll never forget!


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## Chauncey Gardiner (May 22, 2016)

Once Upon A Time .....


... about a week ago, I was approached by an acquaintance I hadn't seen for at least a month. He is the custodial engineer at my son's high school. I'll call him Dennis, because that's his name. Once upon a time, about two years ago, Dennis allowed me, as a trustee of my church, to borrow his school's 35' lift to perform some long overdue high-maintenance. I had the lift for two weeks. 


After returning the lift, I gave Dennis a new Quark Tactical AA as a small token of gratitude. Rambling on as those who love flashlights tend to do, I mentioned it was a good choice to carry, and how great it is to always have a light in one's pocket. Dennis thanked me, ......... then spoke those dreaded words, "I'll put it in my toolbox, but I'm not going to carry it with me all the time." Oh well, you can't make a horse drink. Since then I've seen Dennis on a few occasions, perhaps four or five, with never a mention of the Quark. 


Fast forward to last week, Dennis walks up, says hello and shakes my hand all rather hurriedly. Then tells me his light only works on low no matter what he does. He mentions the batter is new, and has been tested, but he can't get it any brighter than low except for an all too brief flash when he loosens and tightens the tailcap. I asked for the light, then he hands it to me with a look on his face I interpret as, Please Help!


Click, rotate, rotate, rotate, rotate, flashflashflashflash, click, click, click, click ....... Flash. I hand it back to him on high.


I wish I had a picture of the look on his face when he knew it was functioning properly.


Dennis: "Oh-man! I knew you were the guy that could fix it! I tried everything but no luck. I can't tell you how much I've missed having that light. I carry it everywhere." Then, in front of about 20 guys, Dennis gives me a big man-hug.


Seems he got thirsty. 


~ Chance


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## scout24 (May 27, 2016)

Nice! Toolbox or not, it looks like he's getting some good use out of it!!


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## Chauncey Gardiner (May 27, 2016)

scout24 said:


> Nice! Toolbox or not, it looks like he's getting some good use out of it!!



Dennis: "I carry it everywhere."

Thanks, Scout. I didn't think anyone was ever going to reply. Thought about reposting in The Thread Killer thread. :laughing:

~ Chance


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## bykfixer (May 28, 2016)

Great story!! 

I meant to post several times but the voices kept saying "do it later".

Plus not being familiar with that light I'd go to researching what "click, rotate, rotate" etc even means and kept forgetting to come back.


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## Poppy (May 29, 2016)

Ahhh gee, and I was looking for a bykfixer story


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## bykfixer (May 29, 2016)

You asked for it...
Here's another work story. Three part type.

To start with I had been working as a consultant for about 4 years in high pressure enviornments without a vacation. It was a thing where the paying customer treated you like a BIC lighter. Just treat them any ole way and toss 'em when they're empty.
After 4 years of that I was good and sick of it but the money kept me in a nice apartment over looking a lake. 
At one point my path was along side a snake in the grass girl boss who wanted my affection. I declined. She was not happy. She had won favor among the administration through Jezebel tactics. Soon after I declined she began sabotaging my reputation. 
Soon after that my boss said "get along with the girl or you're fired". 
I took a chance and bought a nice Hallmark and wrote in it how if she and I had met some 2 years before we might have had something. But just prior to us meeting I had declared a vow of celebacy. It worked. She left me alone after that.
However due to a bad rep now so the paying customer let me go.
Vacation time!!! 

Part 2:
After working for 20 years it felt odd to not have schedules and dead lines for a while. But I learned to adapt. lol. Knowing I'd be laid off some 100 days in advance I paid off a couple of debts and stashed a bunch of cash under my bed. Enough to live off of for 6 months....
I spent an entire summer at my apartment on the lake watching Fred Dryer as Hunter at 1on tv, napping at 2, watching mother nature from my deck and raising my boys (who lived with their mom) everyday. We grilled out everyday, swam in the lake and just plain old had fun.
I drove to my sisters place at the beach about once a month and hung out by the shore. Boys in tow. Well at one point my stash of acorns was getting thin. 
Oh I forgot, about half way through that my pop had open heart surgery so I was his nurse for a few weeks. That is another story.

Part three: 
Back to work. There was no work for my occupation at that time in my area. God kept whispering "Greensboro NC" like Jonah I kept saying "aint no way I'm going there." 
Ok, when God says yer gonna do something yer gonna do it willingly or not.
I stayed a hotel at first. Turns out it was a brothel. And the "John's" were complaining my Charlie Brown Christmas music was too loud. I got booted out one night. Meanwhile my assigment was to check dirt build up to new bridge approaches for density. And the gang of thieves I oversaw commuted 2 hours each way to get there each day. One day they quit.
Backstory: The project was 2 years behind schedule and $60 million over budget. NC governor was not pleased. Folks like Oprah Winfrey were complaing of being stuck on the interstate between Raliegh and Winston Salem. (Yep I actually talked to her one day but that's yet another story. Queen Latiffa and her were stuck and as I was walking beside the interstate I heard "excuse me"...it was her)

Well there were 2 fellows who the contractor hired just about the time the gang of thieves quit. Neither one knew the other. But soon the whole project took a positive turn thanks to them. 
As stated the governor was not happy. My orders were to not stand in the contractors way, ever. As it turns out that dynamic duo were the best operators I'd ever seen. Even as I type this (10+ years later) they're still in the top 5. 
I knew how to build a road. They knew how to build it out of Greensboro mud. Let's do this thing!

It was so amazing that in 3 weeks they had done more than previous folks had in a year. All approved by that new guy, me. After about 6 weeks the bosses were thinking it was me. Other inspectors who were watching less succesful operations began trying to undercut me. My boss won't having any part of that. At some point I was reassigned to another crew. They were struggling and supposedly magic man me was going to turn them around. And through luck and fate things turned around in a couple of days. 
I stayed there nearly a year. Met all kinds of wonderful people from all over the world. 

And for many years after I asked God "why'd you send me to Greensboro?" The answer is far too complicated to write in this post. But I'm certainly glad He did.


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## Poppy (May 29, 2016)

Nice story Mr. Bykfixer  Thanks!


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## bykfixer (May 30, 2016)

The Oprah incident.

Still in Greensoboro NC it was winter. Temps had been below freezing for several days and this day was a big thaw.

Back story: this was a concrete highway being widened with more lanes made of 17" thick concrete. New concrete either has to be cured using wet burlap or sprayed with a solution called curing compound.
It is a mixture of water, white coloring, wax, kerosene and some secret ingredients that cause kerosene and water to bond to each other. Very slippery stuff when wet.


The contractor placed 2-3000' at a time. And sprayed it with curing compound. Lots of it. It is stored in 1500 gallon tanks trucks like the kind that deliver heating oil.

Spring thaw and water sometimes make things burst. The nozzle on the tanker truck burst. 
I'm doing a lap of the project before leaving and spot white stuff gushing from the tanker truck. 
There was temporary concrete wall separating traffic from construction. The white stuff was running along the wall and flowing onto the road through joints in the wall. 5 oclock rush and lots of cars are quickly spreading the stuff. 
Uh oh! Looked like 'the big one' at Talledega or Daytona. 

Interstate 40 was closed. Both directions.

A fireman said to move the truck spewing said liquid away from the wall. So they parked it near the center of the highway. Well that's where the storm drain system was. 100 yards away was Greensboros drinking water supply called Lake Thompson or something. 
Double Uh oh!

While the roadway was being cleaned a fireman grabbed my plans to see where the storm sewer pipes went. When I saw the road was clean I went looking for my plans. 
It was suppertime and I opened a box of pop tarts in my truck. A hungry fireman offered me $5 for one. I ended up getting $20 for the box. 

A bit later, $20 richer I'm still looking for my plans. I hear "excuse me" from a motorist. I ignored the female voice. Again "excuse me sir"...I look up and am staring at Oprah freakin Winfrey. I musta looked stunned cause from the passenger side Queen Latifa is hollering in laughter squeaky voice "it's ok white bread, she don't bite" lol. Oprah says "why are we still stuck?" I'm looking at an empty parking lot called I-40 and say "uh...I dunno"..."be right back"...while looking for someone to answer that very relevant question I found my plans. 

Meanwhile the contractor could not produce documents saying the white stuff isn't hazardous. 

It's dark, it's cold, I'm hungry (cause I sold _all_ of my pop tarts) dudes in Tyvek are everywhere and Oprahs honking the horn.

Hey, I got my plans back...I'm gone.


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## Poppy (Jun 11, 2016)

bykfixer said:


> The Oprah incident.
> 
> Still in Greensoboro NC it was winter. Temps had been below freezing for several days and this day was a big thaw.
> 
> ...




LOL... one of those... "Day in the Life of... experiences" 

Nice story. :thumbsup:


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## Poppy (Jun 11, 2016)

Last year I bought one of those high powered green lasers to point out stars to some campers.

Last night I regret the fact that I didn't think to take it with me on an overnight camp-out.

One of the dads, actually a few of them, loaded apps on their smart-phones that will depict, and name the stars as you hold your cell phone, aimed at the night sky. I think it was called "Sky view" certainly there are others.

Last night, although there were few stars visible, I saw Mars, Venus, Saturn, and Jupiter!

If I had my laser, we would have called many of the kids over, and we would have pointed them out. 

The technologies of today will change the stories of around the campfire of the future.


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## bykfixer (Jun 12, 2016)

Yup,

Smartphones are tools too.

A few years ago I acquired a Motorola Droid. The thinking was to do my weekly time sheet without firing up a laptop. The XL spread sheet app was great.

My boss was not impressed... at first...Back then he handed me a 40# set of drawings and I winced. See my rib cage was still sore from a high speed crash on a skateboard. Leaving out all of his F words it was something like this...

"What's wrong with you?" he asked. My response was "Christmas crash sir" while holding the drawings while writhing in pain but still at attention. 
"What's a Christmas crash?" I responded "well it's time to quit skateboarding on steep hills when you're so old you realize you're falling after you've hit the ground, sir".
His reposnse was "You're 47, when you gonna grow up?" My initial thought was to say "2 weeks ago sir", but I just looked down as if ashamed. 

Fast forward 6 months... So I showed him my new smartphone. Again "When you gonna grow up?" Again leaving out the 3-4 F words per sentence. 
I was performing my first project as head bridge inspector at that point. 
Instead of being intimidated by the guy (who had never liked me anyway) I showed him my survey app, bubble level app, distance meter app, elevation checker app and for good measure my decimal place to fraction calculator app and said "see it's a tool bot a toy sir."
Again he was not impressed. But my project manager was.

The boss had been trying to sweet talk me into taking leadership roles that I knew I was not ready for. I knew I was best able to serve as 'the help', but my climbing the ladder meant more $ for my services, which meant bigger bonus checks for him. 

I finally decided two years ago it was time. But that's another story for another time. Oh, and the old boss retired shortly before I took the next step. I made sure he knew that I had taken a giant leap, skipping over steps he wanted me to take and had landed on a rung of the ladder next to his old position. And again he was not impressed... especially when I commented to the person I knew was going to blabber to him that "ha, if he ever comes back he'll be working for me now." lol.

But back to the smartphone;
I'm writing this on one that has a multitude of apps ideal for roadway construction, photo-editing, converting tensions when using extensions on torque wrenches in hard to reach places, machinist calculators for various purposes, along with a plethora of conversion calculators and other purposed apps.
Only the stock flashlight app though. 
I had a star gazer app, but where I live light pollution renders it nearly useless.


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## Poppy (Jun 14, 2016)

Yes my friend, Smart phones are incredible pieces of equipment.

A camping story. 

The Girls scouts have:
Daisies, Brownies, and Girl Scouts. They are grouped by age.
When my daughter was a Daisy, she was all excited that Next Year she was going to be a ... eh... err... a Muffin! 

LOL.. ok so she eventually becomes a Girl Scout, and the troupe is going camping.
My wife's idea of camping at the time was sleeping in a C-class motor home. So Daddy had to go in her place. Not that I minded.

The girls left at 3:00, but I had to work until 7:00. 
OK.. an hour away, I catch up to the troupe. It was a rainy, drizzly day/night. All the girls were in their tents (up on platforms, complete with cots.) and the leaders were under a sheltered area with a few pick-nick tables. 

Hmmm.... anyone want a cup of coffee?
You brought coffee? !!  Did you stop at Dunkin Doughnuts on the way? !!  

No... but I have a coffee pot, we can make some.

Ahhh... nah... by time we get the coals to catch fire... then burn down, and then wait for the water to boil... it'd take too much time. It's not worth the effort.

Me... "You don't have a coleman stove?"
Them... "What's that?"

Man... I was KING!!! 
I think it was still a gasoline pump up stove at that time, but it made coffee... and in the morning, I was served breakfast in tent! :thumbsup:

One of the mothers was one of those huge, Italian mothers, who lived to cook. I loved camping with her. She made Italian bread with pepperoni, and mozzarella cheese baked in, with other spices. And anything she made tasted delicious.


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## bykfixer (Jun 16, 2016)

Sounds like a month vacation with you and the Italian lady that troop would be getting into shape... round.


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## Poppy (Jun 18, 2016)

bykfixer said:


> Sounds like a month vacation with you and the Italian lady that troop would be getting into shape... round.


Round is definitely a shape! 

Years ago there was a White Castle commercial of a few college students cramming for an exam, when one calls out... "Road Trip!"
They all agree, jump into a car, and drive a few blocks to the nearest White Castle, where they savor in the delight of eating those little burgers. Whenever I saw that commercial, I had to laugh. We all know, that when studying intensely, that ANY excuse will do, (not so much the demand for a White Castle burger), and I had to laugh at what they called a road trip... idk 6 blocks in a car!?

One day three of us (College Students) were hanging around, and a fourth friend arrived with the announcement that he had his father's car for a few days, and it had a full tank of gas. Did we want to go on a road trip?

One offered... if we go home to my grandmother's house, she's an Italian Grandmother who is just "built to serve" She'll cook us enough food that we could fill a cooler and eat for a week. 

That thought put a smile on all of our faces.    

So we hopped in the car, picked up a case of beer, and started our road trip.
We drove from Atlanta, Georgia, to the Bronx, New York, about 750 miles, for a little more than a weekend, and a cooler full of real Italian home cooking!

Now THAT was a road trip worth taking!


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## bykfixer (Jul 4, 2016)

^^ definitely!

Tonight as I watch the tops of fireworks from my driveway that are mostly blocked by trees that were a lot shorter in my youth I thought of this story:

I live about 175 yards from the house I grew up in. 

Back then 4th of July was an all day thing where a slew of community organizations held fund raisers in a carnival atmosphere at a local football field. Dime toss, dunk the clown, cake walks and stuff like that. All sunburned and tired we'd peddle our bikes the few miles home mid afternoon where my parents would have supper ready. Later we'd pile in the Ford station wagon and go back to said football field and take in a fireworks display.
We're talking a couple thousand folks back then. 

Once grown and raising a family the daytime frolics were gone. Crowds were 10's of thousands and I lived about 3/4 mile from the football field. So we walked to the show and watched from a hill side with neighbors and locals. 

One year during my bmx team years we did our own show at my house. It was a combination of whistlers, whizzers and a slew of things that went boom. But they were illegal in my town. Somebody whipped out a vhs recorder as the boys jumped their bikes over showering whistlers and poppers. 

Well being my team was loaded with juvenile dilenquents and boys being boys... a bottle rocket war ensued, nearby neighbors were pissed and eventually the fire dept was putting out a burning vacant lot nearby. 
Needless to say that was not an annual event. 

At one point I was living the divorce years and my ex used my child support $ to take my boys to see fireworks at various vacation spots across America. Clearwater Fla, Hershey Pa...stuff like that.
My divorced brother and I fished by the bank of a river watching tree top fireworks and vowed our July 4th would always be at least 2 people until 1 of us died.

He started dating a girl the summer I got laid off. I had my boys that whole summer. Gas was cheap and my sister lived near the ocean. So I packed the tank of my truck with fuel, drove to her house, bought some groceries and had a blast. I taught my boys to body surf, then on boogie boards. We grilled each afteroon for a few days and on the 4th watched fireworks from 3 piers by the ocean. One display was so close that shell casings landed on us. The other two were roughly a mile to the left and 2 miles to the right. Along with 10's of thousands of folks in hotels lighting their stuff. 

One year I lived in Greensboro NC. My boys and I fought traffic to watch about a 10 minute display by that city, fought traffic for 3 hours and upon arriving at my apt realized my balcony was about 2 miles away from where we were. I lived in a top floor apartment at the highest point in Greensboro. 
The following week I moved back to my home town for a while. Then a small town a few months then back home again. That year I moved like 5 times....for work.

A few years later my brother was single again. But I was dating my wife. Her kids had never seen fireworks. So we all went to my bothers and walked to a nearby mall to watch fireworks from a point so close, again casings would land on us. We did that a few years. Then the display was moved to a former land fill near some ponds. 
The (now) wife and I were photo nuts. So we'd scout great spots to watch fireworks by the pond photographing the display reflecting off the water. 

We did that until 011, which was the year my dad passed away.
Ever since I've stood in that spot in the driveway watching the tops knowing my boys and my wifes boys are somewhere enjoying the show from a great perspective or doing grown up stuff. 
The wife and I went about 3 years ago...just the 2 of us. But it just wasn't the same anymore and the crowd is now about 100,000. Traffic is ridiculous. 

We have dogs that are dreadfully frightened of anything that goes boom. So the wife stays indoors calming their fears while I feed mosquitos.

Meanwhile my brother has been seeing and old girlfriend several years now, my ex is who knows where as we haven't spoken in over a decade, my oldest boy is either at work or at home keeping his dog calm. My youngest is texting me pix, wifes youngest is somewhere spending his grass cutting $. Her middle boy is working a double at UPS, her oldest is with his wife who is _very_ pregnant and now my wife n dogs are in a circle on the floor snoring. 

I cannot believe how fast entire decades have passed. But do enjoy looking back at my life a couple of times a year...if only long enough to type out a story for the 'around the campfire' thread.


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## Poppy (Jul 15, 2016)

Nice story Mr. Bykfixer! 

I enjoyed reminiscing with you. :thumbsup:


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## sgt253 (Jul 15, 2016)

Great words. Thanks for sharing. Puts everything in its proper perspective.


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## bykfixer (Jul 20, 2016)

How about a day in the life story?
This one is another 'perspective changes over time' tales. After 32+ years as a roadway inspector the zeal is still a smoldering ember. But decades have used right many arrows from my quiver. 

In around 1984 I was tapped watch pavers put asphalt over existing roadways. No big responsibility there, just grab weigh tickets and add them to acquire a total used. It was an annual contract where pavers went by a list. I was a government employed equipment operator used to cutting grass, fixing potholes and other roadway maintenance tasks...
The first year was uneventful. 

I got tapped the following year. Again my bosses did the heavy lifting brain stuff. But I was asked to keep up with progress of the running totals and ensure each street was using predicted amounts. As needed I let the bosses know if things were running over budget.

Year 3 I was asked to actually estimate quantities needed for upcoming work. It was kinda like handing a 23 year old $300 grand in $20 bills. I took it pretty serious and when time to pave placed more of 'me' into things as they progressed. 

In 1988 they needed somebody to keep watch over construction projects. I was tapped. Again being used to cutting grass and fixing potholes I knew nothing about installing water lines, replacing a pavement structure with new materials and most importantly how to spot cheating. My first project was a trial by fire.

I was handed about 6 projects at once. The big one was a road rehabilitation next to the local city hall being done by a crooked contractor. Politicians did not like being inconvenienced enroute to the 'ivory tower' and the contractor had hired some pretty unsavory characters to perform the work. And my boss was suddenly "never seemingly available". Ok I got this....

By '93 things had become same ole same ole organized chaotic politics of beurocracy. I was used to juggling my time in 10 minute increments while pouring 100% into cutting through red tape, counting pennies by the thousand and generally taking on all comers. Local developers had decided I was a problem. Some saw me as an ally who ensured folks they hired were kept corraled into an honest direction. Others took it personally and did what they could to make my life more difficult. 

Being young and stubborn they were my favorites. I reveled in the battles that took place. When they'd raise their voice all cussing in public while local residents listened to the plethora of bad language and personal attacks I'd smile and say "is that a fact? Now go appoligize to that lady on her porch for talking so crudely in her presence"...

One day a politician who was demanding I allow a matter to be over looked. (he was a councilman that owned a local engineering firm that had designed the new subdivision I was inspecting items of) it was a matter I did not back down from...he said "you'll regret this someday." In '98 he became mayor and had not forgotten. 
I ended up leaving under a cloud of suspicion. I was told soon after that at the next staff meeting much of the administration were stunned and silenced to find out I had resigned. At about that same time my first wife and I had split up.

I moved to an undisclosed (to my community) location and stayed in touch with a very small group. 

Not long after; I was employed by an engineering firm as a consultant. In my mid 30's I was starting from scratch. End tables in my apartment were kitty litter buckets and at work I was below the low guy on the totem pole. Humbling is an understatement. But in a few weeks the bosses saw potential and were trying to coax me up the ladder career wise. I was having no part of that!!! 

My little bungalo was stationed over looking a peaceful lake in a darkened corner of the community I had served for nearly 15 years. Everyday was like being on vacation now that all that stress of being in charge was gone. No more desk with phone line and secretary. But... no more ringing phone with bad vibes on the other end, no more desk to store all those records I was required to keep, and no more 2 faced cheap tart so-called ally stabbing me in the back vying for my job...nope I was little guy now and loving it... oh and making more $ than when at the gov't job.

Little by little as a consultant my career has taken me on adventures never imagined while working for that little 1 horse town. My role has been mostly like the character 'Radar' in the tv show M.A.S.H. It was the same in the 1 horse town. While a consultant I have worked for several Col Blakes and Col Potters along the way and at year 10 began being mentored by a fellow I highly respected prior to that.... that is on the days I did not want to punch him in the throat...
But by being mentored I learned when to bark, when to bite and most importantly when to remain cool. 

The mentor and I parted ways in 014. He chose another path. And yet at times I'm honored to have him ask _my advice_ at times. 

I say all this while watching a project fraut with waste. A local county hired a contractor to widen a cut through from city to country. It's on the outskirts of the 1 horse town I used to work for. It was designed by the politician who said "you'll regret this" and due to numerous errors the contractor is building it by design and being paid big bucks to rebuild areas deemed incorrect. Example is a $100k traffic signal pole being moved 5' south because it is built in the middle of a proposed sidewalk and the Americans with Disabilities Act frowns on that. Now the roadway next to said sidewalk is some 2' too low. It was built knowing that. Add another $75 grand to the bill to rebuild it. Meanwhile the contractor is being billed $2200 a day for not finishing on time.
The county is sending the bill to the politician who said "you'll regret this someday". 

So instead of getting all whipped into a frenzy about things, hollering at a well connected guy who'll mention my name at a cocktail party, which could lead to being forced out under another cloud of suspicion based on more false allegations... I sit in the shade typing this knowing that kharma is fighting the battle and I get to watch it from the best seat in the stadium.


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## bykfixer (Jul 22, 2016)

Another day in the life of:

After working for the same company the last 17 years I've been asked to help them move 4 times. Yesterday was #4. The first 3 I was doing the work by my lonesome. No biggy, but thank goodness I received some help this time. 

Each time involves hurredly packing boxes, taking out trash and moving furniture. I say hurredly because office dwellers I work for wait until the last minute then go into a panic. 

First time was moving the office from a small room to an actual office building. Thousands of pounds of paper was tossed into a dumpster, boxes were packed and labeled for ease of finding stuff at the new office and general cleanup took place. There were 2 items I took notice of in storage and hoped to obtain. 
I asked "where's that logo going?".... "On the wall of the reception area" I was told. "How about that geology map?" "In the bosses office." Fair enough. But at the new destination neither were hung.

Move #2 was to a bigger building where we were to share a suite with others in another division of the company. 
Again same routine. At some point the logo and map were found in storage so again I enquired. Again I was told the same thing. 

But that time I was given a coffee mug only available to company execs, along with some ancient swag from the companies early days of the 1930's to the 80's. Cool.

Move #3 was more of the same. But this time they were moving to an office across the hallway. Again thousands of pounds of paper were tossed, boxes packed and again the map and logo were found in storage. That time I was given furniture, more company swag reserved for the bosses and geek stuff like antique staplers and enough printer paper and printer cartridges to last 3 lifetimes. Again the map and logo were to remain at their next destination. I'm still using paper and ink from the last move.

Yesterday I helped again. It's always enjoyable to get a full body workout, while dodging ladies in high heel shoes who smell way better than the usual sweaty construction folks I hang with each day. But this time age played a role. I aint 32 anymore and it showed. I was in my 30's the first 2 times and early 40's at the 3rd adventure. I realized going in I was not a spring chicken anymore but was surprised at the lack of stamina of folks half my age. The hardest worker was a guy in his 60's who has been on a weight loss deal for a year now. He left me in the dust! 
At 5pm he and I were the last 2 still going and we loaded a trailer with stuff destined for a church in West Virginia that was destroyed by a flood not long ago. 

At 8pm he was still looking spry. I was ready to keel over but we were done. Phew! 

Again the office dwellers were ill prepared. Again a couple of tons of paper were tossed along with once state of the art phones, computer monitors and cords. I kept a few dozen cords knowing that when the office dwellers get settled in they'll be needing those cords and I'll hook up a couple of gremmies with what they need later. 

I got more exec swag. Between move 3 and 4 we got bought out by a big company and the folks are being moved to an even more swanky location. I took home dress shirts, pens, mugs, ball caps, an umbrella, more geek stuff for my office on wheels pickup truck and other stuff with the new company logo and....




After 17 years of trying, that map and logo went home with me.
Woohoo!!


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## SG Hall (Jul 22, 2016)

Good story bykfixer, and good score! 

I think we all know that guy 10 or 20 years older that just doesn't stop, and we ask how we will be at that age? And, of course, the 30 year old that's as soft as butter to make us feel better!!


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## bykfixer (Jul 22, 2016)

SG Hall said:


> Good story bykfixer, and good score!
> 
> I think we all know that guy 10 or 20 years older that just doesn't stop, and we ask how we will be at that age? And, of course, the 30 year old that's as soft as butter to make us feel better!!



Your words helped ease the next day soreness way more than the tylenol I took this morning.


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## SG Hall (Jul 22, 2016)

bykfixer said:


> Your words helped ease the next day soreness way more than the tylenol I took this morning.



[emoji106]I'm hearing you bro!


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## bykfixer (Jul 23, 2016)

Here's an 'adventures of identical twins" story.

As a kid having an identical twin was a drag. My twin and I were complete opposites. He liked blue, I liked red, and the grownups thought it was cute to dress us alike. By grade school my mom was cool about us being opposites and let us choose the color of new 'tough skins' jeans, shoes and shirts. We usually chose different attire from the other in hopes grown people could tell us apart.
"Which one are you?" was tiring. But we put up with it.

In middle school there was a 'try it' class where you rotated from art, to drama to shop every 90 days. My brother was enjoying shop class and I was digging art class at switch time. Figuring we'd fooled granma a million times, maybe we could fool the school faculty too.

We stayed put when time to switch pretending to be the other. None of the grownups ever knew. If they did they never let on.
Some classmates knew but chose to keep silent. Each day I thought would be the day somebody rat'd me out but it never happened.
We both ended up in the drama part at the same time. 

As an adult I worked as described above in the 1 horse town and my brother worked at various carpentry related businesses. I was famous and he was obscure in the community.
One day this guy who was building a sidewalk at a site I was inspecting went to the Hechinger where my twin worked to buy some lumber. He comes back and says "howthehell did you get back before me!?"... I had to go with him to Hechinger to prove that I was not in 2 places at the same time. At first my brother was at lunch so the guy was _really_ tripping about it. Then as we were leaving my brother appeared. It was hilarious.

Well like I said in a previous post I moved to an obscure location and disappeared from the scene. Meanwhile my twin is very active in the communities largest church. 

Recently I went there to see his daughters baptism. I had not seen my brother in a couple of months. Normally clean faced he had grown a beard and so had I. I wear glasses full time. He wears readers. It was Valentines Day so I had a red carnation tacked to my dark gray woolen hooded dress coat. (Turns out so did he, only his was hoodless).
Not knowing where he normally sits and hoping to sit with him during the service, I approached several folks some 20 minutes before the service. He was teaching a class. Whenever I'd approach somebody and ask "where does Mark sit" I was told "that's not funny Mark" or "you're not Mark?" But my favorite was "next to your wife Mark" lol...
When I finally saw him it turned out we had the same color shirt, trousers and similar scarf. 

For varios reason I only see my twin a couple of times a year. We talk, but through electronic means mostly.
All those years of trying to be un-alike, we now unwittingly dress alike, act alike and even drive the same style pickup truck.


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## SG Hall (Jul 24, 2016)

That's really fascinating! You can't fight the genetics sometimes can you. 

There's also something to be said for the failure of defining yourself by what you're not going to be! Gravity tends to pull you in, doesn't it. Better to have a plan of what you do want to be like!


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## bykfixer (Jul 31, 2016)

This is a story of how being a loud person saved somebodys life one night.... Owen, wherever you are this one is dedicated to you sir.

You've probably been around that person or know someone who seems to speak through an amplifier all the time. You're in a quiet small space and their normal volume makes your ears ring even though you are 4' away from each other....

Last summer at about this time I was on a project with a young stone mason turned highway inspector. Good guy. The type you saw in the movie 'perfect storm', which by the way was filmed in his hometown. Big scrapping guy who twitches his head for no apparent reason. And loud? Oh my!

Anyway it was paving season and we were observing final overlay of the riding surface on our project.




Just an ordinary night shift where the ordinary took place until sunrise. As the pavers progressed they slid road cones over to ensure motorists see a taper that leads them from the lane closed to traffic to a lane with no activity. 

Parts of my job include checking the temperature of the asphalt, the thickness, making sure the roller rides over the hot stuff X number of times for ideal compaction etc, and traffic safety. 

Having done my routine for product check I walked back from the work to view things from a short distance. Pavers, rollers, dump trucks, back up alarms and the like are loud. I'm not. 

So my co-workers walks up and we began chatting about work stuff. Being this is his first night paving operation his eyes were glued to the giant Tonka toys all excited like a little kid in a sand box. I'm surveying the overall scene. He whispers louder than I yell, so my voice is straining trying to carry on a conversation when to my left I see a car approaching 5 football fields away. It's about 3 in the morning so traffic is scarce.

The next phase took place in about 30 seconds:
About that time a fellow on one of the rollers slides one cone over (without making a taper), pulls his roller behind a truck just pulled into what was a live lane of traffic. I'm thinking "what no taper of cones? Naw man, seriously bad idea". But it all happened so fast.

Dude was standing behind the truck trying to get a troublesome water pump engine to start.... Another worker walks up to offer assistance. Nothing unusual to my coworker, but... I'm see-ing the car is *now* 1 football field away and not getting over. Oh CRAP!!! 

I'm all hollering "HEY, HEY, HEY, HEY, LOOK OUT".... but dude don't hear me. Car still not getting over. By now the car is 50 yards away. I'm still hollering and my coworker notices the car now. I'm turning away because a construction worker is going to be cut in half in about 2 seconds and there's not a dam thing I can do about it. (Voice in my head is saying "O Lord, please not again") 

Coworker yells in his megaphone voice "Hey", roller dude looks at us, we point to the car and at the last possible millisecond the construction workers dives away from behind the truck like those guys in the movies who jump on a grenade to save their buddy. 

WHAM!!!



The arrow points to where the worker had been standing.

While diving he crashed into a guy who was standing nearby who would've also been wiped out. 




These 2 fellows are alive today because of a loud guy. 




Driver being taken away in cuffs for DWI.




This was my perspective.
The arrows point to the spot where workers were standing just before impact. To the far left is my co-inspector consoling the guy sitting down who was one of the two nearly wiped out.

Shortly after impact: Nobody dead. Cool. 
So I quickly jolted towards oncoming traffic direction and slid cones over to make a discernable taper. It was surreal. Like time stood still briefly and since the guy was ok my mind quickly turned to ensuring the next car doesn't do the same thing. 
Plus from previous experience I knew that shortly there'll be a bunch of motorist blinding flashing red and blue lights all about. So I used cones to create a bigger storage area for all the rescue vehicles arriving shortly. 

[Sidebar: I love my job, but hate see-ing this part. Yet in each incident God is with me, keeping my composure in check until later. Upon arrival at home later I got the chance to come unglued during my after work toilet time. 
"Holy Cow that was close" I thought as my body began to briefly quiver. But this time nobody was seriously hurt. I did not sleep well that day. Flashbacks of times when folks were not so lucky plagued my thoughts and kept waking me, until time to return to work.] 

The car had never slowed down and hit the truck at full speed. The driver inside the truck was taken to the hospital with a neck injury. 
The car was placed on a roll back, hauled away and when debris was removed from the roadway paving continued just like any other ordinary night. 

When things settled down I asked my coworker how he felt after his first save. He responded "first?, "you mean there'll be more?" 
He seemed to be in deep thought the rest of the night.

Next night at work the atmosphere was a little different. Almost like nothing had happened. Yet folks had a perspective that 'this could be your last day so enjoy it.' A bunch of people thanked me for saving that roller dudes life. I retorted "it was God, and the loud guy, not me."


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## SG Hall (Jul 31, 2016)

Wow, you're on a roll bykfixer! Another great story, thanks! 

Years ago, just after I moved from the Riverland of South Australia to Adelaide, I was driving home from my local church at night. As I exited the main highway, I came over a rise and discovered a wrecked car at an intersection. Its driver was wandering around the car with his hands clasped on the back of his neck. I pulled over to see if he was ok, which he was. It turns out that this guy was just driving home from work and was t-boned by a speeding car that ran the intersection. The car didn't even stop. 

Once I knew he was okay, I offered him a lift to the police station in Gawler. He took up my offer and we travelled and chatted. The guy had just bought the car and had no insurance. As we entered the vacant main street of Gawler at about 10 at night a girl, probably about 18, jumped out in front of the car waving her arms. My new friend said casually "Looks like you've got another one!"

I pulled to the curb and wound down my window as she circled the front of the car. Poor girl. She was staying at her sister's house and the drunk boyfriend of the sister had turned up and started to throw his weight around and break things. She begged me to take her to the police station.

"Get in, we're actually on our way because this guy's been in a hit and run on the bypass!" She climbed in the back seat and we arrived in about two minutes. 

The police station was a typical outer suburbs/country town station. You had to ring the bell, which I did as my two dishevelled acquaintances flanked me. 

"Can I help you?" asked the constable as he opened the locked door and peered out suspiciously. Upon letting us in, he asked us how he could help.

The young lady jumped in first and we let her speak.

"Can you please come urgently, there's a man getting violent in our home and we need help." He nodded to her and then looked at the guy.

"And you are with her?", he asked. 

"No, my car has been wrecked by a hit and run driver on the highway, so I got a lift here so I could report it." 

"Okay," he said as he turned to me, trying unsuccessfully to put the pieces together. "And are you a friend of him or of her?!", her said as he pointed to them both. 

"Neither." I replied, "I just happened to be driving past!"


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## bykfixer (Jul 31, 2016)

Now _*that*_ is a cool story. 

Good Samaritan x2.

The police officer must have been thinking "hmmm" lol.


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## SG Hall (Jul 31, 2016)

There was a hint of suspicion!


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## bykfixer (Aug 10, 2016)

Hint of suspicion.... you shoulda got a medal. 


So 1 year ago yesterday I was finally able to correctly guess that "type what you see here" correctly and actually join this site. If memory serves it took a bunch of tries to correctly type in the box what I _thought_ it said. I want to say for a few evenings I tried until one evening it let me through. 
Within a short time I got the confirmation email. 
But the 1st three posts required the same. 

I had been landing here as a lurker for a few weeks and was curious what members see vs guests. I really had no intentions of posting very much, or participating in many discussions. 4000+ posts in a year...well that didn't work out... but anyway....

I posted #1 and logged out. Later after fighting with the "type what you see here" box again I knocked out #2 and #3. I logged back out.

Welp it was some time before those 3 were approved. Back to the "type here what you see" box. Dratz!! I had read a ton of threads in many locations and so I knew this was a well moderated, orderly place. Seemed kinda scary at first. Lots of "thread closed" were seen where a discussion was taking place and WHAM! Thread closed. Well I knew from countless hours searching on car forums where legit questions were asked and by post 4 the thread was way off topic and the question never answered... this would not be the case for flashlight info here. Yet I did get the occasional pm from mods and was corraled in a few times.

I remember my first pm from a mod that did not advise me of a policy I had violated. Nice.

Looking back, it was a time where the Coast HP-7 was the greatest flashlight in the whole wide world in my mind. Folks wrote "yeah I like them too, but mine are in a drawer now."... as it turns out 1 year later so are mine. Back then the 300 lumen thing was the norm with quests for 500+ being the typical and speak of cracking the 1000 from a single emitter. Pft, that's same ole stuff now. Only 500? Are kidding? 
Man I was happy with 250 after using mini mags for my search lights for years. Using a 'titanium' colored HP7 to see the top of a light pole at 250' in the rain for the first time... Wow! Anything brighter than a 2 log campfire in a handheld flashlight was unimagined by me at that time. 

Tonight I begin a night shift at work. Back at the same project where it all began. The job was completed but some items have failed during the 1 year warranty period of this heavily travelled roadway. So lanes are closed at night to perform repairs. It was the project where the car crashed into that truck near the workers. 

I spent yesterday getting info for duties involved, meeting folks and generally getting familiar with what is going to take place. Today I'm going through a mental list of my favorite flashlights, what they meant to me upon the first uses, what fuel they use and deciding which ones will go with me tonight. My wife took over the 'titanium' colored HP7 so my brain says "arrive early, go to Lowes and purchase another one." My first 2D Mag LED...the 'pro' is on the list. So is the fairly new tech Streamlight ProTac HL4 with its frosty 2200 lumens. A couple of rechargeable cop lights will go too. A Stinger and an early model LED Strion. A couple of PK products and a Malkoff or two will go. And my trusty SureFire G2x Pro will certainly get some playing time. 
A Coast headlamp was purchased the last night I worked last year, so it'll get used for the first time as my last night was rained out back then. 

Being a huge fan of incans I figure one or two of those will be used for plan reading or low light needs. But the construction folks use light plants that mimic sunshine. So LED brightness is needed to light up shadows mostly. 

I'll spend the remaining 'dog days of summer' 016 working at night. If all goes well by mid september I'll be using sunscreen again. But last year a 3 week stint ended up being 4 months... so we'll see. 

Either way it'll be nice to get paid while playing with flashlights. I am supposed to be sleeping while typing this, but I'm too excited thinking about all the flashlight time. Plus the trashman in the neighborhood has my dogs all wound up. 

It's been a fun year.

Edit: 
There is a vast assortment of lights to choose from. But I'm finding that for night shift on a construction site my duty lights with their bright white beams are in my bag. 

This place has taught me a lot. I hope that I'm able to pass it on at times. I've e-met a ton of cool people, had lunch with some, exchange messages with some and speak on the phone with some. If the Lord takes me tonight my wife and family will never have to buy another flashlight, nor batteries nor bulbs. So there is that.

But most of all as my body has gone through some changes, partly due to mileage and past mistakes but partly due to father time... my brain has been stimulated during the adjustment period. Yet most people in my daily life have no clue I am a flashaholic. lol. 

Thanks for letting me in the door folks.

Next night edit:
Tonights commute was about an hour before the eternal flashlight turned off for the evening. On the way it occured that about this time last year I was commuting at the same time. I had just purchased an LED Mag 2D and was shining it on road signs a quarter mile away getting all excited that they'd illuminate in daytime... trouble was I was doing that while driving, yacking on the phone with my wife and photographing it. I contemplated repeating it. 
Tonights thought was "man are you crazy?!"
Another thought was how exillarating it was then. I'm still having a blast, but at least the excitement is contained long enough to drive safely. lol


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## Poppy (Aug 31, 2016)

Wow how things change.

Last week, after having lunch with some friends, I stopped in a Walmart near where I grew up. A predominately white neighborhood. Irish, Polish, German, Italian. The area is a mecca for immigrants. The latest influx has been Hispanics, and Asian Indians.

Remember when you were in High School, and someone dropped a dish in the cafeteria, and everyone clapped and cheered? Well, yeah, some of us never grow up 

So here I am looking at some camping equipment, and some guy and his lady friend pass by a stack of 8 garbage cans, stacked one inside the other. Somehow, he managed to snag one of them, and they all fell over. He was a little embarrassed, and started picking them up to stand them back up. Of course the kid in me just couldn't let it go :devil: I had to let out a ohoooooooooh 

He looked at me and laughed a little. I smiled and went back to looking at those emergency blankets. Then, out of the corner of my ear, I heard someone calling... I turned my attention to the direction of the sound. It was him... calling me... "Hey... White Guy" "WHITE GUY!" He smiled and gave me a salute, and I saluted back, we both laughed, and went on our ways.

WHITE guy!!! Is that how I stand out now?
Boy oh boy, things have changed.


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## CanadianSurvivalCompany (Aug 31, 2016)

You sir are so correct on so many levels hahaha


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## bykfixer (Aug 31, 2016)

Poppy, I was raised to be color blind regarding flesh tone. But like you, whenever I visit "the old neighborhood" it is pretty obvious that things have changed. 

What troubles me is how many folks are angry at each other over their skin tone, dress code or generation.

But I still hold the door for strangers and notice others do for me as well. 
So as changes occur in the old hood some things stay the same. Everywhere you go there are still ladies and gentlemen. They just look different these days.


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## Poppy (Aug 31, 2016)

When traffic stopped on I95 as I traveled north through South Carolina, I got a hotel room. Before settling in for the night I went to a supermarket to get some snacks.

After a bit I realized I WAS the only WHITE GUY in the store. It didn't matter. If you are light hearted, and treat people kindly, they'll treat you the same.


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## bykfixer (Sep 1, 2016)

Poppy said:


> When traffic stopped on I95 as I traveled north through South Carolina, I got a hotel room. Before settling in for the night I went to a supermarket to get some snacks.
> 
> After a bit I realized I WAS the only WHITE GUY in the store. It didn't matter. If you are light hearted, and treat people kindly, they'll treat you the same.



Walk softly and carry a bright flashlight sir. 
But seriously it just makes me smile to see perfect strangers greet each other with common decency. And you probably made that dude in Wally World feel like hero instead of zero. 

Hopefully those folks in the old hood can make their way up the ladder and also look back some day with the same happy thoughts of their humble beginnings also. 

What bothers me is when folks think"this is as good as it gets" never realizing that quite possibly it is just the starting point.


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## bykfixer (Sep 23, 2016)

Ok, so I'm doing this EPIC passaround thing here at the site at the request one histories most influencial flashlights dudes ever. The products to pass around did not have batteries. Well I wouldn't invite folks to my cook out and expect them to bring their own mustard and ketchup, right? But dawg gonnit my 123's are down to 4 battery stations and a Panasonic. I need 8. 

Ok, order online Friday afternoon knowing package goes out Monday? Or go to a local battery store and buy Streamlights for $2.50 each? Store it is. 

I get there and checkout dude is like "hey bro, where you been?"... I'm running on fumes after only getting like 6 hours sleep in 3 days. I'm thinkin "whothuhell is this cat?"... and so I said "whuthell are you talking about?" He says "man you don't remember me?" Ok I've not been there since winter...
Anyway I toss a 12 pack of 123's on the counter and go look for 16650's. They didn't have any. Dude man has rung up my batteries and given me 33% off. Cool.

So I say "can you get me some 16650's?"... he goes and grabs 18650's. I say "naw dawg I need 16mm's." He enquired why and I answered for flashlights with 16mm tubes and he replies those 18650's will fit. Uh oh.

Ok it goes back n forth for a minute and dude is insisting they'll fit *ANY* flashlight that takes 2x123's... I say "dude that's a BOLD statement... matter of fact I'll bet you they won't." 
I grabbed an overpriced ProTac HL3 and say "I'll buy this over priced piece-o-*** and every 18650 in your store if it fits." If they don't you toss in another 12 pack at your cost.




Easiest bet I ever won.

Turns out my wife knows the guy and she's trying to tell him do not bet my husband. If he bets more than a Pepsi it's because he is going to win... 
I left the store while he was Googling 16650's. For good measure I said "look up www. 17650's too while backing out through the out door" lol.


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## Poppy (Sep 23, 2016)

bykfixer said:


> Easiest bet I ever won.
> 
> *Turns out my wife knows the guy and she's trying to tell him do not bet my husband. If he bets more than a Pepsi it's because he is going to win... *
> I left the store while he was Googling 16650's. For good measure I said "look up www. 17650's too while backing out through the out door" lol.


Oh man... I literally laughed out loud. !!!

My wife would bet me on a regular basis, and then change the conditions of the bet... I never got paid, even though I should have won.

We are more alike every day my friend. I am not a gambling man. I almost never even buy a lottery ticket. 

My dad will offer a Penny bet, then make you look it up to prove your point. Oh my goodness, the presentation that he'll make giving up that penny! Yet, when he wins one... he'll gloat, and claim that he will polish it and place it upon his mantle, with his other won pennies. It's all in good fun.

But like you... don't bet against me, for more than a buck, or... you sir, are going to lose.


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## bykfixer (Oct 24, 2016)

The day I met Tony Hawk.

