Candid Camera?

More of what keeps me laughing at work:

Actual Phone Call, I answer and the caller says "Do you have any 78 Dodge Colts?"

And I reply, "No... I've never had a Dodge around here, we're handling 95-up Ford/Lincoln/Mercury."

Caller: "Oh, well, do you have any rocker arms off of em?"

Me: "No, I sure don't."

Caller: "Oh, well, I mean off a 95... Dodge... Colt... Rockers..."

Seriously, where's the camera? Where's the "This call may be monitored for training or entertainment purposes?"

And who the hell wants to put used rockers on anything???

More later. _\,,/

Disjointed Tuesday!

A voice that sounds a lot like "Apu" from "The Simpsons" asks for "A blinker for a Honda Civic."

I tell him that we handle Ford parts, we've never had any Hondas around here, and that he might want to check with ____ down the street.

Silence. Tick. Tock. I think about hangin' up, but...

Then the Apu voice says "Hello?"

For lack of a more interesting response, I say hello back.

"Uhm, Hello, I need a blinker for a Honda Civic."

I'm sure there are a thousand hilarious responses here, but Humor is lost on certain people and that's a waste of effort.

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Amazon-Dot-Com Knows who's-who around here:



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Do they also know that my Hotweels Addiction is to the point that I, at age 30, actually took My Mom to the toy department with me last night? Do they know that there's a little red Aston Martin V-8 Vantage rollin' around in my purse right now? Also, if Amazon-dot-com were sharing information, what would the people at Dooney & Bourke think about that??

Yeah, that's what I thought... It is wierd as hell, isn't it?

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The crusher is leavin' right now, the first truck just pulled out. I wish I could have shot more video... I took a few more pictures yesterday afternoon -- there's something so strange about being able to look at this picture and say "I drove that Thunderbird when we first hauled it in here."



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Hmmm... I wonder if "Comment Spam Guy" is on the prowl again...

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More later. _\,,/

Why I Love My Little Hometown...

I heard a little bit on NPR about the Storms that hit Kansas recently, and the reporter mentioned how the aid organizations (Red Cross and other folks who work along those lines) aren't having to do as much in the small towns as the do in the big cities because Small Town Folks tend to take care of each other.

Five years ago today, when David died, I think that was when I started to realize just how nice that "Sense of Community" was around here. I didn't work for about three weeks, but as soon as I was back in town on a daily basis, there was always somebody around to give me a little hug and ask how I was doin'. People I'd talked to before, or people I'd just seen around now and then, it didn't matter -- everybody seemed to care; these folks are a warm, friendly bunch.

Sperry is a tiny little town, we don't even have a stoplight here -- but the people are friendly as they can be, it's usually pretty quiet, we've got a real nice Library (with a Librarian who's a real sweetheart), and our Shell Station makes a damn good corndog.

When somebody mentions "flood water," we get a little nervous around here. Even though it doesn't get clear up into the houses all that often, it'll get deep enough that it's hard to find a road that's high enough get into or out of town. There's been a lot of rain around here lately, and it's been up over the road in a place or two.

Since Monday Morning, we've had several phone calls come in askin' about me, if I'm okay, and what I'm gonna do about my car... Well, I'm fine, I drove my car to work today, and uhm, what's goin' on?

I know my "regular readers" have probably already heard me talk about how I love my ol' car, probably more than I should -- kinda like how I love the cat even though she puked on my bed... I love that car, even though it's gettin' old, even though I worry a bit about second gear, I still love it. This here's My Thirteen-Year-Old Ford:



The rest of these shots are not My Thirteen-Year-Old Ford -- they're of someone else's Twelve-to-Fifteen-Year-Old Ford, washed off of US11 up between here and Skiatook:






Whoever it belongs to, I hope they got out alright and I hope they're okay. The water was starting to recede, that's why there's mud visible on the hood and the bumper -- but it's raining again right now.

I also kinda hope they call us when it's time to get it out of there... We can always use a parts-car.

I'll go to the park when I leave work today, even if it's raining too hard to get out of my car. I may write, or I may not; and the more I think about it, the more I think that if I do write, it probably won't be something I publish. I'll go and spend a little time in that same spot I usually go to, even though nobody ever told me exactly where David was when he died...

It doesn't matter where though; because he's everywhere, especially in the hearts of people like him, people who are friendly as though they never meet a stranger.

More later. _\,,/

Five Years Ago.

In the words of Meatloaf:

I Remember Everything;
I Remember Every Little Thing
As If It Happened Only Yesterday...

In 2002, the Eighth of May was a Wednesday when I discovered that the exhaust on my ol' black Pure Stock had been sawed off without much thought being put in as to where the ends ended up -- blowin' out right where they'd cook the floor under my feet. Stuff like that happened a lot back then; I had a hard time convincing Dave (and his crew) to take a minute and think things through first because he was always in a rush to do-do-do-get-it-done-now-now-now 'cause thinkin' about it first would take too much time -- and I had no idea how short that time was.

