Please Forgive

I was never a good mechanic. My automotive troubleshooting is so hit or miss that I might as well surf Craigs List at the first sign of trouble. Anything deeper than a jump start usually means, failing that, we are in for tow, repair and bill. I currently have three vehicles all in need of repair, maintenance and/or shop time. Worse, with gas at three and a quarter, I need to make some hard decisions. Disclaimer: I would LOVE to have an all electric car or Hybrid, but last time I checked no one was offering theirs for the best solo rendition of Unchained Melody. So today is day two of wrenching.

Day one wasn’t so bad. Yesterday I vigilantly marched down the drive to where my RV has been parked for almost three years armed with my socket set, an adjustable wrench and Macbook. I figured that a podcast or one of my juicy spin sets would ease the pain surely in store. My knuckles immediately recoiled at the thought and I inadvertently scraped my soon to be soiled fingernails. Trying to be a diligent grease hack I took some ‘before’ pix with the cheap Samsung Galaxy holding a small flashlight in my teeth. Just in case I need to remember where everything that I was about to disconnect, remove and replace was designed to be once the disconnecting, removal and replacement process is completed. I have found this helpful with past projects and especially when all is done and there remains a few parts left over. It is what the mechanical messiah Robert Pirsig calls an ‘out of sequence gumption trap’. Anyone who has ever witnessed this devastatingly demoralizing drama knows of what we speak. So I got the pix. 

The chores today, the rest of it anyway, as our traditional Saturday spin session ended at 0830 and my trip to the parts store, Home Depot, Safeway and Rite Aid (gonna needs some beer for this one) all accomplished, as soon as, the very moment that I finish up with the blogging phase of the day, it is back out to the RV and hope like hell that the alternator/generator that I paid dearly for ($100) is what kept that little Chevy 454 from purring. 

If not I am hosed. I will have to remove and replace every fuse in the Blue Whale’s three fuse boxes. Good Karma will surely keep that from happening, no? 

Once the grease has been successfully cleaned from hands (arms and elbows), the new filter on the pressure washer will test the detergent flow system. This of course to wash the Whale once I can drive it the half mile to the hose spigot. 

If I fail on both, all is not lost as I have a new roll of wheed-wacker nylon that needs to be spun onto the plastic pulley of the head unit. I can then hack weeds as long as I like. Assuming it stops raining.

Lastly today, speaking of good karma, or the lack thereof, for the second night in a row I committed a social faux-pas, using a racial slur unwittingly. Which of course is the worst kind. Thursday’s nights error of judgment pales in comparison to using ‘Indian’ to describe a Native American when it really means persons from India and not The Pacific Northwest. 

I apologize wholeheartedly to the two ladies present who immediately reprimanded me for my mindless, but no less wrong, choice of words. I still feel horrible and swear on the jersey of Sonny Sixkiller that it will never happen again. 

Please forgive.