It was around 1979 or 80. I was ate up with skateboarding, covered with scabs or scars and had a noticable limp at 16 years old. 

I hung around with guys in their 20's who had full time jobs and surfed a lot. They'd go to a nearby skatepark on Tuesdays... L Skates team got to skate all evening for $1. I was picked to be on the team. Nice.

At some point I'll tell the story about the adventures of riding there with Paul Spain and why people begged to ride in Joeys Corolla wagon instead....

Anyway there was this area of a snake run shaped 'ditch' of sorts that I rode in a lot. I tended to ride alone doing tricks that slid the board around but kept it near the ground. The older guys did acrobatics that would scare Evel Knevel. 

This one Tuesday there's this van full of dudes that pulls into the parking lot of the park and out came some fellows who were surrounded by chicks and photographers. Hmmm

Well the L Skates team were hanging around with local hot shoes Mike something or other and Nicky Cosgrove. The two best skaters I ever saw. 

In comes the crowd of folks from the van and their paparazzi. Nicky says "cool it's the Bones Brigade." I went about skating my little spot all alone, looking up and seeing this Stacy Peralta character and Steve Caballero... folks I'd seen in the magazines. There were some other folks I'd never seen before but dawg gonnit they were doing some crazy stuff. Even Nicky was like "I've died and gone to the big pool in the sky" as these folks were doing 360's air out of the parks pool, leaping from bowl 1 past bowl 2 and landing in bowl 3 so high it looked like they could jump a house. 

I couldn't help but notice the antics of these guys. And they were all laughing and joking while time stood still in my little world. I'd still skate my spot and at times stop to watch the show. The L Skates team, Nicky and Mike were standing around mesmorized. I'm just rolling back n forth in my little chunk of snake run shaped like 3/4 of a half pipe with rounded tops.... smooth, smooth, smooth. 

Here comes this tall lanky kid who looks like he's 10 years old wearing pink shorts. He goes whizzing down the snake run and leaps over into the next bowl. He nearly crashed into me in the process. 
A couple of minutes later he rides up and says "sorry" but I just nodded my head like "it's all good kid"... he rides off, does some more amazing stunts and rides back up to me. "My names Tony, you skate pretty good wanna come skate with us?"... I'm thinking who me? I suck... so I said "thanks, be there in a minute" but I never went over where the crowd was... too much chaos for me with chicks popping gum and photographers popping pictures... I just wanted to ride my skateboard. Nicky and the L Skates team had asked me to skate with them every Tuesday in vertical wall portions, the pool and other spots they loved, but were why I limped, had scabs and scars and just preffered to skate mellow spots while my wounds healed. Those famous guys were skating those areas too... nah no thanks. 

The next issue of Skateboarder Magazine in the "who's hot" section was that tall lanky kid... none other than a 12 year old Tony Hawk.


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## Nephron44 (Oct 24, 2016)

Love the Bones Brigade. Stacy and Steve are my two fave skaters! So jealous...


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## Poppy (Oct 25, 2016)

Nice story Mr. bykfixer, skate board rider, knee skinner. 

You put a lot of miles on those old bones eh?


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## bykfixer (Oct 25, 2016)

Poppy said:


> Nice story Mr. bykfixer, skate board rider, knee skinner.
> 
> You put a lot of miles on those old bones eh?



Indeed. But I can predict the weather better than the guy on tv...

My mom used to say "geez as much as we spent in this orthopedics this year it looks like they'd have better waiting room furniture".


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## bykfixer (Oct 25, 2016)

Nephron44 said:


> Love the Bones Brigade. Stacy and Steve are my two fave skaters! So jealous...



I'd forgotten all that until recently receiving a jacket from a friend...





Stacy and George Powell re-united to form "skate one" and put out reproduction items along with Skate One long boards.


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## Poppy (Nov 7, 2016)

This weekend we did a Friday through Sunday cabin camping trip with the cub-scouts. The kids really had a good time. The leaders had classes on Scout lore, First aid, fire building, shelter building, knot tying, and compass orienteering. 

First aid was taught by one of the dads, a Registered Nurse. He did a terrific job! He then set up a bunch of supplies in one of the cabins on a table. The kids had to run around and find staged injured people, go to the cabin and get the needed supply for the particular injury, bring them to the victim, and discuss how they would apply first aid. "Hands-On Learning" is the best teacher.

I taught my grandson 6 knots, and he and a few of us taught the other 15-20 kids. We then went outside and had a tug of war. The big kids against the little kids (there were a few more little kids). The big kids dug in a little bit, but won without an excessive amount of effort. Ah... but now the learning comes in. I gave the little kids the advantage of tying off to a tree, and using a pulley. With the mechanical advantage of almost two to one. At first they surprised the big kids, and the whole line started to move, then the big kids, REALLY dug in, and for a moment, the line stopped. The little kids pulled a little harder, and the big kids were plowing up dirt with their feet, but couldn't stop the little kids.

It was a great learning experience for all involved. 

LOL... you gotta love it when a plan comes together, eh?


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## bykfixer (Nov 14, 2016)

Another great story from a "good joe"... 

My first grandkid is a boy. My wifes oldest and I had a big blow up a few years back. He's still mad at me. I drew a line in the sand and he crossed it. 
Long story, but suffice to say I don't see this guy taking the boy camping unless his pop gets his attitude right.


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## scout24 (Nov 14, 2016)

Hopefully, with age comes wisdom and the understanding of what is really important. For him, not you... And hopefully the little guy doesn't suffer for it.


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## bykfixer (Nov 14, 2016)

scout24 said:


> Hopefully, with age comes wisdom and the understanding of what is really important. For him, not you... And hopefully the little guy doesn't suffer for it.



Thanks Scout. The little guy will be fine. He is surrounded by loving folks including his dad.
Sometimes lines get crossed that there is no going back from. It's kinda like a bowl of melted ice cream... never the same. 
My wife was stuck in the middle for a long time so these days I keep my distance to ensure her and the grandkid won't be caught in any crossfire. 

At one point somebody had to be the "bad cop" in the deal. Me. Then as the boy moved from house to house with other family members those others decided they too preferred I be the bad cop. Years have passed, they all forgot the role they placed me in and now act like... well they still want me to be the bad cop at holidays and such so they don't have to. Like I don't have feelings or something. 

I took up for the boy when he was innocent and came down on him when guilty. At 31 years old he still resents the bad cop (forgetting all the 2nd chances). Maybe he'll be pissed at me forever. Don't know, don't care. 

I just know that baby is going to be ok. That's what really matters.

Boy did we have some adventures back then. One year at thanksgiving his grandma pulled her 44 on him type adventures. lol. Not the kinda 'camp fire stories' for this thread, but those were exciting times that's for sure.


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## Chauncey Gardiner (Nov 15, 2016)

Some adventures?! Reads like dysfunctional turmoil to me. 

I had the misery of occasionally being around an older sister/drug addict for the better part of 25 years. I remember the Thanksgiving when it finally occurred to me that I wasn't responsible for making her behave. I literally felt a huge weight lifted from my shoulders. She died at 57 a few years ago. Another weight was lifted when I was finally able to forgive her for all the ******* **** she put our whole family through. She never sobered-up or asked for forgiveness. 

GrandPa, Fixer, Have you forgiven your stepson, and told him so? You're not responsible for his reaction. It'd be a shame for you and your grandson to miss-out on the pleasure of each others company. 

~ Chance


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## bykfixer (Nov 15, 2016)

This wasn't about drugs or that stuff. It was about a mixed up kid who didn't think rules apply to him. 

He crossed some boundries you don't come back from without genuine remorse. The remorse is not there. So I stay steadfast in my resolve to protect those around me. 

In life you have sheep, wolves and sheep dogs. It's my role as sheep dog to protect my family from the wolf. If that means I don't get to know the wolf's pup... I'm ok with it.

I have friends who've faced the same deal. Raising angry step-kids is not a new thing. Sometimes we compare adventures of life back then and laugh pretty hard at the strategies and struggles. Then we raise our glasses and toast the ones who ended up going the right way.

My wife's middle one was 10x harder to deal with. That meant bad cop had to ratchet it up a few notches. He is going the right way now and hopes to council troubled youth someday.

When the youngest came home with red eyes and cotton mouth I reminded him his two brothers were practice for me to get the technique down if he decided to follow their lead. And that I couldn't wait to try out my new dictator skills. He decided after his 'so-called friends' rat'd him out for their crimes that was not the life for him. (Phew! I was glad.)

I used to tell my wife "we're those people you only see on tv". She'd laugh and say "can we change the channel?"


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## Chauncey Gardiner (Nov 15, 2016)

Reads like a wise choice of action if he's still living the part of the wolf. 

~ Chance


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## bykfixer (Nov 25, 2016)

^^ the baby and I hung out all day yesterday.

Last night while laying in bed wondering if Rolaids should be on the bedside table my mind started wandering back in time to numerous Thanksgiving meals of days gone by.

My life has kinda been in episodes. The awkward little kid, the brash teenager, the 20 something year old dad, the divorce years, the "this might be the last one with my dad" years and now the settled twighlight years. 

By 2am the wife was snoring loudly and my mind had turned to all things Bykshop. Before that point I remembered the year of the 'electric knife' where my uncle whips out this contraption that looked similar to a miniature hedge trimmer. We'd eat at my grandmas house and play croque' after. My uncle was one of those "the Jones" guys who had the best car, the best gadgets, the best shoes... crocodile skin loafers, big ole Cadilac car.. you know the type. My dad rolls his eyes knowing his old faithful carving knife was way better. Eh, I was like 10. 

During the teenage years we couldn't wait to get this thing over so we could go hang out with friends. If I had any regrets it would probably be that period. Thinking back I realized a lot of great football moments took place. Roger Staubachs hail Mary is caught just in time to take the win over the Redskins. Being from Viginia you were a Redskins fan at my grandmas or you ate your dinner in the kitchen... seriously. There was a breakfast nook in there. Nobody wanted that distiction so everybody at least pretended to be a Redskins fan that day. (I was a Ken Stabler Raiders fan.)
After the meal about 20 people would be packed into a 9x9' den watching a 13" black and white tv. Yup, My grandma never owned a color tv or a cloths dryer. 

Time passed and the teenager was a 20 something year old father of 2 baby boys. My sister had kids, my twin had kids, and my oldest brother had kids. Holy crap that 9x9' den was crowded. Well that won't do and grandma was alone in the big prep because my mom had suddenly died. So then it was time to have dinner at my house. And I had me one of those electric carving knives buddy. One year I asked my dad to carve the turkey. He promptly left and returned shortly after with his razor sharp carving knife. Thinking back, that was the juiciest turkey ever. He swore the knife could make or break how dry the breast meat was or wasn't. I don't know about all that but he was a turkey carving master. 
We had dinner at my twins a few times but his was chaotic and unprepared so the fam-damily insisted it be at my house. At my place dinner was served promplty at 2pm. At my twins it was not telling when we ate underdone bird, overdone pies and really crunchy stuffing. lol. One year I had bought my grandmas house and we had dinner there. The following my first wife and I had split up.

During the divorce years dinner was at my sisters at the beach. The first couple of years my ex wanted the kids at her moms and my sisters place was 3 hours away. So I'd pack up whatever floozy I allowed the honor of riding to the beach with me, hang out at my sisters a couple hours getting all stupid drunk, acting like a complete @$$ then go back to my hotel room and drink until I passed out. A couple days later I'd visit a local fish store for grill food and end up buying cases of wine to take back home. 
My siblings all rode with my dad who insisted on returning home the same day. Yeah, the first couple of beach years were a flop. One year I had my kids and my dad etc stayed the night. That one was fun filled. I stayed sober, the others played nice together and we'd made a weekend of it. At that point both my brothers were divorced, but they had their kids too. The "grownups" I knew as a lad were all dead except my pop. 
So with a bunch of little kids we'd fly kites, play yard games, board games and generally have a blast. Oh, and my brother in law was an awesome cook. We'd have BBQ'd bird, or Italian bird, Asian... all kinds of ways to prepare a turkey. 

Well a few surgeries later my dad couldn't make the trip anymore. So everybody piled into my dads house. Now the issue there was the little kids were all super-sized, but my dads house was not. I remember one year sitting on the floor in his living room watching Charlie Brown Thanksgiving... my pop was nodding off in his easy chair when Snoopy was battling the lawn chair. My pop wakes out of his stuper and says "WHAT THE HELL ARE YALL WATCHING!?" A chorus of "Charlie Brown" rang out.
In a huff he got up and went to bed. 
The following year... same scenario, but we're all watching football... he says "why aren't yall watching Charlie Brown?" lol. At that point the idea was 'this might be the last one with grandpa' as he was growing more feeble as time went on. So we put up with 20 people packed into a tiny kitchen, grouchy gus grandpa who hated to have all those house lights on... and all the noise of all those people interupting his peace and quiet. Yeah, that one ended abruptly when after walking the planet solo for a decade I was dating a girl who soon after became my wife.
My siblings were relieved when I asked "you guys mind if I take dad to ma-in-laws this year?" "GO FOR IT!" they said. 

At some point my sister and her daughters became Vegans, but swear deviled eggs aren't meat. So they refused ham, turkey or even my famous slow cooked lima beans because they were cooked with ham-hocks in the sauce. Poor brother in law never gets to fry turkeys anymore so he goes hunting on Thanksgiving day alone. 

One year my wife had tossed out 'the wolf' who moved from house to house. Her family was pissed off at us so there was no turkey day as usual. 
We had a small gathering at my current house with my dad and our kids. That was the last one with dad and my wifes moms husband passed away suddenly just after Thanksgiving that year. She had the wolf living with her at that point. 
The next year she had boot'd the wolf and mended fences with my wife. We ate at her house again. This time without my dad (RIP). The wolf shows up unannounced with this gay pothead who'd just gotten out of jail for attempted murder of his mother. The dinner was cool with no issues other than the wolf refusing to remove his hat at the dinner table. Later, the wife and I were leaving. Everybody else had left but the wolf and his weird friend. I asked the wife if we should stay. "Nah" she says. 
So like 15 minutes later we were about a quarter the way home when my ma-in-law calls my cel phone to say thanks for coming. I asked if she was ok because she never calls people after 9pm. It was 10. She says "I am now... but I pulled Rays 44 on those 2 idiots and told them to leave". They were saying they weren't leaving without her giving them all the leftovers. In essence they were going to rob grandma of the leftover Thanksgiving food.
So we turned around and hung out at her moms for a while to ensure no retaliation occured. 

It's been at my house ever since. Her family finds comfort the fact the wolf is not allowed on my property. They know I'm not going to wait some 30-45 minutes for the cops to show up, but will take care of business, then call the police.
Last year was remarkable since my wifes middle son had turned from his evil ways, gone sober, had a full time job at UPS and graduated high school. When I handed him a jar of cranberry moonshine for a taste his eyes got huge. "Who me?"... That was my way of saying well done... the hatchet is officially buried. He took a taste then hugged me. 
I had been a flashaholic for about 4 months and after dark was playing with my Malkoff'd stuff. 
This year the youngest had turned 18. He peeled the potatos and made the stuffing. My wifes middle son carved the turkey. My wifes oldest son, the wolf was working since at his work they were serving the Troops. And his baby boy hung out with us. He is one month old and is still learning what his hands are for..stuff like that. The weather turned out ideal as a dank cloudy morning turned into a mild sunny afternnoon. After the meal was done and dishes put away I stepped outside for a smoke and noted how absolutely quiet it was. See, I live near the interstate and when the wind is out of the east there's a steady din of tires rolling over asphalt at 75mph. Yesterday the gentle west bound breeze was nearly silent except for the sounds of it passing through nearby trees. Oh, and I heard happy children in every direction. 

As time has passed and episodes have unfolded the family has grown, shrank, and grown again. My sister and hers are so pissed off that Trump won the election they refused to answer my "happy Thanksgiving texts"... even though I wrote in Ben Carson. lol...my oldest brother cut fire wood all day and didn't participate at all, and my twin... I don't know where he was this year. We still get along great but for whatever reason the topic of discusion was never "whatchyou doin' this year?".... Probably because his mother in law is a whack job who always stirs up some kinda drama at their gathering. 

At 2am today I had a big smile on my face, and elbow'd the wife for two reasons. First to get her to change positions to stop the snoring so I could get some sleep. But second to say "hey baby, how about next year we do a green bean cassorole like my grandma used to do?" I hear "ok zzzzzzzz". lol

It also dawned on me that all 3 homes I ever bought, they've all had hip roofs.


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## sgt253 (Nov 26, 2016)

That is a very poignant piece of your Family's history. Thanks for sharing. I get a peaceful easy feeling that things are going the way you intend they go. All the best.

:twothumbs


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## bykfixer (Nov 26, 2016)

Life is like a river. It flows wherever the force of nature takes you.
- Augustus McCray, Lonesome Dove

I'm glad to not be stuck in some edy Sgt.

The 67 Cougar:



My first Hot Wheels car
Yup I still have it.

I was 4 (or so I've been told). We were in Sears looking for whatever my parents went to Sears for. That little hot rod caught my eye. Apparently I talked my mom into relenting 49¢ for a scale replica made by Mattel. The Hot Wheels cars had just been launched. Of course I didn't know all that back then. I just knew I wanted that toy I suppose. See, 49¢ was a lotta money in 1969. It was a bad time to be an 18 year old male in America. A few neighbors went to Vietnam. A couple didn't come back.... alive anyway.

Years went by and numerous other Hot Wheels car were obtained. Every little boy in America either had some or wanted some... GI Joe, Big Jim and Evel Knevel had nothing on the little Hot Wheels lineup. They were tougher than a Tonka Toy and cooler than a 5¢ pop fresh out the soda machine.

At some point my mom cleaned up my former room to turn it into a sewing room like most moms do after the youngest child had left the nest for good. She placed toys in metal tins. It was a great time to be an 21 year old male in America. The Nixon/Ford/ Carter recession was ending, Morning in America was in full motion and I had just gotten married to my high school sweetheart. 

One night eating dinner at moms place she handed me a lard tin full of my old toys. That Cougar was in there. At about that time a college chum asked if I knew anybody who wanted to buy a 67 Cougar. It was burgendy with a black top. Ok in the grand scheme of things months are minutes when looking back. So it may have been a year or two between the re-unitement with that Hot Wheels car and acquiring the life sized version, but I bought the car from the guy.

It was sitting under a tree 30 minutes from my home out in the country with a broken motor. But it came with a working engine. 
I made the drive cash in hand and bought it as is. Uh, bad move. I'm buying a house while attending night school and raising a family on a entry level government employees wage. 

I'd make the 30 minute commute to begin pulling out the old engine, which was ready to pull after a couple of adventerous afternoons. The dudes brother was a complete moron and was prone to do the darndest thing at the drop of a hat. One memorable experience was ducking shot gun pellets as he was blasting away at a tree one day. There were other events as well. But the worst was when he removed the tarp from my back up engine to cover his motorcycle in a rain storm. 

The motor was ready to pull. The car was positioned for pulling the engine via a come-along from a tree branch. With the motor tranny combo 90% out the branch broke and the transmission poked through the windshield. DOH!
A tarp was duct taped over the hole later. 

Time to rebuild the spare engine. Pull off cylinder heads to find rusty water on top of the pistons. At some point dudes brother had put the tarp back on the engine so we never knew it had rain water inside. Pistons were frozen. I took the block to a shop in hopes it could be saved. Nope. Rust had entered the cylinder walls past the depth any bore could remove and still find rings for. 

So I bought a crashed Maverick with a straight six hoping to modify things enough to work. I had the Cougar hauled to my back yard. The Maverick was taken to the former home of the Cougar, donor parts removed and it went to the scrapper. Custom motor mounts were acquired to plant that six. If it were an air cooled system it woulda worked. But the length of those cylinders inline caused fitting issues with a radiator installed. Craaaaaap!!! 

So I found an XR7 version of the car, again in the country. The motor along with chrome strips, a windshield, better seats, headliner, emblems, an uncracked dash board and a bunch of XR7 accessories were purchased. Being out of funds the car sat while I saved pennies for an engine build. By then nature had begun to return the car back to it's natural elements. Time to start the restoration process. At that point I had about $1500 in the car and just borrowed another $1500 to build an engine and paint the car. In my life then that was like $15,000. 

I removed the cracked dashboard and installed the nice one. Time to swap out seats. They had plastic covers over the bolts under the car. I plucked a cover off and a football sized chunk of under carriage came with it. 
Oh No!!! 

The floor boards were completely rotten from stem to stern. Another day I noticed the welds in the trunk area had disintigrated too. At this point I was like 3 grand into the project and now the chassis is crumbling? I'm done!! 

I put the car up for sale as a $500 parts car. No takers after about 100 days. I lowered the price to $100. Still no takers. I placed an ad for a free car... just come get it.
Still no takers. So I called local junkyards. They actually had the nerve to want to charge *me* to take it away. 

I donated it to charity. Yup, emblems, chrome strips, seats, windshield... everything but the hubcaps, XR7 wine bucket and original (never issued) license plates. I kept those and the engine. 
What a drag. 

A couple years later I sanded the hot wheels car to bare metal and sprayed it with a custom color model paint blended by a friend who was liscensed to make model paint for certain NASCAR cars. Once the paint cured I applied a few 'dings' to the body as an attempt to replicate the project car that had never reached fruition.

That one and some others are still part of my man cave display to this day.





These days I'm into year 4 of a 1997 Honda Prelude restoration. The project has been sidelined for about a year while I pursue other avenues. It sits under 2 nice covers until the day I decide to resume. But my thoughts at times are on that Cougar and I wonder if that same fate awaits. With todays internet I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have to donate that one to charity. That combined with my son owning one and some friends who do as well, the parts n pieces would be placed into their projects. So at least there's that. 




So while this waits...




This is the current project




After some activity yesterday


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## Poppy (Nov 26, 2016)

Quite some stories you've got there Mr Bykfixer!

I'm glad that your Thanks Giving Day went well. 

Back when my kids were about 7 and 12, my wife and I took them to see the Macy's Thanks Giving Day Parade. As is typical, it was a cold, rather dank day, threatening either rain, or maybe snow.

We planned to get there early so that we could be right up front with the kids. But of course, we didn't leave early enough.

I dressed in a warm insulated jump suit, and wore this really ugly smurf's blue polyester fleece hat, that was complete with ear muffs, and a tie string. It wrapped around the back of my neck, and was just warm and snuggley. 

I carried two Spackle buckets with covers. One had cookies and snacks, and two thermoses of hot tea, and hot chocolate. The other had extra warm clothing, and rain gear for four.

I asked... "Hey, does anyone want to carry one of these buckets? When we get there, you can sit, or stand on them." LOL.. no takers.

Of course, my pre-teen daughter was embarrassed to be in my presence, and I overheard her tell my wife... "Let him walk ahead of us. I don't want anyone to know that he is with us!"

Sure enough, when we get to the parade, we are five people deep to the curb. No sooner than I put one bucket on the ground, than my son stepped right up on top and was able to easily see over the crowd. 

I put the other one between my legs, and straddled it, so that no one would trip over it. Now... standing in front of me, is my pre-teen daughter, struggling on tip toes, trying to see over the crowd, and looking a little to the left, and a little to the right, trying to catch a glimpse of the parade as it marched by. THEN she would turn around and look at that other bucket. NOPE... she would struggle, trying to catch a glimpse. FINALLY, she couldn't stand it anymore,  She turned around, moved that bucket, and stepped up onto it! :thumbsup: Yahoo! 

That was one of those few times, that I actually got to do my HAPPY DANCE! (LOL... not really) but it was one of those little victories, that I'll never forget.
------------------------------------------------------

A few years later and we went again... this time when I asked if anyone wanted to carry a bucket, there was no problem. No question. Yahoo!

So... we are walking through the Port Authority (a major bus terminal) and everyone stops for a potty break. While standing outside with the buckets, I am approached by a Police Officer. I opened them up for him to see the contents, and told him the story of years past. He laughed and walked off.

So... they come out of the rest room and we head for the exit. Ah yes... there is the officer. He points to me, and then the buckets, and said, with a big smile, "Hey... you going to the parade? Great idea!"

I laughed... "Yep! Thanks!"

My daughter turned to me with a scowl on her face... "You were talking to him... weren't you!"

Er.. ah... yeah... guilty 

---------------------------------------

Fast forward to Thanks Giving 2016.

My son, and grandson.


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## bykfixer (Nov 26, 2016)

Smurf hats are cool.

My job requires I'm outside all day.
In winter we have outdoor meetings at times. The office dwellers make fun of my attire as I'm ready for the long haul, not the fashion show. They show up dressed to walk from a car to a building.

"You cold?" they quip with a laugh. My answer is something like "in 20 minutes I'll still be warm, hopefully you will too"... after 30 minutes I could probably auction my smurf hat for $100....


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## Poppy (Nov 27, 2016)

I am WITH you bro. It has been a LONG time since I was concerned about being arrested by the fashion Police. Function over style, is my motto.


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## bykfixer (Nov 28, 2016)

Poppy said:


> I am WITH you bro. It has been a LONG time since I was concerned about being arrested by the fashion Police. Function over style, is my motto.



When my boys were little I read an article in Readers Digest called "daddy cool". It was about how it was more important to be cool to your little kid than to the crowd. There was a photo of this fellow walking along a beach riddled with bikini clad chicks while he had on a goofy dog hat with his little boy riding on his shoulders. He was not ashamed to be seen as some goofball by the crowd as doing right by his son was more important. That stuck with me but...

There was that time when my first wife wanted to go Christmas shopping but demanded I change cloths first. I wanted to wear my bright red/orange/yellow plaid wool pants with a black and white checkered dress shirt. Oh it was quite the loud combo and she refused to be seen with me whenever I wore that combo. 
Eventually those pants and shirt mysteriously disappeared along with my completely worn out leather Nike's. She never dug my 'punk rocker' look for some reason but did put up with the doogy choker chain clasped at both ends by a master lock. Oh, she never liked my magnetic clip on ear ring either. But I knew fashion is a temporary thing and never (to this day) got a piercing or tattoo. 
Being a foward thinker back then I didn't want to end up as that guy with a faded wrinkled up tattoo, holes in my ear lobes for no reason or worse... that guy who thinks disco will be back any day now... you know the type...


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## heelsthrow (Dec 20, 2016)

Poppy said:


> Once upon a time... stories around the campfire.
> 
> Once when camping with some friends, we had cooked some burgers or steaks for dinner, and had all eaten. There were a couple left on the grill, and we were asked who wants the last one. Sitting there with my fork in hand, I reached for it and jabbed it to put it on my plate. Unfortunately for my friend, he reached for it with his bare hand. Opps! Sorry, fortunately I didn't break his skin, and I jabbed for it again... lol... opps! he had reached for it again... this happened THREE times! We all laughed, no one was injured and there was no malicious intent.
> 
> Sometimes, I guess the fork is an essential survival tool for obtaining food.



Reminiscing my campfire moments with my friends, too :laughing:


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## bykfixer (Apr 9, 2017)

The Honda Prelude horde:

When I was a little kid there were neighbors with teenage boys who were always driving around some really cool cars. The gas crunch was in full effect so there were other neighbors trying to keep their Simca's and Opels running. Another neighbor drove dragsters at a local race track when he wasn't driving his proffesional motorcycle racing kids to race tracks across the state.

The common thread was a NASCAR race blaring out of portable AM radios every Sunday. 

I think the day I saw a neighbor pull up to his son and roll down the electric window of his air conditioned Camaro revealing the smell of leather seats.. that was it... a luxury hot rod was the ultimate idea of a perfect car for me. But I was like 8 years old. 

Enter adulthood and I began restoring old Fords on a low budget. I was raising kids on a low end government wage while paying for a money pit old house I could barely afford. So even though my cars were 'cream puffs' at 25+ years old, they were also prone to frequent breakdowns as they were cars that had sat idle for a decade plus and were mostly original parts. 

Time passed and reliable transportation took precedence. But my oldest was ready for his first car. Now I remembered riding in cramped little riding lawn mower sized Hondas that never broke as a teen. And my son had set his sites on a compact sports car for his first. At that time it seemed every small car of any stature had watermelon shooter sized tail pipes spewing out burping sounds while duct taped parts n pieces flopped around in the breeze. So I tried diligently to convince him the luxury hot rod was the way to go. Zooming in comfort and style is cool. One day he bought a 1991 Prelude that didn't run. The day it was trailored to the house changed his life and mine. It was a beautiful car. Shiney black metal flake, electric windows and air conditioniing. Hmmmm

Armed with a small sack of bicycle tools quickly resulted in hiring a tow truck to a place where a cracker-jack mechanic got it going by replacing an alternator installed backward. We had replaced fuses and when the car was fired up the alternator caught fire in like 3 seconds. For clarity, to this day I do not know howthehell the op had installed the alternator backwards... they only fasten one way but anyway...

The car was quickly becoming a money pit. My son had a low wage job so 'ole pop' was paying for repairs all too often. Together we set out for better. I found an imaculate Prelude that had been completely restored stem to stern with super nice upgrades. The owner was in a hurry to sell and when I waved a stack of $100 bills in his face he quickly signed the title. 

I used to ride in the 91 listening to sounds and noises my son was concerned about. After driving pickups and vans for a decade getting in and out of the Prelude was difficult for my aging-fat carcass. But the day we bought Prelude #2 I had ridden with my son. So I had to drive Prelude #1 home while he drove his new one. Man it was like my first go kart ride as a kid. "I want one of these." Well being I had bought Prelude #2 and my son was going to pay me back I just traded his for mine after driving #2 a few minutes. 

A few months later Prelude #2 was murdered by a red light runner who hit the rear end with a brush guard clad flat bed tow truck. We coulda (and now woulda) fixed it but had no clue how to nor the tools to do it. So he drove Prelude #1 while searching for Prelude #3. One night he asked me to go with him to look at one. We met the guy and my son wanted the car. It was a radical-ized version that was in my view too hot for him to handle back then. So I bought it. Not long after he found Prelude #4. Another restored version of Prelude #2. Only this one was even better equipped with authentic JDM goodies and tasteful mods.... and a pickup load of extra parts. Then I was graced to find a lifetime garaged 91 that needed an engine. Prelude #5. Shortly after a neighbor was selling her one owner 91. Prelude #6. 

Content with Prelude #4 my son was asked at a car show if he wanted to buy a 2001 loaded with nice parts, but a botched engine rebuild. The freakin' hood was worth more than the owner was asking. Nobody at the show would even take the car for free. At 10 pm I'm at a car show telling my son "if you don't buy it I am". Prelude #7. 

I was the owner of three, working almost constantly and they were falling apart faster than I could fix 'em. Not satisfied with paying a shop to keep them going I decided it was time to thin the herd. I had traded my Prelude (#3) to my son for Prelude #1 again. I had given it back to him between the murder of #2 and sourced #4. 

I gave him Preludes 5 & 6 for #3. He needed capital for another engine for #7 and #4 was fine for transportation until then. #3 just sat collecting bird poop. He sold #6 for motor money and mothballed #5. Remember #5 had always been garaged and I had set about doing a makeover to that one. 

So I resumed restoring #3 finding all those radicalized add ons were haphazardly installed. I was going back factory with some tasteful sleeper mods. My son was methodically learning how to pluck an engine from a car about a year after learning how to change his own oil. He was an electrical whiz, but lacked the raw strength to unfasten stuck on bolts. I told him I'd break loose the hard stuff if he'd allow me to restore the engine bay once the motor was out. My goal was to have it appear like it had just left a race shop with lots of dark grays and flat black faces everywhere. 

One day we plucked the old engine out. I cleaned that engine bay to a sparkle but there were lots of broken fasteners and rusty screws. It took me about a month but it looked great. Meanwhile we rebuilt the replacement engine leaving in the stock pistons and rings. Compression was like new so we left well enough alone. Then one weekend 2 friends pulled a marathon assembly process of installing everything on the motor with a new clutch and such. 

A couple of things went wrong, but being we'd been going 30 straight hours at the end it was bound to happen. Once the motor was planted we took our time ensuring everything was torqued proper, fastened correctly and shined up all spiffy and new looking. Prelude #7 was on the road. 

When that one was done I spent about a hundred days on Prelude #3 fixing all those rigged items. But soon after a mystery coolant loss developed so #3 is mothballed until..

Lately we've resumed a methodical resto of #5 affectionately called "Lucky". See the owner rescued that one from the hauler taking it to the junkyard. A blown head gasket was the reason. So he replaced that and soon after it was plagued with 2 busted main bearings. I paid a guy to swap in a running engine and now we are doing cosmetic improvements to the outside of the engine along with chasing an idling issue. See Lucky is one of those cars that when something goes wrong it's never textbook. 

So we'll solve that mystery and complete the process of electrical restoration of Prelude #4 after the original owner had done some shortcuts when installing all those JDM goodies. Most of those were sold to pay for stuff #7 was going to receive as part of the motor swap. Instead it's getting more stock as time goes by. And I'm so dang anal about properly replacing stuff it takes a lot more time fix things, partly because... frankly I'd never done it before. 

Now my son has his sites set on Honda S2000's while I contemplate installing a turbo charged Ford 5.0 in a Mazda Miata...




















The red arrows point to cars bought by neighbors shortly after beinging home #3.


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## scout24 (Apr 10, 2017)

I have fond, but short memories of a dark grey twin to your #6, assuming it has the flip up headlights. I think I recognize the rest properly. What a sweet ride. I had my ex in it one day on the NYS Thruway, and slowly got it rolling at quite a bit over the posted speed limit. Okay, more than quite a bit. It was so smooth.  It was a couple miles at speed before she said something like "how fast are you going?" I normally drive like an old man, but that car just purred... :devil: She flipped when I told her, and I had to slow down. Sold it to a neighbor whose wife needed wheels, she got rear ended by a Mercury station wagon. Poor Prelude was toast.


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## bykfixer (Apr 10, 2017)

Yup #1, 5 & 6 all have/had pop up headlights. 
#1 is a parts store house and last I heard #6 had a busted engine is why I say "had".

Yeah, smooth they are. Luxury hot rods in their era. Weak and underpowered by todays standards. What I liked Scout was how even at 35mph they seemed to be moving fast... 
#3 & 7 have 150 on the speedometer. They reportedly don't quite make that number. (I've never broken the speed limit in any of mine) But folks who swapped in an Accord 5th gear have been clocked at 199 on race tracks. 

Mr. Honda did a car called the 1300 in the 60's. Air cooled hot rod that he said was his dream of a car that handled like an Italian but rides like a German. 

The Prelude was the 1300 re-invented. However Mr Honda was not involved.


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## scout24 (Apr 10, 2017)

You're correct by mine anyhow- it didn't make that number.


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## Chauncey Gardiner (Apr 11, 2017)

That was a fun read. I'm amazed by your ability to recall all their history. :candle: 

The first month of owning a 09 STS V8, I spent some extra money on gas. Now after a year of driving her, I'm again in Old Man mode when driving. And yes, it's a blast to drive at 35 MPH, too. 

Thanks for a great history-story. :thumbsup: 

~ Chance


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## harro (May 12, 2017)

Great read bykfixer. Are any of them the All Wheel Steer versions? Australia got quite a few AWS Hondas. I think we were used as a bit of a testing ground for that technology. AWS versions had the strange habit of dropping in value like a cinder block does, when dropped from the top of a 9' ladder. Front end mechs didn't want to know about them because of the complexities involved in maintaining the system. Didn't alter the fact that they were a nice vehicle though.


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## bykfixer (May 14, 2017)

None are harro.

We considered doing that to Car #1 and even sourced the parts, but after my mechanic spoke of potential alignment issues front to rear we opted not to.

See the first 4ws system (89-91) was all mechanical. A simple set of gears and rods was all it had. Genious! 
But Honda decided to take it a step further with the next group (92-96) and add electronics to the mix. Not only that but the system itself was changed to independent from the front end. The electronic gizmos were not reliable over time, very rare to find when they did fail and it left the car very unstable at the rear when the electronics weren't operational. 
The next group (97-01) were even worse. Road debris that collects under cars from driving in rain etc would blind sensors. Again causing the rear end to be unstable. 

I used to geek out on the Prelude since it was Hondas R&D car. Numerous things from the Prelude are still being used. Most are not. lol. 

Through the internet my son and I (along with 2 other Aussies) were able to diagnose, solve and source parts for one poor chap trying to get his 1993 4ws correct. One day he responded to the forum we frequented "success". No more warning lamps on the dash lit and the car handled perfectly. Soon after somebody crashed into him. Ugh! 

Another Aussie ripped all that crap from under his 94 and now races it. 
They were great cars but nowaday they are falling apart all over the planet and being they were R&D cars repair parts are getting pretty scarce. That's why we practically lived at the junkyard 2 years ago.


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## bykfixer (Jul 9, 2017)

Haven't done one of these lately.

Soda bottle hunting. 
Today I found myself looking around my home at all kinds of trinquets with all kinds of stories and suddenly was flashing back to a time I hung around with a guy named Bud. Bud and I did a lot of trading back then. He was a heavy drinker with a blinded eye and a caterac in the other and I was his chaufer of sorts... more like designated driver. We'd go to flea markets. He drank on the way there and back. Antique dealers, same. Other traders homes where he'd consume more alcohol than a top fuel dragster. Enough to kill many people. But I didn't touch the stuff back then. It was between my extreme athelete days and mid-life crisis days when my boys were young and my 1920 something house was falling apart almost as fast as I could fix it. 

One day another friend told me about a 19th century dump he had found in an old part of a nearby city. Old districts have them scattered on hillsides as back then folks buried their trash on hillsides, in abandoned wells and that sort of thing. But this was a city dump from between 1800 and 1900. Acres wide, about 2' below a gravel parking lot were thousands upon thousands of glass bottles, perfume vessels and broken dishes. Anything else had long since rotted... well there were bazillions of ceramic clothing buttons and old marbles too. 

Bud and I visited the place in January one year when it was too cold for most folks to go outdoors. Afterall we were in a high crime area in a point in time where folks were murdering each other over this new thing called "crack" cocaine. We were visited several times by locals who reminded us we were not welcome. We returned anyway, and noticed after like the 3rd visit were left alone. See we'd dig up dozens of bottles and leave a few along the brim of our holes. Locals would gather them up and take them to nearby antique dealers for a few dollars each. We were after a few certain local brands of soda and beer bottles. Bud wanted beer bottles and I wanted soda bottles. 

We scored a few nice medicine bottles with local stamping on the embossed glass. A few perfume bottles, numerous poison bottles (highly prized in the 80's) and some other stuff to trade at flea markets for stuff we wanted. 

There was a developer who was expanding an abandoned factory to turn it into apartments and had scraped the top off of various areas to see just how big this dump was. Areas about as big as an automobile at each location. Idea being that all that garbage had to go, but he was entertaining prices and developing designs to build his project so Bud and I were on the clock so to speak before giant Tonka toys began removing all that garbage. We had about a month as it turned out but each time we returned we expected the treasures to be gone. 

Each hole had been dug to good earth and the garbage removed but Bud and I tunneled sideways into the bank of several holes until we discovered which ones had the oldest glass. One day we were tunneling near each other and low and behold had reached each others tunnel at a real pretty aqua blue bottle. We flipped a coin and I won. I unearthed a beautiful, pristine beer bottle stamped with that town on it. That brewing company was out of Richmond but this one had Petersburg. Bud quickly offered me $3 for it. (Bud was a cheapskate). I declined. 

We ended up going there one day to find the treasure was gone, but had our fill of old glass bottles so no tears were shed. Plus the murder rate was escalating to broad daylight shootings by a local gang who had moved in from New Jersey and made it known that "Battersea" Petersburg was their turf. One day I had to pull my gun on a guy but that's for another time. 

With all of this nice old glass stockpiled Bud and I began trading at local flea markets. He traded stuff for old war books and I for still full soda bottles. Being Bud was a cheapskate he usually ended up empty handed as he wanted to get $100 worth of stuff for a $5 bottle. Me, I ended up with still full soda bottles in droves as I didn't mind getting the short end sometimes. 

Well one day a guy I traded with often mentioned he was acquiring some still full beer bottles from that Richmond brewer from the 1930's, shortly before they went out of business. Bud was too cheap to buy any and I didn't normally collect beer bottles. I said no thanks and began walking away... then I returned and said "hey, ever heard of a Home Brewing from Petersburg?" He said he and his club had never heard of one but there was a rumor a guy found one digging trash at the old Brown & Williams factory. Walking away Bud says "holy ****! How'd he know about that bottle?" 






To this day this is the only known one.

That was about 1986. Sometime later Bud and I had a falling out over 25¢… 
A few years ago I saw Bud in a grocery store. We had not spoken for years. He approached me and stated he was now sober and regretted our friendship had ended over such a small amount of money, then says "if you wanna sell that bottle my offer for $3 still stands" lol. 
I quipped "she got it in the divorce".... 

RIP Bud. He recently succumbed to liver cancer.


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## scout24 (Jul 19, 2017)

Always an interesting ride, Mr. Fixer. Thanks for sharing...


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## bykfixer (Jul 19, 2017)

But for the Grace of God, I wouldn't have made it out of my 20's Scout. 

Everyday after the 40th birthday seems like a bonus day. 13 bonus years later I suddenly got word that Bud had gone to meet our maker.


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## ven (Jul 20, 2017)

Awesome read as always, in fact i could read your posts all day long


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## AO 17 (Jul 20, 2017)

Enjoyed reading your life stories bykfixer, thanks for sharing part of life memories with us.


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## bykfixer (Jul 27, 2017)

^^ Thanks fellas.

Here's one from my youth:

I was a skrawny kid who grew up in a neighborhood full of jocks and athletic kids. I was not the last to be picked. I was that kid when there was one kid left the big kid picking would say "no thanks, we're good" lol. I watched a lot. Man I loved baseball. Watching the 73 A's take the penant (or whatever year it was), Reggie, Rollie, Catfish etc... they were my idols. So in the afternoons instead of being humiliated by the big kids again I stayed home and threw a tennis ball at my parents cinder block garage. Man I pitched I don't know how many (imaginary) no hitters... struck out Babe Ruth, Mickey Mantle, you name it. But dammit Reggie hit a grand slam every time....

Well after a few years of that I got pretty good. I'd wet the tennis ball to see spots on that wall. I got where I could paint a dot on any cinder block anywhere I aimed and as many times as I chose to. 

I played little league because if you signed up you got placed... no matter how bad you sucked. I was always on a team of misfits who were sacrificial lambs for those "hand picked" teams to beat up. But their coach always made them run laps before and after games. My coaches bought us a cup of ice cold soda after each game. 

Being a care free kid I was more concerned about a butterfly flittering past than the action in the infield. I was usually right fielder but one day a coach noticed I could catch a fly or a bouncer back handed, between my legs, or while never taking my eye off that butterfly. Afterall 3 or 4 years of throwing a tennis ball against the garage summer, winter, spring or fall I had learned a trick or two. 

One night this giant bully who lived down my street was pitching his usual 135mph fast pitch (or what seemed that fast to a 12 year old)... striking out batter after batter...
My coach says to turn my torsoe about 10 degrees towards the pitcher during my stance waiting on a pitch. "Man, are you kidding?" I thought. That means he'll bean me in my jewels instead of my hip with a baseball going 199 mph... I sighed and did it. Pitch 1... Strike 1. The coach said by rotating it'll take less time to swing... Pitch 2 "POW!!!!" HOME RUN!!! That dude was pissed that the skrawny kid had ruined his 3rd no hitter in a row.... next batter up POW!! We ended up winning that game. 

All star time; 
It was time to pick the all star team for a tournament my city hosted where us skrawny 12 year olds played the best kids on the east coast. Giant kids. Some had beards!!! These kids are 12?..... So they do all these practices and the kids I played beside were busting their hump to make that all star team. My thoughts were "they have to instill the slaughter rule for us every year because we get beat so badly"... "heck with this, I could be skateboarding"... so every two hours we practiced for all star try outs and after they kept calling my name to go to the next round. CRAP!!

Finally like 6 practices later they didn't call my name. By then I was sunburned and too tired to skateboard... 

Next year yours truely landed on that "hand picked" team. I played two games, got tired of being one of the members of the team that was beating those misfit teams so I stopped going. They had me as a starter pitcher. I fanned a few of my friends (again tennis ball against the garage thing)... after the 3rd inning I told the coach "later gator" and walked home... that was that. The team went undefeated and when the coach stopped at my house to hand me a trophy I told him "no thanks".... it was little league baseball where fun is rule 1. They had win at all costs mentalities and I won't playing that game nor did I want any prizes from the little time I played on that team.

I didn't touch a baseball again until my kids were little. But in high school PE softball did enjoy burning the palm of a jock kid playing first when I'd throw a caught grounder from 3rd base.... a couple of the kids would just step aside when I threw the ball their way yelling "@#%$ that I aint catching that" lol. 

In my 30's I had to do physical therapy a couple of times because doing stunts on bmx bikes kept tweaking bone spurs that had likely developed from all those days of throwing the tennis ball against that garage (according to the therapist).

I was audited in my job by an internal affairs type tonight. He told me I had been hand picked for this assignment by an engineer who is a friend of his... an engineer who had been drafted by the San Diego Padres after college but stopped having fun so now he works for the highway department that hired me as a consultant. So finding that out caused some friendly ghosts to stir after the audit was over.


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## bykfixer (Aug 13, 2017)

bykfixer said:


> Another great story from a "good joe"...
> 
> My first grandkid is a boy. My wifes oldest and I had a big blow up a few years back. He's still mad at me. I drew a line in the sand and he crossed it.
> Long story, but suffice to say I don't see this guy taking the boy camping unless his pop gets his attitude right.