A little irritated, but calm because I knew to expect such things, I hopped in the truck to run down to the ol' race car barn (eh, storage unit) to grab the other set of manifolds & pipes we'd stashed away for later. Knowing full well that it would probably be the start of a shitstorm, I was as calm & careful as I could be, I parked the truck and walked right in there where Dave was workin' on the Outlaw Stock for his kid and picked up my manifolds so My Dad & My Brothers could attempt to fix what he'd done the night before.

The near-argument that followed didn't last as long as some had in the past; mainly because it wasn't closing time yet and I had to get back to the shop. Over the years, I've learned that when I'm agitated, I can only hold back and be calm for a certain amount of time; from there it edges over into crazy-ranting and then it's only a short slip into out-of-control-crying-like-a-little-bitch, ie, the part I don't really like to let people see.

I was reasonably agitated when I left... I vividly remember feeling myself slip over that edge as I was driving around the back side of the building to leave. Vividly. "Seven Bridges Road" was on the radio (it still seems rare for Tulsa radio), but it didn't seem to slow me down much -- I was just rowin' gears and tryin' to figure out where to try to go hide before I lost my composure completely. The harder I tried not to be mad, the madder I got. That sky-blue '98 F-250 had to take a lot of my wrath that summer; between my temper and the 5.4, I have no idea how that clutch ever survived. More on the magic of sellin' cars in a small town: I still see that truck runnin' around here; same guy who bought it later that year is still drivin' it right now.

I took the manifolds back to the shop and laid 'em down beside the car to make a break for the bathroom as quick as I could, and then finished out the day wondering if he'd come by when he headed home. I remember him standin' in the doorway askin' if I was still mad, and I remember thinkin' that I hadn't started out mad 'cause I'd seen it all comin' the night before and he was the one who'd blew up all mad 'cause I didn't want to leave the short pipes on there; but I didn't tell him that.

I remember standin' there in the cool sunshine between the wrecker and the North door talking; I told him that I couldn't see any reason to be all mad about it; he wanted things his way and I wanted things my way, so we're not so different, see? We're a lot alike and it can't be so bad for you to let me have a little say in some stuff, huh? And I finally got the feeling he understood me; he was so sweet and so calm and I just felt like I'd finally got my point across and everything got a little easier just like that. When he asked if I was comin' home with him that night, all I could think about was wanting to be close to him and wanting to get all I could get of basking in the new-found calm between us.

Curled up on the couch watchin' TV with my head in his lap, I really felt like we'd turned a corner and were headed in the right direction. I even talked to his mom on the phone that night, chattin' about gettin' ready for the wedding; and he had calls from both kids that night too. We just had a real nice evening; I met him in the doorway headed for the shower as he was gettin' out and kissed me soakin' wet; and he was waitin' up for me when I got out of the shower, his arm was stretched out across my pillow. I remember waking up cold in the middle of the night and snuggling up to him, pressing my back to his and feeling his warmth all through me...

The next morning in the glow of the sunshine streaming through the window, he woke me up to tell me he was headin' off to work. He leaned down to kiss me and he stayed just a bit instead of hurrying like he usually did. I've never been a "morning person," but looking into his eyes that day, I felt like I was right where I wanted to be and I could go right out and conquer anything. As he left, I rolled over onto his pillow and listened to the creaks and rattles as he eased the ol' six-cylinder down the hill toward the gate; and then I took my time getting up and going to work, not worried about a thing.

Looking back, I still wonder if I might have blocked out the idea that there might be somethin' about to happen.

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Tomorrow, I think I'll go to the park, sit and write a while, and see what comes out... Maybe I'll publish that too...

More later. _\,,/

The Pen...

Yeah, the weekend was a little like this, and the phrase I'm talkin' about is "The Penis Mightier."

Uh, yeah, Howdy Go0ogle...

English Major

I love my NPR, I really do. I even listen in the shower.

This morning, with conditioner in my hair and toothpaste in my mouth, I heard something that made me wonder.

The piece was about Wind Farms and how they're building one in Delaware. Hmm... Interesting. There's usually plenty of wind blowing around, we'd about as well use it -- and generating electricity with wind doesn't produce any harmful smoky side-effects either. Sounds like a good deal...

Then I heard the voice on the radio say "building the first and largest off-shore wind farm..."

What the hell? If it's the First, then as of yet, it's the only one, isn't it? If it's the only one, then how is it the biggest one? If it's the only one there is, then there's not a smaller one to compare it to that would make it the biggest.

Wouldn't it also be the smallest? The greenest? The purple-est? The Loudest and the Quietest? The Tallest and the Shortest?

If it's the First, then there's only one!

Okay, I'm steppin' down off my soapbox now.

More later... _\,,/