Category: Things with Motors

In Victoria

Jesus iced Christ on a pogo stick, it’s snowing.  Or trying to. We’re here, we’re going to go to Value Village and then Radjuli.  Then tonight we’re off to Brannigan’s for dinner and the trip up Island has been cancelled for reasons of harrumph won’t get into that now.  Katie has interesting friends.

I got into the wrong lineup at the ferry this morning and the car wrangler cheerfully said, ‘I don’t care, please get on the ferry.’

So much for reserved sailings.

MUMMY I love my mother, she found me a copy of Mother’s Day, so it’s on the site now.  Oldest Homily have got.

Happy Birthday to me!

Last day….

It was sad to be in that building for the last day.  I moved into that building many years before I started this blog, and now a new and exciting chapter starts (and I’m much closer to Brian C, Tom U, and numbers of other former coworkers who are now at a company ‘across the hall’ so to speak).

We packed up the desks about noon and then went to Joey’s Coquitlam for lunch; then I drove Dustin back to the office, picked up some cleanser and a vase that had been left there, wandered back to my old desk to say goodbye, picked up the yogurt that I’d left in the fridge, and felt a surge of unhappiness.  Then I got home, struggled with the fucking lawnmower for quite a while, said fuck it and did the weed-whacking instead, and then went back, gave it a mighty heave and got the lawnmower running.  Then I finished the lawn.  Since the back lawn grass was wet as a baby’s diaper the exercise provided was kind of extreme; mowing the front yard left me exposed to the sun to the point I thought I’d pass out.

Sweating like a pig, I brushed myself down and then went and got my new stickers for the car (having thoughtfully changed my coverage to include the kids), fetched beer as per Jeff’s request, taste tested a new vodka cooler (cranberry lime) and upon making the discovery that unlike every other cooler I’ve ever had, it wasn’t disgustingly sweet, I purchased some.

Then I planted some seedlings and discovered an ant colony in our compost pile.

I was supposed to go to Tom and Peggy’s to practice, but after the exertions of the day I couldn’t move.  I eventually recovered to the point of cooking toasted ham’n’eggers and collapsed for good around nine without even looking at my computer.

Titanic scale GRRRRRRRRR

Ziva, o Ziva.  Her electrical system went snake when I touched the alarm fob when it started beeping (due to low battery) yesterday.  I removed the battery and didn’t think any more of it, but then all hell broke loose after I got it back from the shop – weird weird stuff!  I managed to get it to the shop, and the brake light and running lights were going on and off, and a horrific relay noise was coming from the dash, and the blue lights radiating from the alarm are triggering a migraine, and I’m scared out of my mind that she’s been possessed by Satan.

The brake light is an easy fix; the aftermarket alarm is getting yanked out today (I am morally opposed to car alarm systems and should have had it yanked from the outset) and Ziva continues to be a very, very temperamental hunk of purple ironmongery.  And somewhere, Loki is laughing.  Grr Grr Grr!

Continuing saga

Work = like that line in the Housewife’s Lament; “Alas twas no dream, ahead I behold it, I see I am helpless my fate to avert.”

Home = peaceful.  Katie did her first full day at Blossom’s yesterday.  I cooked spag and meat sauce (Marinelli store bought tomato and basil, half a dozen mushrooms and half an onion finely chopped) and Keith complimented me on the texture, which was nice.  Jeff and I would have preferred it with nicer meat – even if it’s the transition to organic beef, too much gristle and fat reduces the fun.  Still tasty though, and I think I prefer the mouth feel of spaghetti over spaghettini even if it takes longer to cook.  Paul came over before work for dinner and to watch the Nova program on the Fate of Flight 447, the Air France Airbus that went down many miles off the coast of Brazil.  It’s amazing how fast you can fall out of the sky when your pitot tubes ice up.

 

 

What’s the mileage on this thing like?

ha!

Get off the road, youngster!

My all time favourite car.

Ettore Bugatti quotes:

My cars are supposed to go, not stop (when somebody complained about the brakes).

A gentleman should have a heated carriage house (when somebody complained that the cars were cranky in cold weather).

Nothing is too beautiful, nothing is too expensive.

Sounds like a privileged white guy…. but that’s really the hankie calling the bread white I spose.