This one is a kind of update with a good change. 
Shortly before Easter this year I got word that my wife's son wanted to make amends. Skeptical, I agreed. The meeting was to take place at his living quarters located in a not so freindly territory of a city long since past its prime. Ok I'm in. 

The meeting took place on Easter Sunday in a house full of tatoo clad, dred-lok headed thug-nasty wanna be's. But it was Easter Sunday and I was... eh hem... prepared for the worst. 

After the initial intro to the "family" I was invited to take a walk... down an alley.. Well it had been a while but I'd been in similar situations in my younger (dumber) days so I dusted off my "spidey senses" and took that walk. To my surprise I was not acosted but instead received a hand shake, an appology and an invitation to play the roll of grandpa in a little kids life by a once wolf in sheeps clothing now a neutered individual who has been living a life where he plays nurse maid to a bunch of lazy bums and a very strong will'd girfriend. He pays all the bills while the "family" lounges around smoking $7/ pack cigarettes, drinks hard soda and plays video games on giant screen tv's. Turns out the house full of thug-nastys are just "dumb-lazy". That's too bad but...

Still far from a perfect friendship, the wife's boy and I have a peaceful truce based on the desire to seek a bond between an innocent little kid and his grandpa. Last night I was feeding the little dude mashed potatoes in a crowded restaraunt while his parents enjoyed a rare evening away from their home filled with strife. Expecting to pick up the tab they had ordered the cheapest stuff on the menu since dinner-out was coming from their rent money. I picked up the tab and slid the girlfriend a few $ saying "go buy my grandson some toys".....


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## bykfixer (Oct 24, 2017)

In post #101 I mentioned telling the story of riding to the skatepark with a guy named Paul. 

Well recently I worked on a re-hab project where one of the "death curves" between home and the skatepark was being removed. 





Looking at it south to north





From north to south. 
Man, that day stirred up some ghosts as I was filling in for the inspector for a couple of days. The county utility guy hangs out with this Paul character these days it seems. I'm telling the utility guy about the adventures of riding with Paul and he quips "man, that guy is a nut so riding with him in 1980 musta been pretty scarey" lol. 

It's 1979 or 80: Elvis is dead, but not quite; enter Elvis Costello. Music was changing from Fleetwood Mac and Foreigner to Iggy Pop & the Stooges or The Cars... skateboarding had hit the east coast of America like an atomic bomb. I was about 15 years old and had been skateboarding since late '76 so I had gotten pretty good at it, compared to my peers. I was one who was "allowed" to hang out with the L Skates team, which was like being a made guy to folks in Hells Kitchen somewhere. 

Back then minimum wage was like $1.65 or something and to ride a skatepark was $2.00/ hr. Yeah. A good skateboard was between $75 and $100 depending. But I was sponsored by the L Skates team for decks (later Powerflex then Kryptonics hooked me up), kryptonics for wheels and Bennett for trucks. The L Skates team consisted of guys who ranged from 17 to 25 years old. Now the L in L Skates was an east coast surfer named Joey who still surfs the outter banks of NC nearly every day. His pop owned a wood shop and Joey was a cracker jack board maker. He only made a few and I was a "test rider" for one of them. Woohoo!! 

See, back then the boys as it were had testosterone in 55 gallon drums. A bunch of jocks who played hard and partied harder. I was a scrawny kid who stuck to myself mostly... largely because I was scared to death of these guys. Seriously. Yet they thought I was some kinda radical dude who always stayed calm. Every session with these guys was pure stoke as they'd always be trying to one up each other. I had a smooth and casual style that kinda melded into the back ground, yet stood out when the contestants had all given out. 

At one point Joey was a surveyor and his company laid out a not so distant skateboard park. Being a skater, he helped the designers and over saw the shaping of the concrete riding areas. That was before L Skates in about 1977. One Saturday morning I was at the park when Joey and his pals showed up. I had the place wired and some of his pals knew me from school. I was like a freshman and they were juniors or seniors or something... but anyway I got invited to session with them at Joeys ramps the next day. Later on Joey arranged for us to skate the park on Tuesdays, all you can skate for $1 after 4pm. 
Woohoo!! 

Now by then there were about 15 of us. Joey had a Toyota Corolla station wagon and Paul had a Plymouth Fury III. Joey's best buds rode in the Corolla and about 8 people (including Paul rode in the Fury. That was week 1 and I wasn't cool enough to ride with Paul so I got squeezed into the Toyota. We get to the park and Paul was already there. 

Week 2 folks are asking to ride with Joey. I got squeezed in again... this time in the rear part. 
Week 3 Joey says the Corollas full, people have to ride with Paul. People start trying to buy a spot in Joeys car. lol. Now at this point I always rode with Joey. Oh, and I met the Bones Brigade on week 2. 
Week 4 I'm out unless I want to ride with Paul. Eh, how bad can it be? 

First thing I notice while walking towards the Fury was that Joeys car had like 11 people in it. It's just Paul, me and a kid my age named David who don't even skate. We leave Joeys place in this batmobile of a car and head towards the country... whut-thuh? I thought.... farm roads with tractors going to fields, dogs and deer and chickens dotting the edges and Paul driving like 75 mph the whole time. Holy Crap!!! Up ahead a sign at a hairpin says 35 and this guys kicking in the 4 barrel. Now back then only sissys wore seat belts... but after sliding back and forth across those vinyl seats and crashing into the doors... call me what you want I'm buckling up baby. Oh, and he had Judas Priest blaring from sound really distorted speakers (which I suppose meant he never heard me scream thank goodness).... 
That curve in the photos above was called "the Roller Coaster" and had a reputation as a dead mans curve. Pffft that didn't phase the mad man. Nor did the flat hairpin about a half mile past it. Everytime I looked out the back window I'm see-ing dust where we had literally been skirting the edges of these curves then this David guy decides to put his freakin' hand over Pauls face as we entered another deadly hairpin lined with giant oak trees with chunks missing from all the wipeouts... 

We get to the park and I swear I thought my life was over. I was so scared I couldn't skate for like an hour. That was when Joeys car came rolling in the parking lot with the fenders dragging the tires from being so loaded. 

Later I learned that it was an average hour and 15 minute commute to the park. Paul made it a 45 minute death trip.

Joey made the bigger people ride with Paul after that and because I was a scrawney kid I always had a spot in the Corolla after that day. We probably went there like 10 times and the park closed thanks to some dork sue-ing the place after an injury. Late that summer I wrecked my knee for the 3rd time. This time a tendon that keeps the kneecap in place was torn and required surgery. 6 months of down time that time. That was it for me. I hung up my boards and gave away most of my stuff. 

I did skate a little here and there a couple of years later, but it caused considerable pain in my knee and by then nobody my age that I used skate with skated anymore. 

I did win a skateboard while rehabbing though. I had one good board with some wear and tear left over and had loaned it to a school mate to ride in a local contest. My leg was casted hip to ankle and crutches were the norm. After dude had finished his run he handed it back to me. The city had closed a road and kids were lined up on each side while the contest took place in the middle. Somebody yelled to me from the other side asking if they could borrow my skateboard. Back then I could do all sorts of wheelie tricks called manuals these days. 

"Ok, here goes"... I plopped the board on the ground and placed my good foot on the rear. I launched like skiers do using my crutches and did a one foot wheelie to the other side of the street, placed my crutches on the ground forward, kicked the board to op and walked it off like I'd done it a thousand times. Not giving it much thought I hobbled over to my brothers girlfriend and we left the place in her car to go meet my brother. 

They announced a winner of the slalom contest after we had left, then the freestyle, then apparently created a best trick award in honor of my 1 foot wheelie. lol. I won the grand prize skateboard. 

My parents got a phone call that night that I had won a skateboard contest and told them where the prize was. I arrive home later and my parents are all yelling "when are you gonna ever learn" and stuff. I'm like "what are you guys talking about?" not knowing it had happened. 





It's the silver one. Still have it.

In my late 30's during my divorced period I took up surfing again. Work eventually prevented me from getting to the ocean often enough to suit me. One new years day I found the board in my dads attic and took up slalom at nearly 40. By 41 I was riding giant slalom, which is barreling down a paved hill side swirving around cones at 25mph. Tricky stuff for an old guy, but it didn't bother my bad knee one bit. (By mid-30's doctors were talking fake knee nonsense due to arthritis). At 43 I had met my wife and gotten married. Her middle son wanted to experience downhill skateboarding as he was really good at ramps and all those flippty stunts. So I took him one day. It was the day I retired for good this time. 





Santa Clause had brought me this thing.
It was a 44" giant slalom board I whacked down to 35" and reshaped it to suit my style. Super swirvey trucks, ceramic core wheels with a rubber ball durometer and super fast bearings. 
The wife's son was super thrilled as he rode one of my other boards. He was fast, fast, fast and was beating me every time. So at one point I decided to let it all hang out like some kinda youngster and I wiped out. Trouble was by the time I knew I was falling I had already hit the ground, bounced and was about to impact again. 

I have tried to give that board away to younger folks who stand on it, push off and quickly give it back saying "no thanks... this thing'll kill ya"....

That was 10 years ago and I have no urge to ride skateboards at all. Nope. But speaking with that utility guy sure stirred some Caspers that day.


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## bykfixer (Nov 24, 2017)

Thanksgiving:

My gosh has the day of turkey feast changed over the years. 
I'll start by saying my 80+ year old neighbors George & Stella still do the same thing every year since the early 1960's. They eat at noon. They picked noon because the number of their kids, grandkids all the way to great grandkids that participte could fill up a school bus. So they eat early and send folks on their way by 2:30 so that the rest of the neighbors families for the next several houses can have a place to park after 3Pm. Divorce has never rained on George & Stellas family either. The only one absent is George who went to be with the Lord about 3 summers ago. 

I live near the house I grew up in. Probably 60% of the homes in my neighborhood are occupied by people who grew up in it. Some who have lived here since the 1950's, but mostly ones who left and came back. 

I met my wife when living out of town and brought her here. Her and the boys at first were like "whut-thuh?" My wife is now a member of the community and glad to be so. The boys are grown and stay close by, but are spreading their wings like typical young adults. Well as typical as you get in 2017's America anymore. 

A lot of my wifes life was a daily train wreck before we met. I brought her here to show her a bubble that time forgot. Kinda like Atlantis... rumored to be real, but kept a secret by inhabitants. It's a D shaped neighborhood smack dab in the center of a metropolis that seems to have a force field around it. And people pass through on a regular basis without noticing. On Thanksgiving day nearly every street is full of cars for a few hours as the traditional celebration takes place while outside of the neighborhood thousands travel to and from the mall, in and out of town doing the hussle n bussle thing or sitting in their home alone waiting for life to come to them. 

Last night after folks were gone my wife was sitting quietly with a sense of peace on her face as she croche'd something or other for a friend at her work. I enjoyed watching that look of calm and sipped on some lemonade that tasted just like my grandmother used to make for Thanksgiving every year. That's another story for another time that will explain why today I sit in peace & quiet listening to wall clocks and regale of days gone by. Not all happy, but they led up to what was probably the most enjoyable one... at least in a long time if not ever. Same for my wife who is probably as I type this thinking "Calgon, take me away" at her job in retail on black Friday....

Basically as a lad my folks hung out at my grandmas tiny house. Little house, big yard. So if the weather was good it was great. If not, well she had the kinda furniture you don't sit on. But life was simple. Life progresses, death does its thing, and in my family so did divorce. At one point we had the George & Stella thing. Then at one point it was my pop, my 2 brothers and I all away from each other, and all living solitary lives due to said death and divorce. That was a short lived period and except for my pop (RIP) we all do Thanksgiving away from each other, but in phase 1 of what George & Stella still do. 
We have Grandkids now! Woohoo!! 

Now my sister has lived in a utopia for the last 25 years yet has ended up bitter and jaded. Death and divorce have barely touched her life except for the inconveience of having to attend an occasional funeral. My twin remarried a whack-job so he's not allowed to hang out with us anymore. I think they do their dinner at his mother in laws, these days. My other brother hangs out his boys house all filled with a bunch of kids and neighbors where they do things the country way. They eat what they killed. lol. Theirs starts at 4:30am with some hunting, some fishing. But they feast every year, enjoy home made bourbon and by sundown have a giant bon fire going. I heard this year bear meat was on the table. I think my sister and her husband had some kinda turkey flavored tofou and vegetable medley as part of their efforts to save the planet. His wife (my sister) is a vegan now which pretty much makes him a vegetarian... but they swear deviled eggs is not meat. :duh2: 

As a kid I ate turkey, ham, venicine, fish, mashed potatoes, green beans, lima beans, mac n cheese, stuffing, etc and there was always cranberry jelly on the table but nobody _ever_ touched that. Yet every year there was a log of sliced cranberry jelly. I think next year I'll restart that tradition. This year minus venicine and fish we had all the goodies my grandma used to fix. But my youngest son adds chocolate pudding to her pecan pie recipe and holy cow is that awesome... 

Our home was faced with drug addiction and strife for a couple of years. This sobriety was the norm and the by-gones were water under the bridge. People who were mad at each other hugged and spoke as if none had ever happened. It was the most satisfying one for me in quite a while and I think perhaps the best one ever for my wife. There was no football on tv, no talk of divisive issues, and smiles abounded. It was pretty much an afternoon where everyone in attendence was participating in an event that was exactly what George Washington had proclimated so long ago, and pretty dawg-gone close to what happens next door at George & Stellas every year since the 1960's.





RIP Ray. It aint the same without you. 
Ray passed away suddenly from heart failure. A gentle giant of a man who had the mind of a rocket scientist and the gift of being able to make us mortals understand very complicated things on our level. He was the kind of guy who brought out the best in people, and his dry Minnesota wit is sorely missed. (Man tears welling up)


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## Bullzeyebill (Jan 1, 2018)

Just read this bykfixer. Awesome reminiscing. Please do more.

Bill


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## bykfixer (Jan 7, 2018)

Thank Bill. I have been blessed with the ability to squeeze 99% out of what life has to offer within about a 100 mile radius of my upbringing for 5 decades (so far). Also being blessed with my mothers positive spirit and my pops ability to watch the world from the outside looking in have been a boon as well.

I copied a portion from a post I made at a facebook page where it was asked what year our local lake froze over...
It froze over twice in my lifetime. Once in 1980 when I was a teenager. And again in 2000 when I got to play in the snow with my son's for the first time. My oldest was 15 and had never played in the snow with "dad" who drove a snowplow every time it snowed... sometimes being gone from home 2-3 days instead of at home making snowmen and all that stuff. 
I was recently divorced from their mom and my boys revelled the oppotunity to live with dad for more than a weekend at a time. I no longer drove a snowplow and Lord willing never will again. They arrived day 2 and were back at their moms 15 fun filled days later as our area was in a deep freeze and their mom was off on a tropical vacation paid for by... you get the point.

Anyway below is the post...

"It froze over in 2000 also. Not at the thickness of 1980, but still pretty sturdy. 
During the afternoon of day 1 of the blizzard of 2000 myself and 2 buddies were on the steps of Lakeview Terrace watching it freeze. One tossed a bottle cap onto the slurpee looking surface and the splash froze. ⊙▁⊙
After that we started tossing objects onto the water to watch the splash freeze. 
It was like being in a National Geographic episode as the snow froze to our day old bearded faces and borders of the hoods of our heavy coats. A surreal event taking place on the bank of Swift Creek lake. 
Next day my sons and I slid down the hillside onto the frozen lake on chunks of vinyl flooring cut into 2'x3' strips. About a week later the edges were thawing out and we were so battle weery from sliding on ice we didn't let it bother us.

If I recall correct it was night 3 that the blizzard of 2000 dumped an inch of sleet on our S shaped groove in the 2 feet of snow. It had an S to avoid losing a limb from crashing into a no trespassing sign about 75% down the 100 yard long hill. That layer of ice made the channel like a bobsled track. It was on then. Running start of a few steps on flat ground then hurl yourself over the edge landing on your favorite ride... the vinyl was like wet glass on the ice... Sometimes you'd be halfway across the lake before stopping.

Extreme sledding, no doubt. And word got out. By day 5 folks were travelling from outside the city to either watch or play in the X Games Colonial Heights style. It was epic. Everybody behaved and not once did the cops get called.... 

Unlike in 1980 when there were times the island had like 500 people on it. I was dating the girl whose face was on gas pumps across Va for a few years. We hung out on the island often. The trouble began on that one when kids started swiping neighbors Adorandack furniture for bonfires and local John boats. One night I found myself sitting on my mom's John boat converted to a bench. 

At the Lakeview X Games we shut things down at 5 pm (when the outside lights came on). It was alcohol and drug free family fun where the 1980 freeze was a free-for-all."


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## bykfixer (Mar 24, 2018)

How I met the lovely Mrs. Fixer:
Or rather how come she chose to go out with me the first time;

I had been walking planet earth alone (with Jesus guiding the way) for about 8 years. After a divorce that whole dating thing was just causing me grief and walking alone meant figuring out what life is all about without the influence of others saying "no you really like Pepsi, not Coke". I was making plans for the next 40 years figuring as my body faded my hobbies would be less and less physical. By 60 I'd figured on learning music instruments and sitting in the rocking chair I'd learned to make in my 50's. Stuff like that. I had even started the process by acquiring to tools to do it while in my 40's. (Flashlight collecting was no on the radar btw). 

My work took me to a proverbial Maybury and a local 7-11 was a big draw there. Each morning I'd stop in for a 12oz cup of java. One day I saw this cute lady but quickly ruled that out. Nope I got plans. As time passed my duties became night work. And the cute gal as it turned out ran the joint after 11 pm. For about a year I'd get my little cup of coffee and go about my business. 

One night I was stirring in some sugar and the lady was wiping off the coffee bar nearby while about 6 police officers sipped on their coffee and shared stupid crook stories. I whispered "bad time to say this is a stick up?" She replied "worse time to announce we're out of donuts." 
Uh oh, dame's got a sense of humor.... must.... resist.... but each night I'd go back. Now we'd only shared about 10 words when night season ended. I went home for the winter. We did some work in the day once work resumed. Work to patch concrete on the interstate. Patches that would be covered with asphalt. Now under bridges the concrete would not be paved over. Placing asphalt over concrete raises the height of the road. That closes the gap between pavement and the bridge. Bad idea when over height stuff is going through that area. As part of the process we'd write the date of the patch in the fresh concrete as "born on" date for a 1 year warranty. On a couple I drew a smiley face knowing they'd not get covered.

So while working one day a fellow asks me if I knew how to work one of those new digital cameras. I said "yeah I can turn it on and push the shutter button". He said "here it's yours" and hands me a hewlett packard digicam. He had found it beside the road and didn't know how to use one. Well we resumed night work and soon after I popped up in the 7-11 for my midnight caffine fix. The lady was still working there and seemed happy to see me. Finding out she was single, one evening I tried to set her up with one of the foremen of the contractor. She said she was done with dating. I said "me too". 

Each afternoon I'd take sunset photos with that digital camera. Beautiful colors with trees or bridges in a silhouette. One evening I was outside the 7-11 having a cigarette with the lady. Afterall neither of us were interested in dating. This pretty dog walks up to us. It looked like a fox. I dashed to my truck to grab the camera. She dashed to her van to grab hers. We both took a few pix of the dog only to discover we had been taking photos of the same sunsets about a mile away from each other. 

(Side note, the dog it turns out had been accidently left in New Jersey and had made its way back home to Richmond Va. It came by that 7-11 each evening and one evening a lady yells out "holy **** it's my neighbors lost dog!!!" Soon after the owners arrived and thanked the lady who is now my wife for taking care of the dog. She had begun bringing snacks and water outside every night.)

We had begun to become friends. Little by little we talked more often and for longer periods. One night she asked me to go have a drink with her that weekend. I responded "ever heard of a recovering alcoholic? I'm a recovered alcoholic." Thinking that was that I returned to the 7-11 the next night. One night she said "just what do you do on the project?" I replied "I get paid to draw smiley faces in fresh concrete". She said "no freaking way". So I told her to go look under a bridge at mile marker 28 and I'd leave her a note in the concrete. Apparently her coworker talked her into checking it out. 




This was the note. 
Happy Easter. Life took me back to that area the other day so I stopped by the road and snapped the photo. 

Another period went by and we still chatted from time to time. I asked her to go fishing on the upcoming Mothers Day. She agreed to. We rented a boat and spent the day on a lake snapping nature pix until sunset. Then I took her to a spot where I knew a beautiful moon rise would take place shortly after dark. We went out to dinner after that and spent the rest of the night talking until the sun came up. 

The rest is history. We were married about a year later. During that year we had a lot of fun, took a lot of photos and got along like chocolate and peanut butter. To this day we still chat for hours at a time nearly everyday.





At first she didn't believe I got to ride a skateboard on the interstate either. 
Soon after showing her the photo she asked me to teach her son skateboard tricks. 





He was a quick study and got pretty good very quickly.


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## scout24 (Mar 24, 2018)

Always, always a good read, Mr. Fixer. You're a born storyteller. A talent not everyone has...


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## bykfixer (Mar 27, 2018)

Thanks Scout.

Easter time has been profound a number of times in the adventure called life.


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## Poppy (Apr 17, 2018)

bykfixer said:


> How I met the lovely Mrs. Fixer:
> Or rather how come she chose to go out with me the first time;
> 
> <snip>
> ...


Hey there my friend. IT is TRUE... you have a talent for story telling!

IIRC correctly, you had a few injuries, teaching her son skateboard tricks!


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## Poppy (Apr 17, 2018)

Body Heat is a wonderful thing 

This weekend, I took the new scouts in our troop on a camping trip. It is a Scout led troop, and the Senior Patrol Leader really did a great job. I only had to step in a few times to get the new kids to LISTEN to him. Only a few weeks before, had we gone on a trip in 18 inches of snow. The scouts didn't have to run around in it, but many did. Many got wet, cold feet. Even, my grandson, (outfitted with proper gear) managed to get one foot damp. His boots are gore-tex lined and when queried, he said that the snow got in over the top.

Fortunately we were able to dry some of their shoes/boots or at least outfit them with dry socks, and plastic bags to put between the dry socks, and wet cold boots.

We here in NJ have been having unseasonable cold weather. I prayed for warmer weather for this weekend, and my prayers were answered... half way. Saturday we had 80 degrees F. BUT... we were to have a unpredicted 50 degree drop! 20-30 mph gusts made the wind chill even worse. In the morning it was 32 degrees! 

At ten to six in the morning, I sensed a presence in my lean-to. It was my grandson. 
Are you OK...?
I am cold.
Put on my coat!
No... 
Do you want to climb in here with me? (I was in a bunk with a 2 inch mattress, not that he knew).
I could just sense the smile on his face when he said... "YES!!!" all smiles!

I was in a mummy bag, so he could only get half way into it. I gave him my hat, threw my coat, and a blanket over us, and in ten minutes he was sound asleep. The only problem was... now I had to pee.:mecry:


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## bykfixer (Apr 20, 2018)

Another good read Poppy.

I smiled at the end, then chuckled.


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## bykfixer (Dec 20, 2018)

The other night some old ghosts were stirred up as I was jamming to some tunes I had on CD in my work truck. Compilations of modern-ish tunes going back to the 1980's. 

Work requires a bunch of focus, lots of patience and the alertness of a junk yard dog. It's been that way since April. Normally I can relax on weekends and re-hash the recent past, going over events to ensure lessons learned are utilized. It's also a chance to reflect. It usually begins about the time leaves to fall. This year was different though. I had not been able to perform my annual ritual. I was too busy to notice anyway.

Recently the company issued a brand new office on wheels. Usually that involves a day of swapping things from vehicle A to B. This time it was brought to me on an afternoon some 2 hours from my home. The fellow who brought it had an appointment back at the office, which was 3 hours away. So a quick toss of tools and toys into the new truck took place and op drove the other one back to the office. 

The other evening I came across a cache of cd's from a few years ago when I was ripping my cd collection onto a hard drive and burning all kinds of nifty combinations of music going back to the 1920's. Most is from 2000 forward but lots of stuff from the 60's to the 90's is also included. If I recall correct the newest would be around 2015. 

So I pull out one with Bobby Darin, Sammy Davis Jr and old Blue Eyes and listened to a few tunes as background music. Then one with Jamie Cullum, Nora Jones, Annie Lennox and others began stirring up old ghosts. Caspers. (ie all friendly.) One with Pearl Jam, Freddie Jones, Tagen & Sara, Black Crowes and SilverSun Pickups really stirred up the fond memories of summer nights flying down country roads with the windows down (when most cars did not have AC), noticing cool spots over creeks with stuff like Judas Priest or U2 blasting over the crappy sounding (but very loud) car stereos. Memories of stuff like being at an outdoor party somewhere in the middle of nowhere with ZZ Top Party on the Patio blasting and the crowd of several hundred all raising their fists and shouting "pow" at certain points of the song popped up. About then a cute dame who'd never give me the time of day in the high school comes up and starts to cuddle with me. "Who me?" I was somebody for a little while. 

Memories of passing a doobie to a passenger while riding in a late 60's muscle car, my son's first birthday party (where he wore more cake than ate), my youngest son walking around with a VHS camera that was half as big as him at 3 years old....hearing those tunes sure did do the trick. Sometimes my eyes would water with man tears of joyous events that took place so long ago.

So instead of an annual ritual of reflections taking place a bit here or a bit there in the fall, I sat in a hotel parking lot listening to music blasting inside a comfy new 2019 F-150 with a super nice sound system for a few hours. As I type this a compilation put together to celebrate the first start of an engine my son and I swapped into his Japanese hot rod is playing. It starts with "Birthday" by 'the Sugar Cubes'. I've always been a fan of one hit wonder bands and deep cut radio tunes. 

With about 25 discs left to listen to this is going to be a lot of fun.


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## bykfixer (Apr 5, 2019)

My first Honda Prelude:

It was about 2005 when my oldest son spoke of buying a car. See, he had been driving a 94 Ford F150 I had given him a few years before and he was thinking something a lot less....old-guy-esque and more chick magnet. We used to discuss Mustangs, Camaros and those sorts of cars. He kept speaking of Hondas, Acuras and Nissans. Blasphemy I thought.

One day he asked me to take him to a car lot to test drive a real nice Acura. Oh, it was sweet and I wanted to buy it right on the spot. Way too much for his budget and I was happy with my Ranger so we went elsewhere. That guy was cool as a polar bears toenails and explained to my son how to build good credit and said come back in two years and he'd sell him an even nicer car since most of his payment would be principle due to good credit. He told my son 25-28% now or 5-7 in two years....

Brb....
Mrs Fixer called from Texas...

Anyway my son dutyfully continued driving the school bus sized two tone blue F150 and stashed $5 bills. He did like that guy told him to and took out a couple of small loans to pay like $12 a month for a year to get a good credit history, then one day he asked me to go look at a Honda Prelude with him. One of those with pop-up headlights. A sweet car that didn't start. Well it started but the alternator caught fire after about 20 seconds. He bought it real cheap and we fixed the issue of backwards wires and a bunch of blown fuses.

About a year later the car was falling apart faster than he could fix it. My tool kit was in a shoe box and I worked a lot of overtime. One day he showed me a really rare Acura for sale on a facebook post for a really good price. He said it was his dream to own one some day. Well working all those hours I had saved a slew of $20 bills so I said "contact the owner to see if he still has it". He was like "dad you're joking, right?" "No son" I said, "you busted yerarse in college and worked a full time job at the same time, this is my way of saying great job". 
It had been sold. 

I scoured the internet and found a newer Prelude that had been restored and hop'd up with a bunch of inteligent modifications. I asked him if he liked it....he did. He was like "holy mackeral dad that is a super duper car"....

Back to the day he had the first one delivered. Being it didn't run the guy had it delivered to my dads where he lived. We rolled it towards my dads garage. My pop was ailing at the time and rarely went outside. But he hobbled out back to see his grandsons first car. Now the car sat real low to the ground and my pop wanted to get in and pretend to drive it. He did. It took a lot of inginuity to get him back out though. But he was some kinda proud of that car. Hell, it was tough for me to get my fatarse in and out. But we had it on the road a few days later.

So we took the first one I now called the bucket of bolts to meet the owner of the restored car. My son gave the guy the dough and they did the paperwork. Meanwhile some fellow wearing shades was a few parking spots away in the parking lot we were at with his car running staring at us. I eased over to the bucket of bolts and retrieved a defensive object making sure the joker in the running car saw it while the former owner counted his 4" stack of cash. (Lots of $10 and $20's in it) He said "oh that's my ride home".... I replied with a grunt as if to say 'not impressed'. 

So now we have the new car and the bucket of bolts to get home. Of course my son wanted to drive the hot rod. I climbed my carcass down into the bucket of bolts bashing my head as I got in. We started down the road kinda close to each other as he led. The front plate of the bucket of bolts was on the hot rod and the rear one remained on the bucket of bolts, idea being police not see what we were doing if we passed by one. In about 45 seconds that car had me doing flashbacks of driving go karts as a kid. Being inches off the pavement with a nimble suspension my mind was contemplating restoring this little car. 

We arrived home and parted ways. I lived two blocks away and walked home. He had to drive his older car until he got plates for the new one. After that he dropped off the older one at my house where we stashed it under a nice car cover. I couldn't wait to start a car project for the first time since my now 25 year old son was about 4. But work, work, work kept me away from home still. Then there was the night I got the phone call from my son late one evening....

While commuting home from work a speeding tow truck ran a red light and murdered my sons hot rod. I hated it for my son who physically was fine. But shook up by being creamed by a giant truck with a brush guard on the front had scared him pretty good. By 1am we had the car home and him settling down. Next day after sunrise it was awful to see how bad the car had been jacked up. I drove the bucket of bolts back to his house next morning and we chilled out for a while. I called out of work to be with my son. 

A few weeks went by and the insurance had written him a check that would not cover a similar car. Fix up the bucket of bolts or start from scratch? He wanted another car same style. Up to this point he had not learned to drive a stick shift yet. He found one in his price range that was another hot rod with a racing clutch. I told him "you can't have that one son"..."why dad?" he asked. "Because I just bought it" I replied... Another week or two later he found a real nice car with lots of cool parts, an extra engine and bunches of other spare parts. Dude was restoring it when his wife announced baby #3 was in the oven so he needed a four door. 

This one was an hour away and had a stick shift. He arranged to buy it a few days later so he could learn to drive a stick shift. I drove it the first half on the way home through construction zones on the interstate. We pulled over at a gas station and swapping drivers the second half. He drove like he'd been driving stick for years. It was a really easy car to drive, road like a German car and handled like an Italian car. My wife was following us in my Ranger loaded to the brim with spare parts including a hood, fenders, spare doors and a front window. 

My Prelude sat under a cover for a few months due to work. My spare time was spent wrenching with my son teaching him stuff about mechanics while he taught me about Hondas. In a few months he had swapped out a bunch of parts and I had wrecked my shoulder at work. His Prelude ran flawless while mine had begun to develop some issues. The bucket of bolts sat idle so I bought it from him to make quick trips to the grocery store in a life sized hot wheels car. 

We did all kinds of trading over the next few years and between the two of us had gotten pretty good at fixing up Honda Preludes. He has since graduated to luxury Acura cars while 3 Preludes are in various stages of restoration. I got about 60% towards a complete restore of mine when a head gasket popped. It sits in my driveway under a cover still. My son has a cousin to the bucket of bolts in a garage. It's in really nice condition. I was restoring that one at one point and gave it to him for his 28th birthday. I had bought it for my wife's middle son who opted for a pickup truck. My sons post murdered Prelude (his first stick shift car) now belongs to my wife's youngest. It is also being restored by my son. 

At one point my son bought a super nice Prelude with a busted engine. We put in a hop'd up engine we rebuilt a few years ago and that's his 'certain Sundays' fun car now. So the day that bucket of bolts rolled into the back yard my son didn't hardly know how to change the oil in a car. But with a dad who likes restoring cars but don't have the time, I now help him when he gets stuck. It's pretty fun to watch. Both of my sons and two of my wife's three have worked on Honda Preludes enough to know the basic makeup of the marvelous invention called the automobile. 





The peak of Prelude madness

Meanwhile the nice lady next door asks me from time to time "you ever get your car going?"... I just chuckle and say "someday mam...someday".

Here's mine




Loox great broke down in the driveway.


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## 1pt21 (Apr 11, 2019)

Ahhh Byk... I'm sure you remember talking to me ad nauseam about your Preludes and me wanting one.

Well, due to logistical problems, that clearly never happened LOL. I did however finally convince my neighbor to sell me his minty Integra for... well.. CHEAP!!

He was the original owner of this 1991 5spd Integra, and was sold to me with ALL maintenance records. This thing was serviced at the original purchase Honda dealership for it's entire life!!! I even got a "THE CLUB" steering lock with it, COOL! These things are/were huuuuge targets for thief's back in the day, maybe still are??? 

She's got about 160K (ODO reads 156,525) on her and in need of nothing other than an AC compressor and possibly a clutch (given how this thing was babied its whole life it may just need a clutch cable replacement due to stretching for all I know). Oh and in terrible need of a paint job, there's zero clear coat in spots. No rust, which is huge here in the NE. And the best part (for me) manual everything, love it!

He "upgraded" to a Prius....

Restoration will start (and hopefully complete) this summer. Restoration list includes: full brake overhaul, clutch??, minimal body work to make it 100%, paint job, Integra GSR wheels, full exhaust, belts and possibly coil-overs (she's definitely 4x4'in it right now). 

This thing is so mint and drives amazing for its age!! He's a single older dude that just likes street legal go-carts (or liked, again now drives a Prius...).

There's just something about these old Hondas that does it for me... Cheap parts, super easy to work on AND this one was saved from being riced the eff out which is common here in Central NJ!

Anyway here's a little eye candy for you (there's no rust, just LOTS of pollen on her).























bykfixer said:


> My first Honda Prelude:
> 
> It was about 2005 when my oldest son spoke of buying a car. See, he had been driving a 94 Ford F150 I had given him a few years before and he was thinking something a lot less....old-guy-esque and more chick magnet. We used to discuss Mustangs, Camaros and those sorts of cars. He kept speaking of Hondas, Acuras and Nissans. Blasphemy I thought.
> 
> ...


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## bykfixer (Apr 25, 2019)

Be sure to put timing belt/water pump way up on your list 1pt. 
Dem Honda cars used timing belts instead of chains so replacing it every few years is a must. 

So I'm deciding between another afternoon jaunt or not. I'm sitting outside on a mild, sunny afternoon in the cool of the shade listening to the world nearby. Birds chirping, cars whizzing past, and the gentle whisper of an afternoon breeze sounds surround me. I plopped open the tail gate of my truck and sat down. I was going to walk even though my bum knee is sore. Suddenly the buzz of a chain saw running in the distance caused me to think of my pop. 

All kinds of flashbacks began going through my head like changing channels on a tv every few seconds. I've no idea what triggered the memories. At first they were memories of him unexpectedly handing me his grand fathers old Hamilton watch one day or the time he told me to fetch the sharpening stone so he could teach me to properly sharpen a knife. He pulls an ancient looking mini dual blade folder from his pocket with about 1/3 of the blade worn off by decades of keeping it sharp. After that he told me to keep the sharpening stone. Later on in life he misplaced that knife. He said that was all he had from his father. I searched sporting good stores galore trying to replace it. He did not recall the brand, just that it used German steel. A few years later he found it right where he had left it....in his nightstand drawer. lol. He had gotten forgetful by then. I found a very similar Old Henry and he found his old knife by opening the drawer to put away his new knife. 

My dad and I did not always see eye to eye on things. I was proud to have him for a dad as he was an awesome role model. Yet at times that dude would **** me off badly. Later I learned it was foolish pride on my part 99% of the time. There were some times that 1% was on him though. He taught me how to think and let me fall over my own two feet. 

He outlived my mom by nearly 20 years. At times he was happy to be free of 'that woman' who was by his side 35+ years. Finally he could go fishing alone. At the same time he had a lot less wind in his sails after she was gone and missed her greatly. During his last couple of years he mistook people for my mom at times. We knew he wanted to see his best friend again but was not ready to leave the earth to do it. Then one Sunday while laying in a hospital bed he told my wife "go get some lunch". I had elected not to visit him that morning but was going after lunch. He stopped breathing before I arrived. He'd been given two years to live at 70 and was 82 on that fateful day. I figured my mom had called down from Heaven and told him of an awesome fishing spot at the big pond in the sky. 

That was 2/27/11 so there's nothing special about today or at least that I can think of. Yet here on this ordinary Thursday afternoon my head is swirling with fond memories of my dad. We had become friends and I'm proud to have known one of the most together human beings to walk planet earth. As a bonus he was my dad.


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## Monocrom (Apr 25, 2019)

That was absolutely beautiful. Reading it reminded me of my dad.... And unfortunately all the mistakes he made. But I won't go into that, here. Appreciate the fact that you decided to share that story. Thank you.


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## Chauncey Gardiner (May 12, 2019)

…. this really happened. Many years ago two of my gym-rat friends decided to enter a body building competition. One of them (I’ll call him Wayne because that’s his name, and this story is mostly about him) was really strict concerning his pre-contest diet. The last week leading up to the show, Wayne was not eating much more than a can of tuna and a few vegetables each day. He told me he was starving but that he really wanted to do well in the show. 

Long story short, the contest is over and all my gym-rat buddies decided to go to Eastern Washington and float down the river on some four man rafts. I think there were eight of us. 

Anyway, we were all drinking beer :buddies: and eating pretty much every junk food group known to man. Not a problem for most of us…. We hadn’t all been prepping for the contest, only Wayne and Kurt had, but I’m getting ahead of myself. 

Washing down all that junk food with beer, naturally bladders had to be emptied. Not a problem for most of the Alphas, but it was a problem for me. I wasn't able to kneel in the raft and there were women present which didn't help. Furthermore, hanging on to the side of my raft while partially submerged in really cold water didn’t get the job done either. 

After, what seemed like an eternity (time doesn’t go any faster when all your friends, aware of your predicament are mercilessly calling for you to pee the boat) I spotted a four foot high rocky embankment that gradually sloped down to the river. It was an access clearing to a small park ....... WITH BATHROOMS! 

“GUYS! PADDLE OVER THERE. PLEASE!” :help:

Oh thank goodness! I climbed out of the raft and started to walk / crawl up the rocky embankment….. Only problem was my feet were numb from the cold water. So much so, I couldn’t feel them. About three quarters of the way up I lost my balance and fell back into the water. 

Now everybody is laughing, and I mean drunk laughing. :laughing: Big, drunk, belly laughing, which is the best kind. That is, the best kind for everybody except Wayne. Remember Wayne? Wayne that had been starving himself for about three weeks. Wayne that had been drinking beer all day and Wayne that had been eating every junk food group known to man all day long..... 

As I’m making my way back out of the flowing river and up the embankment…… 

I see Wayne with his hands raised sholder high, palms upward and loudly exclaiming with disbelief -  “I JUST S..T MY MYSELF!! 

Looking down, I see brown goo dripping from Wayne's shorts and running down both legs. I laughed so hard I lost my balance and fell back into the river. And then everybody started laughing all over again….. even Wayne.


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## Monocrom (May 14, 2019)

Yes...... But which lights did you have with you during the trip?


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## Chauncey Gardiner (May 14, 2019)

Monocrom said:


> Yes...... But which lights did you have with you during the trip?



It was a day trip. We couldn't get off the river soon enough after the sun dipped behind the mountians. It was amazing how fast it got cold after the sun disappeared. Also, this was in the 80's, way before I started carrying one everywhere.


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## bykfixer (May 14, 2019)

What lights?

Naw man, how did Wayne do in the contest?


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## Chauncey Gardiner (May 14, 2019)

bykfixer said:


> What lights?
> 
> Naw man, how did Wayne do in the contest?


 
Didn't place. But he competed. And that was good enough for some guy in the audience to yell his head off as a show of support.


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## bykfixer (May 15, 2019)

Can't imagine who the guy in the audience was. :thinking:


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## Monocrom (May 16, 2019)

I wouldn't mind $#&%ing myself later on in front of my friends, but I'd have to come at least 3rd to off-set it.


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## orbital (May 17, 2019)

+

For a story that has about 4~5 _moral(s) to the story,, _the one that most stands out most is::_

With moving water right behind you, why advertise it?! 

_Just quietly/stealthily get into the water as if it were nothing.
If someone saw you, do your very best nonverbal communication of *"It ain't no thing"* wink wink


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## Chauncey Gardiner (May 17, 2019)

orbital said:


> +
> 
> For a story that has about 4~5 _moral(s) to the story,, _the one that most stands out most is::_
> 
> ...



I'm only guessing, but perhaps between all the beers and just being totally amazed, he didn't think of it. That's a part of what made it so funny. The look of amazment on Wayne's face. Dude was stunned. Also, we were a bunch of drunk, early 20-something yearl old, gym-rats. We thought we were kings of the world. 
Shat oneself. oo: Who cares? It'll make a great story at the next party.


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## Poppy (May 26, 2019)

bykfixer,
That was a very nicely written story about your fondness of your dad.

There was a time in my life that I was often embroiled in combative communications with other members of a think tank if you will. There was a man, a few years my senior, who was just as involved, and in whom I often found wisdom. 

I took some consolation in his words when my mom passed. He said something along these lines... "your mom will always be with you. There are times that you will "sense" her presence. As time passes, it will be less frequent, but she'll always be there when you need her, and sometimes, for no particular reason at all."


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## bykfixer (May 26, 2019)

When my mom passed my dad said "I wouldn't have taken a billion dollars for her, but I wouldn't give a nickel for another". He had phrases like that. My favorite was one day we were returning from a day long drive one Sunday and had pulled into a (locally) famous restaraunt. As I drove around the lot he said "women are like parking spaces at a restaraunt after church, the good ones are taken". 

I never saw my parents intoxicated but did notice the bottle of Jack n Black in a cabinet was a little less full over time. I was too young and stupid to appreciate my mothers virtues. When she died after a routine procedure it was like the glue holding the layers of wood became unbonded. We all got over it but like dominoes, each of her children had issues after that. My dad held it together through it all. He stumbled onto some hunting buddies from post Korean conflict. All were widowers, so they all hung out in a 10x10 hunt shack smoking cigarettes and sharing stories until one by one Father Time took them too. 

I learned so much from my dad without even realizing for a long time. My ex-wife used to say "I hate the way you are so much like that man". My current says "I love the way you are so much like your dad". 
I think she's a keeper. lol (but I wouldn't give a nickel for another one).


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## Poppy (May 28, 2019)

> I learned so much from my dad without even realizing for a long time. My ex-wife used to say "I hate the way you are so much like that man". My current says "I love the way you are so much like your dad".
> I think she's a keeper. lol (but I wouldn't give a nickel for another one).



All smiles... another great story!

Back in the day, before cell phones and WAZE or other traffic apps, I was driving my daughter back from voice lessons on a highway, in an area of the state that I wasn't particularly familiar with. We ran into bumper to bumper traffic. Further back in time, my Dad used to listen to the news on 1010 WINs AM radio when we were in the car. The first thing that I would do was change the station to music. He'd complain, but let me do it.

So... we are stuck in traffic, and it was a limited access highway. I switched the radio to 1010 WINs to try to get a traffic report. Maybe I should get off at the next exit and try to make my way North using back roads. Before I got a report, the traffic broke up, and we were on our way.

Three days later, I realized I still had the news on! OMG... I'm getting more like my dad everyday!


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## bykfixer (Jun 1, 2019)

My pop always had the radio turned on but all the way down. One day as a 30 something year old adult I rode with him to see his grand daughter graduate high school. Actually I think I drove.

Anyway he had a George Jones cassette in the player (sticking out). I asked why he never listened to music while we were growing up. He stated my mom always wanted to hear boogie woogie or symphony and we wanted to hear hippies shouting out lyrics you can't understand. I popped in the cassette and listened to his George Jones until he popped it back out. He said "I can't hear the road". 

In my 40's I understood that. I drove a stick shift truck and relied on the sound of the motor to determine when to change gears. 

When I restored a Honda Prelude I went all in on a stereo system that used the factory set up with an added small woofer inside the console similar to what Bose did in Chevy pickups around 2010. The late 90's Prelude stereo had a pretty good sound for jazz and accoustic music but lacked a bit of low end thump for faithfully reproducing a bass guitar, especially the stand up kind. 
Yet while driving the car I keep the radio turned way down in order to hear the engine and the road sounds, just like my pop did. 

For commuting, the radio is dialed to a station with "traffic and weather on the tens". Trouble is the other 20 minutes are filled with adds for alternatives for that little blue pill, some jingle trying to sell me a new roof or some talk show type DJ railing on and on about the government or shouting about how smart they are. 

My boss uses satellite radio but I refuse to pay a monthly subscription to hear the music I have on my MP3 player. Plus when at a red light his sattelite radio signal gets drowned out by the guy next to him whose sattelite radio broadcaster is more powerful than his. I chuckle when we're in traffic and his Willie Nelson is being drowned out by Snoop Dawg or some other nonsense. I noticed in the last year when we travel on main roads with traffic signals he's tuned into AM radio now. 

Years ago I used to work for an engineer who when riding with was like being a passenger in Mr. Magoos car. He liked NPR for the symphony, which kept me feeling a lot calmer while he paid attention to everything around him but the road. I cannot count the number of times the car in front had stopped completely while his head was turned backwards at something he noticed, only to look forwards in just enough time to stop without rear ending said stopped automobile. 

One day we had a meeting on a project at the end of a pavement where a dirt road was cut in but not paved yet. There was a cable stretching across the dirt road a few feet past the pavement. A few of us were standing at the end of the asphalt and here comes Bob the engineer looking away from the road. We're all waving and hollering at Bob to stop before he runs into the cable. At the last possible second Bob looks up and realizes he needs to stop and fast. He slams on brakes, which causes the car to nose dive, which causes the nose to slide under the cable that had enough slack to slide across the roof. We're all in shock at first then busted out laughing because none of us had a key to the lock on the cable and Bob was now stuck on the wrong side of it. 

Our meeting involved walking down the dirt road to talk about how to repair some soft places before applying the rest of the pavement structure. At this point Bob the engineer has yet to realize he's stuck on the wrong side of a cable with a lock none of us has a key to. We had walked down the dirt road and were returning when Bob realized he was late for another meeting. "Somebody unlock that cable, I have another meeting" he says. "But sir none of us has a key to the lock". This was before cel phones and pagers. We had two way radios instead. Trouble was it was after 3:30 and the folks with the key had gone home. 

One of the people with us was a contractor superintendent who had a key to a nearby front end loader. He drives the loader to one of the poles holding the cable and pulls it out of the ground. Amazingly the cable sliding across Bobs hood and roof had not even scratched the car at all.


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## Monocrom (Jun 3, 2019)

Would love to hear about the further adventures of Bob.


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## bykfixer (Jun 4, 2019)

Once upon a time people would show up at the office with a tiny segment of toilet paper stuck to their face from a shaving cut. Oops, forgot to remove it.

Bob showed up at times looking like he was on the losing end of a fight with his razor. If there were only two pieces stuck to his face that was a good day. lol. My current boss shaves the evening before for that very reaon.

To me he was a real life version of the character from the tv show Benson. Gov Gene Gatling. We had two ways radios back then. He was unit 212. I was unit 203. It was not uncommon to hear him call "203 to 212", um, uh, 212 to 203...203 call 212 I mean 212 call 203" and in the background his assistant engineer who was a real life Mr Spock (to me) saying "Bob, you are unit 212". lol. 

His assistant John was the most dedicated government employee I've ever met and always, always, always made decisions with logic. Never emotion. John was featured in engineering publications numerous times and was voted Americas best small town engineer 3 times. 

I learned diplomacy from Bob and effiency in descision making from John. Bob taught me the art of getting others to use your ideas by making them think it was their idea. John taught me to always double check specs and drawings before telling the contractor deal or no deal. 

Bob was big on trying new things and sent me to a whole bunch of seminars and conferences that to this day play a role in my ability to perform practically any duty required in my job. John's consistancy taught me how to make deals that are iron clad in court cases and legal claims. They both taught me the art of how to avoid them and still get the best value for the client who hired me. 

Bob retired and ran for public office without success. About two years ago the Lord called him home when he succumed to cancer. John plays a role in historical preservation of a nearby town where grew up and leads a photography club of local pros. 

Our biggest accomplishment may have been when the federal government decided a small dam in our town was about to have a catastrophic failure and we were tasked with rehabilitating the structure. 

We were tasked with designing an earthquake proof structure on a shoe string budget. We also oversaw the project without hiring outside experts. At the end of the project the local residents who lived along the edge of the lake were satisfied their lake front properties had been preserved, the down stream residents were thankful their boat docks were intact and the Federal Energy Regulatory Commision used our ideas for future projects in similar situations. 

The FERC rep was an over weight fellow with an affinity for apple pie. Each time he visited from Atlanta he was treated to some mighty fine apple pie thanks to Bob's diplomacy skill. It came from a local barbeque joint that was closed on Monday.

If the FERC dude visited on a Monday we had hell to pay a few days later. When dude went back to Atlanta without an apple pie from Kings Barbeque we were visited by dozens of Japanese government employees with cameras and clipboards. 

John's teachings had us running an iron clad oversight of the project so the nasty gram we received from FERC a few days later indicated issues that were easily solved. Upon revisit by FERC they found their concerns had been addressed and solved. In the end we were featured on the front page of the newspaper. Me testing concrete with Bob in the background playing tic tac toe with the project superintendent while appearing to be going over contract documents.


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## bykfixer (Jun 4, 2019)

Bob and John were a sight to behold. Oil and water but the combination was more like the dynamic duo when the dust settled. 

Bob was always trying to do 6 things at once. Bob would go to sign a document but never had his own pen. He'd say "somebody give me a pen". John would hand him a pen he knew wrote glitchy. "GD it John" he'd shout out when it would skip. Me? I'd scribble a pen on scratch paper before handing it to Bob. He liked that.

Bob typically took off his shoes in the office. He often times would spin around in his chair and prop his feet up on a desk without looking. It was not uncommon for John to strategically place a stapler, hole puncher or other office tool so that when Bob spun around and quickly propped his feet up "GD it John why do you insist on leaving your stapler there?!" 

Now Bob was big on what college a colleague had attended. One day he asked a fellow who had attended a rival North Carolina school from his college "what color should we paint the water tower?" Colleague says "the same color it is now". Bob's face turns red and he begins to shout a string of profanity as he tells the colleague "you've said some stupid things before but that really takes the cake!". He turns to me "what do you think?" My reply is "well, it's a nice color now, sorta tarheel blue". He smiles and says "we're going to keep the color like it is, I like that color" (which is the official color of the college he attended).

But my favorite was the time Bob and John were looking at the underside of a bridge for deciding if it needs maintenance. Bob decided to answer the call of nature under the bridge. 

They arrived in separate vehicles (as John refused to ride with Bob due incidents like the cable story). John stops by another office and tells the secretary there he wants to play a joke on Bob. Please call him on the radio and advise him call you by phone asap. When he calls on the phone tell him a local resident was very concerned to see a gray haired man in a government car relieve himself under a bridge. Bob truely thought he was going to jail for being a flasher in a rain coat. 

I wonder if he ever found out it was a practical joke. 


John at one point had bought a few red display Texas Instruments desk calculators at a surplus sale. That thing drove Bob crazy. "Why do you insist on keeping that dinasaur?" "It's the 1990's John and that hunka junk went out with the Pinto wagon" (which is what John still drove an olive green version of btw). On the rare occasion John took off from work Bob would remove the TI and place a modern one on John's desk. Next day another vintage red display machine would appear. "The day it says 2+2=5 I'll buy a new one Bob". 

John would always have the latest computer, but it would be set up to run DOS with Windows being over ridden. To him the computer was a math tool and Windows was for children. So until it was no longer viable his computer would prompt in DOS. I think it was Windows 95 that was the last version you could over ride because I left in '98 and when I visited in 2000 John was using Windows. Perhaps it was because John was doing digital photography by then. When asked what kind of computer Bob preferred he'd respond "I have a secretary for that." 

John had been a photographer while in Vietnam. None of us knew some of his photos were in Life Magazine. He never talked about it. Later when I was a consultant a Nam vet showed me some magazines and asked "didn't you used to work with this guy?" and pointing to the name of the photographer who was given credit for the photo of a soldier wiping a sweaty brow while sitting on an unexploded bomb. I also learned the art of photo journalism from John's photos, to which this day he does not know I saw some of his Nam photos. 

Bob was a tobacco engineer who knew little about building roads beyond designing some landing strips while in the Air Force. But his diplomacy skills more than made up for his inexperience. He understood rich people and how to either **** them off in order to become the "good cop" in the good cop/bad cop role of he and John, or how to convince them to spend a little more money to achieve a greater goal. 

Example was the city wanted to build a school on the property of a very wealthy woman who refused to part with the land at any cost. He proposed to pay her 10¢ on the dollar value of the land wise and name the school after her. A year later the school opened and she donated another parcel for a park thanks to Bob's diplomacy skills. 

That park has a craft show each year to which John shows off his latest poster sized photos for historical events or locations. The best part of John's photos are the stories of how he ended up taking the particular photo.

My wife sets up a display of her crafts at the show so I spend a time with John each year. We talk fondly of days gone by as he marvels at the things my wife makes with plastic bags, drink can pop tops or fishing lures. Either that or I marvel at his latest photos while his wife makes my annual custom length trouser belt for $10. His zeal for life is still intact as father time begins to cause him to hunch slightly. 

So in the 1980's and about half of the 90's those two fellows probably played a much larger role in my life than either realized (or me back then for that matter).

Oh, then there was the time Bob had bought a $3000 bird dog. He was big on quail hunting. Well the former owner of the dog had trained it to ride in the trunk of his car. He'd open the trunk and the dog would jump in. Bob had a 1970's station wagon for his bird dogs.
One day he had just finished changing the oil in the engine of his station wagon the day after buying the dog. He kept the dog in a pen and decided to let the dog stretch it's legs. The engine was idling on the station wagon and the hood was up.

He said when he opened the pen gate the dog goes running for the station wagon thinking it was time to jump in the trunk. Bob was pretty upset about how badly the poor dog had been injured. Now thinking back, on the surface there's no humor in that. But as he's telling the story that Monday morning with about 22 little blood soaked pieces of tissue stuck to his face John pipes in and says "your face looks like you dove in after him" lol. "GD it John, that aint the least bit funny, and you know that". Then he pauses and says "that was pretty funny John". 

One day Bob agreed with John on a matter. John shouts out "Hellelujuah, boy you were by far the hardest engineer to train. 8 years, but finally..." To my recollection they never agreed on anything after that.


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## Monocrom (Jun 6, 2019)

Wow! All of these true tales were fantastic. Thank you for sharing them.


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## bykfixer (Jun 8, 2019)

My pleasure Mono.
Stirred up some old Caspers (friendly ghosts) writing them down here. Kinda put some things in perspective as well some 20+ years later. 

I wore a lot of hats back then working for the government of a small town I lived in. It was nearly impossible to go anywhere without someone recognizing me and saying there's a pothole on their street or some other complaint. Now whenever I visit the town hall to pay a water bill or walk through a grocery store etc, nobody recognizes me anymore. If they think they do 99.9% of the time they think I am my identical twin brother. I completely disappeared one day. 

It's funny how life works. From the early 80's to late 90's my community did not know I had a twin brother. Here in 2019 they do not know _he_ has a twin brother.


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## Monocrom (Jun 9, 2019)

Yes, life can be funny sometimes in very interesting ways.


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## Rexlion (Jun 11, 2019)

I remember the time I hit a highway construction worker. In fact, I will never be able to forget!

DW and I were on the way home from a camping trip, towing a popup trailer with the Windstar. On I-70 in west Kansas. We were approaching a construction zone, I'd just taken my foot off the gas, when my wife said, "What's that guy doing?" I realized that ahead of me, where the barrels were midway across my righthand lane, a worker in his orange fest was squatted down on the busy side of the barrels, back turned to traffic, picking at something on the asphalt. Well, I started my move into the left lane, when suddenly he stood up (still facing away from me), turned to his left, took 2 steps _into my path_, looked up and saw me. He stopped... hesitated... I'm pulling the wheel to the left... and he panicked and ran into the left lane right in front of me! I hit the brakes as hard as I dared without jackknifing the trailer, still pulling the wheel more to the left, but there was no avoiding him. It all was happening so fast! We were probably still going about 30 MPH, when at the last second he jumped straight up (like that would help, ha!), and my bumper hit his left leg. As his body spun from the impact to his leg, his head cratered the windshield right in front of me, leaving bits of hair and blood stuck in the impacted glass (which held together somehow) and then he was thrown up and over the roof, tumbling in the air until he landed in a heap on the hard, dry earth of the grassy median. 

As I got the van all the way the way to the shoulder and stopped, images of a dead man and prison ran through my head. I prayed, "Oh God, I need you to do something!" I told my wife to call 911 as I bailed out the door and ran back to where the construction worker lay, moaning at the top of his lungs, "UUUUUUUUUHHHH!!" over and over. I laid my hands on him and said, "In Jesus' name, be well! Be whole!" Then I stepped back and looked to see if I could tell any change, but I couldn't; so I asked him where it hurt, and he let out another of those ghastly moans! Uh-oh. At that point I was wondering how my wife was doing at getting through to emergency services on her cell phone, because it sure looked like he was going to need it! But then.... less than a half minute later.... wow! The guy stopped moaning and got to his feet! By then my wife and some other motorist were there too, telling him to lie back down. The guy looked surprised and said something like, "How did I get here?" The others told him, "You got hit by a car! Lie back down!" But the man was getting steadier and said he was all right except his leg hurt a little. 

Well, the cops came, and so did the ambulance. They took everybody's statements including mine, and looked the accident scene over and measured everything. The paramedics got him inside and took him to the hospital, where (I later learned) they relieved him of a bag of marijuana, _gave him some Tylenol for his leg, and sent him home!_ No concussion or broken bones or anything after ramming his skull into my windshield hard enough to make an impact crater; all he had was a sore leg. Thank God! I know who healed him.


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## LeanBurn (Jun 12, 2019)

for real, this happened to you Rexlion?

PM sent


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## Rexlion (Jun 12, 2019)

Yes, for sure. We had to drive home (about 7 hours of drive time) with the windshield like that. About the time we got to Wichita we ran into a heavy thunderstorm, and the windshield wiper on my side flew completely off! He must have hit it and loosened it off the pivot, but I didn't know until I needed to use the wipers.

I called the police post a couple days after we got home to find out how the guy was doing; that's how I learned of the eventual outcome at the hospital. No idea if they charged him with possession later on.

It wasn't the first time I've seen God heal someone, and I certainly hope it won't be the last. But that was probably the most spectacular instance so far.


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## bykfixer (Jun 12, 2019)

Utterly unforgettable story Rex. 


Crazy how it turns out sometimes.

Sometimes fate causes you to be a feather floating on a river with no more control than that. I looked up and saw what was about to happen but could do nothing to stop it. 

One Saturday at work, an ordinary Saturday, I started a project where a giant concrete eating machine called a miller was being run by a seasoned veteran of some 20 years. My first thought when I saw the guy was there was something special about him but no concious reason why. 

A couple hours later he stepped backwards away from the miller to see his work but into the path of an oncoming truck backing up. The story did not end with him being ok but...

Being the initial person to check on the guy because I was the only one to see it happen, my shock was replaced with relief as the guy was pretty well blemish free. He only lived a few seconds after the incident, yet there was no mess. As I ran towards the front of the truck that had run him over I expected there to be a real grousome scene. Not at all. He had a bit of blood coming from his ear as he tried putting his hard hat back on while laying on the ground. He let out a groan and that was that. But I felt a presence that explained that "something special" I had noted earlier that day. It was if an invisible angel put him to sleep and whispered "well done Tyruss, now come on home". 

Turns out he was a deacon and well thought of in his community. There was no doubt in my mind as time passed that the Holy Spirit was telling me Tyruss was going to meet the Lord _today_ I just didn't recognize it at the time I first saw him. Why would anyone think that? 

It was ten years or more before I could be around a miller without being haunted by that memory of being powerless to stop the guy from being killed. But one night after pulling an all day, my coworker who'd done same was standing under a bridge near a miller. I advised him that the echos from the machine will mess with his peripheral hearing (which is very important to highway workers) and he should never stand with his back to the machine. A few hours later the miller was backing up with alarms all screaming and metal cleats pounding the asphalt...but my coworker was frozen. As the machine got closer it was obvious he was not going to move in time. I grab him by the shirt and tug him out of danger. He's all swinging violently not realizing why he was suddenly being dragged backwards by his shirt collar. When safe I let him go and he instinctively socked me in the jaw. I did not take it personal. 

A few days later we were working at separate locations and he called me on the phone to say thanks and applogize. I told him the story of that time I could not thwart an incident. He recited a similar incident he was haunted by and stated relief that I would no longer be saddled with not being able to stop an incident. Unfortuneatly he succumbed to cancer before his burden was relieved. 

His name was Ron and he was my friend.


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## orbital (Jun 12, 2019)

+

Across the street from me is a forest with a steep downhill just a few feet off the road.
For years someone's been dumping yard waste and bagged grass right along the side of the road.

So last week, I was working in my driveway/talking to my neighbor when some guy with a bag of grass clippings is walking to that spot.
I say, 'finally I know who's dumping right at the side of the road'
The guy stops and gives me the most incredible, *absolutely postal* look I'v ever seen & says, *you don't know sXXit!!
*..without going on about all that was said (which I can't write anyway) him calling me a host of expletives, I just finished by saying 'dump down the hill'.

Again this guy was had the most * postal* look on his face

Finishing what I was doing, I had a cup of coffee & thought about this guy
,, was he coming back at night & key my entire car
,, unload an entire clip into whatever was in front of him
,, who knows what this dudes frequency was..??

Now:: do I go into detail on 4th grade science class & benefits of mulching 
or
go into detail on the laziness of dumping right at the side of the road, when two more steps be dumped down the hill
or 
go into the total disrespect/prick move, dumping right at the side of the road.


So this is what I did::
I walked over to where he was, took off my glasses and explained how my wording may have been taken wrong & didn't mean to put him on the defensive.
So a long story short,, he apologized & shook my hand 3 times in total.
Hell, it turns out he lived across the street from my Mom years back & knew my family in the area..

I could have very easily sat down and cracked a beer, not gone over to talk to him.


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## bykfixer (Jun 13, 2019)

Good Joe. Damn good Joe.



Today at my work (not once upon a time) there was a madatory safety stand down meeting. What that means is you receive an email with instruction to enter a conference call via Skype, in about 2 hours, and it's required you attend. No matter you're busy. No matter their internet service crashes during these things, you _must_ attend.

Ok, I'll play. Afterall it's required. 

Log in, nope Windows wants to update. Wait, wait, wait, now Windows wants to reboot. Plan B was mobile Skype. Plan C is dial a number, enter a code and be there in audio format. Plan B was a fail because the company phone with proprietary operating system doesn't allow mobile Skype. Plan C was a fail...well not really but the presentation was muted but those of us on the phone were not. Someone pushed the wrong button somewhere in corparate never-land and had it backwards. 

Computer rebooted and I'm reading about a coworker who was working near the road when a car broke and swirved, which resulted in it running over poor "Frank" on his last day at work. Not his real name, but Frank was retiring that day. This past Tuesday. He was going to work until noon as a roadway inspector and visited a project to bid farewell to some workers. 

Well, the company CFO went over Franks story for oh, 49 seconds and commenced to telling the rest of us the do's and don'ts of working outdoors. Things like "remember don't get over heated". "If you get over heated be sure to fill out report 43-9/OH".... For the next 30+ minutes we were lectured on how to safely climb a ladder at your home while cleaning gutters, and "remember folks, when it rains the floors can be slippery when you enter your office".... Aaaaaand if you do slip guess what? There's the proper form to fill out with 24 hours of the incident. Turns out if you get bit by a tick or stung by a bee they have proper forms. Not insect incident report, but the 43-9/B or 43-9/T. No kidding. 

When I'm in a situation that requires crossing a busy road I wait until the gap is large enough to walk. The young people scoot across, look back and say "c'mon old man". I say "there's too much paperwork to get injured". We had a guy get bit by a tick and because he hadn't filled out a proper tick bite form within the guideline period they gave him all kinds of grief when he got sick from a disease the tick gave him. 

Anyway, to Frank we at the corparation who do what you did until that fateful day salute you and may you be where the fish bite all day and the skeeters don't bite at all. And may there be no more forms to fill out for eternity.


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## scout24 (Jun 13, 2019)

Oh, man! Terrible for Frank and his family... Sad to hear. You'd think they'd spend more than 49 seconds on what happened.


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## Monocrom (Jun 14, 2019)

scout24 said:


> Oh, man! Terrible for Frank and his family... Sad to hear. You'd think they'd spend more than 49 seconds on what happened.



Sadly, I'm not surprised. I wish I could say I am. I _want_ to say I am. But I can't. Just the way the world is.


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## bykfixer (Jun 14, 2019)

I work for a large outfit with over 20k employees. So one of the little guys gets killed on the job and 2 days later the CEO kinda glosses over the deal and drills us with rules, rules, rules. Rubbed a few the wrong way, including me. 

I did some networking and learned the July edition of the company magazine will be dedicated to Frank. It gives folks a chance to share what they knew, tell some stories and celebrate the life of an unknown in the virtual world.

With a bit of time I came to understand the higher ups are like a mayor in a town of 20,000 people. Impossible to know everybodys name. So they put together a knee-jerk presentation in a way that left many saying "bad form guys". And then I contemplate if it were me that was killed, I'd rather them spend the 20 minutes on safety instruction to keep others safer than talk about me. Mention my name, my role, my tenure, say it all in a 100 words or less and move on. When discussing it with some coworkers today they said "hmmm, hadn't thought of it like that". 

I mean afterall, we're all stuck here on the flat rock dodging space junk and watching out for crazy drivers day after day. So due to an unfortunate situation the 20k+ employess were reminded to take our time and watch out for each other as best as we can. 

Frank probably wouldn't mind that.


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## Poppy (Jun 15, 2019)

People are stupid!

A couple of years ago the New Jersey legislators passed a law that motorists are to stop for pedestrians at an intersection, or designated cross-walk. The pedestrian has a responsibility to make sure that the driver has sufficient time to stop.

Signs, similar to traffic cones are now seen in parking lots of super-markets and malls. Sometimes at cross-walks in city streets. More and more I see people, just stepping in front of on-coming traffic. The problem has gotten so bad that NYC passed an ordinance that one can not be looking at his cell-phone, while crossing a street.



Last week, on my way home from the office at night, I came upon an intersection, where there was an incline in the road approaching me from the other direction. The headlights of the approaching vehicle were shining right into my eyes. To my right there were a line of parked cars, that led right up to a designated cross-walk. Designated only by painted hash-marks on the ground. Fortunately I go through that area of town slowly, watching for stupid people. Sure enough out steps this stupid woman, dressed in dark clothing, not looking in either direction, except downward, into her cell phone. Her companion, dressed in lighter colored clothing, grabbed her by the shoulder, as I came to a full stop.

Yesterday, while driving through the parking lot of a mall, I watched some guy walking towards the two lane "roadway" I was driving in. He proceeded to enter the path of my vehicle, never looking to the left, but only to the right. He made it to the center line before I passed behind him. He then stopped, and turned to "glare at me." He decided it was better to move on when I rolled down my window as I came to a stop. I told him to "look where you are going before you step in front of a moving car!"

How stupid can people be? Ever hear the message... "He was right... Dead right!"?

The designated cross-walk was about 100 feet away. If the traffic laws in that parking lot are enforceable, he was guilty of jay-walking. 

There should be a sign on the curb.... Danger!!! Don't step in front of a moving vehicle!!! They Kill!

or...
"If you don't look before you attempt to cross, you might be deleted from the gene pool." Nah... they'd be too stupid to understand.


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## bykfixer (Jun 15, 2019)

Well Poppy, these days signs have to have a government sanctioned cartoon figure too. So I suppose a stick figure-esque cartoon of a body flying in the air with the front end of a cartoon and an expletive punctuation from the flying stick figure would be required...assuming people even notice said sign. 

This reminds me of once upon a time my law-abiding son who has some rainman in him was half way across an intersection when the walk symbol changed to don't walk symbol. The thing changed as we crossed the two way street so his little brother and I quickened our pace and assumed he would too. 

Nope. He froze right there on the double yellow line. He did not know whether to poop or go blind as cars went past him at 4mph on the bumper to bumper tourist thoroughfare. But he knew the law said he was not allowed proceed. Somebody stopped and let him cross. 

Now days they have count down clocks.


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## Monocrom (Jun 15, 2019)

bykfixer said:


> I work for a large outfit with over 20k employees. So one of the little guys gets killed on the job and 2 days later the CEO kinda glosses over the deal and drills us with rules, rules, rules. Rubbed a few the wrong way, including me.
> 
> I did some networking and learned the July edition of the company magazine will be dedicated to Frank. It gives folks a chance to share what they knew, tell some stories and celebrate the life of an unknown in the virtual world.
> 
> ...



An excellent point. Thing is, at the very least, you expect management to at least put in some effort to pretend to care. At least just a bit of effort. Otherwise, it causes what you just described above.... around 20,000 workers getting seriously ticked off at the coldness and callousness shown by the Higher-Ups. A great way to kill morale (which is bad for business). And an excellent way to foster an "us vs. them" mentality. Also not good! (To put it mildly.)

I used to work for a guy who made it seemed as though he cared about _everybody_ who worked for him. Even if he didn't know your name, he'd greet you like an old friend. He had a few tricks up his sleeve that made people genuinely believe he cared about them. Both as a group, and as individuals. In reality, he was horribly racist. And even worse when it came to dealing with women! Oh, soooo much worse. I knew the real him. And if I told anyone, no one would believe me! How good was he? NO ONE found out. He sold the company. Folks were sorry to see him gone! Especially the women! Who again.... NO clue!

Thing is, he knew how to get results! I mean at the very least, pretend you give a crap about an employee's unfortunate passing. Honestly, two years ago I gave my then boss absolute Hell and nearly quit my job on the spot (one of those situations where they definitely need me a lot more than I need them) because the client had pulled a request (demand) for a meeting with the employees. Client has a reputation for doing this, and the meetings are absolute nonsense! Well, I found out a few days ago back then that my father had passed away. Needless to say, I was not even remotely in the mood to attend another worthless, meaningless, nonsense of a meeting that would take place during my off-time.

I started out polite. But after asking, then prodding, and finally demanding to know what the meeting was about; he refused to tell me! Then he copped an attitude with me! Hey, when you bend over for the client's every ridiculous and silly whim. And you do that in front of the guys you're in charge of.... they're not going to respect you. He wanted to bend over for the client each and every single time, he could bend over in front of me this particular time too. That was my outlook. I told him I wasn't in the mood for the usual nonsense, and I told him why.

He then understood. And backed off completely. He understood that my father had died and that I had no problem walking off the job in the middle of my shift in an isolated client's site with myself as the only Security Officer/Fire Guard on duty. In fact, had I decided to call the FDNY and told them there was no Fire Guard on duty now because I was walking off the job, the client would have gotten hit with a HUGE fine. And until my boss completely backed off, that's just what I was about to do. 

The next day I calmed down. Called my boss and apologized. However, things could have ended very differently. Good managers who know how to get the best out of their employees either care about their employees.... or they can fake it to a point that gets just as good results as those who actually care.


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## bykfixer (Jun 15, 2019)

Once upon a time on a big project, it was announced that there was going to be a big ole shin-dig for the community when the first half of a new bridge was opened. The original half was going to be closed as the community were going to be invited to party on the old bridge for two days. At 5pm on a Friday the new bridge would be opened and the old bridge closed. 

It was an invitation only affair. All the bosses were bragging about going. Us pee-on's had not been invited. So I get a phone call from a twirp boss guy saying I was tapped to park cars that Sunday (with a forecast of over 100). "What?!? No ******** way I'm doing that ********." He says "ok" and hangs up. My supervisor calls me up and asks why I wouldn't park cars. LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING YOU SO N SO, NO ******* WAY!!! I QUIT". He says "are you seriously quitting?" "Yup". He says "now?" "Yup, right ******* now you *********". He says "well we wanted you to park a few cars today when the mayor and the press arrive to cut the ribbon at 10:00am". I said "well I'll do that but I aint doing it Sunday". He says "Sunday? What are you talking about?" I say "you guys drove me in the ground day after day, month after month while you set in a climate controlled ivory tower and now won't even invite me to your stupid little party? Screw you man". He says "Sunday? No, nobody says anything about you working Sunday". "What party?" "I need you to park the mayor in 15 minutes". "Are you quitting or not?" 

I say "so you don't need me to come out here on Sunday?" 
He repeats "Sunday? What in Heavens name are you talking about? Sunday?" I said "uh, boss can I take back everything I just said?" 

Turns out the twirp boss was tapped to park cars on Sunday and tried to shirk it off on me. While wearing an old dirty vest and hard hat, I parked the mayor, local big shots and the press then walked up to the ribbon cutting ceremony with my SLR camera in hand. The mayor was giving a speech when I walked up and he stopped. He says to the press "make a hole for that guy" (talking about me) "he helped build this dam thing" (thinking I was one of the workers I suppose due to the safety gear I was wearing). I politely took a photo as he posed for the cameras and stepped back in the crowd.

I'd forgotten that one Mono until you told your "oops" story. lol.


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## Monocrom (Jun 15, 2019)

I'm glad things ended on a good note for you. I just honestly wish my situation was the same. The meeting did indeed turn out to be nonsense. I, and the senior Security Officer/Fire Marshall were the only ones who attended the mandatory meeting a few days later. None of the other guys suffered any consequences for not being there. It was literally a refresher course on Fire Safety. Something my Fire Guard qualifications had covered more in-depth. And certainly didn't require a refresher. 

Everyone else simply got the same stapled stack of papers the two of us did, later on. With a sheet to sign saying they got the "workbook" and had read the darn thing. Obviously everyone else just simply signed. Again, nonsense. The client's representative wasn't even at that meeting. Only reason I didn't quit on the spot is because that site is, by comparison, the least headache-inducing out of all the client sites I ever worked at. Also, it's not in Manhattan. Meaning I can drive there. Not having to share a subway train with the dregs of Society. And honestly, that's putting it mildly with an objective look at the NYC subway system. So I stayed.


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## bykfixer (Jun 16, 2019)

Sometimes the job becomes work. Other times it's a pleasure. I figure it like this as I get older and the toilet paper roll called life nears its ending, having fun or not time flies unless you're being tortured. 


Some once upon a time flashlight stuff on a Fathers Day morning:

Once upon a time I was adding electrical circuits to an automobile. The transmission lines were already taxed by incan light bulbs. So just splicing in another receptacle was out. I began researching LED lighting in automobiles. Not long before that I needed a bright light at work and my minimag was not cutting the mustard. A coworker rolls up with a 300 lumen LED light the size of my forearm. Think 2D Maglite. Only this thing was rechargeable and very bright. I did not know that the novelty thing called an LED was capable of such awesomeness. 300 lumens from an LED? Seriously? It was 2014 or so. Yes I was stuck in a time warp. 

Ok, so between that night and searching for LED sockets for that car I researched online and this Candle Power place kept popping up. One night at 2am I'm bored at work, so why not pop in and say hello? Once I got past the roadblock of the initial three posts I thought it was easy. The "what's this" thingy kept showing me stuff I did not understand. I'd hit send and get "WRONG, TRY AGAIN". Post 4 was probably my favorite post here. I'm in, I'm official....

At that point I thought "man, there aint nuthin' better than these Coast lights". I kept seeing SureFire this and SureFire that. "What kind of stupid name is that for a flashlight?" I thought. "Now Energizer Hard Case"...thatz a cool name for a flashlight. And why would somebody name a flashlight after a Russian flu bug? Malkoff? 

One day I tried one of those SureFire numbers. Still believing any flashlight more than $35 was a waste of money I plunked down $55 for a G2x Pro. "This this better be good. Heck it doesn't even zoom".... Welp that sucker opened the flood gates to a full blown case of flashaholic disease with a Malkoff fever. 

I worked a lot of nights then and figured an onset of fatigue was due to a sarcadian rhythm issue. When I returned to days it got worse. I abandoned the car project due to lack of interest and lack of energy. Instead I spent a lot of time between naps reading and learning about flashlights. By this time I probably owned about 50 flashlights. Before joining here I already had a slew of $6 work type niche lights with telescoping ends or magnetic base. But now I owned a slew that were fed off old SLR camera batteries. 

Along the way I began meeting people online who were involved in flashlight repairs, designs or the industry in general. A friendly bunch of chaps. "Us weirdos gotta stick together" I figured. I began collecting antique lights and restoring them since the car project was out. I could restore a flashlight between naps while sitting on my sofa. One day I received a PM from a long time member asking if I'd mail a couple of Maglites to him across the planet. "Gladly". Then one night I'm reading about a famous SureFire engineer had left SureFire and started his own gig. Being a consumer of flashlight know how I read all kinds of old threads about this "PK" fellow and became a fan. Now at that time I was accumulating a plethora of lights from the old days while adding some SLR camera fed LED lights to a collection. Mostly Streamlight back then. But I tried one of the lights by this PK chap and that was that. My holy grail. Yet the masses were not thrilled by them for a variety of reasons. 

Being a fan of the underdog I spoke favorably here and often. Meanwhile another not-so-famous flashlight guru Bill Utely had sent me an autographed copy of his book. An encylopedia of flashlight history. The fellow who requested the Maglites had done a thread about his book long ago and I ordered one from Bill who was now advanced in years and focused his life taking care of an ailing wife. Famous collector Steve Gitterman had shown me a host of tricks to get old non working lights going and old dull working ones to shine brightly again. 

The fellow who requested the Maglites member Lightlover put me in touch with PK. Holy smokes. They had become friends in early (pre-Greta) CPF days and apparently PK had done a lot to help CPF stay afloat at one point. I received word that Bill Utely's wife had passed on to her reward about that time. And another light collector David White and I were communicating about details of old flashlight history. 

Communicating with PK led to some great stories at 2am Monday my time, 2pm Tuesday his time. He was learning how to live in a foreign land while launching his own flashlight company. He did not strike me as an eccentric at all, but was a very down to earth, very generous person who happened to understand the physics of lighting technology. Some he invented, some he learned from other great minds of the time. Meanwhile another member here (Poppy) had started a popular thread to show flashlights while travelling. Me, I never went anywhere but my wife did. So she'd carry one or two of my lights and show it with something cool in the background. 

I started a small business selling PK's new lights. Being they were not very well received by the masses, and the target market was folks whose jobs are largely done in secret, I was not getting rich by any means. Yet again I was meeting people and sharing stories. Unsung heroes who are like good plumbers...when they do it right nobody knows they were there. PK decided to go back to his roots from SureFire days and focus on pure tactical lights for military and specialized law enforcement. Bill Utely has disappeared into his own world where he is still writing history down, but not flashlight related. Poppy pops in here from time to time and Lightlover is somewhere across the big pond in obscurity. 
Meanwhile the lethargy thing was solved with a couple of old guy pills where worn out body parts just need a hand from the Pheizer corparation. 

So today I figured why not share some of my favorite photos of flashlights.

A few PK related;





An ad for his new company.
I took a photo of my car keys and he doctored it up the PK way.





He sent me some prototypes.





Lightlover said "make it tailstand". 
An early PR-1 with prototype tail stand tailcap next to his personal favorite invention the E1. 





One that never happened.
PK had begun a collaboration with Chris Kyle Frog Foundation but legal stuff stopped it from happening. Nothing wrong happened, just communications got cut between them and the idea for special edition CKFF lights never happened. 





PK's first try at re-entering the weapon light realm.
Note the bullet on the right. His PRX being torture tested along with a new model of rifle for combat. 

Now some antique stuff;




AA lights from the 1930's to 1970's.





A very early light bulb
From around 1912 this was for a 2aa pistol shaped number and it still works. 





A couple restored
From about 1915 neither burned brightly but with tips from Steve Gitterman they look and act like new. 





A depression era promo
If you had enough dough to buy flashlight batteries you also got a free flashlight in about 1934. 





A search and rescue light
Back when the light bulb was king and more batteries meant more output, this giant head 7 cell number could easily light up to 500 feet. Big deal for the 1950's. 

From the LED museum;




A wooden 2x AA light by Menards.
It turns out chain store mogul John Menard is a flashaholic. In about 2014 he sold these throwey wooden numbers for about $10 at Menards department stores.





The tiny light with big output.
An outfit called Pentagon entered the military lighting tool market briefly. The 1xAA "Molle" light was nearly as bright as it's 6 volt incan competitor the Pelican 2320. 





The Timex of LED modules
The P60L took a beating and kept on working. It had been run over by a bulldozer.

One for the Poppy thread.




Somewhere in buyou country.
The pink elephant said "holy crap I drank so much I just saw a flashlight." The flashlight said "holy crap I drank so much I saw a pink elephant". 

So once upon a time I needed a brighter flashlight. And the rest is history....


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## Monocrom (Jun 16, 2019)

Fantastic story and photos. 

It's unfortunate that SureFire sued PentagonLights out of existence, despite never having proved any of the allegations against them and never getting a judgement against PL. That was a great little angle-head light.


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## bykfixer (Jun 17, 2019)

Eh, the whole thing was unfortunate.


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## Monocrom (Jun 17, 2019)

Yes, very unfortunate. PL made some good lights.


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## bykfixer (Jun 18, 2019)

Pentagon was competing with Streamlight, Pelican and SureFire.

Once upon a time the company entered into a contract that required 100% US made parts. This was before the "when available" clause. 

Lots of misinformation swirled about. But it boiled down to a large investment had been made for the contract and they had to withdraw. 

The SureFire story was unrelated. 

Streamlight made a large booboo at one point and nearly met the fate of Pentagon suffered later. They managed to secure a big contract with their Scorpion which saved them. But Streamlight engineers had helped NASA during the Apollo days and had found favor in the US government hiarchy. SureFire, pre-SureFire had also helped the US government with the invention of two things. Pistol laser and the not widely known at the time fiber optic cable. Hence the name Laser Products early on. 

Pelican was known for dive technology and waterproof containers. They entered the police light application but were not competing with the big boys on the big boys turf like Pentagon was. 

Pentagon had some great ideas and built some pretty good stuff. But when they decided to compete with the big boys on the big boys turf, their war chest was nowhere large enough to survive and they had not gained the favor from beaurecrats. The SureFire thing was the straw that broke Pentagons back.


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## bykfixer (Jul 13, 2019)

The other day at my work I received a text from our local IT guy saying he had a new computer for me. Cool. Usually he delivers but this time he asked me to go to him at his office a few zip codes away. 

Day trip! The destination was Colonial Williamsburg in Virginia. I used to go there for the outlet malls. Feeling pretty confident of the location I still looked at a google map for the particular address. Seeing familiar road names on the map it appeared all required was a right off the main drag then a quick left. 

Travelling down the interstate, where's my exit? Exit 232 was gone. Eh, plenty more nearby. Travel an extra mile or two and take the next one. So far so good. Or so I thought. Travelling down another familiar road I noticed things had changed. The woods and farms were subdivisions and shopping malls. Where I thought a right was the correct way to go, that was now a bypass around the area I was looking for. Cities are cities. Squares always lead back to point A. 

I pull into a fuel station to pee and check out the map again. It turned out I was close to the place I was looking for. Looking for road names on the map I was striking out. Huh? I'm two blocks away. Drive 5 blocks and no road by that name was seen. Nor were the landmarks shown on the google map. Where's the BP?, the fish house? The motel 6?……

I started hearing the Twilight Zone theme song in my head. I'll just call homee and get directions. Well, my iCloud had decided to free up memory and delete a ton of my contacts but hopefully not the IT guy. Not to be. I remembered a text chain we did a couple years back. So I found what appeared to be me chatting with a computer guy and called the number. It was him. He hadn't worked in that city very long so landmarks and road names he was used to were not what the map showed. I found my way to his office only to see building numbered out of sequence. No kidding. 417, 405, 403, 409, 407. I was looking for 407. 

It turns out the filling station I stopped at used to be the BP I was supposed to turn at. The barbeque joint across the street was a CVS now and what was called Laffayette was now called Inbound. I was within a quarter mile from the place without knowing it. 

So I arrive at the place and find the IT guys office was not that unlike being in the Bat cave. Computer screens galore, all displaying something different while he geeked out at warp speed. The guy was a machine. Instead of a chair he used a beach ball sized excersize ball for rolling back and forth his office in an almost Russian dance where the fellow is nearly squatted and kicking his legs forward. There was an aquarium and a dog too. When he saw the memory was nearly full on my old computer he went into a bit of a snit. "you know of the cloud, right? " he says. I replied "that's those things that make it rain, right?" Dude did not see the humor because a ten minute swap of data from old to new was going to be 70+ hours according to Windows. He sent all my old files to the cloud that is still loading from the cloud to my new laptop. I snagged a few folders onto a pocket drive to work with the next few days while the cloud does what it does. 

By then what was supposed to be done by 10am was past noon. I left the place knowing cities are squares and soon after was on the interstate again. It was a strange morning, indeed. Funny thing was there was an entire city where what was a giant farm the last time I had visited Williamsburg only about 5 years ago. One of those land tracts that is about 5 miles by 5 miles was now an entire community made to look like Colonial Williamsburg. The only familiar site was an insane assylum built in the 1800's. So I knew I wasn't completely out of touch with reality. But there for a time I wondered if it was time to pop in that place for a quicker-picker-upper shock treatment or something. 

I made it back to familiar sights and stopped at a Burger King for a quick bite of lunch and thought "you know, that was one of those things most people would not believe if I told them." I told my boss the next day who said he had the same thing happen to him and he said "I finally called the sumb1tch and told him to meet at at a Wendys". 
Phew, I'm not crazy afterall.


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## Monocrom (Jul 14, 2019)

Sad to hear that so much has changed. I visited that place decades ago as a young teen.


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## bykfixer (Jul 17, 2019)

Williamsburg was a land time forgot until somebody decided to move northern Va there.


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## greenpondmike (Jul 25, 2019)

I hope it's alright to jump in here like this. I've found this section and thread yesterday and I just got finished. Good stories from all of you and I enjoyed reading them. I have some true stories--some from my own life and a few that my dad told me. I have shared them on another forum a while back, so I don't know if it is proper to share here. Yall tell me because I don't know if what I shared is now the property of the other forum, but I'm also greenpondmike on that one also. I think yall might get a kick out of reading them. As far as my hometown goes...it has sure changed a lot since the late 60s when my family and I moved back here. The property and house has been in the family for 70+ years and the property even longer. Our place and our neighbors place are the only places in Green Pond that looks like old Green Pond, which was a woodsy country town where some people had a pulpwood truck as their 2nd vehicle. I could go across the road to hunt and if I wanted to go into the deep woods all I had to do was cross the tracks 175 yards on back. Plenty of places to hunt, fish, swim and just have a good time without anyone bothering you including the law. A person could find many different things to do all day and all night. It was freedom that I took for granted and as time went on before I knew it things had changed. New folks moved in and the woods across the road is now a subdivision and the deep woods across the tracks is a trailer park and the owner of the trailer park built his house right near the beaver pond. Nowadays I can't even walk down the road after midnight (when it's cooler and less traffic) without the law harrassing me or the ones cooking meth being paranoid about me. No good place to hunt or fish and if I want to do that I have to drive a ways now. The town seems to shut down and get quiet after 10:30 now. No gatherings unless you go out in the woods--less woods also. The town I work in is similar to old Green Pond and the people don't settle down till after 3am on a lot of weekends if they settle down then. There are some quiet weekends also when the county is prowling around. Guess I don't blame them--normal people have to sleep every now and then, so the law has it's place. I just wish there were more Andies and less Barney Fifes. I try to be an Andy like guard out there...the ones before me would tell people on their own hunting club property that they were trespassing lol. People out there call me the cool guard.


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## bykfixer (Jul 25, 2019)

Good lead in Mike. I say lead in because you have painted a picture of a place that time has not forgotten. 
I look forward to the further adventures of greenpondmike.


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## greenpondmike (Jul 25, 2019)

Thanks bykfixer. I may have to edit this 10 times before it sounds right because my mind is tired--had a long day kind of and even drove way past my exit before I noticed. I guess I was in a cloudy haze driving home. It wasn't a work day but I sure worked. Can't wait to go back to work so I can rest lol. I left several things out because I didn't know if yall were interested. The name Green Pond came from a fellow with the last name of "Green" that had a pond. It was originally called Green's pond. I heard it kinda used to be a lake before the civil war, but what was left of it was drained and now the Green Pond baptist church sits there. Not much left of the swamp that fed it either. My town is just one of many small towns that were real close together. Green Pond, Caffee Junction, Grelee, Rino, Gothite, Bucksville, Tannehill, Lemon Town, Hickman, Giles and Gray Hill are all within a 5 mile radius. Woodstock is next door, but they incoporated and West Blocton and McCalla claimed most of these little towns. Most of it happened back in the mid 90s when they gave us our e911 adress and the people that did it (from Georgia) called everything McCalla except for the post office. McCalla was probably at least 5 miles away before that. Well, at least now we have an address whereas before we picked our mail up at the post office and for a long time just general delivery. The beaver pond used to be a good place to catch fish and even put a boat in. Someone ate the beavers and someone else poisoned the fish and after that it was just a small stump pond that was good to hunt around. I think my dad's only friend leased the land when most of that happened. I wasn't trying to paint a picture of heaven on earth here in my first post--I mean that people messed with you--people are the same everywhere, but no one much bothered to call the law to you or even fuss at you for your activities. You could fire a gun anytime of the day or night and no one was gunshy. You could cut up on the corner or even drag race and people minded their own business--probably just plugged their ears somehow lol. We could get our tires fixed at the all night truck stop the catered to cars or big trucks--that's gone. You could work on your car all night long and rev the engine and most folks wouldn't say a thing. One fellow fussed about me riding my honda xr80 up and down the road at 3 or 4 in the morning when I was a teen, but I couldn't get along with him if I tried--you know the kind and the cleanest word for him is arrogant grouch. He sure had some good looking daughters, but they acted kinda strange, so no conflict with him there. Crazy times.


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## greenpondmike (Jul 26, 2019)

As tired as I was--lady from my job called and begged me to fill in on another post. I havn't slept yet, so I might be better off to wait till Monday when I'm off again. I just went into greater detail about this area I live in, but I don't want yall to think that post above was one of the stories I was gonna share. Be back when I'm rested.:sleepy:


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## bykfixer (Jul 26, 2019)

Understood. 