Momz shopping kart

I emerged from the psychologist’s office with a powerful urge to spend money,  (subtext “She’s on the mend!”) so I bought an extremely simple shirt pattern and some nice cotton fabric on sale (a musical print, a soft cigar coloured paisley for an awrence (only my mother will get this reference, but ç’est la vie) and a LOUD fish print, which is probably going to make small children poke me in the boob and say “I see Nemo!  Oh look anudder Nemo!”  I also bought a very very loud 18 inch purple cotton scrap, usually used for quilting but I’m going to repurpose the fabric as handkerchiefs, also notions, tired of having crappy thread.

Margot just got some catnip.  After her hunting escapades this morning she’s as excitable and fluttery as all get out; just now she was attacking thin air and then slowly coming to terms with there not actually being anything in the air she just attacked.  I think she’s all tuckered out now, I can hear her snore-breathing and her eyes are just barely open.  She must have been so happy Eddie brought her a live toy; after he had played with it for a while and gotten her into the swing of things, he left her alone with the mouse.

After the psychologist, I poked my head in at Katie’s; I took her out for dimsum, brought her back here for job applyin’, drove all the way out to her place again for Stuporstore; dropped her and her groceries off, and drove home.  Gas situation = must get gas tomorrow; right now putting groceries away is leaving me all tired.

It’s fun going shopping with Katie; how else would I find out that her glasses, which she had when she moved out, have vanished, and now must be replaced.

But for all that, I just don’t feel like I want to own a car anymore.  It was really fun for a while, but I’ve learned my lesson.  It’s not OWNING a car that I want.  It’s access when I want it.  I still have a co-op car ticket and I’ll run up to Highgate or over to Edmunds Stn when I want a car, or borrow Jeff’s if he’ll let me.

One of Paul’s neighbour’s really likes Probes, so I’ll run it by her first and see if there’s any interest; if not I’ll stick it on Craigslist once the office has moved, inshallah.

Things to be happy about

I am happy because I get to drive Jeff’s car for two days so he can ferry his friends to and from the ferry.  Cause my car has you know like four seats. My car, except for the verklimmt idle racing once in a while (up and down between 800 and 1200 rpm) is running tip top, and so smooth and quiet you’d never guess she’s coming up on her 15th birthday.

I am happy because I have a good job with awesome coworkers.

I am happy because Katie has painted a new painting and I gave her all my acrylic paint so she can do even more!

I am happy because when Jeff came home yesterday he gave me a big hug.

I am happy because I have a comfy cozy bed to sleep in, and when it’s raining like this that is a very good thing.

I am happy because I spoke to my mother on the phone for 40 minutes last night.  Not one instant of it was complaining about health problems, and so roll out the double happiness sigil.

I am happy because I thought of a title for something “The Chapel of Extremity” based on something by Brion Gysin and I wonder what it will end up attached too.  That’s the weird thing about creativity.  It’s holographic and you never know what the slice will reveal.

I am happy because when I went to get my computer fixed he said, “Three hundred dolla for fix, sixty dolla for new drive from London Drugs.  Why you no go London Drugs?” Which struck me as eminently sensible, and I will definitely go and spend money there some other time.

I am happy because even if I’m not sleeping more than six hours, it’s a solid six hours.

I am happy because Julian Assange is going to have a publicity field day while he sits in jail in England and wait for the extradition.

I am happy because now I have seen most of The Wire, I’m finding The Wire references everywhere in popular culture and I kill myself laughing every time I find one.

I am happy because Cate Blanchett is going to reprise her role as Galadriel.  And there is going to be a second Sherlock Holmes.

I am happy that Paul bought a new bed.  I wanted to make a silly joke about it, but I won’t.

I am happy that Keith is having good job interviews and hopes to be working full time soon.

I am happy that I am alive, and world is still singing in me.

Some woman tried to kill me today

Blue Maxima, licence 338 TGG, pulled out onto 10th without looking. I swerved, a very alert human in the oncoming lane swerved, the alert human behind me didn’t run into me, and as for crashstyle, you couldn’t pass your hand through the gap she left. She pulled in front of me.  I followed her for ten blocks, watched her make TWO cell phone calls, pulled up next to her at 16th and 6th, and got a good look at her.  I wanted to follow her some more.  But I didn’t.  Folks at work are teasing me to call it in.  Why, so I can spend a f*cking day in court?  Puhleeze, Louise.  I have amazing reflexes for an old broad, and thank Darwin I had help.