The other day while travelling on an interstate to another assignment it dawned on me I did not actually know what road I was on until I saw an exit sign that I recognized. 

It was kinda like an old Bob Segar song where he said he wasn't quite sure what town he was in when he woke that morning.


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## greenpondmike (Jul 29, 2019)

My dad worked with a man that was a coon hunter--for reference I'll call him Jim. Jim had a coworker that kept pestering him to take him coon hunting. Jim started out telling my dad about his "exprience" while hunting. There was something out there in a particular spot that would let out a noise--eeeEEEEEEEEeeee whoot, whoot, whoot every time he got near that area. Jim's dogs would be right at his feet with their tails tucked under them until they got past there. Jim said that he finally gave in and took that coworker hunting after he kept pestering him, but he took him hunting in the area that had that certain spot where the "thing" was. Well, Jim said that the coworker was way behind him until that "thing" did it's thing lol. He said his coworker's carbide headlight was just a bobing as he was catching up to him--which wasn't long at all. The coworker asked Jim "what was that?" Jim said "what was what?" The coworker said "that noise" and Jim said "what noise?" Jim told my dad that coworker NEVER asked to go coon hunting with him again.


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## bykfixer (Jul 29, 2019)

Keep 'em coming greenpond. Good stuff.


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## greenpondmike (Jul 29, 2019)

On the story above, I don't know where it took place, but my dad worked in Birmingham at the time at a particular corporation that employed lots of people from all around including a lot from my area. Most of the stories around here--at least the best ones are from long ago. Back in the old days there was no law that required a person to fence in their cattle. There was this big bull that terrorized the people of Green Pond. Sure they could have shot it, but then they would of had to pay for it. I don't know if he actually hurt anyone--I guess people ran faster in the old days- probably the 30s or 40s, but it might of been in the late 1920s. That bull thought he was bad to the bone- one day he even bowed up at the train. Probably everyone within a mile radius was relieved. There was a lot of cattle around here and the reason Tannehill parkway is so curvy is because it was originally a cattle trail and they just decided to follow that when they put the road in. You might can say that the cattle designed the road.


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## greenpondmike (Jul 29, 2019)

bykfixer said:


> Keep 'em coming greenpond. Good stuff.



Thank you bykfixer


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## greenpondmike (Jul 29, 2019)

One time my dad borrowed my gold duster and made a nessasary trip out of the state. The neighbors blamed him for my trip lines in our woods and tried to give him legal trouble when I was laid up in the hospital from an accidental gunshot to my leg. When I got out and got to walking fair I was still off of work, so I was bored and there sat one of dad's cars- a 1963 belair with a 283 with power pack heads and a 3 on the tree. It had been setting up for at least 4 years and I forget how much trouble it was to get running. Back then we didn't have a law requiring insurance and I think I borrowed the tag off my truck to kind of legalize things as long as I wasn't pulled over. Well, I got it running and I drove it around town and finally I was coming off that hill on co road 12 just before the stop sign. I didn't have a muffler and it sounded loud and mean. I saw a group of people I knew gathered around on the corner and figured I'd show out for them. I held back and didn't pop the clutch even though the chain holding the motor mount probably would have held up, but all I did was goose the gas a little in first and then I saw who was in the middle of all those folks. The local deputy and his trainee was out there shooting the bull with the local heads and known drunks that could obviouly get away with more than I could. I sheepishly waved and the hit 2nd and looked in my mirror. They had their backs turned while getting in their car as I hit 3rd. I did a 90 degree turn at ? into a grown up road that they never knew about across from where I lived that led to a secret hang out spot. I can't believe I pulled that one off and they never got me although mom was out in the yard and witnessed it all and was angry at me because she lied for me when asked where I went. She let me have it about an hour later when I idled across the road. I swapped the tag and got gone through a road in the woods to a friend's house and layed low till 11pm. Years before that, that particular friend and I were sitting out there in that spot across from my house just hanging out. I was the Green Pond taxie back then and my friend wanted to drink and not be bothered. It was around 10pm-midnight and he was drinking and I was sober, bored and trying to find something good on the AM radio. All of the sudden he's in a panic--he done seen something out the back window that was big. I was like "what? What? What's going on? What did you see?" He wouldn't tell me and if I didn't get the truck cranked and get to moving that 350 pound fellow was going to jump out of the truck and probably outrun it if what he saw didn't get him first lol. I never saw him act that way- there was a look of terror in his eyes that he didn't even have when the law showed up to our water baloon thing we had going on at halloween years earlier where he did a dance on those baloons--destroying the evidence and then running (because he was on probation). Anyhow, when we got away from there and he calmed down he told me that he saw someone tall run across an area behind us and dart behind a blackberry bush. A little later on he said calmly it was probably this tall fellow we knew and he was just checking on his plants. To be honest, I think he saw something that doesn't supposed to exist and if I remotely bring up the subject of certain cryptids not even related to that incident he mocks and makes fun of me. Yeah, uh ha, he saw it and for his own piece of mind is blocking it out, but cryptids never scared me that bad even when I had my class a,b and c encounters, but they did rattle my cage a little. As far as class "a" is concerned- that is like uh, eyewitness. Maybe it was a tall man in a black wet suit running across the ridge, but that thought would make less since than I actually saw a cryptid. Come to think of it I had 2 class "A" encounters.


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## greenpondmike (Jul 29, 2019)

I decided to delete this one. What was I thinking?


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## greenpondmike (Jul 30, 2019)

When I was younger I was placed in a foster home. While there a teenage girl told me and the others present a ghost story. The teenage imagination is quite creative and I was gullable and just ate that story up. I scared me real good back then and I decided that I never wanted to go near the Bayview lake bridge. Years later my first wife and I went legend tripping there. I wound up fishing under the new bridge that was built in the 70s, but was still supposed to be haunted as told by some people. The old original bridge was a steel structure with a wooden roadway and before they replaced it they had let the vegetation grow up real bad around there--super creepy and worthy of a good story even if it wasn't true. Back then was when I was told the story, but wound up fishing there in the early 90s. My wife and I were under the bridge with just an old rayovac flashlight--the black kind with the white on/off switch. We had caught a few fish--well I did anyhow while she watched. We had 2 rods, but she was content just setting there, so I used the long rod and left the short one laying. It was around 9pm and a black snake swam up with it's mouth wide open. It bit one of my fish I had on the stringer and then came towards us. My wife was like boogity boogity on up the hill--I don't see how she didn't step on anything because I had a lot of stuff laid out. That was very entertaining watching her go up that embankment lol.....uh yeah, the snake, so I had to do something and I couldn't run as fast as she could. I got the short rod and went toward the snake a little--enough to slide it under and lift up. While balancing the snake I slung it back into the lake. I stayed there 20 more minutes because I was a fishing, but I WAS kinda paranoid and kept shining the light from side to side and it was kind of bushy, but not too bad. Snake never came back, but after enough "LET'S GO'S" from my wife I packed up and went. Got pulled over by the Hueytown police for no tail lights, but they let me off. Went to the parts store just before they closed to get what I needed. I was under the truck fixing it when a guy in a mustang gt manual shift got angry because the store was closed. He was beside me, but after dumping the clutch and spinning backwards he stopped a foot behind my truck with me under there. It was like he was doing a backwards "u" turn with an attitude. By the time the night was over I had wished I had seen a ghost, and ONLY a ghost. What a night


Edit: I'm not saying that I'm a brave fellow or anything because I wasn't afraid of that snake--maybe I was just stupid enough that it worked out alright and I didn't lose my head.


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## greenpondmike (Jul 30, 2019)

One time my granparents on my dad's side of the family moved into a old house on the outskirts of Birmingham. My dad, whom I lost lost at 83 in 2010 was probably just a todler back then, so that was a while back. Anyhow, as they were moving in the neighbor called my grandmother over and told her that people don't stay in that house too long because it had a haint in it. My grandmother replied that she didn't believe in such things. Well, as time went on something would jump on her bed at the foot and work its way up as it went side by side real fast. You know, it went across the bed while getting closer and closer to her head. The light was directly above the bed with a string on it, so it was easy to reach. As soon as it was turned on each time- nothing...not even the feeling of it on the bed anymore. She told my grandad to stay in there and see if he could catch that ol "rat". Same thing happened to him until he tackled something on the floor and called grandma in to turn on the light. He said "I GOT IT!", but when the light was turned on all he had ahold of was the coffee table. He said you can't catch what you can't see. They moved out not long after that.


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## greenpondmike (Jul 30, 2019)

Back in the old days a lot of folks didn't have the luxery of a flashlight and most people only had outhouses and some even without doors on them. Not wise to go out there in the dark lest you find a critter in there. My grandad did that and thought he was bitten on his backside by a snake until he heard the rooster cooing after it done pecked him lol.


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## greenpondmike (Jul 30, 2019)

My spot across the road has been replaced by a subdivision and the deep woods by a trailer park, so I have to hunt in the Talladega national forest. There are many sections of it- the two I hunted was the one just below Centreville and the Oakmulgee division near Duncanville. The one near Duncanville was interesting indeed. I saw a deer jump/float over the dirt road--no noise before or after at all...weird. One time on up on a hill I parked my truck, got out with my rifle and proceeded on down to a spot I spied another time that I was there. On the way I hit my side to hear the jingle of my keys...only no jingle. Uh oh, wheres my keys? I looked and looked as I walked back to the truck. Please Lord, don't let them be locked up in the truck. Yup, they were locked up in the truck. No problem, just keep your head Mike and pray...lots of prayer. While I was messing around trying to figure it out I all of a sudden got motivated. Tree knocks...3 in one spot...stop, three in another...stop, and three in another..stop. It just kept going on like that and if that was a woodpecker he must have had a axe handle a hitting them trees and he must have been flying mighty fast to go from spot to spot like that lol. I had an ideal what that was because I encountered the same noises at night when I worked out at the Mercedes plant near the construction trailers, but across the road in the woods. I read up on this and guess what...a certain cryptid does tree knocks, yup. Well, I kicked it into overdrive and thought that I could bust my window out, or maybe shoot it out, or... maybe those are final options and just maybe I could find a twig that I could get in there and pull up on the lock. I was a looking and trying and talking to the unseen, but well heard things. Hold your tater I'm trying to get out of here... I'm going...I'm leaving...I promise I won't be back lol, yeah, I was a little panicky at the time...I mean, you know, 3 of em. Maybe they were hungry--who knows, and I didn't wanna find out. I FINALLY found a twig that was strong enough to get into the crack of the door and limber enough not to break while talking soothingly to the Duncanville welcoming comittee and soon enough I was back into my truck and I got out of there and haven't been back. Game warden says it was a woodpecker.....:shrug:


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## greenpondmike (Jul 30, 2019)

Back in 1996 when my first wife died I used to hang out at the cemetary even at nightime. One night I was at her grave and it was around 9pm. The nearest house had a street light, but it was over an 1/8th of a mile away, so it was kind of dark there. I heard chains a rattling and I thought...ghost chains lol. I said out loud that my wife is buried here and no one was gonna run me out of there because I had a right to be there. I got up to confront what was making the noise while the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up. I went on up the hill and discovered that it was only the rope that raised the flag on the flagpole. It was hitting the side of the flagpole. Man, was I relieved, but come to think of it....I don't remember the wind blowing that night.


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## bykfixer (Jul 30, 2019)

The scariest things I ever encountered in the woods as a kid was hippies and hobos. They were usually harmless drunk people but watching 70's crime shows with our parents had us kids thinking they were crazed murderers who ate people. 

Hell we were more scared of hippies and hobos than snakes, other other varmints. We lived near a mainline railroad so it wasn't unusual that drifters slept in a soft bed of pine needles in those mostly pine tree woods. Of course those woods are long gone thanks to a strip mall.


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## bigburly912 (Jul 30, 2019)

bykfixer said:


> The scariest things I ever encountered in the woods as a kid was hippies and hobos. They were usually harmless drunk people but watching 70's crime shows with our parents had us kids thinking they were crazed murderers who ate people.
> 
> Hell we were more scared of hippies and hobos than snakes, other other varmints. We lived near a mainline railroad so it wasn't unusual that drifters slept in a soft bed of pine needles in those mostly pine tree woods. Of course those woods are long gone thanks to a strip mall.



You are not alone in this brother. Black mountain in Kentucky was full of people running drugs and liquor but I was always more afraid of the hippies. The drug/liquor runners went about their business and didn’t pay anybody any mind. Most of the hobos and hippies that came on the mountain were always wayyyy too friendly and always wanted to catch a ride to the plaque saying they were on the highest point in Kentucky.


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## greenpondmike (Jul 31, 2019)

I don't personally know any true hippies myself, but I guess I'm kinda leary of hobos...I've met one or two since I live near the tracks. The people I hung out with didn't have the hippy mindset (thank GOD), but they were a bad influence on me and I trusted them way too much. The only other option was to stay around the house and probably pick up on my parent's mindset--they thought everyone around was working against them and I didn't want to think like that. Because of them I had my label and the better class of people looked down on me, so I had to accociate with the social outcasts. My dad was a whistle blower and probably responsible for the downfall of a major U.S. corporation--at least the section of it around here. He had many enemies and 2 attempts was made on his life. A lot of folks from this area worked there and that made it worse. I believe from early 80s on up there wasn't any major harrassments, but the damage was already done to my dad's mind and I didn't want to be poisoned by his bitterness and paranoia, so I tried to get away a lot and associate with the best "normal" folks I could, but my choices were very limited. Don't get me wrong, I loved my parents and they taught me a lot of good things. I just didn't want to be a carbon copy of them and blame everything that went wrong in my life on their enemies doing micro management harrassment. Nowadays, I give what I can't help to GOD and try not to worry about it. It works for me.


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## bykfixer (Aug 2, 2019)

Small world: 
The other day at work the subject of skateboarding came up and I was telling a coworker who is about 20 years my senior of the day I met Tony Hawk. (see post 101 in this thread.) He asked me if I knew Nick Hargrave. My reply was "uh, probably not". He starts telling me stuff about this Nick character that apparently he worked with in the 90's. Turns out it was Nicky Cosgrove who I mentioned in post 101. Apparently Nicky went to college, got his degree and became a devil worshiper and somewhere along the way got his name changed. He was sponsored by World Industries for a time so apparently Steve Rocco and Rodney Mullin had lured him to the dark side. It'll suck to be him in the after life I suppose. 

That morning on my commute it took me through a project that had just finished. Rush All the World's a Stage (from about 1978) was playing as I rode along and "holey crap" it dawned on me I was on the very route we used to take to the skate park. Things had changed so much that until the song Lakeside Park was playing I failed to recognize the place. It was about the time that album came out that we used to take that road. Talk about old ghosts.…… that same day was the day homie was telling me about ole Nicky. Coincidently I had never mentioned my morning memory resurection and it was him that had brought up skateboarding in the late 1970's. 

We were discussing body parts we had destroyedin our youth. His was auto racing crashes. Namely drag racing down pencil lead wide roads and ending up in a corn field upside down etc. Mine was skateboarding. He says "you ever meet any famous skateboarders back then?" I said "yeah I met the Bones Brigade when Tony Hawk was a little kid".

Another irony that day was a package from my friend in Delaware arrived with a bandana autographedby Steve Cabolerro who was also on the Bones Brigade. He had attended one of the Vans Warp Tour shows recently and had gotten Steve's autograph on a 25th anniverssary bandana. 

It was just one of those unique days where 3 seemingly completely unrelated things were all related to a degree. I like days like that. My perma-limp was replaced by a slight swagger that evening.


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## greenpondmike (Aug 3, 2019)

Sounds like your day was synchronized in a positive way bykfixer. I like it when I have a real good day and murphy's law doesn't work against me. My ol leg feels better when I take about 10 aspirins and get some caffeine in me. It has been hurt since I was 2 or 3. It just gets worse as I get older--I just thank GOD I can walk at all--if you can call what I do walking. I'm sorry to hear about your friend Nicky. Maybe he'll come out of that later on if he's prayed for. Sometimes we may feel like someone has crossed the line, but only GOD can determine when we've crossed the point of no return, so maybe there is hope for him. I keep praying for my friends- even the one that has been stealing gas from me. I did fill my gas jug with half water on top of some old gas and some of it went missing again somehow....and his car somehow quit running at about that same time.


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## bykfixer (Aug 3, 2019)

Hate it when discovering the klepto was a trusted associate. Ugh!! 

All I can pray for my enemies is His will be done. It aint up to me to decide who joins and who don't. But I can forgive my enemy and pray that person receive divine intervention like I did a while ago. After reading the scriptures and seeing how praying for the enemy is like pouring hot coals on them I fear my prayer might be out of a sense of wanting revenge. So instead I pray for wisdom to forgive that person. Then let God sort it out according to His plan, not my will. 

Just yesterday a homeless person asked me for money. A fairly sober looking person who had probably fell on hard times. I gave her a $10 bill. Her response was "you got five more I can have?". "What?!?, no thank you or nothing?" I replied. Sure did **** me off. But again who am I to say how she should have reacted when I had more money in my pocket? Later in the day I saw it as a test and I failed. I gladly gave up extra cash. But there was no sacrifice in that. The reaction I had was also a failure. The world would say my reaction was normal and I could easily find 20 people who agree. But did I feed my enemy? Well, kinda but not really. 

The place I work has bums all over the place. Bums. Not people down on their luck, but bums. And I wrastle with that often when passing by them on corners with their little cardboard signs and I'm munching on Cheerios. Once upon a time I gave a guy my last $50 and soon after saw he had used that money to buy work boots and was working on a construction site where I worked. Yesterday was my last day working in that town with all those bums and I hope the gal who was weak enough to ask a perfect stranger for money has found from someone else, enough to provide whatever that other five she asked me for would be used for. Perhaps I'll never know. This morning I prayed that she find solice and is able to get past whatever got her to the point to ask a stranger for money.

Hopefully your klepto associate greenpond will become part of the flock someday and be a positive influence in someone elses life who feels taking stuff that doesn't belong to them is uncool.


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## Monocrom (Aug 3, 2019)

I doubt if I'll look good in anyone's eyes by saying this but there comes a point where you get simply fed-up with being tested. I mean, how often can you be tested? Especially if much of the time you pass. Only to be tested again, and again, and again.... I'm not complaining that it's not fair. I am saying, what's the point of constantly being tested? To keep going until you start failing again and again? Or until you no longer care? 

People often wonder what they would ask God if given the opportunity. I don't have to wonder. I'd ask HIM why he put so many disgusting, absolutely worthless, selfish, uncaring examples of human garbage on his beautiful planet. I don't understand. All I'm able to come up with is to test the tiny minority of good people (both religious and not) whom HE has placed on this planet as well. And I can't help but wonder that THAT cannot be the sole reason. It just can't be. And it truly bothers me that I simply cannot come up with literally any other reason except that one, as to why HE does that. 

That first time I realized that Humanity is not a noble species, not even remotely close to it in general.... it still bothers me to this day. 

Okay, I'll stop before a moderator decides this discussion has veered too far into Religion. I just honestly feel that at this point in history where even certain genuine forms of evil and horrific immorality are promoted as being acceptable, any good person who spends several decades on this plain of existence without being corrupted into committing horrific and extreme physical violence against those who absolutely deserve it (in a non self-defense/defending the life of another situation); should get a free pass into Heaven just for that. As long as you don't fail that ultimate test in Life, then you've succeeded.


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## bykfixer (Aug 3, 2019)

The human is corrupt, no doubt. 

Long long ago the planet only had two brothers. The bad one killed the good one. It's been downhill since. 

Meanwhile this thread is a place to tell stories with happy endings. Or at least a groovy time along the path of life. Religion plays a large part in my inner peace, which allows positive thoughts in a negative world. But I don't want this to turn into a religious thread either. At 55 years old there's a lot more life behind me than in front of me. A baby section of a shopping cart can hold enough bottles of shampoo to last the rest of my life. Aint much hair left to shampoo for one thing so a bottle lasts a lot longer. 

Once upon a time when Mrs Fixer and I were dating she trusted everybody and paid a heavy price. One time I bought her a pair of red tinted sunglasses and said "here's your official rose colored glasses". She responded "all you see are weeds and thorns". I said "stick with me honey and I'll show you how to smell the roses without getting pricked by a single thorn". She don't trust ANYBODY these days and tells her one friend "you need to take off those rose colored glasses and you'll see how come life's thorns keep pricking you in the nose when you try to smell the roses". We both have taught each other to see the good and bad in life, learn from our mistakes and treat each new day as the best day yet. We look for solutions to problems as they pop up and try to bring a smile to faces wherever we go. Yet when the mean in the world gets in our 3 foot circle we don't cower in fear either. Even if it's family. 

I live by the creed "if all my friends die tomorrow I still have one left, me". Mrs Fixer has also learned to accept who she is warts and all. Our favorite story is the day we had the dogs pull us on bicycles and a cat caused her to crash. On the day she found out her arm needed screws be put in it we laughed and discussed when she was healed the dogs could pull us on skateboards while we sat on them. Our house began to tremble. No kidding. We looked up at the ceiling and said "nuff said God". Turns out as we were having that conversation an earthquake struck my state. They say it was felt from Georgia to Jersey. Well we never did do the skateboard thing with the dogs pulling us. 

I'll tell the whole story another time 'cause right now Mrs Fixer is giving me the stink eye for eating the last ice cream bar. Gotta go make a store run.


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## greenpondmike (Aug 4, 2019)

Before we get off the subject of religion I want to say that I WAS one of those worthless pieces of garbage before I gave myself over to the LORD. I'm not what I should be, but I'm not what I used to be. I believe we test GOD every day whether we know it or not. I don't like being tested, but who am I?-nothing special I'll tell you. If GOD puts up with me then shouldn't I put up with others? I know people that call people all kinds of names which all mean the same thing--worthless, hopeless fool. I don't agree with doing that and I know that the worse of a sinner a person is, the better a Christian they make. They love much because they have been forgiven much. I forgot about this story--it should have been the first one I wrote...I had to walk to work one morning because I temporary put my truck out of commission while doing some customizing. It was the crack of dawn and I heard a car coming so I got on the opposite side of the road to try to hitch a ride. The man driving knew me so he stopped to give me a ride. As soon as we started moving we met a mack truck with a load of logs. When he got almost to us we heard a noise like the blast from a shotgun. The truck had a blowout and it caused the truck to turn on its side and slide on up into the bushes. We stopped to see if the driver was alright--he was and didn't need any help, so we went on. That happened in 1984 and it was many years later that it dawned on me that if that fellow didn't come along when he did and if I hadn't crossed the road when I did, but instead just kept on walking...I would have not only been hit by a mack truck, but I would have been squashed and smeared by one. I also wasn't right with the LORD back then, but HE allowed me to live to get right with HIM later on because HE knows the future.


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## bykfixer (Aug 4, 2019)

The bike crash incident: 

This one starts with a time when Mrs Fixer and I were adapting to life without pop. We had been his caretaker for a few years and that was our life outside of work and kids as his health failed for a number of reasons. He was becoming a dimensia induced prankster who was growing weaker by the day so we did what we could to keep things in good order. My oldest son was a huge help too. One Sunday he was called home to be with my mom so my wife and I were facing a new challenge… boredom. 

So one Sunday I decided to trim our dogs toenails but they did not like their nails clipped or dremeled. [emoji362] idea! Lets let them pull us on bicycles. At first I was going to do it solo with one dog at a time scraping the toenails on asphalt while pulling me on a bicycle. Tires all pumped up and ready to go Mrs Fixer says "can I go too?" Sure. She took the little dog and I took the big one. Her 9 pound bike and her 110 pound physique would be less taxing to the little dog. 

Right out of the back gate the dogs were all for it and launched into motion. I soon realized keeping the leash tought while holding the handle bar was out. Gotta keep the arm free of gripping the handle bar to avoid calamity. I noticed keeping the leash tight caused my puller to fear the front wheel. He pulled as fast as he could in a straight line going nowhere near the front wheel. 

A quick trip around a short block showed us the dogs were able to pull us pretty fast. "Wanna keep going?" I asked. "Sure" she said. So we did. Now the little dog is the alpha and did not like the bigger dog being out front. She tugged Mrs Fixer faster and faster as my dog was oblivious to anything but that front wheel. He is called Comet because he can run pretty fast. I told my wife to be sure and keep the leash short to keep her dog beside the front wheel and do not hold the handlebar with her leash hand. Well she don't hear so sporty and after about 3 miles her arm began to grow tired. 

As we entered the home stretch, front porch in sight I knew we were also approaching a neighbors house who had an outdoor cat. The little dog haaaaaaates cats. I reminded her about the short leash thing. She told me her arm was getting tired. Next thing you know her dog is 5 feet in front of the wheel. 

About the time I spotted the cat it was too late. So had her dog. The dog crossed in front of Mrs Fixer who was holding the handle bar with her leash hand. Uh oh. About the time I was going to advise Mrs Fixer where the cat was I look over at her and see her back wheel up next to my head. The front wheel had done an instant X at 20mph. She launched forward with a splat to the asphalt as her dog runs after the cat. Ruh ruh ruh ruh ruh we hear from her escaping dog who wanted to kill the offending feline. 

Mrs Fixer stands up and holy crap there's this big buldge on her hip. Shocked, I'm thinking broken hip. She says "no thatz my cigarettes but my arm don't work right. Luckily we were near home because I had two bicycles, two dogs and a busted wife to get home. 

By the time we reached home we were laughing like a couple of drunk teenagers because it was just so exhilerating to be pulled by dogs on a bicycle. The dogs nails were trimmed as well. I put everything away and take Mrs Fixer to the ER

The staff there thought we were on drugs because we were still laughing so much. "Sober as a judge mam, but still buzzing from being pulled on bicycles by dogs". They were not impressed. We went home with her arm all bandaged up. A couple days later we were still laughing while filling out the paperwork at the ortho doctor. "How'd it happen? " part had us rolling on the floor. It was that fun (to us anyway). Doc looks at her arm and he's all laughing at the 2 middle aged kids as we told the story. X-rays showed she needed sugery to get bone fragments out of gaps between bones so her arm could rotate correctly. Fair enough. 

She had just started a new job so we stop by there and tell her new boss she'd be out of work a few weeks and why. He realized at that point his new employee was vastly different than anybody he'd hired to that day. We get home and begin to discuss how to relieve boredom while she heals. 

The subject of 'whatz next' had her rekindling the day we and her sister rode down big hills setting on skateboards. "Lets get the dogs to pull us" she says. The house trembled slightly and we just figured a big tree had fallen nearby or something. "what was that?"…… I say "heck yeah the dogs are going to needs their nails trimmed again in a few weeks, lets do it". We were both grinning from ear to ear at the prospect. The house really shook…and shook…and shook some more. We both looked at the ceiling in unison and said "ok God we hear you". lol. 

The house continued to shake for what seemed like 14 minutes but it was more like 14 seconds. I opened the back door and look out to see fhe world quivering as I heard stuff crashing to the floor in my shed. Little kids are running out of neighbors houses all screaming. We were like 'heavens to mergatroid, a real earthquake, here in Central VA. 

I live not far from a place where a chunk of the African continent broke away and floated to the edge of VA a billion years ago. So every so often we get trimmers as the two big chunks of granite rub up against each other. But no earhquakes as a rule. 

Ok, another quick story. Knowing the edge of my state has a piece of Africa hooked to it I took my wife's youngest boy to a rock quarry on the segment of Africa. All kinds of cool river rocks litter the ground there. He had a ball making up items his 8 year old mind thought they resembled. We also saw a really pretty sunset there. He returns to school a time later and when teacher asked where kids had gone that summer he said "Africa". Teacher said "did you fly or take a ship? " 

A recant of what he told me;: 
He said "neither". Perplexed the teacher asked "well how did you get there?" He said "we drove in my step dads Ford Ranger". She replied "you can't drive to Africa from here". He replied "sure you can, you leave the school, make a left on Temple Ave and drive a few miles to Puddledock Rd, make a left and drive 2 more miles and you're in Africa". He stands up and points out the window and says "it's right over those trees".

Mrs Fixer got a note from fhe teacher saying how vivid her sons imagination is and that he had told the class about his fantasy of driving to the coast of Africa. My wife sent back a note saying "look it up, you'll see he's right". 
The northbound side of I 95 used to be a portion of coast of Africa and the southbound side was the coast of VA at one time. Sand and soil washed from mountains during the ice age melt and covered up the joint under several feet of soil and sand. It spread out enough to create what is now Prince George County all the way to Norfolk and Va Beach.


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## greenpondmike (Aug 5, 2019)

Sounds like you and Mrs. Fixer had a good time with those dogs pulling yall. It is good to look back and laugh. I can do that. Yeah bykfixer, you told me something I didn't know about Virginia's coastline.


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## bykfixer (Aug 5, 2019)

My first date with Mrs Fixer was a fishing trip on a lake in a rented boat. It was spring and things were changing from winter to summer. Living 50 miles from the gin clear lake I wondered where the fish were right now. Has the water turned over Yet? Not knowing local water temps my nearby brown streams were still in winter mode. 

I studied local fishing reports from the lake area and discovered what seemed to be the fish were still coming out of the winter mode and hanging out in the shallows on the sunny side. 
The day came and armed with info I placed the boat over a potentially great spot and in a position for my date to have the best casting spot. She put a worm on her hook and casted to deep water. I chunked my fake lure to the best spot and caught a bass first cast. 

I knew my date was not a fishing guru in the first ten seconds but we were having a good time anyway. I told her I don't like torturing a creature to trick a fish into biting that will poke a hole in the fish's face that I'll throw back anyway. She indicated that she was used to keeping fish her family caught at the bay. I learned she'd catch a fish and give it to her dad who took it from there. 

Three casts later I'm moving to a better spot. She got out her camera and began taking pictures of local wildlife and scenery. That set the tone for the rest of the date. I cast a few more times and gave her my rig and showed her where the fish were based on nibbles I got while reeling in at warp speed. She caught a fish first cast. I showed her how to remove the hook and placed a wet rag over the fish to minimize removing the slime that protects the fish's skin and placed it gentely back in the water. "Be free little fishey" she said. 

We chatted a while and switched baits. No luck after a few casts but the scenery was great. I got out my camera and took a few photos too. Soon we were moving but this time for better photos. A chilly day was becoming a warm day. Driving into open water we were easing along and chatting about things we had in common. By sundown we had gotten to know each others likes and dislikes in a general sense. 
We put the boat away and I took her to a spot where I knew a full moon would rise over a giant field and the sky would be loaded with stars. We both had also discussed how we had gotten to where we were in life. We had both found inner peace and were not about to allow anybody to change that, so a friendship was ok, but a relationship was out. I took her out to a restaraunt of her choosing. 
She was used to wine-n-dine from fellows with drama soon to follow. I had a full belly and dropped her off at her place and that was that. Or so I thought. 

My phone rang at 1am and it was her calling to say thank you. We chatted on the phone until the sun came up. We had become instant friends. We both worked the night shift so staying up all night was easy. 

I told her of an old fashioned candy store inside of a WalMart 5 hours away and agreed to visit the place together some day. We set out for the place one afternoon and stopped off at a lake on the way and chatted beside the water watching a beautiful sunset while hot air balloon races were finishing up. Eventually we made it to the WalMart but there was no old fashioned candy store there. No employees in the place even knew what I was talking about. My date was beginning to wonder if it had ever been there and now this so-called gentleman has me in the middle of nowhere? I found an employee who remembered there was one but it was replaced by an expanded sporting goods section 2 years ago. Phew!! I was begininng to doubt me too. 

After a few dates it was time to decide relationship or not. I took her to the beach to watch the sunrise from a lifeguard stand. Would turning this thing into boyfriend/ girlfriend ruin the friendship? Soon after that "L" word popped up. We dated about a year and got married. 

What we both learned about each other early on was that we agreed on a lot of basic principles of right and wrong, so there never have been many 'agree to disagree' situations. We respect each others differences and do not try to impose ones will on the other. By being single a number of years we both had learned being alone at times has its virtues too. She learned if she wanted to be alone all she has to do is pop a chick flick in the movie player and I'm outta there. If I wanna be alone I just go find a project she doesn't dig on like sharpening a lawn mower blade or posting about flashlights at CPF. She does her thing while I do mine. 

We share some hobbies like photography where we've both gotten some pretty cool photos of the same thing from different perspectives but we also have hobbies the other finds no interest in. I bought her a real nice dremel kit and some tools to fashion crafts she enjoys. I get to modify small things with those same tools. I fix up old bicycles and such while she crochets a cigarette lighter case from left over WalMart bags. If I pop in a WW2 flick I have the den all to myself. 

My dad took my mom fishing. She was better at her luck than he was. Eventually he sold his gear and boat but she still liked to shore fish. She enjoyed being outdoors after working in an office all week. He enjoyed climate control after suffering in a non climate controlled factory all week. I work outdoors, my wife indoors. So she understands that even though my work is 12 minutes from the ocean I have no desire to go to the beach. I understand she likes the sun after working indoors all week. We compromise. I flop around the surf pretending to body surf while she gets a tan. 
Win-win.


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## greenpondmike (Aug 5, 2019)

Sounds like you and your wife have a beautiful relationship in your marriage.


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## Monocrom (Aug 15, 2019)

Sorry guys.... Just really felt like I had to take a break from this particular thread and walk away for awhile after making my last post. It really hit me harder than expected having posted all of that. Don't get me wrong, it's 100% true. And normally I don't have an issue with blatant honesty. Still don't. But that's one aspect of my mentality I haven't shared with others before. Not even my best friend. Though coming awfully close to being best friends going on 30 years, some things just don't need to be said in great detail. Especially among two guys. I know he feels the same way I do. And vice-versa. 

It's odd. I normally don't get bothered when something BIG goes wrong. Or I find out something that would shock most people. Those are things that can't be helped. It's when people do the little things that cause stuff to go wrong.... That's what really bothers me. About a week from coming back from my vacation in April, I got into a car accident. Collided with an over-turned traffic cone on the parkway at about 60mph. Multi-lane. Cars on both sides of me. No one in front. Had to go through it. Ironically, no damage to the bumper. But the plastic grill was smashed out and lost a fog light. No clue what happened to the cone. It seemed to literally vanish. Not even traces of it in the grill work. 

Good news is, I know a great auto-body shop, and the owner and I are good friends. Got a sweet deal on fixing everything up. Thing is, that accident didn't need to happen had the construction worker in charge of gathering up all the traffic cones had done his job properly when stacking them on the sides of the truck. That's an example of something that _could_ be helped. Spilling boiling hot water on your boots because the latch on your very old vintage canteen cup failed after all these decades, that's something that couldn't be helped. (Unless you count buying a military canteen cup with the butterfly folding handles, instead.) 

So I don't get too upset at things that can't be helped nor realistically prevented. Even if we're talking serious accidents. Stuff that can be helped, but no one could be bothered to put in a bit of effort in doing so. That's another story. And I realize that with most folks, their mentality is the exact opposite from how mine works. Then again I recently found out that my personality is literally shared with less than 1% of the world's population. So, no wonder I'm different. Heck of a thing to find out, but it explains *a lot!*

Your replies definitely gave me some things to think about. Thanks guys. 

Also.... Yeah, if you have a significant other; always leave the last single serving of ice-cream for her.


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## greenpondmike (Aug 16, 2019)

I hope I didn't say anything to offend you monocrom in anything I wrote. I reread your previous post. People are going to dissappoint you and let you down--some don't seem to have a heart, but the one above will NEVER let you down. Sometimes HE was all I had, so I can't say I was really alone even though I was alone and felt abandoned. The Bible says that laughter doeth good like a medicine and it sure helps me to laugh and find humor in things and also to laugh at myself.


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## greenpondmike (Aug 16, 2019)

One time when I was 5 my aunt took me to church. Now I didn't have any manners and was unfamilier with social gatherings. I went from aunt to aunt who were catecorner from one another. I was a handful that day and I'm sure I embarrassed both my aunts.
The song leader asked everyone to turn to a certain page to sing a song that I was unfamiliar with, but I was familiar with the title though because another song on the radio had the same title. When they started singing I called out a few times--wrong song, wrong song.
Not proud of it, but I can look back and laugh at my ignorance.


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## bykfixer (Aug 16, 2019)

Not your proudest memory I supoose. 

My mom used to go to the evening service to avoid the 11 o'clock fashion show. I used to go with her some and she always left smiling. I suppose there were times when folks thought "that rotten kid" because I did goofy stuff too. But my mom was happy one of her kids tagged along. 

She was a local official and preferred to worship not socialize. As an adult I used to be a local official in my town so I understood. Back then not many people knew I had a twin. Later I moved around a bit for various reasons and my twin started attending church. Now whenever I go folks think I'm him. It's a hoot when someone just saw him on the second floor, walked into the chappel on the first floor and see me seated and says "holy crap, how'd you get here before me?" 

My favorite was when we were teens and his smoking hot girlfriend thought that I was him and laid a big ole kiss on me. Yikes she was surprised. Years later she said I was a better kisser than him. lol


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## greenpondmike (Aug 17, 2019)

Lol, I bet identical twins have a lot of fun looking alike.


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## bykfixer (Aug 17, 2019)

In middle school they had a class set up one period where you rotated from shop to art to drama. He had shop at first and I had art. At time to switch I stayed in art and he stayed in shop. Nobody rat'd us out so the teachers never knew. We just had to remember to answer to the other ones name when called upon. 

Another time when I was inspecting a concrete job a worker went to the lumber store where my twin drove a forklift for some 2x4's and when he came back he seriously wondered how the heck I had changed clothes and gotten back to the construction site before he did.

Oh yeah, then there was the time my brother rode up to me on his skateboard, knee all bleeding and says "I kicked Dwaynes @$$ for you today". I'm like "what are you talking about?" He said while at a high school football game this Dwayne character approached him saying so n so in gym class said I was talking smack about him. I had not, but this so n so (Kenny) was mad at me over a girl that I didn't even like. Anyway Dwayne thinks my twin is me. My twin has a short fuse. Dwayne pushes him, which causes my brother to fall and bust his knee open. My brother said he told the guy repeatedly "you've got the wrong twin" and eventually pummels the guy with a combonation of right/left punches and an upper cut, which knocks the guy unconcious. In the gym class we had entered wrestling in the week before. The following week we were scheduled to continue. Me and Dwayne were in the same weight class and were slated to wrestle on that Monday. Dwayne came down with a mysterious injury and missed that whole next week of school. lol. 

Then there was that summer night my twin found me at the 7-11 I used to hang out at. He says Donnie wants to kick my @$$ so be on the look out in case he thinks you're me. Donnie was a bad dude sure enough. His dad had learned to box in jail and taught Donnie how to box. Uh oh. My twin was seen making out with Donnies ex-girlfriend. I never did see Donnie that night or any other night that summer. Yet Donnie and I were buddies and I figured he knew the difference between my brother and I. But I was sure glad I didn't have to find out if he did. 

Donnies girlfriend had a bad habit of sleeping around with his friends and my twin had fallen into the evil web of said evil girl. I always thought she looked like a carp and in no way would ever want to make out with a fish. Yuck. The girl ended up marrying Donnies best friend a couple years later. Another buddy of mine Carl. I tried to warn ole Carl she's bad news. Well he finally figured it out when he was working 3 jobs to pay her alimony while she lived with Carls brother David. 

So now I'm all old and grey haired. Donnie got life in prison for beating his boss to death over a pay raise, Carl died of a heart attack at 45, and Dwayne probably still thinks to this day it was me that knocked him unconcious in front of his friends that afternnon at the high school football game.


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## greenpondmike (Aug 18, 2019)

.....


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## bykfixer (Aug 19, 2019)

Switching gears, today I requested my company IT department turn down the volume of their 'on hold' muzac. See, nobody comes in on a Monday and says "hmmm I think I'll call IT to have a friendly chat". No it's more like calling 911 because something is amiss somewhere and the user it stranded or the company firewall was changed while fhey were on vacation etc. 

You call the place where about 5 people service hundreds if not thousands of employees in a company of 22k+ employees. So you are likely on hold a few minutes while waiting. No problem except there's this song playing over and over that is so loud it disorts the phone speaker while you frantically stay on the line. Ugh! 

The helpful person asked "is there anything we can help you with?" Well I didn't want to ask for the winner in todays horseraces so I said "yes, can you turn down your muzac?" The guy says he's never actually called his number but will try it later today to see what I mean. My boss laughed and says "yeah, good luck with that".

Once upon a time I was a political junky and kept my tv tuned to CSPAN. I watched Congress day and night. I knew what they were up to and also kept my ear to the ground about the President too. I'd write the occasional letter to my Congressman too. This was at a time when Fox News wasn't invented and CNN was still fairly new. Long before politics in America became the blood sport it is today. 

Now one such letter included a request to add self stick adhesive to postage stamps. I was paying like 32 cents a stamp and kept getting returned mail for no postage applied. I was running a small bike shop at the time and was giving away stickers by the score so I knew stamps could be made better. I implored my Senator to look into that option and later got a campaign flyer from the guy taking credit for his innovation, the self adhesive stamp. 

Of course my initial reaction was "can you believe this turkey took the credit?" but in time realized it did not matter who gained the credit. What did matter was that others across the fruited planes did not get penalized for late payments on things due to the stamp falling off the envelope. 

It also helped me feel better when the Senator was defeated the next election by a landslide. So with that notion still in my memory I hope someone who calls my company IT in a panic does not have their ear accosted by that dam muzac anymore. We'll see.


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## greenpondmike (Aug 20, 2019)

I like those self adhesive stamps also. What I gets me on the phone is when I call an American company and I get foreign customer service--especially if the person doesn't talk well using English. That is frustrating


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## Monocrom (Aug 22, 2019)

greenpondmike said:


> I hope I didn't say anything to offend you monocrom in anything I wrote. I reread your previous post. People are going to dissappoint you and let you down--some don't seem to have a heart, but the one above will NEVER let you down. Sometimes HE was all I had, so I can't say I was really alone even though I was alone and felt abandoned. The Bible says that laughter doeth good like a medicine and it sure helps me to laugh and find humor in things and also to laugh at myself.



No, you didn't offend me. You gave me a few things to really think about and ponder. And I genuinely appreciate that. Sorry for a bit of a late reply again. Life keeps getting in the way of posting. And also uploading on my YouTube channel. But yes, I do appreciate you guys taking the time to reply to that earlier post of mine. Thank you for that.


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## greenpondmike (Aug 28, 2019)

You're welcome monocrom. Just keep your eyes on the one above because HE'S the standard.


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## Lumen83 (Aug 29, 2019)

greenpondmike said:


> HE'S the standard.



"When a man sells his daughter as a slave, she will not be freed at the end of six years as the men are. If she does not please the man who bought her, he may allow her to be bought back again." 
Exodus 21: 7-8


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## nbp (Aug 29, 2019)

Let’s remember that this is a story relating thread. Let’s try to keep on topic. Thanks guys. [emoji4]


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## bykfixer (Aug 30, 2019)

Once upon a time while ago at work at night a fellow on a track excavator walked his machine from its parking area to where he was going to dig. All seemed right with the world as the late afternoon sun disappeared behind the horizon and the slice of planet earth I was at turned dark again. An evening that changed my life it turns out later. 

While jotting down notes near the excavators parking spot I heard "skrrr thump" so I look up and some guy on the highway next to me had suddenly stopped in a random location for no apparent reason and the tailgater behind him had not stopped in time. Then another, and another…… whut-thuh? I go to drive to the location not so far away to check on these folks who are now standing outside their vehicles. In front of my path was a cable at about windshield height. Whut-thuh? 

I got out my trusty minimag incan with near depleted batteries and aim it up to see what was what. I may as well have tried using a BiC lighter in a hurricane for all the good it was doing to light beyond 3 feet away. So I pulled out my trusty $2.oo 5 led check out counter number and it was no better. The direction I was going on the highway had the lane closed that I was sitting in. The other direction did not and the speed limit was 55mph. Was the wire draping across the entire roadway? And where was its origin? I was as blind as Helen Keller with my pair of flashlights. Meanwhile in the other direction as luck would have it the damaged cars were near a high spot on a hill so cars climbing the hill could see the hazards flashing from the last vehicle to rear end the guy in front of him. Soon police showed up and put out cones to direction motorists around the scene. 

The fellow in the excavator was digging his hole unaware he had pulled down a wire across the roadway. My coworker arrives and pulls out his forearm sized rechargeable light and holy cow……it was like sunshine when he aimed his beam at a nearby pole and sees the origin of the wire was a mere cable tv line and not an electrical line. The lower the wire on a pole the less potential for danger it has. Power lines are above the telephone and other less dangerous to touch wires. My question was "what kind of light bulb is that bright?" He replies "light bulb? No it's an LED light". Now prior to that moment I did not know LED's had attained the brightness of a light bulb, much less be some 300 birthday candle bright. In mid 2015! I was your typical Maglite user who was unaware of how bright a flashlight was now capable of being. 

The next evening on the way to work I stopped at a box store and found flashlights capable of 300 plus lumens. I bought a Coast, a 2D Maglite and an Energizer hard case. Wow, wow, wow!! The Maglite lit up reflective liscense plates in the daytime from 100 feet away. Good gracious!!! On my commute to work I was lighting up overhead road signs with my new Maglite from several hundred feet away from my windshield while driving. This was at sunset. 

Back to the evening before, the operator of the excavator was so shook up that he had caused a wreck by pulling down that wire but did not know it that he passed out upon finding out. He was an older fellow who missed road construction enough to come back from retirement, but did not have the eyes to work at night anymore. He took it real personal that his weakness may have gotten somebody killed. He re-retired the next day. And that was too bad because he was an awesome operator whose skills were sorely missed after he left. 
The motorists were all pissed off that they had missed their favorite tv show or their chinese take out got cold while the police wrote up the report of the incident. One guy was all tore up that his Jeep had a scratch on it after that and he was eventually arrested for disorderly conduct for being so irrate to the police who were trying to keep things calm. The coworker with the bright flashlight was puzzled how the guy just got so crazy over such a minor problem. 

In the meantime I had been working on a car in my spare time and wanted to add interior lighting in the cab to provide map lights and other ambient illumination when the doors were open. The existing circuits were built around light bulbs that taxed the system to near capacity. I wanted to add said lights to the existing circuits due to them being on a timer and did not want to build an entire new circuit because the timer box did not have extra contact points available. I began searching for information about adding low power LED light bulbs within the existing circuits and kept getting this Candle Power Forums as a source for information. It led me to lurking threads about existing LED technology and 500 lumen flashlights. 500? LED's? No kidding? 

So I decided to join this group of propellerhead wearing flashlight fanatics. Eventually the OCD voices talked me into plunking down more than $35 for a flashlight to see what all the fuss about this so called SureFire brand was all about. My ideal flashlight was a zoomie but the folks at CPF swore on fixed lighting and spoke of tints, beam artifacts, hot spot versus spill and all that. I was pretty skeptical until that first G2x Pro arrived. Nirvanna to this newb. Low then high? No scrolling past strobe to shut it off everytime? Low first every time? Another flashaholic was created at that point. Uh oh. Another collection was about to begin.

On another assignment, this time a day time project I asked a policeman what brand of flashlight he uses. He whips out an incan Streamlight SL20 and says some day he'll have an LED version. Another policeman saw him talking to me and approaches to make sure his brother in arms was ok. He showed me his SureFire 6P and commences to tactically blind me at 10 o'clock in the morning on a sunny day. Holy crap!! Soon after my first 6P arrived. I'd surpassed the $60 threshold now so next was $100 it seemed but… I kept reading at that CPF sight this Malkoff "drop in" thing could make my 6P an LED for under $50. Not wanting to solder anything I asked at the CPF place "what's a drop in and how do you install it?" Upon learning it was a plug n play thing I was in. Opting to stay close to factory I went The M61WLL with my first one. Again the OCD voices talked me into crossing the $100 line to see what the MD2 hi/lo buzz was all about. Meanwhile the Streamlight brand name was bouncing around my head. 

Car? What car? I'm a flashaholic now so the car project was on hold for the time being. A busted head gasket meant it wasn't drive worthy anyway and my car money was being spent on flashlights like a drunken sailor in a brothel after 2 years at sea. By now I had an assortment of really nice LED flashlights. Enough to supply a small army matter of fact but the voices kept saying "one more won't hurt". By then I had Elzettas, Malkoffs, SureFire and Streamlights. I preferred throwers to flooders, just like the incan Maglites I had as a young adult. The voices talked me into vintage lighting. Soon after my den was decorated with flashlights going back to the caveman days with battery powered fire on a stick and LED lights throughout my home. I even consorted with the famous PK after a time and made a bunch of e-friends along the way. I acquired lights from Don Kellers personal collection, some really low production lights and modules, some of PK's collection, and in the CPF spirit even hot wired a few. 

My collection goes back to a time when a policeman may have clicked his heels together while walking the beat in a dark alley and carried a new invention called the flashlight, which identified and would be assailant who would have otherwise konked him over the head as he walked past. Lights used by soldiers and pilots to light up maps or find a leaking fuel line. Lights potentially used by old folks to get around a dark house after a storm knocked out the all night generator, or to assist blood hounds searching for a lost child in the woods. I even have one that has a light bulb so bright it can turn off dark sensing porch lights. Oh, and a slew of those new fangled LED lights worthy of photography fill lighting or identifying whether a dangling wire from a pole is safe to touch. I even have some Maglites that put out brightness probably never imagined the early days of sprinkler pipe was used for flashlight bodies when neither Don Keller nor Tony Maglica could imagine crossing the 1000 birthday candle threshold with a D cell flashlight. 

Had that operator not hit that overhead wire that night I may have finished the car project by now. But I'd probably still rely on that minimaglite if battery leakage didn't cause me to buy another flashlight by now.


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## Monocrom (Aug 31, 2019)

I wish my start as a flashaholic was half as interesting.


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## bykfixer (Sep 2, 2019)

My glass is always full. Even if all the liquid is gone it's still full of air. 
Perspective bro. It's all about perspective. 

Leads me to the story about a fellow named Donnie. Not lifer Donnie but another guy named Donnie. This one was a backhoe operator at a project I was stationed at for 2+ years. Donnie was going through a rough time. I was too, but Donnie had his drivers liscense confiscated for being behind on child support. He was staying in an efficiency I drove past everyday on the way to work. He rode a junky ten speed bicycle to and from work rain or shine. Now for a time I did not know he did this as he always rode to work an hour before I did. But one day for whatever reason he was running late on a cold rainy morning. I pulled over on the road and told him to hop in. He was sure glad to be in a warm dry truck instead of in that cold rain. He says "boy I wish I'd seen you ten minutes ago". That set the tone from then on as I commited to picking him up each day from that day forward. 

This Donnie fellow and I had a lot in common and we shared a lot of the same divorce related drama as our ex's drove us nuts while using our kids as pawns in a power struggle. Yet Donnie never saw all the pretty shades of gray in the cloudy sky. I gave him a Technics tuner and some speakers for entertainment on lonely nights. He complained that the FM signals at his efficiency were full of static while he listened to NASCAR races even though he could watch said race on his tv. When a small apartment in my complex became available for a lot less per month than the efficiency, one that was about 200 yards from where his kids lived he complained cable tv was not included. One day at work he threw a temper tantrum and quit. I did not see Donnie for about 5 years after that. At times I wondered how he was doing. 

My life slowly evolved with new adventures each day as every morning to me was a brand new start. "Today is the first day of the rest of your life" I thought with nearly every sunrise. One fateful morning I stopped at a convenience store on the way home from a night shift. I saw some construction workers I knew from a time gone by and struck up a conversation even though I was the walking dead at that point. Suddenly up pops this Donnie character. "Hey man!!" he says. We shook hands and shared a bit of recent lives. He said he had finally gotten his drivers liscense back and had his own place. He commences to tell me his apartment is a dump and his truck has a broken air conditioner. He proceeds to tell me how lumpy his mattress is and his girlfriend is a lousy cook. I said to myself "this guy is such a drag to be around" and he asked where I was staying. Instinctively I said I was only in town for a few days filling in for a guy on a night time project. I had done a lot for the guy in the past and all I heard from him was negative vibes. I mean he was thankful and all at my efforts, but always saw the negatives in life and not once seemed to understand the lucky breaks. 

My dad was like that at times. Once he didn't speak to me for days because when he complained he suffered hearing loss at work because the company supplied lousy hearing protection I quipped "my company supplies lousy hearing protection but I'll be damed if I'll let that be the reason I go deaf". "What did you just say" he snarled. I responded "you lost your hearing because you were too dam cheap to buy good ear covers". 

I tell my young coworkers I trane "Dale Earnhardt used to say sometimes in life you create your own fortune, good or bad". Perspective goes a long way in that. Planning ahead and noticing the lucky breaks that follow causes positive momentum. If a man thinks he's going to fail he usually ends up making it happen. My brother says "success comes in a can, failure comes in a cannot". Once upon a time my life had spun out of control so bad I ended up at rock bottom. Some was my doing. Most was not. At the lowest, darkest point I remembered a story one of the happiest people I know told me. That guy had seen his life turn uglier than anybody could ever deal with and survive. Yet he came out of it a winner. Not world champion tennis player or president of a bank type winner. No, he attained a prize most don't even know exists nuch less attain it. Inner peace and satisfaction with everything around him regardless of the circumstances. Example was when he found out he had skin cancer, his attitude was 'now I get to wear a straw hat, I've always wanted to wear a straw hat'. The guy sees the good side of everything. One day on the way back from fishing his car broke down. He says "well I obviously needed the excersize" as we walked to a nearby store and borrowed their phone to call his girlfriend. While walking he never once spoke of fhe negative but pointed out the architecture of old abandoned homes we walked past and spoke of happy times as a child. 

When I was a kid I got to hold the flashlight for my dad as he replaced a leaking water pump on his truck. The new one leaked. So did the next one. By the fifth one he was furious and was tossing tools. While fastening the last one my mom came out with a glass of ice tea for my dad and says "well by now you're pretty good at replacing water pumps". My pop (rightly so) did not see the humor in that statement. But it was something I've carried with me ever since. My dad outlived my mom by 20 years. But near the end he spoke of the day he gets to spend eternity with the happiest person he'd ever known. He said "she never saw the potholes, but instead saw the chance to have fun swerving around them".


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## peter yetman (Sep 2, 2019)

My Mother was a Black Hole for emotion, her life was miserable and she tried to make ours the same during the 20 years that she lived with us.
Didn't work. Ha!
P


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## greenpondmike (Sep 3, 2019)

I've had several negative influences in my life--one was my dad and the other was ol gas stealer. I try to make lemonade out of my lemons, but sometimes I just have too many lemons.
One time at work I decided to examine the firing pin on my gun and the next day I had my employer's. 357 magnum that had .38 special rat shot in it. I figured that I'd check out the firing pin on that gun also.
After looking at it I pulled the trigger and carefully lowered the hammer. No luck because the hammer had a stiffer spring causing the gun that I didn't have a good enough grip on to slam back against the hammer. The gun went off, my ears were ringing and I was panicking trying to find out what I shot. By this time I was praying and worried about getting fired for shooting a hole in the guard shack. I heard water trickling and was wondering how I had hit the water cooler which was in the opposite direction.
I got up and felt something warm running down my leg. I looked down and found the hole--a hole an inch to an inch and a half in diameter on the inner thigh of my left leg. 
Didn't really feel anything till the next day at the hospital--it hurt to even turn in bed and that garden hose/iv they had in my arm wasn't any fun either. I was having a nicotine fit and I was grouchy, but I had cable TV with MTV on it. I counted it as a vacation and my job took me back a month later after I got to walking good again. The best thing I got out of that ordeal was the memory of my roommate. He was an older fellow, a good Christian man that had a peaceful state of mind despite the jerk (me) that he was sharing a room with. He could have told me off or even judged me, but he didn't. I don't know if he is still alive or not (this was back in 1988) and I don't even remember his name, but I don't want to ever forget him and I hope to be like him when I finally grow up (I'm only 53). Old folks like that inspire me. I never really had a grandpa.


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## Monocrom (Sep 5, 2019)

Mike, good to hear that you survived that one.

As far as perspective goes, I can't agree. Sure, a positive attitude helps. But if my car ever broke down, the last thing I'd think is that I needed the exercise. (Thankfully I bought a very reliable car over a decade ago, and make sure to keep my baby maintained. But that's besides the point.)

I'm a Realist. Ironically that causes some to think I'm "too negative." Oh well, I'm not trying to pry anyone's Rose-colored spectacles off of their face. At the same time, I'm not going to pretend a messed up situation is somehow positive. But that Donnie dude definitely sounds negative. When things are going well, or I catch a break; I appreciate it. Definitely seems odd that he couldn't see the positive in moving to a potential place that is roomier, costs less, and closer to his kids. As far as openly complaining about *everything* that's just a good way to turn people off. They're more likely to be sympathetic if what a person complains about is actually important. Rather than say, a lumpy mattress.


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## bykfixer (Sep 6, 2019)

My buddy (and former coworker Engineer) John has had things happen to him I wouldn't wish on an enemy. But once the storm passed he came out of it with a joyful spirit. 

Like being told you are dieing of cancer and won't see Christmas. On New Years day being told you are cancer free. Most would take on a whole new look at life. My wife used to call me a realist as if that was a bad thing. Yet when walking through the woods looking at natures glory and pointing to the poisonous snake 5 paces away, then back to viewing the nature thing… "look at the pretty woodpecker there, oh and to your left there's a copperhead, but mmm the smell of that crisp spring air". 
That guy Donnie might say "man I can't even take a walk without dangerous snakes everywhere" while my buddy John may say "good grief, look at how close we came, that thing sure is shiney".

Now my wife tells me where the snakes are as we stroll along gawking at birds and squirrels.


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## Monocrom (Sep 6, 2019)

Seems you've infected her with your realism. (Just kidding.) 

I used to be a lot more optimist, and thought that all people are basically good. Everything is basically good. You go through that mentality and everyone takes advantage of you. They might even feel bad doing it, but they'll be back to do it again. Part of me is still optimistic. But yeah, if anyone wants to borrow one of my lights at work, I hand them the cheap orange 9-LED cluster light I bought from Wal-mart that runs off of 3AAAs. If they want one of my pens, they get the cheap clear plastic Bic I keep in my bag. (And I'm handing that one to them with the cap removed.)


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## bykfixer (Sep 7, 2019)

Once upon a time a few decades ago I was the guy who got stuck with the new kid at work. Each summer our local school system would pick three kids to work a summer job in the public works department. In street maintenace we'd get a boy and a girl. It was the 1980's so pc was not in full swing. The boy would work outdoors and the girl would get secretarial duties. Being a crew leader meant I got tasked with the boy each summer. Being under 18 they weren't allowed to run motorized lawn equipment. To me that was stupid because by twelve in my community you cut your parents grass. Things were changing though. Every kid gets a trophy was a new way of thinking. My first summer the kid was a future idiot. He was lazy and dumb as a door knob. I complained to the boss after a while so they cut him loose before he hurt himself or someone else. His final straw was the day he fell in love with the summer helper girl in the office and was serinading her over the two way police radio we communicated with before pagers and celphones. When the police chief complained to the city manager my boss had no recourse but to let him go. No telling what happened to that guy. 

The next summer I had another kid who was also dumb as a door knob, but he was willing to learn and did not mind working. By the end of the summer he had developed muscles and was a skilled worker. He came back the next summer but… he had discovered girls and partying. So I had fun with that one. When he came in hung over I'd find work that needed a jack hammer and we'd bust up a sidewalk that needed replacing. We mixed concrete in a drum and moved it with a wheel burrow. He could easily move a fully loaded with soupy concrete one into place before long. He bought a nice car and ended up getting married young, buying a house and became a professional fire fighter. 

At my job later I was an inspector and I'd get an up and coming, destined for college youngster each summer. Some were great and I developed a philosophy that I was training my future boss with each one. I left the government job and began work as a consultant. It's an engineering company with inspectors. Some call us field engineers. So it is a natural thing to train young engineers in the summer months while they are still going to college the rest of the year. I've seen many go on to become leaders in the industry I work in. The leaders who spent time in the field for months at a time end up being way better bosses than the ones who never tested concrete in 99 degree weather for 12 hours or had to stand out in 15 degree weather counting steel bars in a bridge deck before covering them with concrete. 

On the bad side of the spectrum, this one guy had to put in two weeks in the field as an engineer in training. He thought that meant reading plans in an air conditioned office all day. They put him outside in the heat one day on a day a worker got hurt on a bridge project. OSHA was called to the scene. When the OSHA man asked the up and comer what happened he became billigerant with the OSHA official. Not a good idea. When the OSHA person flexed his muscles through OSHA rules the up and comer called the police on him for harrassment. How dare that government worker impose a penalty on him. That up and comer went on to be a leader in our state transportation department and is personally responsible for a whole bunch of chaotic rules being imposed on contracters who have powerful lobbyists in state government. Rules that cost the tax payers extra money in claims by the big contractors who sue the state, or end up putting small contractors out of business. But that one guy who received a trophy for showing up his whole life has no idea how life outside his little bubble actually works. 

Not long ago I saw in a trade magazine a young engineer I was tasked with my first year as a consultant had won a prestigious award for thinking outside the box on a waste water treatment facility that was over burdened in a large city. When I was working with that kid he was working three jobs one summer to earn enough to pay his next semester at school and still have some beer drinking money. He drove a junky little Toyota everywhere and was a pleasure to be around. The type of person who at times just stared into space because he was day dreaming some theory of how to turn turd water into something useful. My project was a "metric job" where everything was based on the metric system. Concrete was measured in cubic meters or finished items in meter lengths. Areas were hectaires instead of acres and temperatures were celcious. The client had conversion factors that were one decimal place. A millimeter was say 25.4 per inch. But often times when computers got involved things did not properly convert. Tons was one such number. 

The project involved thousands of tons of gravel. At a rock quarry nowadays they just push a button and conversions take place. So a gravel ticket will have printed on it a standard ton number and a metric ton number. Back then the paperwork would state standard numbers and we had to convert them to metric. Using the clients 1 decimal place conversion factor would not match what the contractors computer said it should be. So at the end of a day when the standard number of gravel tons was say 16890.23 our conversion of 0.9 would give a figure of 15280.21 tons for example but…… the contractors computer would say 16408.14 metric tons. That meant a difference of 1127.93 tons. And at $15 a ton the contractor was being ripped off some $16918.95 for that one day. That was a half a years salary for some back then. One day the boss said "you, new guy (talking to me), figure out the conversion numbers their computer is using and get the smart kid to help you". About a week later the two of us had figured out instead of 0.9 it should be 0.97145 for that one and several like it. 

We gave the list of correct conversion numbers to the boss who kicked it up the ladder as it were and some other twirp got the credit once our numbers became the official okee-dokee governmental conversion factors. As it turns out that kid (who is now in his late thirtys) saved a city millions of dollars in fines by the EPA for implimenting a method of waste water treatment he had invented in college but nobody ever thought would work. I reached out to him via email to say hello and congratulate him on his acheivement. He said he concocted the idea one early moring at the Outter Banks of North Carolina while being held upside down by some drinking buddies with the tap from a keg turned on that summer he worked with me.


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## Monocrom (Sep 7, 2019)

Funny how things (and people) sometimes turn out. Thankfully, I don't have to train anyone at my jobs. Every once in awhile though, someone goes on vacation. And we can't find one of the usual stand-by candidates. So I end up with a guy usually less intelligent than the previous one I've trained. Who himself was less intelligent than the previous one to him, who.... I think you know where I'm going with this. Gotten to the point that I just make sure they know how the alarm system works, show them where the required paperwork is located (rather obvious where but they still apparently can't find it for some bizarre reason), what certain responsibilities are for the shift they work, and finally close with greatly emphasizing that if they want to be relieved early then they better make sure to return the courtesy. 

We do get a few characters. Ones like "Candy." Who is a recovering drug addict who apparently somehow avoided ever getting arrested because she received her Security license. Lives in a homeless shelter (nothing wrong with that). A bit older, but still rather attractive. Pathological liar. And she was attracted to me. I told her we could be friends. Spend more than 5 minutes conversing with her and it's clear there's something wrong with her mentally too. Also, homeless shelters have curfews. You can't just go in and out whenever you want to. Plus, they close and lock the doors at night usually 1 minute past curfew. Harsh, but it emphasizes that the rules are not to be ignored. So, if you have a job, you still have to get back before curfew or you get locked out. Meaning, you can forget about working the night shift. Guess who worked the night shift with me? 

The only good thing with working with her was that you knew she'd make up stories. Even on the job. My response was that I was in charge inside the building. She was in charge of the parking lots and outer perimeter. And I trusted her judgement in handling any sort of "weird" developments that occurred in her "jurisdiction." Thankfully it never got to the point that she radioed me that she was in trouble and needed immediate assistance. But there was one time she came awfully close to doing so. Like I said, pathological liar.

She returned a couple of years later as a fill-in for a Security Officer who called out sick. She was there for two or three days. But I only had to deal with her for one. She walks in and smiles at me. Says, _"I bet you don't remember me."_ In the most flirtatious voice possible. I told her I absolutely did!

Oh Candy, who could possibly ever forget you.


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## bykfixer (Sep 8, 2019)

So there really is a girl named Candy from that Iggy Poppe song……

I'll think of your story next time I hear that tune.


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## Monocrom (Sep 8, 2019)

bykfixer said:


> So there really is a girl named Candy from that Iggy Poppe song……
> 
> I'll think of your story next time I hear that tune.



That would be a heck of thing if it was her. But yes, there is *a* Candy. Not sure if she's *the* Candy.


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## peter yetman (Sep 8, 2019)

I so enjoy your stories, guys.
I have to save them up and then read them in a paying attenition sort of way.
This could never work on Facebook, but no-one would understand if I explained that this is my reason for doing CPF.
Thank you,
P


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## bykfixer (Sep 8, 2019)

Facebook'rs have an attention span of abou……
What were we talking about again?


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## Monocrom (Sep 10, 2019)

bykfixer said:


> Facebook'rs have an attention span of abou……
> What were we talking about again?



I think it was Raiding Area 51.


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## Poppy (Nov 26, 2019)

Soooo.... there are those times that you, we, should listen to the women in the group. 

Many years ago, I took my son, as a cub-scout to a West Point Football game. We didn't camp out, but simply took the hour jaunt up there, watched the game and came home. Yes, that was about 25 years ago, and despite my failing long time memory, except for those things that made an IMPACT on me, I do remember that day as a COLD, DAMP, Rainy, MISERABLE day, watching a game, that I had absolutely NO interest regarding who won. We were committed to going and so we went. Yeah... should a been committed. 

So here we are 25 years later and my Grandson's troop is going for a two night overnight at the West Point Academy. The predicted weather is windy, maybe rain, and 24 F lows. Yeah... I'm Not going! My daughter committed her son to go. He can only stay ONE night due to other commitments, and so she is staying as well, and they will leave late Saturday, after the game. Considering the fact that if she stayed in a tent, and she would have to break camp at 5:30 in the AM, she decided to stay in her car for the night. The Men planned on having the scouts get up at 5:30, cook and clean up and be prepared to leave the site at 7:00 AM to get on the bus, that will bring them, to the beginning of ceremonies. 

When she saw their plans, she laughed and said nothing. Well to me she said... "what the heck are these guys thinking? You see... this is why they should have a woman plan a trip like this! I'd make it a drive up and back, eat breakfast on the way up, pack a lunch or buy lunch at the field, and hit a burger King on the way back. OR if they are going to camp over Friday night it should be a bagel and cream-cheese breakfast, eat it on the bus and lets go!" Actually I agreed with her, but I wasn't going, so I also said nothing. Prior to leaving on the trip she checked to see if there were any food establishments who could and would deliver on-base. IIRC there were restrictions, but found that there was a Starbucks, Duncan doughnuts, and McDonalds about 1.5 miles away. OK... she's set!

Her plan... sleep in the car. Get up, go to the ranger station, wash her face, brush her teeth, and go to town for breakfast.
The men's plan... sleep in tents, get up an extra hour and a half early, make coffee, cook, wash dishes in below freezing temps, and get on the bus. 
I think there were only 8 kids going.

As she was leaving the Ranger's station, with washed face and brushed teeth, she met one of the men on his way to the station. He didn't have coffee because the water in the containers they brought was frozen, he was going there to get water. She offered to bring back a container of joe, but noooo... "we can make our own", by time she got back, after breakfast, and on her second cup of tea, the decision was made... OK everyone into the cars we are going to McDonalds for breakfast!

You know... there are times that we men, just have to clip the hairs on our chest's, and listen to the female side. You ladies know what I am talking about, right?
Oh boy I hope this came out politically correct.

I was anxious to know how my grandson made out in my -50 F Military sleep system. He didn't know. He slept in the car with his mom, and left it open because she had the heat on. LOL... tough life eh?


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## bykfixer (Nov 26, 2019)

Guess it didn't dawn on the fellows that while coolers keep heat out in summer, they can also keep cold out too. 

They're SCOUTS dawg gonnit. They're sposed to be prepared. lol.


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## bykfixer (Nov 29, 2019)

The kids are alright: 

Once upon a time I took on the role of "dad" to three rambunctious young men who had been fatherless for far too long. A daunting task while working out of town a lot and on a low budget. I had my wife stay home with the boys for a change of pace instead of her working a lot and the kids being raised by the tv before we met. Good kids who said please and thank you a lot. But had never been required to set boundries, discipline themselves or look out for one another. We had our hands full Mrs Fixer and I. 

Not long after assuming the role of principle around the house the idea of having the boys choose an us against them way of thinking was taking shape nicely. They eventually figured out how to watch out for each other while plotting against the evil grown ups. Ah, the memories……luckily they weren't half as crafty as most of the knuckleheads I hung out with as a teen and they often wondered why that step dad could predict their trickey and sleep with one eye open. Not that they didn't get over on us at times, yet they never knew what we knew but chose not to mention. My favorite part was the times I was laying down the law and something hilarious would pop out of my mouth. Poor young man knew if he laughed it would make their punishment worse. Sometimes the middle one would laugh anyway and his eyes would water as if he knew he'd really screwed up. Hey, it showed me he was taking in what I was saying. The oldest and youngest had tuned me out my word twelve. 

Well they're grown now. They've all had their moments and have now realized hitting yourself with a hammer results in pain. Life for all three is going exactly the way I had hoped it would someday, so those sleepless nights have now paid off. Yesterday the middle one asked for a flashlight, the youngest one whose ambitions were to be a hippy someday was wearing a polo shirt at dinner. The oldest is doing a great job at raising a son, who by the way just loves to brag to family about "gam-pa's" skateboards. 

My two boys were nerds growing up. Both now drive betters cars than me and have a fruitful life out of the nest. The wifes boys have now gotten a good foundation for their own nests as well. At Thanksgiving day yesterday I was my quiet self but this time is was to hold back the happy tears of seeing how well all five boys are doing in the new millenium. Each year Mrs. Fixer says "best Thanksgiving ever". Yesterday I finally understood her view point.


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## Poppy (Nov 30, 2019)

Hey there my friend,
It sounds like you had a GREAT Thanksgiving! I'm really happy for you!

We too, had a great day. Early to rise 4:00 AM... early to bed. 
One grandson danced in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. He had to be there at 5:30 AM. My daughter, his mom took him. His brother and I stayed home to watch on TV, and to cook. I like to think of myself as a decent cook, but my son is Terrific! I threw the bird in the oven, peeled the potatoes, and took out the other fixen's but my son got here in time to cook everything else. You know... sometimes, everything works out just right! 

Life is good!


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## bykfixer (Nov 30, 2019)

Mrs Fixer and I began the day at 5:30am. We made pies the night before. 

Her mom is an awesome cook but……





You get this when she's around. 

The wife and I carefully crafted food on the menu and after a few years practice we ended up with this……




Shortly after dinner was over. 

This year I handled the bird. For 12 years in a row the famdamily used the instructions on the package. "Says 3 hours" and each year the bird was way under done. My grandmother said "double it" when I was a kid. Wife said "package says 3 hours honey". I figured 5 and wasn't far off. 30 minutes was added to brown the outside. Dark meat fell off the bones and the breast was fairly juicy. 
Another grandma trick is to place the breast at the bottom and juices soak in from the top down.

The wife bought a bunch of these




So everybody left with their favorite food and we did not end up with a bunch of leftovers.


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## peter yetman (Dec 1, 2019)

Mrs Yeti is a professional chef, and that's exactly how her kitchen looks when she's working. When we had the restaurant she used to balance things on top of things on top of things, to make space, in a complete Dr. Seuss imitation.
Tell Mrs Fixer's Mum that it's a sign of creativity.
P


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## Poppy (Dec 1, 2019)

Clever lady that Mrs. Fixer, she is.


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## bykfixer (Dec 2, 2019)

She is that Poppy. 

One thing I noticed in the "messy kitchen pix" is leftover cranberry sauce in a bowl. Now my entire 55 years as far back as I can remember was that nobody EVER touched the cranberry jelly, yet each year it was part of the menu. (the messy pic I showed was my sisters kitchen this year.)
Perhaps her 80 something year old pa-n-law ate a slice or two? 

Now at my home not one person has ever said "what, no cranberry jelly?" Actually the stuff is pretty darn good if you like that sort of flavor. 

I wonder where that tradition comes from……


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## Poppy (Dec 3, 2019)

> *Cranberries are grown through the northern part of the United States. The major production areas are New Jersey, Massachusetts, Oregon, Washington, Wisconsin and the Canadian provinces of British Columbia and Quebec.*



I guess the tradition came from New Jersey  or maybe Massachusetts, nah.

In our house, if they make it to the refrigerator, they are gone the next day. We typically buy 4 cans. One for one of my grandsons, one or two for the rest of us, and one or two in reserve. One can NOT fall short on being prepared with cranberries!


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## bykfixer (Jan 31, 2020)

It's a small world after all: 

Quite a few years back I was furloughed by my company at the time because there was no work available in my area in my line of work. Some of that was my doing though. A lot of inner office politics were taking place and I was far from politically correct, so when it came to picking people for assignments I was one left on the sidelines. Eh, I needed the vacation anyway. It ended up the hottest summer on record in my state that summer and I had lowered my cost of living enough to be ok as long as I stuck to a strict budget. It was a chance to gain perspective. Before that I had been on a frustrating assignment. One where I wondered is the whole world around me nuts, or is it me this time? 

During that assignment I met a lad right out of college who thought he had the world in the palm of his hand, but really had no clue. I told him that when he decided to interfere in my daily assignments. He ended up kinda being my boss and whenever he gave me stupid assignments I told him they were and why. He soon understood my ideas at times made sense. In time we became friends. Now others couldn't stand the guy and he got black balled in my field. I saw talent in the guy and told him so. One day while on furlough he asked me to help him install a sprinkler line in somebodys yard. I did. He asked me to help him with other projects later. Being I had no schedule I enjoyed the work a couple of days a week. It was stuff I was good at so his customers were impressed that this young kid was doing yard work for them and after installing pipes, patios etc you could not tell anybody had ever worked there. I showed him the virtue of "if you do your job right nobody will know you were there". In the meantime he was providing food for my table or extra cash to spend at the record store to make my furlough less boring. It was a win win.

So later that summer life caused me to move to another state and in time we lost touch. I had always considered him a friend. It started out rocky, but our brutal honesty with each other had led to a bond of trust most do not understand. See a real friend will be honest with you even if it is ugly. Matter of fact only a true friend will do that. 

Well, recently at my job where I keep records I kept hearing about a contractor who was struggling with installation of pipes with very little slope. The government kept complaining about water ponding in pipes that should stay dry when it aint raining. The guy I work for was absent a couple of times so I watched the contractor at times. They were doing good work in my view. The government changed some requirements with this pipe called under drain. Most involved did not understand the new requirements. I did. All they did was go back to requiring stuff they used to 25 years ago that had not been required lately. 

I spoke with government folks about it and got their opinions, then indicated on our project we will do it that way. One after noon a gray haired fellow walked up to introduce himself. It turned out to be my friend from long ago. That made my day to see him branch out into sure enough heavy highway pipe work. He's new at it so I spoke about the new rules and explained some of why his pipe was being rejected. Yesterday another inspection of his pipes that were rejected took place and they passed this time. See, I made sure the folks checking the pipes followed the rules too. And when they did the pipes seen as faulty were no longer seen as faulty. 

Nothing changed except, the nearly flat slope pipe was filled with water and imediately checked with a camera. Of course there would be lots of water in them as pipe laid that flat takes a while to drain. Let it set a few hours and the water drains out every where but in sags. Duh. His pipe had zero sags. 
Now today he is scratching his head wondering who made the people filling the pipe let it drain for 4 hours. I won't tell it was me. Nope it was my way of returning the favors he did for me so long ago. Part of my role in my job is to resolve problems. Yet often it leads to a reputation of being too cooperative in a dog eat dog indusry where most try to be an Alpha. All I care about is at the end of the day a quality product was deemed acceptable. So perhaps someday when that young lad, now gray haired bearded guy is all rich and famous the recent situation will have been his pivot point between making it or going under. 

His name is Dan and as I can remember some of our adventures perhaps I'll write down a couple here. He was the person who allowed me to see that at one point it was actually the world around me that was crazy.


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## Stu (Jan 31, 2020)

Cool story bykfixer. [emoji106]


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## bykfixer (Feb 8, 2020)

Greensboro NC. 

After being furloughed for a while the summer I helped Dan install sprinkler systems and other stuff I ended up working in Greensboro NC on a stretch of I-40 at the west end of town. Another project butted up to the one I was on at the eastern end of town. It was a period of life that really changed me into who I am today. See, I'd lived in a bubble my whole life in a place not unlike a gated community. A small town where everybody seemed to know everybody or had at least heard of them. After a while in Greensboro I came to realize I could probably walk down a main drag naked, puffing on a J and nobody would even notice. I stayed there for about a year and it was kinda like the period where the caterpillar turns into a butterfly. A metamorphisis so to speak. 

A few years prior I had asked Jesus to help me get through a rough time. Well, He did His part, yet I had not done mine. I partied with young people as my mid life crisis was in full swing. I worked a lot and the more money I made the more I spent. Some really cool stories resulted from that but it led to me being broke, unemployed and trying to figure out how I ended up that way. Yeah, that time it wasn't the world that was screwed up it was me. So I packed up some stuff and headed to Greensboro NC because my company had entered into a contract to supply a seasoned inspector to that project and the nine folks they sent before me had been duds. I needed income. So it was a time to shake off the cobwebs and get serious about my job about 375 miles from the bubble. 

Day 1 I arrived and met folks. A few hours later I enquired about hotels. Folks pointed to a nearby Motel 6. Now I had brought two boxes of food to live off for a couple of weeks. Canned foods, and other non perishable items. Back then I drank one cup of coffee each morning through a 1 cup maker long before the Kurieg thing. The Motel 6 charged by the day and being from the bubble I did not know what that meant. It was not long before I figured out that means "brothel". The first night was ok. Next morning I realized I had forgotten sugar for my coffee. I had $13 to last until payday so I pulled into a drive through at a McBurger joint to get a small coffee and 9 packs of sugar to last at least the week. 

I'm sitting in a long line of cars that was moving kinda quick. Being new in town I was curious about local radio stations and started twisting the tuner dial to sample the local stations. Twist a bit, move forward a bit in the drive through. A gap had opened up between my truck and the car in front of me. Seems innocent enough when suddenly a guy comes running out of the place wearing a bandanna over his face pointing a gun towards the restaraunt. Another guy wearing a McBurger uniform comes busting out chasing the guy as they began to fire at each other to my left. Holy Crap!! The guy with the bandanna crashes into the front fender of my truck and stumbles. Holy Crap!! He gets up quickly and keeps running as the employee empties his revolver while in pursuit. They both disappeared to my right so I proceed to the teller, place my order and get my coffee with 10 packs of sugar like nothing happened. 

So I arrive at work and tell the folks there what happened. The head guy looks up from reading the morning paper and says in a major Carolina drawl "that place gets robbed a lot" and looks back down at his newspaper. Everybody else just kinda shrugged like that sorta thing happens every day. 

A few days go by and I was noticing why that Motel 6 charges by the day thanks to paper thin walls. I had a small boom box with a cd player and a few cd's. One afternoon I was cooking some raviolli on the stove in my room when an especially noisy couple were doing what folks do in a brothel. So I turned up my Charlie Brown Christmas cd that was playing. Somebody bangs on the door hollering "turn down the music". My mind is pondering who the heck doesn't like Charlie Brown Christmas music. I turned it down. Another couple began filling my room with love noises from another direction so I turned the music back up. Again "bang bang bang" on the door. "I'm not going to tell you again". I hollered back "screw you man I can't hear myself thinking over the sounds from other rooms". Silence. A few minutes later "bang bang bang, this is the Greensboro police"……

I was booted out of a brothel for listening to Charlie Brown Christmas music. I thought "toto, we aint in Kansas no more". lol.


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## bykfixer (Feb 8, 2020)

Prior to actually living in Greensboro my boss had taken me there one day to meet the folks I'd be working for. We stopped at a pizza hut and on the way out I snagged an apartment guide. My youngest son and I drove their one day to look at apartment complexes. See, the place has an airport in the middle so I did not want to stay near that. I also wanted to know I lived in a place where they could stay safely while I was at work. We looked over every one in that magazine and stuck out. The last one we were going to look at was a bust too. My son noticed through some trees their was a complex next to it. We did a lap around the place and a still small voice said "you're home". I went into the office and enquired about pricing and found out it was affordable but no vacanies for a couple of months. Hence why I started out at that Motel 6, my truck the night I was booted out and then an Extended Stay until an apartment opened up. 

The place was called Hunters Ridge and was located at the edge of a bluff where Nathaniel Green had cornered Cornwallis' army and nearly won the Revolutionary War there. Trouble was the Virginia Army had allowed Cornwallis to get past him, which is why to this day some folks from long lines of Greensboro residency hate Virginians to this day. A couple closed minded coworkers hated me for that reason. But the apartment complex was located at the highest point in Greensboro and as luck would have it my apartment was on the top floor over looking a wooded park where that battle had taken place. The buildings were surrounded by trees within a few feet away so outside my window some 60 feet in the air were the living rooms of birds and squirrels. Priceless. 

Oh, when I was enquiring about apartments I had asked the nice lady in the office about sound proofing. She said each unit was surrounded by concrete. She was not kidding. Now there was sheet rock so you'd never know. I used to lay on the floor watching the animals in the day when not working and tv after dark until I had some portable furniture. The floor quivered so I figured it was just my imagination. One morning when leaving for work my next door neighbor applogized for the loud music. I had not heard it at all. Turns out the youngsters below me had parties a few times a week, so that was why I'd feel the floor quivering. 

Now each weekend I'd drive back home and pick up my sons, drive them back to Greensboro and partake in things like gorging ourselves at all you can KFC's or just checking out the sites. Then drive them back home. At first I'd meet the ex at the state line to pick them up or drop them off until the day she showed up to pick them up sloppy drunk. I just made the entire trek after that. 

One night there was an ice storm. A total of 6" blanketed the city. It was like the whole city was under a layer of glass. I started a crock pot of chicken soup and went to bed figuring it would cook until the power went out. Next day I still had power and a crock pot of mush. It turns out my little slice of heaven was the only place with electricity for 150 miles in each direction. What had started out as what seemed like it was going to be a bad situation at that Motel 6 was turning into a really peaceful time of good fortune.


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## bykfixer (Feb 17, 2020)

A sobering day at work. 

This one is a once upon a time from a fellow I met today. A young fellow walked up to me and introduces himself to me. His role is to check materials like dirt, gravel and concrete for correct methods of installation and the quality of said items. I was filling in the for the head inspector who usually does what I was doing today so when he knew my name I was pleasantly surprised. I looked at his name tag and saw vowels and consenants in places I'm not used to seeing and when he spoke his name a broken accent was noticed. My first question was "so how long have you been doing this?" expecting this youngster to say the usual one to two years. He said "almost one year" in a very broken accent. What happened next was a great surprise that made my year. 

"So what did you do before that?" I asked. Expecting to hear what high school he had just graduated from I heard "worked for your army corps of engineers designing structures for ten years"…… I was not expecting that. "You what?" lol. He began to tell the story of how he had been designing concrete beams for bridges and other concrete structures being built and installed in his home country of Afghanistan working for US contractors. That he had skee-daddled to America with his wife and kids due to impending death at some point. He and some of his coworkers had been marked for death by the group known as the Taliban so when he had the chance to leave he did. 

He had seen his "willage" he called it destroyed when Russia invaded in the 80's and was part of a 2 million people migration to Pakistan and lived there for two years in a giant camp. He spoke of returning home and seeing the devastation left behind by that event and how the senior leaders of his family had stayed behind to fight. He told how all kinds of weaponry had been left behind and how ordinary people had turned into warriors lusting for power in his home place, which is the capital of Afghanistan. How that Bin Laden character was hated by his people at least as much as by Americans but through political donations was able to move freely throughout the country until America invaded. 

He spoke of how his president was well liked and one day was invited to attend a conference in Pakistan. There the leaders of the Taliban off'd him he said. He mentioned what it was like to wonder if today was the day "they" found him, which meant the day he was killed……for 8 years, because he worked for America. Every commute to and every one home could have been his last he said. He said arriving at work each day was a cause for celebration and same with arriving home. Every day. Can you imagine? I can't. It was sobering to see how thrilled he is to be away from that life. He smiled as he recounted a typical day in the life of an Afghanny engineer. His English was phenomenol too. At one point I remarked how his vocabulary is broader than many people who have lived here their entire life. He said thinking back now it seems pretty scarey but back then "you hear about explosion from the wife, you ask how many killed, she says only ten, you think eh, no big deal" as he chuckled. 

I asked if he felt like he could ever go home and said he hopes to. He mentioned how once the US started destroying Taliban strong holds in Pakistan (in 2017) they were no longer able to fight the US and Afghan forces then escape back to friendly territory and how it now looks like there may be peace so hopefully he can go back and help rebuild again. He said the Afghan forces seem to be strong enough to hold on to the peace now. When I asked if he likes America he said "of course, but you guys tax everything. Too many taxes"……

We shook hands and parted ways and I felt like a different person after being honored to be in that young mans presence.


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## bykfixer (Feb 22, 2020)

Holy heart attack!! Growing up means growing old. 

This one begins on a typical afternoon in late June 1989. My mom was feeling listless for a few years and doctors were baffled. Now she was a pretty healthy and happy person in general and did not let fatigue change her much. At that point she had a few body parts missing like gallbladder and reproductive organs much like many women in their late 50's in the 1980's. She was blessed with coal black hair that would gray for a while, then recolorize for a while. Her mom and her mom had that trait. So does my sister now 61. At that point my mom was in a gray phase and had recently reached her 60th year. The women in our family typically made it to their 90's. The men, their 60's. Same on my dad's side. They were farmers and factory workers who chain smoked while the women were tobacco free home makers. My mom had a career but we still figured she'd live a long life. 
She liked to buy things with her income like antiques. So my dad figuring he'd not make it past 65 squirreled away much of his paycheck to ensure my mom was able to still buy stuff after he was gone. Then a doctor discovered she had a blocked artery in her heart. At that point a miracle procedure called angioplasty was fixing up folks like my mom all across America. They called it a "routine procedure" and even spoke of doing it outpatient someday. I was 25 at the time and raising a son, attending night school college with baby #2 in the oven. Life was going well and now it seemed my mom was going to get back to her old self soon. 

On June 29th she went in for her routine surgery. All seemed normal and I called her hospital room to check on her after supper. A nurse answered and said she would call me back. Figuring she was in the lady's room or something I just waited for her to call back. She was scheduled to come home the next day and had asked that we not make the trip to where she was because it was a ways from home. After a few minutes the phone rang and it was my dad. He said something has gone wrong and requested I come there and bring my brothers. My twin had the best car back then and said he'd drive. Back then a new set of tires costed more than my jalopys but they got me to and from work most of the time. Man it was a long long 10 minutes or so before he arrived. My other brother lived down the street from me so we picked him up too. Back then we were all married to our first wives and everything was peachy in paradise other than the normal young family struggles. On the way to the hospital it was near silence. The hour long drive seemed like it took 12 minutes as my twin brother broke every traffic law in his brand new Chevy Cavelier. We arrived at the hospital and find my dad in a waiting room. Now my dad was Steve MacQueen cool most of the time so finding him in that waiting room visibly rattled was startling. He appologized for not calling my brothers saying he could not remember their phone numbers. At that point nobody knew what was happening with my mom, just that she was complaining of being dizzy and wheeled off to surgery. 

At around midnight my sister had arrived from a 3 hour journey. She had moved to the coast and taken a job as a school teachers assistant. By the time she arrived we were informed my mom was in a coma and not expected to live. A normal Thursday had now become a life changing Friday. My mom was the glue that kept us all sane so to hear she may not make it was a tremendous shock to all of us. When I was a kid she used to take me to church with her at times. She never made us go to church regularly but sometimes (as she would say) she just needed her batteries charged and a Sunday evening service would put that smile back on her face. So I knew that if she was not going to come home again it meant she was going to a place where her batteries would never need charging again. (Man tears building as I typed that). So I found a comfy place on the corner of a vinyl, 1970's burnt sienna colored sofa in the waiting room and closed my eyes. There was a peaceful feeling amongst the chaotic emotions everyone in the room was experiencing. My sibblings were talking smack about me. Knowing I was the only one sensing that peace I just kept my eyes closed and let them vent. We stayed until about noon the next day and went back to our homes. My sister stayed at the hospital with my grandmother who arrived the next morning. 

We did not go back that evening as I recall since the doctors said she could not receive visitors. Early Saturday morning I was at my dads house helping him get ready to go back to wait in that waiting room. My uncle called and said there was good news. That she had begun to awaken from the coma according to the nursing staff. My pop and I both smiled in relief. My pop was a wreck but he was visibly pretty happy as he hung up the phone. As he told me what my uncle had just said the phone rang again. This time it was the doctor. My dad answered and in seconds I could see the smile disappear along with the color in his face as he listened to who ever was on the phone. Tears rose in his eyes as he set the table phone back onto the receiver. (Tears running down my face now, eyes burning thinking back. Holy cow.) He says "she's not coming home" and puts his arms around me and begins to bawl. Now my pop was tough. So within a few seconds he realized he was losing it and pulls away in order to gather up his emotions and put them in check. I was probably more stunned that my dad had hugged me like that than the bad news he shared was causing. Yet honored to have been there at that moment. It was a very special event. Very. He gathered up his things to leave and I drove him to the hospital in my mom's car. 