If we had collided, we would have blocked a major traffic artery blocks from the turn off for the bridge.  And it wouldn’t have been my f(cking fault, for once.

41 things I love about my car

I was going to do this as a pictorial essay but I kept thinking that even attempting to do this was the height of self indulgent schlock; pictures would just be even more self indulgent.

  1. She is uniquely and spectacularly purple;
  2. She has a functioning sunroof;
  3. Those two attributes alone are why I purchased her;
  4. The little meeping noise she makes when I leave the sound system in the car (my response being, “yeah, baby, I know” and to then remove and lock it up, this being Vancouver);
  5. The bonging noise she makes when I leave the lights on or the door ajar;
  6. Her incredible throaty purr as I depress the accelerator in fourth gear going up Burnaby Mountain as I go to work in the morning;
  7. The delightful difference that a small amount of maintenance can make in her attitude, viz, what happens when I spend 39 dollars on her for micro blade windshield washers and driving at night instantly stops being scary;
  8. The fact that, despite the fact that she’s a Ford, she is in fact a sportscar, and sportscars are part of family traditions and lore;
  9. The fact that, despite the fact that she’s not a convertible, she can be skyclad and I can get wind in my hair, and that too is part of family tradition and lore;
  10. Ziva’s capacious trunk;
  11. Her ability to haul two in comfort, if they don’t mind the ungainly exit, and five in a pinch, which also describes the status of the rear passengers;
  12. The layout of the dashboard, which combines simplicity and functionality;
  13. Her tachometer.  You see, that’s how I know she’s a sportscar.  And I use it, along with the engine sound.
  14. The sound system, a Pioneer deck;
  15. The subwoofer, now alas in for repairs;
  16. The fact that I have the shop manual;
  17. The fact that I have the original owner’s manual;
  18. The fact that I knew it was going to cost a lot more than the previous owner thought it would to get her running, and cognitively moved myself along the irritation of that knowledge to knowing that one day I would merely love her more for the pains she cost me;
  19. The fact that she has had the courtesy to take to her bed, on those occasions when her ability to move abruptly ceased, somewhere like the highway as opposed to on the ferry;
  20. The way her behaviour seems very human sometimes;
  21. The simply amazing way she cleans up;
  22. The way she reflects how I feel about myself these days – beat up, long out of warranty, expensive to maintain, gassy – in her various flaws, viz, the missing rocker panel and the bent antenna;
  23. The way her model name is outlined in purple;
  24. How there were only two hundred like her ever made (I have a history of loving rare cars, like the Marlin).
  25. How if I want to ever sell her, I can pretty much get back what I’ve spent on her (and I know it would break my heart, but I’m thinking I may sell her when the company moves in March because my bus commute will instantly become more humane);
  26. How adjustable the driver’s seat is;
  27. The way the interior lights slowly fade after somebody gets into or out of the car;
  28. The pattern of the material on the seats;
  29. How fast I’ve learned to get the sunroof open without taking my eyes off the road;
  30. Rear wiper! I had no idea how much I would love having a rear wiper;
  31. How I’m so unused to having a rear wiper that I neglected to buy a replacement when I replaced the front ones (and I’d like to thank Paul and the guy from Lordco for helping with that, in the rain, even);
  32. The blinding speed with which Ziva goes from shoving cold air out her vents to boiling hot gusts of air that make me feel I could drive anywhere in the winter and stay warm;
  33. The equally blinding speed with which she deals with interior condensation – after decades of anemic heaters in various cars it’s like a revelation;
  34. The little dangly sparkly purple skull I hung from the passenger sun visor, which reminds me not to drive like an idiot so I don’t end up like a skullington myself;
  35. The way the check engine light comes on at precisely the same point every day on my commute and goes off just before I get to work, like clockwork, and how this is entirely normal behaviour in her and her sister Probes of like vintage, and that I should only start worrying if this changes, and how it kinda reminds me of me;
  36. The way she entirely hauls ass when I need her to merge with traffic or scooch into a vacancy in a lane;
  37. The visibility!  With fish eye mirrors and proper window coverage I feel like I can see what the hell I’m doing and react appropriately to the solipsistic mixed martial arts amateur night construction plagued gong show that is driving in Vancouver;
  38. How stiffly sprung she is.  I could wish she took speed bumps better, but that’s okay, I’m supposed to slow down anyway;
  39. How the fuel light comes on long before it’s really an issue;
  40. How she makes me feel on a warm summer day, tunes blaring;
  41. How she makes me feel, period.  That loving, obsessive combination of indulgence and pride and worry and irritation that is car ownership, and how it traces directly back to my ancestors and how they felt about their horses.