When we got there the doctor explained that her brain stem was not showing any activity but a machine was keeping her alive. That if she ever woke up she'd be what he called "a vegetable". He asked if my pop wanted to keep her plugged in. Again my pop could not remember phone numbers so I called my brothers. My sister was still there. It was Saturday July 1st. My mom had put in retirement papers at her job effective July 1. She had plans to take a long vacation with my dad who had scheduled a 2 month abscence from his job. He had built her a front porch on the house to enjoy sunsets in a rocking chair and installed central air in the house. They had bought a new refrigerator replacing one from the 1960's and put in wall to wall carpet. He had sold all of his camping gear, his boat and fishing tackle to pay for a cross country adventure where they were going to stay in motels instead of in a camper. They had bought a king sized bed so both could sleep in the same bed without keeping each other up with snoring, and life for them was about to be everything they had busted their butts and saved for. Yet it was not to be it seemed. 

Once all four of his kids were at the hospital he asked us if he should keep mom plugged in. At first we were reluctant to say yes figuring that was his decision. He made it clear he wanted us to decide. At 7:00 pm we voted to unplug her. At 7:15 she was gone. We all had the chance to be in the room when they turned the machine off. I chose not to. Only my sister and uncle did. I had that same sense of peace that was breifly changed from the phone call my uncle had made that morning. I did go in the room alone before the machine was turned off and appologized to my mom for all the grief I had caused her in the past. There was plenty of it too, but my brain sensed that she was already gone and all I was standing next to was a body. In my mind her soul had left that Thursday night or early Friday morning. My siblings were pretty pissed off at me again because I was not visibly sad. "How can you be happy right now?" (leaving out the colorful adjectives here.) My grandmother was also not visibly sad but they figured it was just her being her usual goofy self. My mom played her house numbers daily in a draw three lottery for over a year without it being the daily number. On July 1 1989 that was the number that popped up. 

My mom was a prominent official in our town. Well respected in the community. So my city government shut down the day of her funeral. So many people were going to attend the service that there'd be nobody there to 'man the fort' as it were. It was 3 miles from the funeral home to the burial site. Someone said the funeral procession stretched from point a to point b. I do remember looking up at the crowd and thinking "my gosh it looks like a Rolling Stones concert is being held at this cemetery". My pop had held a service the night before and there were 16 books with the names of visitors. My mom probably had no idea the impact she had in our community. She was very humble and was kind to everybody. She was one of those rare people that come along and leave a positive foot print everywhere she walked. Yet she never got jaded at all. For years after she was gone folks would say how "this place just isn't the same without your mom" as I had become a somewhat prominent official in the community too. I left there in 1998. Just last year when I was paying my car tax a lady behind the counter asked if I was her son. Again I heard "she is still missed around here". 

I hung out with my pop for several weeks after work. My oldest brother took over that role for a few years. Then my twin did for a few years. My sister visited often. Yet after a while divorce set in and the siblings began to grow apart. No strife or anger. Just differing paths in life. Yet we always gathered at my dads at thanksgiving and Christmas. On fathers day and his birthday we'd always hang out too. My dad was never the same. He never dated another woman. He said "I wouldn't take a million dollars for your mom but I wouldn't pay a nickel for another wife". My pop could tell a story in 25 words. He had been in a civil war reenactment club in his younger days. He said the closest he had ever come to divorce was when he used the rent money to buy a Rebel musket for a skit shortly after marrying my mom. So a few years after she had passed he reunited with his buddies from back then. And he got a dog. He named his rust colored Dobie "Kate" but would not tell us where the name came from. One day in his twighlight years he told me Kate was a redheaded gal he fell in love with before marrying my mom. His reenactment buddies knew who Kate was and at times would ask me "you know where that name came from, right?" "Uh, no" I'd say. They'd just chuckle and say "your dad should be the one to tell you".

Right now I'm looking at a photo of my smiling mom from high school in about 1948 and my 4 year old dad with a frump on his face standing next to his brother sitting in a wagon. He said frump was because "they" wouldn't let him sit in the wagon. He is wearing his "Dizzy Dean" baseball cap he said he was very proud to have. Next to them is my uncle's baby picture who died at 11 after thwacking his skull on pavement while riding a wheelie on a bicycle. My parents once told me I was named after him and it was fitting because I was also a daredevil who crashed a lot. 

In my dads twighlight years I became his care taker since I was single and had no life to speak of outside of work. It was an honor as much as a chore. When he became the older man he was also a lot more relaxed. So I got to see a side of him only my mom or his friends who had since passed on got to see. I got to hear great history of his life and really got to understand what a gentleman he was. I got to hear where the name Kate came from too. When I got remarried years after a divorce my wife quit her job and became his caretaker. To my dad she was a cross between my mom and that redheaded gal Kate. Someone who was there when the chips were down. My wife was his new buddy and he called her "DeeDee" sometimes. That was my mom's nickname. Her and I learned a lot about health issues as we learned how to help him. Often times we could see problems developing before they grew too bad. Reading, talking to his doctors and just getting lucky sometimes we worked as a team with my oldest son who had gone to live at my dads. 

So this was all prompted after visiting my twin in the ICU yesterday after he had a massive heart attack the previous evening. He is going to live a long fruitful life if he listens to his doctor. I saw numbers on the machines he was hooked to that I learned during the times helping my dad are actually pretty scarey. His wife said he has no clue how bad it is but doesn't want to scare him. I knew from helping my dad that is actually a good idea. If my brother does not take his doctors advice we'll probably be at his funeral before fall this year. Yet he is the one of the four that always led a healthy life style. My oldest brother had a stroke in November last year and is now blind in one eye. Now he is like Keith Richards in that he shoulda been gone 25 years ago. My sister was told she had been diagnosed with terminal liver disease from being over weight for decades. Ugh. Now my twin is showing signs of being visited by the Grim Reaper. My sister said her deal is in remission so that's great news. My oldest brother is returning to as normal as a person who had a massive stroke could ever hope for too. It turned out that during the "routine surgery" a piece of plaque in my moms artery broke free and blocked blood flow to her brain stem. They know better these days and took precautions when performing 2 on my twin brother Thursday night. He was telling me how his doctor had explained how things have progressed since the late 1980's apparently while my brother was having it done since they don't even knock you out anymore. Yet the words "outpatient procedure" are no longer mentioned. 

My dad enventually succumbed to heart failure some ten years after being told he had 90 days or less. He was real sick one day and I took him to see his heart doctor. The man asked if he had stopped smoking and my dad said he hadn't. The man looked at me and said "get him the hell outta here and don't bring him back". So I wheeled him out in his wheelchair. He gets home and calls my sister and tells her "doc Says I'm all healed and don't need to come back". lol. A few days later my sister was all hollering at me to tell him the truth. That he is going to die soon. "No freaking way" I said. If he thinks he's dieing he'll make it happen I figured. That's why I agree with my brothers wife about not telling him how close he came and how close he could still be if he doesn't do right. Stress is his achiles heal. 
So was my mothers. Taking things too personal will kill [email protected]$$ quicker than smoking, drinking and burning the candle at both ends. Yet it's all too easy to do. Especially these days with instant communications, deadlines and commitments getting harder to fulfill or just not taking the time to pause and reflect sometimes. 

It's crazy to think how quickly the decades have gone past. My pop will be gone 9 years in a few days. Yet it still seems like only a couple of years ago we were celebrating my mom achieving a goal of fitting 1000 lights on her 6' tall Christmas tree. So the philosphy of walking slow and drinking plenty of water as radio host Jack Gravely used to say seems even more like a good idea on a chilly Saturday morning in February 2020 than usual to this story teller. 
Life is short. Each day is a gift. Try not to go to bed angry. Live each day as if it was your first (not last). Be kind to your neighbors. Be glad with each day for it may be your last. 
Cliche's that we hear a lot but really don't consider often enough. We should. 
RIP Woods Walker.


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## bykfixer (Feb 27, 2020)

Today was 9 years ago since my pop was called home to go fishing with my mom at the big lake in the sky. I remember thinking after a few days there he'd probably go target shooting at the big range in the sky because mom had out fished him yet again. See back in the 1970's my pop was set up to join the BASS Pro circuit yet his state of the art (back then) graphite rods and exo-lures the size of a small chicken could not catch as many fish as my mom with her Zebco 202 and a beetle spin. 

When my mom died he stayed to himself for a couple of years and developed some health issues. Then one day he said "I'm done grieving" and that was that. He started living again and began life from a point he left off the day he married my mom including catching up with buddies from that point in time. Like a lot of people, his two favorite buddies were still living just like they did way back when. Hunting, fishing, relaxing and setting around telling stories of days gone by. My dad went to work one day and at quitting time punched his time card and announed that day had been his last. He had put it off for two years after filing paper work, but the lady in HR told somebody who told somebdy. And my pop wanted to just leave with no hooplah. So he waited then did it his way. 

The health thing was no biggy to him as he was a simple man who did not understand all latin words like diabetes, ketone levels and neuropothry. He figured stewing over that stuff causes stress and stress will kill ya. He said "stress killed your mom at 60, and I plan to celebrate my 88th birthday." Doctors gave him a 50/50 chance to make it two more years. So he decided he was going to live life while he still could. He bought a second hand pickup truck and with his buddies built a 100 yard shooting range next to the "hunt shack" he and his buddies hung out in each day. That lasted a few years until one of the two fellows died in his living room one day. It turns out his 4th battle with cancer was the final battle. Again my dad went into mourning for a while. 

By then he was ready for a heart bypass surgery. That was when my pop became an old man. Now he had lived 10 years longer than predicted after celebrating #72. But his buddy was gone, his heart was broken in one sense but fixed in another sense. Yet the spring in his step never returned. I was furloughed for a bit and spent a month at my dads lending a hand while he healed. My older brother had had a hernia fixed and was laying around a lot. Now my pop had just had his ribs separated but on day 3 at home said "call your brother and tell him quit being a <insert bad word here>" so I did. Basically my brother was drinking a lot back then and was using the surgery as an excuse to stay intoxicated and my pop knew that. When asked how painful a heart surgery is he replied "didn't hurt one bit. Uh, that was not the case but I never reminded him how miserable he was at first. I was glad he forgot. 

So a time later my dad had a surgery to invert a vein in his leg that was clogged with plaque. That one really took a lot of wind out of his sales. I was living 350 miles away but a few months later moved in with him. He had a cleaning lady who cooked his meals, which is probably why he did not starve. See, my twin helped out while I was living away, but my dad would not accept his help. My twin visited before and after work every day only to see my pop refuse to eat or bath. He was commiting suicide one cigarette at a time as he passed the time by chain smoking and eating Snickers bars even though he was diabetic. The cleaning lady forced him to eat right and bath regularly. She gave him no choice. Do right or face the wrath of a snarling Jamaican lady. She also forbid him from smoking around her. One day I moved back to my dads house and turned 40 in my old bedroom. Ugh! It was tough at first due to being a grown man back living in his dads attic. I felt like a failure for a while. But one day the A/C broke and when I fixed it with a 49 cent part I began to feel like fate had done me a favor. 

My pop had somebody to talk to and I could keep up his required maintenance after living in apartments a while where there aint much to do regarding manly do it yourself stuff. It was cool after a while. Then my 19 year old son moved in too. He was floundering around before that and soon had a full time job along with attending college full time. Now like my dad, my son does not talk much. Ask what time it is and you get the time. Me? Ask me what time it is and I'll explain how to build a clock. So one day my pop said "he don't talk much" about my son. I said "you don't either". He said "what do you mean by that?" I told him the story of one afternoon they were watching a baseball game. They both sat silently during the nantional anthem. After that my son said "this may be a pitchers dual". My pop said "low scoring probably". Silence until the third inning. My pop said "pitchers dual". My son said "kinda boring". Silence until the 7th inning stretch when my son said "that's a nice ball park". My dad said "I've never been to a pro game". At the end of the game at about 9:00 pm my dad said "see ya in the morning". I was sitting in the next room reading a magazine. 

But when my pop had issues like bumping into furniture from being wobbly or needed help putting on shoes, one of us was there 24 hours a day, 7 days a week until I worked on a project that was 18 hour days 6 days a week. There were gaps that the cleaning lady could help with. I began dating Mrs Fixer and stayed at her place during the week. Her place was 5 minutes from my 18 hour a day project. My dads house was an hour away. We got married after about a year of that and moved a block away from my dad. She became the cleaning lady. So between her, my son and I my dad had round the clock coverage. But becoming more frail with time he spent a lot of time in hospitals or rehab building up strength to return home after a bout of pnuemonia, or a taking a spill. 

So when he developed a head cold that turned into pnuemonia we figured "eh, it's just episode #22, he'll be home soon". But one Saturday he asked my brothers and sister to visit him in the rehab facility he was in. They did. I visited after they had left. He asked for a peach milk shake. "huh?" "he hates peaches", but we found him one at a nearby Hardees. Then he wanted a chocolate shake. "Now that's more like it" I thought. He drank his shake and fell asleep. It was bedtime anyway so Mrs Fixer and I left for the evening. He had asked me if I was happy. "Of course" I said "how about you?" He replied he had seen all of his children on the same day so yeah he was happy. 

Next morning my wife went to see him and make sure he ate his breakfast. I was planning on going after lunch. She came home and we went to the store to pick up supper for that evening. While at the store she got a call saying my dad was being rushed to an ER and it aint good. She dropped me off at home to grab my truck while she went to pick up her son at a friends and would come to the ER. When I arrived at the ER they told me my pop was pretty much dead even though his body didn't know it. "No way" I thought. While he was laying on a bed in the ER motionless, still breathing they told me it was just a matter of time. He stopped breathing. I touched his leg and said "uh, dad if you want to celebrste #88 you need to wake up". He started breathing again. By then my brothers had arrived. We left the room and talked nearby. I figured he wanted to go in peace and a room full of wailing people would not set well with him. So I'd step back in and talk a bit more about how everybody was there. I did not have the courage to be there at the end with my mom and dammit I wasn't going to make that mistake again. 

Mrs Fixer was a wreck. She had never lost a parent and had begun to think of my dad as her dad. She had really bonded with him in a short time and was devistated he was gone too soon. I reminded her doctors have given him 2 years about 20 years ago and gave him 30 days or less twice……3 years ago. She decided it was best that he had gone home to be with my mom. He had called her my moms name a few times so she figured he would be happier with the real DeeDee (my moms nickname). After a few hours we all left and went home. I was alone in my truck driving down a country road. I cracked the driver side window and just meditated on the way home. I felt the world was short a good man now but was honored to have known him in his twighlight years when he was a much more patient person so his absolute wisdom was much easier to comprehend. 

A few days later there was a funeral. Unlike my moms, his was only a handful of people. He had outlived nearly everybody he once knew and being a person who chose to live in solitude mostly the only people there were his favorite people. I really enjoyed the preachers closing words. "So as we close we do not say goodbye, but instead knowing we'll be together again we say see you later.
RIP pop.


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## bykfixer (Mar 7, 2020)

Rodney: 
So a couple of decades ago I was a person who wore many hats at work. I was a bonifide government official in a small town who had many roles since a typical small town has a small staff. Part of that role was to watch over contruction of new subdivisions. At that point in time the economy in America was in full throttle mode. So the housing industry was booming. Local land developers would hire somebody to build infrastructures to supply utilities to the houses being built that sold nearly as fast as they could build them. It was crazy times and I stayed pretty busy. But this one contractor was noticeably better at putting in water and sewer systems than anybody else around. They were a small-ish company owned by a man who had worked for a failing company in the 1970's and bought it when the economy crashed in the late 70's. He kept many of the employees. Some were his kin, others were neighbors of his kin. In the early 1980's the economy turned around and those guys were suddenly in demand. The new owner had a rock solid reputation and developers wanted his company to install pipes for them. Partly because they were good at it, but also fast. Those guys could get done in a day what it took others a week to do. Their boss treated them well and payed them well. So there was a loyalty not like with other companies. Partly because many were family or friends, but partly to a bonus system by the owner. There were little competions. Not who could do it faster, but who did it with the least errors. 

Before a new system gets activated it gets tested. Take a water main for example. You pressurize the line well beyond its normal requirements in order to look for leaks. Leaks mean you have to dig up joints or bends to find where you did it wrong. Well that company worked hard and played harder. They were a bunch of country boys who often celebrated life. At that time paintball war was a big thing in the country. The company owner held big parties for his employees on a vast spread of land and paintball was one of their favorite recreations. But if you were a pipe layer for example and had a leak last week, the "tag your it" approach to paintball meant going home from a paintball war pretty sore with welps. A backhoe operator who nicked a pipe, or a foreman who lost a quantity contest paid a price too. But they had fun. Yet nobody wanted the stigma of being it because they were all so loyal to each other and the owner. 

My job was not only to make sure they built the pipe systems correctly, but make sure when they filled the trenches with dirt they took the time to properly compress the dirt so no settled ditches occured in the roadway these pipes were under. They had equipment that got it done fast, but also done well. When I took over the job there were lots of subdivisions with settled trenches all over the place. I had come from maintenance and had personally shoveled asphalt over top of these settled ditches. My goal was to make sure others did not have to. At one point this one subdivision required pipes to be buried really deep. Well, really deep compared to what I was used to then. One day a foreman I was talking to said next week they were going to start putting in a sewer line. I asked if he was going to be the one doing it. He chuckled and said "oh no, Rodneys doing that one". I had never met this Rodney character. But that crew spoke of Rodney like he was Steve McQueen, Julius Ceaser and Al Capone all rolled into one. 

When installing a sewer line the waste runs down hill. So when building a sewer they start at the lowest point and work uphill. The bottom of the sewer ended at a giant manhole that has pumps that push the waste to another giant manhole a few miles away, then eventually to a really big manhole where the waste is treated and sterilzed. So that Monday I see the biggest digging machines I ever saw driving to that project. Many giant Tonka toys are carried to a site on a trailer and dropped off. But these Tonka toys arrived in pieces. The normal sized equipment is used to assemble these monsters like you see on tv. The digging bucket for example was nearly big enough to put a house in. It took a couple of days to assemble the diggers and loaders. Then one day this Rodney character shows up. Now I'm thinking this fellow with a larger than life reputation would be some 6'4" dude with arms as big as my head. But I saw was this thin quiet fellow who stood about 5 and a half feet tall and had a pirate style ear ring. By the end of the day his crew had dug a 50 foot deep hole, set a gigantic concrete manhole in it, refilled the hole and spread out all of the extra dirt into a small dirt bike style set of jumps his crew was going to play on that weekend. "Holy crap, this guy is both Kool and the Gang" I thought. Every project I was at that Rodney ran things was another amazing site to behold. Watching his crew build stuff was a thrill to see. Done fast and done right. On a side note, every subdivision that company installed water and sewer at in my city to this day has zero settled trenches. 

Life took me from that job to other greener pastures. So I lost track of the folks that worked for that company. Even though I was the enforcer to those people they still treated me like family. My job was small potatoes compared to what it led to later. Once there was a time when a million dollar waterline was a huge deal. Later I oversaw things in the hundreds of millions. Even billions. Bridges, canals, interstate highways etc. Yet every where I went I had not seen the caliber of ability that one company posessed in spades. Then one day I was tasked to fill in for a man who was having a bionic knee installed. That company was installing the pipes for that one. The boss told me to watch over the pipes being installed. I was met with hugs and hand shakes by everybody in that company. It was like returning from a trip to Mars and seeing the same people, the same smiles, the same dedication to quality and quantity. They all had gray hair with wrinkles and moved slower. One guy had gotten really fat. Really really fat. But it was great catching up, and a few I was able to tell how being around them decades before had changed me for the better. 

One day my boss said "those guys are amazing, in my 40 years of doing this I have never seen such a good group of guys". For me it was like my own little secret gold mine. When those guys bragged to my bosses of my abilities it was a huge boost in not only my morale but in my career later on. I had always wanted to be like that Rodney character, and suddenly people on my side of the fence saw me in a new light. To them I was Rodney. 

Of course I asked "where's old Rodney working these days?". The reply was "he quit" so I just figured he was moved onto bigger and better. Yet it turns out he is a guy in a red robe at a Lowes store in plumbing. Just some schmuck who tells you what aisle the light bulbs are on. Rodney had a brand new baby girl when I met him. She was the twinkle in his eye. Everything he strived for, the big house, the farm he later bought, the horses, the money he stashed for her college was why he got out of bed everyday and worked sunup to sundown, always at full throttle. But one day his teenage daughter bedded down with a thug nasty dude. She apparently refused to see he was a dangerous person until the day he beat her to death. It seems that for two years he struggled with watching his daughter be hospitalized by that guy, or showed up for Sunday dinner with another black eye. Meanwhile she had a daughter of her own by this hoodlum. Rodney had a grand daughter. Now he used to be the sort of guy who would take care of things the country way. This thug would just disappear one day and turtles in a nearby swamp would be well fed for a time. (wink wink) But his daughter would disown her dad if any harm came to the guy. It seems that ole Rodney was distracted a lot at work or just missed time while he drank into a two week stuper. 

The day came to identify the body of his daughter. The grand daughter came to live with Rodney. Then a custody suit took place so Rodney was in court trying to keep his grand daughter from being raised by the monster who had skated on the murder charge on a technicality. One day he checked out I was told. He disappeared for a few months and when he resurfaced it was to call his boss to say he was quitting his job. When the foreman told me that Story I was in shock. The next day my dad took a turn for the worse and passed a few days later, so life was all about that for a period. But one day I made my way into that Lowes on a day Rodney was working. Here comes walking my way this thin quiet guy with the same cheshire grin and a cocky swagger in his steps. Everybody that worked for that company back then walked like Vinnie Vegas in Pulp Fiction. But Rodney had it toned down to where it just looked Steve McQueen cool. We talked for a bit, not mentioning the tragedy, but about life as it is now. He said it came a day when he decided to liquidate everything, move to a tiny house and work at a place like Lowes where there is no pressure to do anything more than tie on his red robe and assist customers. He eventually got custody of his grand daughter too. His wife, once an executive at a law firm now drives a school bus. 

He has now gone from full time to part time status at Lowes since he owes nobody anything other than taxes and utilities. To me this guy has lived a life many strived for. Then tradgedy caused him to live a second life others have strived for. There was a life nobody would wish on their worst enemy in between. I had my share of tragedy at points, but nothing like that. One day I woke up to a new way of looking at things much like that guy I wanted to be like someday. While in Lowes last night I realized I am a lot like Rodney in some respects. He was once pretty famous in the road construction world. I was a who's who of municipal employment. We both lived a dreadful life for a time at about the same time then later found inner peace without all that fame. He is just some guy with a red robe and a pirate ear ring who shows an elderly couple where the picture frame nails are in a shopping mall sized box store and I'm just a gray haired baseball hat wearing kid showing young people how to write reports each day. When we parted company last evening he patted me on the shoulder and swaggered off to plumbing fixtures to help a customer. He has no idea how much that pat on the shoulder meant nor how much putting life into perspective it entailed this morning. 
I am truely honored to know that guy. 

Mrs Fixer said "how come he always smiles like that?" I replied "that's just Rodney being Rodney.


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## bykfixer (Mar 7, 2020)

At my dads funeral gathering the night before some folks from that construction company mentioned in the previous post were there representing the owner who paid them to attend since he could not. That was pretty cool I thought. One guy who had replaced Rodney was asked to go to represent the owner while the rest were there as an honor to my family. At that point not many of the numerous people I had once dealt with at work knew I was even back around. One day I was their inspector, next day I was gone. One day I was just done and left. At times I had seen Rodney at various places. We would shoot the breeze like typical men in our field. So in so has a John Deere this or that, such n such finally bagged that 22 point buck fondly named Bullwinkle. Stuff like that. He knew why I had left my job at the government, but he was still in his role as miracle maker for his boss. 

So the day I ran across folks still working for that company he used to they knew I had landed on my feet after a hard time, but did not know where I was. The last time I had seen Rodney I was living in another state but was at a home depot buying something for my dad. I was in town for that day. There are times even now when I see somebody in a store and they say "how long have you been back?" I reply "15 years" to hear "hell nobody knew where you were". I reply is "don't tell anybody you saw me please". Fame aint all it's cracked up to be in my view. But every so often life puts you in the same spot as people who really made a difference long ago. Sometimes you didn't even realize how much that persons influence had placed a curve in the path called destiny. 

Other times you stumble across people who quickly remind you why you did not like them a long time ago, and still don't. That's the ones I tell "don't tell nobody you saw me". I'd really like to play a game of darts with ole Rodney some day, yet it will probably never happen. Neither of us even own a set of darts these days. While chatting with him in Lowes I was holding some air filters for my climate control system and remarked "when I first met you these things came in a box of. 24 for $5". Him being the genious that he is took note I was holding the budget version and says "yeah and those cheap ones are $5 apiece now". I said "yeah but small flashlights can do a thousand lumens these days" and he replied "and cars that go 150 mph can get up to 32 mpg". He was wearing a 25 year old pair of boat shoes and I was wearing a 20 year old zippered hoody. 

I also bought a pair of insulated gloves that are thin enough to button my shirt while wearing them. We both agreed it is a great time to be alive because we have been living long enough to appreciate many of the modern advancements while still being young enough to adapt to the rapidly changing world. We both understand how simple pleasures in life are easy to come by if you just slow down enough to see them. How what was once seen as ordinary can seem outdated or even strange. The technological advances unnoticed by many are modern miracles to others. 

The thing I remember is a day working next to a lake and a guy in a sail boat asked if he could drive the backhoe a guy digging next to a lake with was running. The backhoe operator replied yes as long as he could drive that sailboat. Both Rodney and I have driven the backhoe of life where you build things at a frantic pace but now enjoy driving the sail boat of life at a much slower pace. And everything is cool as long as we remember to take our little pills each day that without we would end up dead a lot younger. Pills needed after living life at a frantic pace once upon a time that inflicted wear and tear on our mortal shells. But thanks to technological advances we can enjoy the ride a little longer


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## orbital (Mar 31, 2020)

+

Late last Spring on a mild rainy day,,

while walking through my place, out of nowhere it seemed as if the world was coming to end.
_It's interesting how in 1/10 of a second you can think multiple things._

There was a crack/boom & I thought 'was that thunder, really not stormy out' 
*Then* it looked as if every tree in my yard was falling; so much so, it gave the effect the my place going up, not trees coming down.oo:
: is there a tornado
: did a plane just crash into my trees above
: falling space junk 
: who knows

Never experienced anything like that before.
So I look out side and a giant tree limb came down, you have to understand how big some of my trees are.
When outside to assess my property: hit my roof some, smashed a lannon stone planter area, and demolished an Adirondack rocker I have.
(If I was sitting in that chair at the time, I would not be typing right now)

This limb was soo big, it could have been a full grown tree itself,
in the process it took down two other limbs of other trees in the process.

Good thing I have a chain saw
It took me a few days but I got it sorted, cut up, stacked ect.. For the Adirondack rocker, I just pitched it by the rest of the wood pile.

Fast forward to now::
Wanting to replace my demolished Adirondack, I looked into what's available & came across of polywood alternatives.
Found a brand that uses recycled plastics & stainless hardware = got a really good deal & ordered it up.

It's incredible what can be done with recycled plastics by adding some fiber binders & some magic _stuff _to make freakin' military grade composites.

To tie in my "Stuff that just works" thread and mentioning recycling:
I now have an Adirondack rocker that _you can't tell is poly_ from just a few feet away
and.... it'll likely outlast me


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## bykfixer (Apr 2, 2020)

Was it lightning Orb? 

One year a coworker says "man I got kidney stones". My dad used to get them and it would drop him to his back. So I felt bad for the guy. Then one evening I went to pee and nothing happened. I felt a little funky on my side but no biggy. So I took a motrin then laid down for a nap. An hour later I wake up and go to pee again and "plink", then things returned to normal. "pffft, this is nothing" I thought. "that guy must be a wuss". Well later that evening I discovered why folks say they'd never wish a kidney stone on an enemy. Oh my. I passed, or rather say gave birth to 11 spikes that night. HO LEE COW. They would start at my back left and slowly slice their way onto their destination and after an hour of agony "plink". Then another, and another. I called into work the next day, went to a dox in a box and went back home and slept from about noon until the next morning. 

I do not know what prompted that story on this night. But if you work in a job where you have to hold your pee, or just choose to in order to get more work done……Don't.


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## orbital (Apr 2, 2020)

bykfixer said:


> Was it lightning Orb? ..



+

At the time, my Oaks were unusually heavy w/ acorns,
that combined with the light rain on the leaves was enough to weight down//bring down that giant limb. 

==== Funny enough, I was burning some of that wood/branches just today, to clean up the area where I put everything,
it was a very nice day here.


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## Poppy (Apr 17, 2020)

bykfixer said:


> Was it lightning Orb?
> 
> One year a coworker says "man I got kidney stones". My dad used to get them and it would drop him to his back. So I felt bad for the guy. Then one evening I went to pee and nothing happened. I felt a little funky on my side but no biggy. So I took a motrin then laid down for a nap. An hour later I wake up and go to pee again and "plink", then things returned to normal. "pffft, this is nothing" I thought. "that guy must be a wuss". Well later that evening I discovered why folks say they'd never wish a kidney stone on an enemy. Oh my. I passed, or rather say gave birth to 11 spikes that night. HO LEE COW. They would start at my back left and slowly slice their way onto their destination and after an hour of agony "plink". Then another, and another. I called into work the next day, went to a dox in a box and went back home and slept from about noon until the next morning.
> 
> I do not know what prompted that story on this night. But if you work in a job where you have to hold your pee, or just choose to in order to get more work done……Don't.


Hey brother, I am sorry that I laughed at your story. But I did. 

Some of us would be luckier if they had a shorter route to the end of the tunnel if you know what I mean.

I am glad for you that this is a story from the past!
Stay hydrated, and pee often 
Poppy


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## bykfixer (Apr 18, 2020)

Oh, I did not learn my lesson on that one Poppy. Holding back too long is a bad idea when your body produces excess uric acid. I did not know that back then. Round 2 was only one stone. But it felt like a spiked frisbee on the way out. I also did not know how nerve endings work either. When you pass a stone it irrates certain nerve endings at the exit point before you hear "plink" so it leaves you feeling like you have to constantly pee. 

So episode #2 I passed one and kept thinking I had to pee. After 24 hours I thought man I must be ready to expolode by now because I had not gone like it felt like should have happened. I go to the ER thinking they could help. I get back in the back and the Australian nurse with an evil senses of humor says "trust me you do not have to pee". Lady I know I do. She says I'll prove it. I asked how. She says "irrigation" and shows me this 5' hose the size of a garden hose. I'm like "gulp, hows that work". She says "we use this to remove the urine from your bladder". My brain ponders "hose is 5 feet long, intenstines are 500 feet long……so I ask "does that go where I think it goes" and she gets this evil grin and says "yup". I say "is it gonna hurt?" she says "hurts like hell it does". She says "are you absolutely sure you think you have to pee?" 

I'm thinking "I'm going to die today, and all because I drank a grape soda knowing the last time I drank grape soda I passed 11 stones". "Yeah I'm certain". She says "want a novacaine shot first?" Gulp "um err uh……sure why not". It was asking if I want a needle in my eyeball…… Get the shot, wait a bit, she shoves the tube in like SWAT busting down a door with a battering ram motion, tube is in, she pulls on a plunger, out comes a quart of yellow liquid and she says "hmm, I guess you did have to pee". It seems a small cut caused a scab to form and blocked the exit. Holy smokes. 

They gave me some pills to halt the irratation feeling. It produced this really orange color to urine. At work it had snowed. I'd pee over snow since I work out side. My spot was on a bank away from people. Each time I went I'd melt some snow, eventually melting letters spelling out my name. Snow melts in time and on the dirt was my name in orange letters. lol. 

It was probably 15 years before I drank another grape soda. That was after drinking a quart of spring water before I opened the bottle. Won't taking no chances. Excess uric acid runs in the family. Luckily for me it's kidney stones that are kept away by staying properly hydrated. My older brother is plagued with gout and it's the reason for my sisters arthritis. Neither of which have discovered proper hydration really works. My twin is not plagued with it since he drinks fluids religiously to ward off dehydration induced muscle cramps. 

Anyway I hope that Aussie nurse is doing ok in this pandemic wherever she is. She said as I left "I have had 3 kids and kidney stones and I'd rather give birth than have another kidney stone, hang in there kiddo".


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## orbital (Apr 23, 2020)

+

We talk alot about hobbies in this forum,, knives/radios'/photography/ you name it

For me, flashlights I place in tools & gear category, so it gives me room for a true hobby, Off Road RC cars = advancements in brushless motors & particularly LiPo batteries have transformed the rc industry.
Yes it's a bit dorky, but it allows me to make & modify stuff w/ no rules. All you need to do is monitor temperatures in how wild you want stuff to go.

So last Sunday I went over to a friends house where he has a track, we run 6~8 times a year. From our conversation, I thought we were going to work on the track, so I didn't being any RC stuff.
After getting there I see he went a bit nutso using a tractor driven _pulverizer_ in his yard,,, kinda over did it.

He came out and we walked around surveying on what we needed to do to remake his track ( btw it's rather good w/ huge berms/ jumps ect.)
Giving my input we started getting an idea where it was going...

Just then I hear _ "dude, check this out"_, (I thought he found some rc part that flew off) and he reaches down in the fresh 'pulverized' dirt & picks up an incredible arrowhead.
Now I have one myself, but this was a very good one,,, the craftsmanship on it was truly amazing.
Obviously it was very old and dirty, but the symmetry was very good, but the most interesting part was its edges had a medium fine serration that must have taken some high level of skill to make.
..still sharp on its edges.

I told him about the type of rock that was needed and how long it takes that types of rock (including an outcrop) to form.
Just a truly fantastic find!!!

Indians have played a big part in the history of the region, going waaaay back, Wisconsin particularly has many cities of Indian names.
Was this arrowhead from hunting?,, was it from a battle?,,, we will never know.

_It just was the damnedest chance he looked down at just the right spot, and something caught his eye._

I told him he should give it to his newborn daughter later in her life.......* really/truly neat!*


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## bykfixer (Apr 24, 2020)

Nice story O. 

I used to walk around looking until my eyes got blurry. One thing I discovered is if you looking during or just after a rain event they stand out like Christmas ornaments on a tree. When dry a slight dirt haze camoflauges them similar to surrounding dirt. 

I had the chance to learn from historians that the more craftsmanship they had, the older they likely were. It seems once the really early period was over, call it the cave man days there was a craftsmanship that took place for a while. Then like any society once they figured out how to do it faster and faster the fine details went away. Look at houses to see what I mean. Old houses were works of art. Newer match stick homes all look the same. 

It also seems that tribes had their own style. Christmas tree, wolf, owl style as they were known. Lay it down on a table point facing up and you'll see what I mean. The more notches carved into the piece is an indicator of age. Newer ones have less notches. 

Some were used as a drill bit in order to drill holes through leather. Some were used in a lacrosse style where a strip of leather was gathered like a lasso with the "point" as the arrowhead was called was spun around in a twirling notion like a lasso, then one half of the leather released to send the point towards the animal at a high rate of speed. That was way more effective than the hollywood famous bow and arrow. Some were fashioned onto darts as a bird killer, some on sprears for plunging into water to harpoon a fish. 

In my area they were mostly farmers. Meat was a rare treat. 

I used to walk around quiet areas day dreaming of a tribe elder showing a young stud how to smack two rocks together in order to fashion a tool for hunting. Then the day came when the youngster was off somewhere smaking rocks together in a whittling fashion and making his own tool, then returning to the camp and showing his bloody tool to the elder. 

It's fitting that during this pandemic the population of the US is all stressed about a virus. Way back when viruses killed way more indigenous people than guns. Whole tribes wiped out by what they called "running face". Cholera, flu, the head cold. It was written by the few who wrote down stories, the ones taught to read and write that it was not unusual for a hunter to return to camp and find 30,000 dead people who died of running face in a short period. 

Keep searching Orbital. Who knows that you'll find.


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## RedLED (Apr 27, 2020)

Orbital,

Our home in the desert is built on a sand dune, and it is very easy to find arrowheads here. It is very interesting. A lady we know found the pieces to a really big pot a few years back, and was only missing one or two pieces out of the dozens it took to restore it. 

We have not looked for any in a while but there are lots of artifacts right here on our property. 

Best,

RL


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## bykfixer (Jul 5, 2020)

Photo bug bit again: 

When I was a lad my father was an ace photographer. He had one of those fancy cameras with lenses you swap out for others. He worked as a machinist in a factory that made alluminum stuff like sprinkler pipe, bleachers and alluminum foil. He found a source for Pentax gear for about half the price a typical American paid and preferred Japanese glass over German. Now the camera he used was totally manual so when it was time for family photos that was a drag while he dialed in the perfect settings. "Cheeeeeeeee-eeeeeee-eeeeee please take the picture already eeeeeeeeeeze" was the norm. We learned not to blink because that meant another photo required. But his photos were studio quality regardless of location. He took great photos. I did not know until after he had passed how many masterpieces he had taken as he was a quiet person who kept things to himself. He was big into black and white photos and had some that were outstanding macros, nature settings and celestrial in subject. All we ever got to see during his slide shows were family and vacation stuff. He never showed off his photo journalism, civil war reenactment pictures or anything to do with his hobby as a photographer. I discovered a treasure trove of slides after he passed away. 

Now as a young adult I was the family photographer of my kids etc, but my gear was that automatic point and shoot stuff so that was easy. I never knew about blurry backgrounds or depth of field or close ups. Then one day I found myself divorced, furloughed from work and bored out of my mind. I went outside my 800sf apartment one day and started taking photos of stuff. That led to more photos later on as I discovered a new way to pass the time. At first I developed my own some but decided it was worth the little cost to have them developed at a store. It was about $2 a roll. At one point I was shotting 2 or 3 rolls a day. Buy a 3 pack of Fuji 200 speed and drop them off the next day. Heck, I even had a few worth upsizing to 8x10.

At one point I showed my dad a few and after looking at them he went back to his den, then brings back a Canon AE-1 and a small book on photography by Kodak. It was a how to book that was like my dad. Very few words but very profound statements. The book was about 8" tall and 3" wide with about 25 pages. The pure basics. Now the battery was bad in the AE-1 and at that time were $13 apiece in a camera store. The famous CR123. The AE-1 was 100% manual but did have a built in light meter. Being used to everything automatic my first few rolls of film shot through that were complete duds. But as I understood what that little book was saying more and more I began to gain a decent understanding of obtaining decent photos. I stuck with 200 speed film as 400 or more were just too sensitive for my skills at the time and 100 pictures were often blurry. I soon discovered a mono pod was my friend. 

Now enter the age of online photo sharing and soon film was becoming obsolete to me. I was a member of a nationwide skateboard team called Old Man Army where people over 30 shared their local riding spots. My first digital camera was a pair of binoculars with a 0.9mp camera. Folks in Pheonix, Portland, LA, and Boise were like "dude you need a better camera". I still preferred film and just stopped posting crappy photos at my favorite sites. My dad gave me his old Pentax gear and I was set. "Screw digital"'I thought. But then one day at work a coworker handed me a Hewlett Packard camera and says "know how to use this?" I said I could turn it on. He stated since I knew more than he did it was mine to keep as he had found it on the side of the road. I went to a local electronics store and bought a charger for the battery and discovered "holy crap, this is 7 MP!!" It took really nice photos. 

A couple weeks of snapping photo after photo with this new digital marvel that you could instantly see results of instead of waiting for developing I was hooked. I took photos of everything. Afterall you can just delete them. And instead of being strapped to 24 photos a roll, I could take 100 before the memory card got full (if the battery lasted that long). I had spare batteries and spare memory cards. I think a 256 mb was huge at the time and getting 50 photos per charge was awesome. One day I was talking to this gal about the beautiful sunset earlier that evening. She showed me some photos she had taken of it. I showed her some I had taken. Off in the distance of my photos was a person. Turns out it was her taking photos of the same sunset as me. I married her about 18 months later. It was Mrs Fixer. 

Her and I both evolved our photography skills as she learned what the buttons do and I learned how to frame a subject. Her photos were beautiful. She was just pushing buttons she said. I was dialing in settings. Between the two of us we took thousands upon thousands of neat photos. Some were even good enough for a ribbon or two. But life got in the way and we began using celphones for cameras. By then we both had nice SLR cameras and lots of nice lenses. She did pictures for people like team photos or weddings. I did the editing. We even did a couple of short films just for laughs. I was more into celphone cam flaws and enjoyed getting familiar with how my celcam would screw up a scene and learned how to make use of the flaws. My big cameras got used less and less. At high school football games and other sporting events many thought we were pros because we carried nice gear. I always carried mine bolted to a monopod, which really got the local soccer-mom Ansel Adams wanna be with their low end SLR cameras all whipped into a frenzy. We just took photos and if parents wanted a copy we just charged for the ink and paper. Other parents were charging like they were working for Sports Illustrated and our photos were actually better for $5 apiece. 

At my work word got out that I was a photographer. The company started using my work photos for promos. They even paid me for them. But with the money came demands. Demands my artistic approach did not care for. So as time passed I got away from taking photos at work unless it was purely for my pleasure. Birds, dragonflies, and various nature stuff. My photojournalism skills had become pretty good but I was losing interest photography all together. The passion just wasn't there and it showed in my work as photo after photo were just more of the same old crap. I turned to fixing up cars, then flashlights and used my celphone to take photos. 

Much of my pro-type gear is stashed away these days. But the other day I purchased a fancy point n shoot number with lots of controls possible. I plan on using it mainly for work but with its small size figure when the mood strikes it will also be used for artistry at times since there are occasions I wish I had my big gear up and running. I keep an SLR rig in my work truck but usually by the time I set it up the scene has passed. I'm hoping the nice point n shoot will allow some spur of the moment treasures to be captured on a sensor with much better quality than an iPhone cam, which aren't bad for tablet screen sized photos. With a much larger sensor the individual "photosites" should have much greater detail. The celphone is pretty dawg gone convenient. The SLR provides fantastic detail. I'm hoping my new high end point and shoot is somewhere in between. The goal is to take photos my dad would have liked. Thanks to that little book he gave me I have the ability to do that.

An example was one day on an assignment I kept hearing the distinct sounds of a belted Kingfisher bird nearby. Being notoriously shy they are hard to photograph up close. It was a time during its migration so I knew it was only in town for a short time. I had been trying to get a decent photo of one for 20 years. All I kept getting was the butt of one while it flew away. After a couple of days I knew the birds habit and found a blind. I waited for it to announce its presence like they do with a distinctive machine gun sounding chirp. Armed with my SLR and long lens I popped a couple of pretty good photos of it from about 50 yards away. I hope to get one even closer with my point n shoot someday since it takes only a couple of seconds from bag to photo where my SLR takes over a minute unless the long lens is already attached. About 3 minutes from bag to photo if not.


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## Poppy (Jul 6, 2020)

bykfixer,
Thank you, that was a nice walk along memory lane. 

My dad took thousands of family photos, and of events that we participated in, not too many of birds or wildlife.

His was a 50's era Argus, rangefinder 35MM camera, usually loaded with B&W film.

He had a separate hand held light meter, but I don't think he used that often.
Each roll of film, came with a little bit of instruction, with a pictorial of which f stop settings to use with different lighting conditions; such as bright sun, cloudy, overcast, dense shade. Of course the f settings would vary depending upon the film speed. IIRC he had the pictorial scotch taped to the back of the camera of the film he most frequently used, for reference.

To change the roll of film, one had to first rewind the exposed film, back into its container, before opening the back of the camera, or the film would be ruined.
I remember him changing rolls of film, under a blanket, jacket, or something to keep the film, out of direct sunlight, if not in darkness, at least in dense shade.


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## bykfixer (Jul 7, 2020)

Awesome old camera!! 

My pop would always cover his camera before removing the film too. He also insisted on black film containers too. My Rebel G had that awesome auto wind feature. Yeah baby I was some kinda cool with that. My dad said "wastes battery, you don't need that". But dad it's cool. 

Of course later I realized pop was right……I wonder how many more photos I could have taken on a battery not run down with auto wind feature.


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## orbital (Jul 7, 2020)

+

Just a couple days ago, was on a motorbike ride a county over.
Very beautiful area of lakes & rolling hills forests.

While going though this tiny town, I passed an old fashioned general store.
Now I'v passed it before, but just the other day noticed something I hadn't before..

an old rusting sign on the outside that said *Kodak film sold here
*
It made me think of times past & my Dad


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## Poppy (Jul 7, 2020)

orbital said:


> +
> 
> Just a couple days ago, was on a motorbike ride a county over.
> Very beautiful area of lakes & rolling hills forests.
> ...


Beautiful!
I'm all smiles.


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## Poppy (Jul 15, 2020)

For a while, 110 format cameras were in style, and for a number of years, I kept one in my glove box of my car. 

I think this is the model.






It was a neat little number with an electric eye, that could adjust the shutter speed, down to about 10 seconds, or up to 1/300 of a second.

One day, a friend and I drove out of town to an "Oktoberfest". As a part of the publicity they had the "Atlanta Falcon Cheerleaders" I jumped out of the car, and gave my camera to my friend. "Here... take my picture!"

In my early 20's surrounded by the most beautiful women in the world. Man.. life is good!

Damn... can't find that picture.


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## bykfixer (Jul 15, 2020)

I had forgotten all about 110. 
Nice story.