Bloodwurmz! (Relatives of Tatzelwurm).

Oooogh, quoth she.

In real news for me, which I am confidently aware will be of no conceivable use to even my mother…..

Church meeting kinda interesting.  I talked too much, as per Save Us usual.  Rev Katie gave us YET another book to read.  She must think we’re Unitarians er something.

Yay!  Jeff, beautiful Jeff, was up and willing to watch another episode of The Wire.  Yip, yip, aroo.  Oh, Jimmy, how we love your drunken ways.  One of the best drunks ever; Dominic West’s face becomes so rubbery and simian that you pull your face away from the tv, convinced you’ll be smelling the ferocious eyescalding breath on him if you get any closer.

I love how they don’t translate stuff in other languages.  You can either keep up or not.

I love my car. I love my car.  Ziva is not a vehicle, she is an obsession.  Too soon, by rust and accident and use and expense she will be torn from my bosom…. now wait a second.  That’s too weird an image…. I plant my ass in the middle of her all the time, to refer to her as being torn from my bosom would mean that she would a) have to get a lot smaller b) lose A LOT of mass c) travel through my body, like ew, while in that state and ….. wait a minute.  All I have to do to make that image real is get out of the car, glue (something that won’t damage the finish) my shirt to the car, and have somebody else drive away from me.  Then she’d be torn from my bosom, and that would actually kind of make sense, although for the most striking visualization of this idea a cartoon or comic would probably work best.  And that way I don’t have to damage the car, always a plus.  For the image to work perfectly I’d be left naked with a patch of hair torn off, but a drawing of me, so I can avoid the hassle of you know, like, going through it.   You know, like that Despair chica from the Sandman books.  That’s how terrible I’m going to feel when she goes.  But I can still encompass, with a glowing, merciful joy, what it’s like to sit in her and feel the engine purr into life.  To feel the IMMENSE CASCADES of heat that come out of those vents when it’s cold.  I’m sure I mentioned earlier how much I like my car.

Keith is looking for work.  Katie is working too much.

I blow kisses at Sue Sparlin, Karen Greenland, Carol Becken, and Rev Katie of course.

Parlous times they may be, but I am not alone.  I feel a great connectedness, which is only increased when shared.

I let Paul drive Ziva last night

And I complained non stop.  Some things never change.

Anyway, I ate supper (stellar meal, fresh tomato and fresh basil salad, pork chomps with Paulegra spicing and Chilliwack peaches and cream corn so fresh it was like an explosion of sweetness) with Paul and Keith last night, and I was expecting Part II to be me whining at Paul to put the new Resophonic strings on John’s resonator guitar, but instead he says, “We’re going to Rev Katie’s place to get her hockey gear.”

Turns out Paul’s having a visitor from Seattle who is a ginormous hockey fan who is planning on taking it up as a hobby – she’s about my age.  She’s coming to town and Paul thought, “Rev Katie doesn’t play hockey any more, maybe she wants to ditch her equipment”.  Strangely, she did, and we also got in a nice visit, more social than bitching about church thank goodness.  But honestly, I didn’t think I would be hauling women’s hockey equipment across the Pitt River bridge when I got up yesterday morning; all I can say is: my life is full of incident.  Got home around 9, watched tv for a bit and collapsed.  I drove home BTW….

Unbelievable, very stressful but ultimately good things happened at work yesterday, and of course I can’t talk about it but I am very, very, very stressed out.  Good stress and bad stress.