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## bykfixer (Aug 19, 2020)

An un-normal day at the office: 

It was about to turn into Fall of 2004 when a hurricane named Gaston was down graded to a tropical storm. The guy on the news says "and Gaston will pass through our area quickly and be in New England in by nightfall. Well, you know the deal. The weatherman gets it wrong an awful lot. Yet nobody knew ole Gaston would chug up the east coast and then stall over Richmond Va for an hour many will never forget. Up to 18" of rain fell in about an hour. I was watching it from my upstairs bedroom and living on a flat street I saw water piling up in the highest point of my street. With a 6" curb on both sides, they were under water. I'd never seen anything like it. 

Next day things were a huge mess. Working as a consultant for the highway department I was on a paving assignment that ended about a month later. I was to be furloughed after that until Spring. Instead myself and 4 others were dispatched to watch over a number of reconstruction projects. The day after Gaston my buddy Ron and I were dispatched to one where so much water ran down an exit ramp it literally floated a foot thick layer of pavement of a right lane and dumped it onto the left lane of a highway for about a half mile. The two of us worked a 24 hour shift watching pavers repair that one. But one assignment was to watch a triple barrel culvert get replaced. Three side by side 84" pipes (that's 8 feet tall) had been dislodged and moved about 75 feet. 

It was one of those roads in the middle of nowhere with perhaps 50 cars a day. But being closed meant folks living in the area had about a 50 mile detour. So the culverts needed to be put back asap. Looking at the pipes was sureal. It was like a giant had just tossed his toys and walked about leaving a pile of rubble. And in a cavern left there was a pinky sized phone wire showing. The contractor called the utility line locating services to have it identified with markings before they began rebuilding the culverts. Nobody thought much about it. 

A week goes by and locating services all said "it aint ours". The line was laying across the area where work needed to take place. The boss wanted to know why no work had begun. It was a FEMA job so it was time and materials meaning we were paying the contractor was getting paid to wait for the line to be identified. Two weeks, nothing. The third week the contractor who had a big crew of less than legal workers was getting anxious to start working. My boss hollered at my project inspector on a celular phone "cut the dam thing and start working". So the contractor cut the line with wire cutters. 

About 15 minutes later we saw white Econoline vans flying toward our direction from two directions. "Huh?" we thought. Like ten of them!! They slam on brakes all like you see on tv and suddenly a bunch of fellows wearing aviator shades and dark blue coaches jackets with yellow letters……and they all had rifles. "Who's in charge here?!?" shouts one of them as the cotractors workers were scattering into the woods, jumping into the water or standing with their hands in the air. The contractor foreman said "I am, is there a problem?" The guy says "yeah who ever cut the phone line is in big trouble". They talked for a bit and things settled down without any trouble. 

Turns out just up the road was a US Navy satellite farm and cutting the phone line had disrupted communication all over planet earth. lol. Holy cow!! Some secret wire along an old country road getting shut down the communication of the entire United States Navy or something. Now for an hour everybody on our side stood around paralyzed while government agents slowly got back in the vans and headed away. Later that day we laughed and laughed about all those dudes jumping into the water, running into the woods etc. Eventually the triple culvert was reinstalled and I was off to other fast paced projects since Gaston had done quite a number to an area along the Chickhomany river near Richmond Va. 

A coworker named Ron and I became friends at that period of our lives. Unfortunately colon cancer took Ron away a few years later. 
RIP Ron.


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## chillinn (Aug 19, 2020)

Catching up old posts. bykfixer, you have me in tears, and then you drop a bomb on me. WW. I'm devastated. Everyone else must have gotten through it months ago. I feel foolish and sad. I think I just sighed 25 times in a row, getting dizzy. He made me laugh. But bykfixer, you should publish.


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## Poppy (Aug 20, 2020)

Great story Mr Fixer! 

So when the "Men in Black" showed up with their little mind eraser light, you were left unimpressed? 
It's obvious that it didn't erase your mind.
I'm glad for that.

Being the flashaholic you are... "hmmm, I've got one better than that!" "Here... check out this little HDS, I have in my pocket!"

Chillinm,
Nice complement you wrote there.

Yeah... a few years after I am gone, I'll be mostly forgotten, but Woods Walker, with his tips and humor, and internet postings will be with us forever.

A great guy, I miss him too.


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## bykfixer (Aug 22, 2020)

RIP WW. 

Thanks for the compliment Chillin'. 

Poppy, we were all too scared to be impressed or not. We did however discuss the feeling "sure am glad they're on our side" aspect though. 

Another Gaston project involving potential military was a small bridge that high waters had scoured out the soil under the pier in the middle had to be replaced. In bridge terms a pier is a sort of post that supports a bridge. There may be one pier or a few depending on its length. Each end of the bridge is called an abutment. This bridge had one pier in the middle and the river it crossed had washed out the soil it sat on. Now the bridge had been built in the "make work" period of the Great Depression. If I recall correct 1936 or 7. It was about 100 feet long so when driving 55 mph on that country road you cross it in a second or two. Again this was a project in the middle of nowhere that perhaps 50 cars a day cross over. Also again with it closed that meant residents had to drive about 25 miles around to get to their destination. 

The project was to replace the old one with what is called a truss bridge. In basic terms it is an erector set bridge on a life sized scale. The parts of the bridge were brought in on trucks and assembled with a million billion screws. The riding surface called the deck was to be asphalt. It's a nostalgia thing I try not to understand because that just slows down the work. I was sent to help a guy named Fred. His real name, but other names will be non real since later in life they needed their identities to remain anonymous. Fred was a guy sent from another district of the highway department as punishment for losing his cool one day. On a large bridge project with a really lousy contractor in a politically charged district (ie folks up for re-election soon) ole Fred made the 6 o'clock news. See the contractor's boss had been threatening ole Fred with bodily harm and one day Fred had enough, burst into the contractors office and basically tossed furniture and said "bring it on big fella". The problem was the contractor boss was being interviewed at that moment by a local news reporter asking "why the hell is it taking you so long to build this bridge?" when Fred burst in the place. Doh! 

Now on this project Fred was working for a guy I'll call Tim (not his real name) and the contractor boss (not the same one Fred dealt with before) I'll call Charles (not his real name). The contractor foreman I'll call Dave (not his real name either). Now Fred got along with Dave ok, but Tim and Charles hated each other for some reason I do not know. But everytime they got within 10 feet of each other a shouting match resulted. In my book Charles usually won the battle of the minds, because he was a politically connected cocaine addict who was actually a lot smarter than Tim. But Tim worked for the government so he could make phone calls and get other departments dispatched to come out to the project and reject work being done by the contractor or find safety violations, regardless how minor. That made Fred and Dave have a lot of bad days. 

As much as Fred and Dave tried to get along they were each told to "get that guy" meaning each other by their bosses. Often times they refused to comply and the days their bosses were both on the job at the same time Fred and Dave were getting their butts chewed for getting along. Me, I was just a helper who stood by and shook my head a lot while I did my work. I tested materials and completed work like dirt compactions or concrete. Contractor workers would say to me "man this don't make no sense them guys contantly bickering all the time." I agreed. 

On the days Tim had sent his goon squad to the site to reject work Charles would say "that's ok I'll be having lunch with Paul (not his real name) Tuesday". Paul was the head honcho of the highway department who was one of the governors minions. Now Paul being appointed by the governor could chat with the governor easily and Tim knew that but he hated Charles so much that did not stop him. So about twice a month Charles would say "that's cool Tim, I'll be discussing this with Paul this Tuesday". 

One day Charles said "that's ok Tim I'm having lunch with Paul today"………Fred said "so I guess you haven't read todays newspaper, huh?" Charles said "no why?" Fred goes to his truck and brings back the morning paper. On the front page was a photo of Paul being led out of his office building in hand cuffs after being charged with corruption. Charles walked away mumbling what sounded like obsenities and sped off in his SUV. 

In the meantime both ends of the proposed bridge had been built. The abutments that the big erector set structure would sit on had been finished. A big old vertical concrete slab had been built on each side of the river about 125 feet apart. The bridge pieces had arrived and were being assembled. My job at that point was to check every bolt with a torque wrench. A 3 feet long torque wrench. I had noticed at this point that every day at precisely 3:15 in the afternoon a pair of bald eagles flew overhead. Being a photographer, at 3:00 each day I'd set up a camera on a tripod to photograph them flying over. I still used film back then because digital gear was less than great and very expensive. 

Tim told Fred to have me take photos of the project with a cheap camera he had so I did. Ends up he hated my photos because I took pictures of cool stuff in the background like the American flag on a crane boom and of course those eagles flying over. "You are wasting my film with this crap" he said one day. I took pictures of welders with sparks flying, workers wiping a sweaty brow, a crane operator with nothing to do sleeping etc. To me they were stories. 

So off to the side the erector set is being assembled on one side of the river. One morning the drunkest drunkered I had ever seen shows up and begins to tell Fred and Dave the abutments are too far apart. The contractors surveyer was this watery eyed man who shook like an earthquake at 8am and wreaked of his cheap booze breakfast announced there was an error in points on each side of the river to guage where to build each abutment. Grade bust they call it. Usually a grade bust is parts of an inch or perhaps an inch or two. This one was 27 feet!! Were the abutments 27 feet too far apart? Not far enough apart? The erector set pieces were custom fabricated a certain length and you don't just start welding on extensions or cutting stuff off. This was bad it seemed. It turned out the highway department had set grade points from one side of the river using one point instead of one from each side so everything was cool. Pulling a distance between a point on each side of the river were supposed to be X feet apart but in reality they were 27 feet off the supposed distance apart and the highway department surveyor had caught the mistake before designing the bridge plans. Phew!! 

The bridge is assembled and ready to set onto the concrete abutments and be bolted to the vertical concrete slabs that had threaded metal studs sticking out. But Tim was still playing games and said the contractor's crane was to small to lift the structure and set it over the slabs. The crane could lift 150 tons at a certain angle. Tim said they needed a 175 ton crane as the angle was too steep to use a 150 ton crane. In other words the crane on site would be setting too far away to set the structure at a safe angle. Lifting at too shallow an angle can break a crane boom sending large metal objects downward onto workers below. Dave hollered out to Tim ""J$&us Chr!$t man it's my bridge, you haven't paid for it yet, if I drop it in the f-bomb water I'll buy you another one!" Tim told Fred don't you let him set that bridge. Charles came out and once again fir went to flying. 

Dave set the bridge the next day. Now nothing broke but the tracks the crane moves back and forth on were lifting off the ground at the opposite end from the crane boom. It was kinda scarey to watch. Several workers and I stood well off to the side holding our breath. But it set onto the metal studs safely. After that bolts were fastened over the next few days, plates were welded between girders for the asphalt deck to be placed on (hence pictures of welders with sparks flying) and eventually the bridge was opened to the public again. 

Now I noticed every Friday many of the workers would gather around a welder who traded cash for their paychecks. It turns out he was a loan shark from NJ who would cash their check for a 5% fee. This was before the days of E-verify and some of the workers were actually illegal imigrants so they would pay him instead of using Western Union to wire their checks back home. The loan shark guy was a fellow who owned parking garages and other legitimate businesses in NJ and was a relocated government witness against a crime family in the 1970's. He came down south and took up the welding trade as his cover. 

That project was wild. It took about 3 months to replace a bridge that you can cross in about two snaps of your fingers. Charles was later arrested and convicted of drug trafficking and raquteering. Tim was fired for collusion and taking bribes and died of a heart attack while being led out of his office building. Dave had 3 incidents where crane boom broke and people died. He is reportedly serving time (or served) for willfull misconduct in the deaths of 2 people including his son who was a crane operator who died in one incident when the crane fell over into water and he drowned. The welder was in his late 80's at the time so he is either dead or one of the worlds oldest people. And Fred retired about a year later. Last I heard he is living a peaceful life on piece of land in the countryside not far from that project.

Oh, and that little bridge was rated some kinda "G" rating like G-14 or something meaning it can withstand military tanks to cross in case America got invaded. It is a shortcut between military bases.


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## light-modder (Aug 22, 2020)

bykfixer, wow what a story! That’s pretty crazy.


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## chillinn (Aug 22, 2020)

bykfixer said:


> The contractors surveyer was this watery eyed man who shook like an earthquake at 8am and wreaked of his cheap booze breakfast....



Doubling down. I, and many others, wish we could write like this. Pure lyrical poetry. Come up with an outline so you can finish, and send the first chapters to a publisher. yada yada yada... move to Key West and raise 6 toed cats.


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## archimedes (Aug 22, 2020)

I, too, think Byk should write a book.

Or maybe a podcast, or the like ?


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## orbital (Aug 25, 2020)

archimedes said:


> I, too, think Byk should write a book.
> 
> Or maybe a podcast, or the like ?




+

yes, genuine talent


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## Poppy (Oct 1, 2020)

Last night while surfing through Amazon Prime Video, I came across "Overlord". 

It was a WWII film of a small group of paratroopers who got shot down and surmounted insurmountable odds to infiltrate a German camp and blow up a radar tower, to clear the way for Allied bombers.

One of the men was a photo-journalist, who of all things used my father's camera!


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## Chauncey Gardiner (Oct 3, 2020)

Not once upon a time, 

but just yesterday, as a matter of fact, was the day for one of our school's buildings to have its fire suppression system inspection. This particular inspection is what's known as an internal inspection and is required every five years. A licensed technician drains the pipes, accesses the system in two places, completes an internal inspection, flushes the system and checks the Backflow device for leakage. Since this building houses a regulation size basketball court and the gym is three stories, the test takes about six hours. 






Anyhow, after getting the guys started, I decided to return home and finish my morning coffee time with the Lovely Mrs. Gardiner. 

We had been sitting at the kitchen table for a spell when one of our sons walked into the room and said - "Dad, some guy just walked around behind the garage." Not thinking it through, I neglected to don shoes or arm myself. The reason I should have is two fold. One being the garage is 150 feet from the closest street and you must walk past the house to get to it. So, he wasn't just looking for our front door. The other reason was by the time I found him he was buck-*** naked from the waist down.  I mean, seriously!  So, that's what I asked him - "HEY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" I didn't really want to know. I just wanted him to stop whatever it was. He looks over at me and says - "It's OK. I'm not trying to steal anything." He had his pants wadded up in his hands and was trying to either get something out of a pocket or turn them inside out. He was about 25 years old and looked like one of the Latinos that's been working on the house next door. 

The new owners are having a complete, to the studs, inside and out remodel, so there's been lots and lots of workers there for the last couple of months. About this time I start to wonder if he had had an accident and shat himself. A tiny bit of empathy began to arise, but not enough to keep me from continuing to yell. "ARE YOU OK? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! DO YOU WORK NEXT DOOR?! He answered that he did work next door. So I yelled some more, asking why he wasn't over there. It's a big place with lots of privacy for him to do whatever the heck it was he was doing. 

I could tell he was embarrassed cuz he looked down a couple of times checking to see what was exposed due to the length of his shirt. I started to relax a little but was still very unhappy with this situation. I asked him if he needed some clean clothes. I don't consider myself a nice person but I do try to be well mannered. Besides, I know there are two types of men, men that have shat themselves and men that are going to shat themselves. Sooner or later, guys, it's going to happen.  

Anyhow, I yell at him some more, telling him to not come back and that he scared my wife and children. Then I reposition myself a few feet to give him some privacy to pull his pants on. BTW, I was never closer to him than 35 feet. 

He leaves and I go check where he was standing. There's nothing there. Back in the house and tell the family all about the dude sans pants or underwear. Weird, yes, but now the rest of the story.

Remember the fire system guys? They call informing me it's time to inspect the classrooms so, it's time for me to come back and accompany them. 

Back at the school I needed to use the bathroom facilities. Walking toward the door I see a young student about to exit the men's room. However, as soon as he sees me he walked back into the bathroom. I'm in there about 30 seconds when I hear a tiny voice from behind a stall door asking - "Is someone in here?" I answer yes and little man begins to cry, explaining that he has pooped his pants and asks for his mother. I said - "Oh I'm sorry, but don't worry, it's going to be OK. What's your name and who's your teacher?" He answers but again asks for his mommy. I tell him - "OH Mrs. XXXXX is so nice. I'm sure she has had this happen before with other students and I'm sure your mommy is a long way from here. I'll go get your teacher and she'll help you, and don't worry, no one else will know what's happened." 

Man on man! Textbook definition of irony.


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## peter yetman (Oct 4, 2020)

Going up that ladder would be enough for me to poo my pants. I can do heights, but not over about 20 feet on a ladder.
That picture looks like one of my dreams, where I have to do some wiring at the top of, say, the O2 Arena on just a ladder, makes my blood run cold thinking of it.

P


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## Chauncey Gardiner (Oct 4, 2020)

peter yetman said:


> Going up that ladder would be enough for me to poo my pants. I can do heights, but not over about 20 feet on a ladder.
> That picture looks like one of my dreams, where I have to do some wiring at the top of, say, the O2 Arena on just a ladder, makes my blood run cold thinking of it.
> 
> P



Perhaps that's what the drop cloth was for. :eeew:


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## peter yetman (Oct 4, 2020)

Nah, it's not big enough.
P


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## Poppy (Jan 22, 2021)

bykfixer, in another thread reminded me of an incident in my life that was particularly meaningful to me.

At 12 years old I got a paper route, and then another, and built a small savings account. I quit when I went to high school. When it was time for the high school prom, I took money out of my savings account, and later got a job at a Gino's to make the money and put it back into the account. Gino's was a fast food burger joint like McDonalds of today. We made less than the minimum wage because they could get away with it because we could possibly make up the difference in tips! Of course we never got any tips! 

The manager I had was a real A$$. They paid in fifteen minute increments, on the hour. He required you to come in 15 minutes before your shift started (on the hour or half hour) or you were late, and he'd have you punch in 14 minutes early, And he wouldn't release you until 10 minutes after your shift ended. This way he got essentially 24 minutes of work from you for free.

At 16 years old, I was still only about 5'9" and 135 pounds, but not the dumbest kid in the class. After I saw a pay check or two, I knew what he was doing, and that it was intentional. 

So one day, I came to work at the time I was scheduled, not 15 minutes early. He met me at the door... the rear entrance, and slammed me into the wall. Either by my shirt, or throat, but my feet were off the ground. Somehow, I got down, and we had a couple of words. With that he grabbed a broom, or mop and chased after me as I ran away. As I ran away, I ran past his desk. I grabbed a pair of scissors, and spun on him. It was so funny to see him stop dead in his tracks, and his face turn sheet white, that I laughed, and threw the scissors on his desk and walked away. We both knew... at that moment, if he had taken another step, I would have stabbed him.

I am thankful for that moment in time. In grammar school I was occasionally picked on, and maybe called a sissy. In High School, I changed that, but always, in the back of my mind was... "Am I the man that I think I am, or would like to be?" 

Will I "Turn the other cheek" when the consequences are inconsequential, absolutely yes; but I know, from that incident, that if I, or my family is physically threatened, I'll take whatever actions are necessary to protect them. I find that liberating.


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## bykfixer (Jan 23, 2021)

Nice!


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## bykfixer (Apr 2, 2021)

A thread in off topic stirred up some ghosts. 
I was in the midst of a mid-life crisis and was the leader of a bmx team. Now I pretty much sucked at stunt riding a 20" bicycle but to that point had never let my lack of talent over ride my ambition. My back yard was a stunt riders theme park with jumps, ramps and a race track. 

My ex-wife's nephew was a really talented young fellow who would talk me into the darndest things. One day he talked me into trying a stunt called "truck driver" where you leap in the air on a bicycle and rotate one direction while spinning the handlebars the opposite direction. I had never tried such a thing but hey, I'd never jumped off a bridge until the day he talked me into that. We worked on getting a dirt hill the right shape to launch you in the air better. Once that was perfect it was time. He went first. I should have known that when he launched about 3x higher than ever before this was a bad idea. My ex yells out the back door "are you ready to go to mom's?" It was Mothers Day and the tradition was to go there and do her lawn then sit down for a meal. 

"Give me 5 minutes" I yelled back. Gotta try the new jump out. I get all revved up and launch. Peddling for all I was worth I hit that dirt hill and go for the stunt and do it……but when I landed my bike was crooked. My bike was inertially moving on a different axis than my body. Now the bike had stunt pegs for axle grinds on coping and hand rails. Not realizing this I went to dump the bike and slide out of the situation like dumping a motorcycle. Trouble was mid-dump the pegs bit the ground, instantly halting the bike while my body was still in motion. It launched me head first onto the base of a big ole tree near the jump. I failed to note up to now my backyard park was loaded with perlious obstacles. Bushes, trees, clothesline poles etc. I landed on my left side with an "umph". My nephew yells out "holy crap you did it" as I struggled to stand up. My left shoulder was out of joint and my ribs were crooked. I knew this was ugly. I failed to notice the blurred vision because the other stuff was freaking me out so bad. 

My ribs popped back into place. Phew! That's cool. My nephew popped my arm back into place. Yikes! That's going to hurt later but at the time I was numb all over and my ears were ringing. "Where's my glasses?"…… put them back on. Luckily they had not broken I thought. My ex comes out back and says I'm ready when you are" and my nephew says "uh, we need a minute here". "Fine I'll be in the car" she says and storms off. That sort of thing is why she is now called my ex. Not that it's all her fault mind you as putting up with a man-child aint always easy. 

We get to her mom's and I did the yard up like normal but by then pain was setting in. Oh my. Still not that bad but I knew if I lived to see the next day it would be ugly. Next morning I woke up. Well that's cool I didn't bleed to death internally. After struggling to get out of bed I realized my ears were still ringing and I had a terrific headache. I went to put on a ball cap and noticed a knot. I went to work like normal but holy smokes it hurt to wiggle my toes. My boss was completely unsympothetic since he hated the fact that at 35 years old I rode a 20" bicycle to work each day. Often times riding a wheelie as I entered the gated complex. "Overgrown kid" he'd snipe. I said "hey I grew up watching Evel Knievel, now it's my turn". 

I did not ride my bike to work for a while. Nope, it hurt too much. And thinking back I probably should have gone to a doctor if for nothing else the concussion. About 3 months later I was pain free enough to contemplate trying that stunt again. I found myself researching a chest protector and a helmet like those guys on the X-Games used. I had built a special light weight "jumping" bike and contemplated what stunt to try next. Then it hit me "hey stupid, if you need a helmet you probably shouldn't do it"…… so I gave the bicycle to my brothers kid and never bought that helmet and chest protector. 

After that I learned ground tricks where falling only meant from about 2' or less and at a slow speed, not from 10' going 15+mph. I did that for a while but eventually lost interest. Life had changed and I was single with a job that required a lot of hours and travel. The lads on the bmx team went off and found jobs or went to college and we lost touch with each other over time. I hear one turned out to be a veteranarian and another a diesel mechanic. The others I don't know about. My ex-wife's nephew went the life of crime route but he isn't very good at that so as I type this he's rumored to be back in jail for being a drunken klepto. I disassembled my bmx bike that now hangs in a garage in pieces and my oldest son still rides his racing bike from time to time. 

In the end a lot of things happened I'd not repeat if I had it to do again. And some I would, just not the things that were beyond being a coach since I was probably good at that. My team were a bunch of misfits who were flunking in life and would have likely quit school and gone on to be bums. Instead from what I heard a few years later turned out to be model citizens. I hear my ex got remarried to another man-child and lives a happy life. One day I grew up and decided to put away all of those Evel Knievel sort of desires. When I ride a bicycle now it's a nice slow moving cushy 21 speed number with 26" wheels and I never even contemplate doing a wheelie anymore. I'll peddle to a drug store and pick up some Gerital thinking back to the good ole days as the breeze across my cheeks from travelling 3mph raises a smile on my face.

And I still don't wear a helmet.


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## Poppy (Apr 3, 2021)

Nice story Mr fixer :thumbsup:

My son had two BXM bikes, one lightweight with kevlar rims etc, built for speed, and the other with extra sturdy parts (extra spokes in the rims) for strength and durability for taking jumps etc.

He was racing in Arizona, as we watched a dust storm approach. I'd never seen one before, but it came on quickly, and you could see it coming from a distance. He and the other racers, finished just as it hit us.

Oh yeah, he also had a number of spills, once wore wrist braces for a month or so, (had to take his tests orally because he couldn't write) and some stitches in his face.


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## bykfixer (Apr 6, 2021)

Oh man I was driving home from work and one event popped in my head. A story about being careful who you mess with as you may see them again someday. 

It was about 1984 I suppose. I had graduated from laborer to equipment operator at my job at the local public works department. Man I was so proud, and my pay bumped up another dollar too. I'm like 20 years old and life was grand. My promotion meant during my role of a grass cutter I had graduated from weed whacker kid to Bush Hog Man. Yeah buddy. Now grass cutting season began around April. So that meant drive the tractor around town around 14mph from spot to spot. And on a warm day that was awesome. A day when it hit 75+ meant that was one sweet ride. 

So while travelling at said 14mph there were times when I held up traffic. On a two lane road after school let out the kids would get restless as they patiently waited for that stupid farm tractor to find a shoulder to pull over onto. Being that young I had not forgotten how important it was to get home from school so we could be free. Well this one warm afternoon I had on my yellow "disco sucks" t-shirt that by 1984 was pretty ragged. As this one car goes past this kid yells out something and flips me the bird. A bit later I felt heat on my back. That little so n so had flicked a cigarette on me and it landed in one of the holes on my shirt. Yikes! 

A friend of mine was still in high school so I asked him who drove such n such vehicle. It seems the kid who flipped me off had bragged about catching some guy on a tractor on fire. My buddy got back with me about who it was. Apparently he told the kid "dude you ****** up". And apparently the kid said "oh yeah, I know Spain, he'll handle it". Spain is the guy I mentioned a few pages ago as the guy everybody was scared to ride with to the skateboard park because he's so radical, and Spain liked some bykfixer. So words were exchanged between me and the kid through my buddy who had a disco van with a bed so in my town he was king of the class of '85 and word got back to me that the kid who flipped me off was out to get me. My buddy the king apparently advised the kid that was a bad idea. 

At that point I was not the least bit concerned about this kid. There were more important things in life like cutting grass and going to college at night. There were times I was asked to fill in for people at work. Answer the phones when the secretary was on vacation, fill in for the landfill attendent when he went to the doctor etc. A year or so had passed and one day I'm filling in at the landfill. Usually I'd go outside the building and greet the person wanting to drop off trash. They'd sign a sheet. But I saw a truck pulling up with the kid who flipped me off driving it. 

Now near the building was a large pond with lots of geese. And sometimes those geese would walk up to the building and attack anybody outside. So the attendent kept an alluminum baseball bat handy to ward off the geese when necessary. When the kid who flipped me off entered the building he saw me wielding a baseball bat. "Remember me?" I said as I gentley whacked my palm with the bat…… "uh, uh, uh, man I'm sorry" he says as I could have sworn he was going to faint right then and there. I said "by the way I used to ride skateboards with Spain"……he goes running out the door and hurredly left without dumping his trash. 

I wondered as I drove home whatever became of that kid. Did he learn his lesson? 
I hope so.


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## bykfixer (Aug 1, 2021)

I just remembered a tale from the mid-90's while I still worked for the gubment. I worked with a few real characters lemee tell ya. They'd play practical jokes on each other like putting water in your car tires to make them wobble like crazy, tranny oil in the induction, which would make it smoke like crazy, put an I'm gay plaque over their license plate……stuff like that. 

Well this one scoundrel kept bragging his 40th birthday was coming up. The guy already looked 65, and even his mom said "my son is such a jerk"…… He was a mechanic and carried his 3 drawer tool box in and out of the shop everyday so nobody could ever borrow any of his tools. On his 40th birthday a coworker placed a segment of a snow plow blade underneath of the bottom drawer of his tool box. It probably weighed 25-30 pounds. But you combine that with the already 40-50 pounds and it takes on a whole new dillema. 

Up to that day the guy would "umph!" and lift his tool box with one hand, and place it in the trunk of his car. That day he went "umph!" and nothing happened. Somebody yelled out "you know when you turn 40 your body goes". He sheepishly grinned as we stood by the time clock waiting for quitting time just laughing away. Then with 2 hands he hoisted that box into his trunk and drove off. Everybody but him knew what was happening. 

Each day the same thing. Soon he started to believe he was actually falling apart. He went to counciling, he left his wife, I mean the guy just fell apart. A sober man soon began to drink heavily and get into bar fights, in trouble with the cops and pretty much came unglued. About a year into the whole thing a man took pity on him and told him about the snow plow blade. Soon after that the guy got it back together. Thing is, after that he became a pretty cool guy. So even though it sucked to be him for a while he really ended up benefitting from it. He now lives in a better house, drives beautiful old cars and instead of being a jerk he helps out his fellow man on a regular basis.


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## Poppy (Aug 1, 2021)

Good story Mr Fixer.
I'd bet he had some sharper tools inside the box, than the tool who was carrying it.

I'm glad that everything worked out for him.


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## orbital (Aug 6, 2021)

+

Three weeks ago I went into my garage & my lights wouldn't turn On,, tried my garage door opener / nothing.
Made the small hike down to my basement & saw my breaker tripped, thought "good it's just that"

Twenty minutes later checked my breaker box & it was tripped again,, so went into the garage & unplugged everything & turned everything off.
....now the breaker was tripping instantly.

///ISSUES///

My house is a good 100 years old & I'm not certain on the age of the underground wiring leading to my garage (at least 75' away from my 200A breaker box)
Had my electrician come out & yep, it was the underground wiring,, _f**phixss*r_

Fast forward,
Made the decision (since it was to be trenched up anyway) fully went for it with a 220V setup upgrade in my garage.
I don't really do home improvements, but this had to go under the 'file' of Home Improvement $$$
Having a good electrician is key; really clean work & never a question on my request for larger gauge wire / putting in a full 50A 220V outlet.
As of yesterday: everything is now at 220V code in my garage.

So you ask, 'what's the point of this post'?
well when the lead guy was leaving I gave him an 18650 powered Osram thrower (figured he didn't have anything like that)
..he said he didn't & would take it on his camping trip over the weekend.
I know that light will throw several hundred yards & it'll blow his socks off.

With battery, $35 light setup could pay dividends in the future..ya know

or
maybe another CPF user


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## bykfixer (Oct 8, 2021)

Image is everything.

That was a phrase a dude I associated with through work used to repeat often. For the longest time I did not understand the value of that as everybody seemed to consider the guy a cross between Magnum PI and Fonzy back then. Women would swoon, and men would stop talking when he entered the room. Now for some reason he let me see his soft underside as he tried to teach me the value of "image is everything". To this day I do not know why he picked me but I'm glad he did.

Flash back to about 1990. I was a government employee who thought I was a community servant. In a small town community servant meant the same as a big city. Join the right clubs, make friends with the right crowd, "join the coffee club" I'd always say as I politely declined membership to those clubs or dinner with those people. I had a young family to raise and an old house to restore. Plus I got the distinct impression I would stand out like a sore thumb in those circles.

Now as a community servant I attended social gatherings as work required, retirement dinners for the mayor, public hearing meetings and such. But I was my man. I marched to a different drum beat so thinking back, perhaps that made some folks uncomfortable.

Enter Mr Image. I'll call him Willy although that's not his real name. Willy owned a local high end steak joint and worked for a natural gas company. The restaraunt was where all the "coffee club" hung out after 5. Many could hardly afford their mortgage but that place got them noticed. Willy had a knack of causing half drunk politicians and social climbers his steak was the best steak on planet earth. His schtick was send a half dressed dame or young stud to the table with a big slab of beef, let the customer decide how thick to cut it then cook it on a griddle smothered in butter.

Now they were pretty good, but my charcoal grill could do a great job at 10% the cost. Dude made a small fortune each night on cocktails and steak. At his job with the gas company everybody knew he knew where every gas pipe was installed since about 1977. Whenever they installed new pipes in nice neighborhoods he'd have them place rye grass seed in the soil piles to be used to backfill the trench. That way if the dirt wasn't topsoil brown in 3 days the trench would have grass growing anyway. The homeowner had the impression that orange dirt and rocks was actually better for growing grass than topsoil.

One day he picked me up and took me for a ride. He said "young man I'm going to teach you something today." We stopped at a local motorcycle shop first. The owner and Willy rode bikes at Daytona every February. Willy was there to pick out a bike for that year. Not to buy, or rent, but to ride for free. See the owners son and the owner thought Willy was so cool it was an honor to let him ride the highest priced bike in the place at Daytona. Once he'd picked out his choice he advised the owners so he needed to trailer it to Daytona. The owners son gladly obliged ole Willy. "We just got in a closed trailer just for you Willy". But Willy wasn't going to pull a motorcycle behind a truck for 12 hours. The owners son did that.
As we left he laughed and said "image is everything big daddy"……

Next we went to a job site where the workers were trying to find a gas line from the 1970's. They had been looking for 2 days to no avail. Willy pointed to a dent in the ground and said "dig here". Ten minutes later they'd found the pipe. "Yay!!, thanks Willy" the crew hollered. Walking away I asked how he knew where the pipe was. He laughed and said "big daddy I didn't have a gd clue where that pipe was but they don't know that"……"image is everything"……

Willy took me on a few more of those rides before I left the government job. One day I understood what he meant. I never wore a wrist watch but one day decided to try an experiment. I bought a few watches and took notice how some people treated me each time I'd wear a certain watch. If I was around a bunch of propellerhead types a digital watch did the trick. Around gearheads a dark face analog watch with a leather band did the trick. In some circles a Mickey Mouse watch mattered. It was crazy but Willy was right. I tried it with shirts, shoes, ball caps (or no ball cap), and even the words I chose or remain quiet just to see how it works. 
Image is everything.


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## Olumin (Oct 8, 2021)

I think the word Willy was looking for is _vanity_. But he couldn't put it that way, that would hurt his image.


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## aznsx (Oct 8, 2021)

bykfixer said:


> Image is everything.


BF - I gather that community was a fairly small one? 'Bout how big, if I may ask. True that this could be any size place, but I'm just curious.

Back where I come from, the phrase for a guy like Willie was "big fish in a little pond". It wasn't generally used in a complimentary way. There were always a few around, and it must be said, they generally 'did well'. There were always enough like that bike shop owner around to make sure of that. Never hung with that crowd - not my style, or 'image'.


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## bykfixer (Oct 8, 2021)

AZ, it was not Mayberry or Metropolis. We had 4 cops and a fire chief back then. It was what some call a bedroom community. One where most leave it from 9 to 5 and on weekends they stay at "the lake" or "the river". I suppose some would call it "the suburbs". Now days it's a very diverse community where a variety of ethnic groups and incomes are well represented, and about 50 cops now. 

The local "in crowd" played soccer back then. Now there's a skateboard park in the middle of the soccer complex. My family had lived on a farm that was sold off parcel by parcel as the town grew. So I was sorta like one of the Beverly Hillbillies to many in the community. But they always knew my name when their car broke down or lawn mower needed repairs.


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## Poppy (Feb 1, 2022)

A long long time ago, in a Galaxy we call the Milky Way, before there were light sabers, or cell phones, I called a girl friend and didn't catch her at home.

The next day, I called her again, and told her I called her the previous night.

Her response was... "Oh... I was out celebrating Hump Day!"

What!!! Hump Day!? And I missed it!???

Well friends, tonight is hump night eve.
Go out and celebrate it tomorrow.


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## bykfixer (Mar 5, 2022)

While in a Golden Corral this evening I heard a familiar voice say "whatcha say old man?" as Mrs Fixer and I were deciding where to sit. At first my thought was nobody remembers me anymore so they must be talking to someone else…then it dawned on me "paver Ed does" and it was his voice I heard.

I turned around to see where Ed was but he had gotten so old and give out he looked like a black Clint Eastwood. Hair all frazzled and his face was all skin and bones. I spoke to who I thought might be him and sure enough it was. I knew Ed in the 1980's when he worked for a paving outfit. He was a huge Washington Redskins fan. Then one day he said "today's my last day here". I figured like many in his profession he'd found a better paying job. I asked who he was going to work for. He chuckled and said "I'm retired"…… "my son just signed a 5 year contract with the Redskins", Holy cow, I heard other paver dudes say Ed's son was good at football but Jiminey Cricket, a 5 year deal!! And the Redskins too.

That was that. Ed retired. Then one night when I was dating Mrs Fixer I heard a voice in a Golden Corral say "whatcha say old man?" and it was Ed the paver. After a bunch of years he remembered me. I remembered him too because he was always happy, and made sure folks around him were too. He has a distinctive voice similar to Johnny Carson show announcer Ed McMann. We spoke about life a bit and went our separate ways.

A few times we went to Golden Corral Ed was there with his wife. One time I asked him "doesn't your son play pro ball?" He said "naw he retired"…"yeah, how'd he do?" See Ed remembered I had stopped watching football on tv the night Lawrence Taylor broke Joe Theisman's leg on Monday night football and they kept showing it over and over. He said "well he did ok with the Redskins, but when he played for the Packers he got some super bowl rings and played in the pro bowl a few times, but decided it was more important to stay home with mama" (meaning his wife).

Tonight Ed's son was with him at the Golden Corral. You'd never know his son was rich and famous. Yeah, he and his wife were well dressed but in a humble way. He walked his pop to their car a Ford Fusion, keeping him stable as Ed walked weakly and slow. Then he opened the car door for his wife……one of those really nice, big Mercedes sports cars, got in a drove off. It was a real pleasure seeing Ed after a few years and since he still remembered me it was more of a pleasure.

I do hope to see Ed again someday. If I do I'm going to say "Ed, what is your last name?"


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## bykfixer (Oct 16, 2022)

I recently joined a club called "skaters over 50". It's mostly skateboarders from the 80's who never stopped riding, but many members haven't ridden since the 80's. So you have a dozen or so super talented dudes who never got fat, or slowed down very much and then you have all these middle aged fat old dudes wanting to re-live their junior year of high school riding a skateboard in a concrete park. What could go wrong with that?

I joined out of curiosity really. I've already had my middle age crisis thank you. And it was fun too. Mine began at 36 and lasted to 47 so I'd say that wasn't bad. I came in for a hard landing one day and decided that was enough. A year later when all was nearly healed my body began to thank me. So I wonder how many of those folks over 50 that stepped back onto a skateboard after 32 years will still be riding after the initial 90 days because they did not ease into it, but instead decided "I've got this" and went all out only to find out they were doing the old folks boogie. That's where your mind makes promises your body can't fulfill.

I've found common ground with a few folks there. Some who rode in the mid 70's and remembered how by 1980 our body was wiped out from being crash test dummies for all those kids from the 80's to gain from. We were the first through the wall as it were. Many didn't make it to the year 2000. Yet I've found most there to be full of crap or just plain stupid. Many act like it's still 1985. They show off their old boards from 1987 that look like brand new. Anything I rode back in the day is long since gone because it was slam worn out. So when they scoff at me for being retired from it, it's no skin off my back. They were posers then and still posers now.

It's the few I've found common ground with that keeps me hanging around. The ones from the 60's and 70's were cool back then and still cool today. They got old by being smart. Nowdays, wise. Me? I'm just lucky but that's another story. The post 70's folks I get along with there are very understanding that those old tendons and bones don't just flex like they once did. They ride skateboards encased in skateboarder brand bubble wrap type apparel. We talk about practicing falling, how to predict the perils that may ensue because as the body gets older the reaction time gets longer and longer. I retired simply because one day I had hit the ground and bounced before I even realized I was falling.

The idiots say "never quit" as they roll around some skatepark stink-bug style thinking they're Tony Hawk because they met him at an autograph session. But in my heyday Tony was a little kid who was learning from us. Matter of fact there was a day at my local skateboard park where a bunch of the best of the best were skating in one favorite spot while I was doing my own thing in another spot and they asked me to ride with them. Them being the Stacy Perallta skateboard team and one being an up and coming Tony Hawk. I said "thanks, but I'm ok riding here". They were all trying to out-trick each other and see who could be the most "rad". I was just having fun and not wanting to compete. Fact was I was still healing and did not want to get injured again. But at one point I did stand still while one guy goes flying from one bowl to another flying over me. Yeah that was cool. 

They had a camera crew filming and snapping photos for some movie they were making. I remember there being an article in a skateboard magazine about "the tour". Not long after I was injured for life with a repeat knee catastrophe. Down time and rehab became a way of life that I'd had enough of. I rode here and there on occasion but the knee thing was always in my psyche. Never again did I want to re-live that. At 40 I began riding surfer style skateboards but at 47 stopped that too. I'm a life long member of "the old man army" which is a club that began around 2004 and like me the founders are all retired (again).

I'll always be a skateboarder at heart, as there were times the kids who picked on me on the baseball field or basketball court were humbled by my skateboarding prowess but that was then. It's fun to look at photos club members share of sketchy scrap wood ramps held together with scrap nails leaning on a shed or a rock. lol. We rode until it collapsed and put it back together again. I remember having a wound on my elbow all summer until rainy season when it finally healed because I couldn't ride my skateboard. But to ride anymore? Nah, that's ok, I'll watch thank ya.

Side story, one day I wrote an email to Stacy Peralta thanking him for starting a board company for us 'skate geezers' called Surf One. I told him the story of that day at my local park. He asked for my address. Eh, he'll send me some stickers or something. Not long after a box showed up with a bunch of stickers and a Powell-Peralta skateboard team jacket. 😎





Nice, huh.


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## gurdygurds (Oct 16, 2022)

bykfixer said:


> DUDE! That jacket is amazing! Funny that I just read this as last night I was online trying to see if I could find my old Lance Mountain deck. Maybe we all need to get together for a Search For Animal Chin watch party!



DUDE! That jacket is amazing! Funny that I just read this as last night I was online trying to see if I could find my old Lance Mountain deck. Maybe we all need to get together for a Search For Animal Chin watch party!




bykfixer said:


> I recently joined a club called "skaters over 50". It's mostly skateboarders from the 80's who never stopped riding, but many members haven't ridden since the 80's. So you have a dozen or so super talented dudes who never got fat, or slowed down very much and then you have all these middle aged fat old dudes wanting to re-live their junior year of high school riding a skateboard in a concrete park. What could go wrong with that?
> 
> I joined out of curiosity really. I've already had my middle age crisis thank you. And it was fun too. Mine began at 36 and lasted to 47 so I'd say that wasn't bad. I came in for a hard landing one day and decided that was enough. A year later when all was nearly healed my body began to thank me. So I wonder how many of those folks over 50 that stepped back onto a skateboard after 32 years will still be riding after the initial 90 days because they did not ease into it, but instead decided "I've got this" and went all out only to find out they were doing the old folks boogie. That's where your mind makes promises your body can't fulfill.
> 
> ...


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## bykfixer (Oct 16, 2022)

If you ever get the chance to see a movie called Downhill Motion GG, that was my heyday era. Filmed in about 1975 or 76 it was what our teenage years was shaped by. We lived our lives through pictures in a magazine and well written stories. When I saw the film footage in that movie the first time (in about 2005) it was just like being there all over again. Only it all happened in a summer in California and we were on the opposite coast doing the same thing a year later.

There's one scene while showing a guy laying on his back on a skateboard goes wizzing past a little kid (Jay Adams btw) going downhill the narrator says "safety gear hadn't been thought of yet, that was another 2 weeks later". lol. It was the hill where Dog Town Z-Boys shows a 12 or so year old Jay Adams bombing a hill. The guy goes flying past Jay who was himself going like 45mph. We called it "butt boarding" but they called it street luge.


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## orbital (Oct 16, 2022)

+

Gooofy footer here,, ground through & broke many Independent 169s'
Street, ditch, vert*, banks, swimming pools, anything

We built several vert ramps in high school through mid 80s' ,, when I have some more time I have a stories to tell.
One quick story:: the *Faction* played in my buddys large garage and behind that was one of our vert ramps,,, guess who skated it?



*real vertical


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## orbital (Oct 16, 2022)

+

Through the 80s' in high school we built something like four vert ramps.
The first was really nothing and fell apart, the next couple were getting better/ bigger learning about transition radius vs the amount of flat ect.
The last one in my senior year was to be the biggest, strongest of them all. Really focused on the foundation and using screws instead of nails. Just overbuilt in every way.
This ramps was near some railroad tracks and everyone knows, teenage kids + RR track can mean trouble..

Someone had the idea of going down the tracks to a lumber yard and stealing dozens of 2x6s' and sliding them along the track back to our ramp, tying rope to the ends and pulling them 1/2 mile or further.

What could go wrong?

So we did this 'mission' to the lumber yard one night after getting several guys to help.
Things were going ok, but as you slide wood across steel they heat up and act as brake pads,, we didn't account for this, DUUUH!

Just then, we see a light of a train in the distance, people were yelling to go faster ==== this heated up our wood 'brake pads' even more, making it tons *harder* to pull.
Everyone was freaking out as the train got closer & closer and I remember like it was yesterday how much my legs were cramping.
Now the train is maybe 30 seconds away and we were close enough to the ramp spot & we dumped all the wood off the tracks and laid in the ditch as the train roared past.

My heart was pounding so hard my brain went into some kind of 'safety mode' with my legs now unable to move.

__

A couple weeks later after the ramp was almost done except for the plywood (and I think we were going to do masonite also)
the building inspector forced it to be torn down*

That was such a stupid thing for all of us & I'm glad there wasn't some terrible accident.



Still, I miss the 80s'


* was rebuilt in a warehouse in downtown Milwaukee


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## knucklegary (Oct 16, 2022)

Kids will be kids.. Have y'all seen this old dude on YouTube?


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