A Tale of Two Rides

It is with a heavy heart that I announce the demise of my beloved grunt-buggy, TR.

  

Bactrack to the Sunday before Thanksgiving.  We had had yet another light snowfall the night before.  It was light enough to not cause any major headaches like drifts or slick snowpack.  However, it was just enough accumulation to conceal that bane of winter driving - "black ice."  

I was on my way to Mass, be-bopping down the various county roads leading to my destination.  I wasn't concerned in the least about the snow, as it was barely enough to dust the roads.  I did briefly entertain the thought of dropping TR into 4WD just in case, but the notion passed as quickly as it had come to me.  About a mile shy of The Carmel, as I was climbing a short but steep grade, I hit that demon-spawn of Jack Frost doing just under 45 mph.

In an instant, TR was launched into a nifty 540-degree {a 360 + 180} spin that ended rather abruptly when he struck the embankment square on his right front corner.  The seatbelt and airbags did their jobs; I walked away with a few cracked ribs, and some soft tissue bruising all on my right side.  TR was DOA, however - the impact blew out the radiator and both passenger-side tires, bent the frame, and shoved the motor back a good four inches, breaking the motor mounts in the process.

Needless to say, I knew TR wouldn't recover from his wounds, 'cos the cost of repairs would surely be a great deal more than his Kelly Bluebook value,  even if the frame and motor mounts could have been repaired.  The only expedient thing to do was write him off immediately, then concentrate on finding his successor.  Keep in mind that this happened in late November - I was VERY concerned that my Christmas shopping could be in jeopardy, but at that point I had no other options.

Enter Buford.

Three weeks after the crash, my dear SIL stumbled across a prospect on Craigslist - a 1998 Buick LeSabre Custom whose replacement motor only had 77,000 ticks on the clock.  And a dirt-cheap asking price, to boot.  Thus, I quickly arranged an inspection and test-drive for that very afternoon.  My earlier acquisition of TR himself four years back had taught me how to pounce on a good deal with alacrity, and pounce I did with Buford.  His inspection revealed minimal rust {all of it surface}, a clean and tidy interior, and the appealing good looks of a 90's-era GM H-body platform.

Buford next passed his road test with flying colors - I'd forgotten how stout the H-bodies were ever since I sold my "Old Blue Mk.II" Pontiac Bonneville a decade ago.  Buford's reminder was a pleasant one, indeed.  LSS, the deal was closed in short order, and also gave me a double-coupon of enough leftover cash after the taxes, title, and insurance issues were duly taken care of, to put my Christmas shopping right back on the rails at the 11th hour.

With the stress now gone, I was able to thoroughly enjoy Christmas with my clan, whilst also making friends with my new wheels.  My evaluation of Buford so far almost has me convinced to turn him into my first "hobby car."  The only thing holding me back is deciding which of three hot-rodding options would be the most prudent course of action.  There's absolutely no rush on this either - when it happens, it will happen only after thorough research and window-shopping.  I want to have some fun with Buford, but in the most practical of ways.

As always, I'll post progress reports here when relevant; y'all won't miss a thing, rest assured.

In the meantime, you lot know the drill - groove-riding and Colortini-imbibing, dig?

More shortly.........

ARMISTICE Day

One hundred years ago today just outside of Paris, France - at precisely 11 am local time, the "War To End All Wars" finally came to a conclusion.  It was a literal bloodbath the world had never seen before - combined military and civilian casualties from both sides easily topped the 40 million mark.  Add in the totals from "collateral damage" {ie, the great influenza pandemic of 1918-19}, and the number approaches 50 million.  To put this figure into perspective, the US population as of this past Thursday was 328,953,020.  Then divide that by 50 million, and you get roughly 6-1/2 %.

One century ago, that was a LOT of world population wiped out, in the space of four years.  Ironically, The Great War did more to forecast the future of international / global conflict, than it did to "solve" any societal issues, redress grievances, etc.  

Item: three new means of warfare - all of them mechanized - made their respective debuts during the conflict.  Seaborne warfare gave twin births to the "dreadnought" {battleship} class of surface warships, as well as the first mass deployments of practical below-the-surface submarines.

In the air, the great Zeppelins were soon to be displaced by the much more practical airplanes - and an ancient practice was given new life, as aerial combat quickly evolved into the 20-century equivalent of the joust.  "Aces" - those with five or more confirmed kills - were honored and feted much as the successful knights of old were.  When the infamous "Red" Baron Von Richtofen finally met his demise, he was honored and mourned equally on both sides.

And the landbound troops?  Well, for them the writing was on the wall the very first day one of these showed up on the battlefield:

Thus was the mighty horse, noble symbol of true battlefield glory for close to five millennia, quickly and unceremoniously retired in favor of man-made metal monsters that would - like their cousins in the air and on / in the water - continue to evolve and grow ever-more formidable, right up to the present day.  Oh yeah - the modern subs and planes can literally circle the globe to deal their death, and then calmly return home in a single maneuver!!!  As for today's tanks, they can level a good-sized city - say 75,000-150,000 or greater population, in the space of a couple hours; or a bit longer, if they have to fight........

The treaties and alliances spawned by the Great War set the stage for both social and economic chaos, and a strong thirst for even bloodier vengeance that would eventually re-ignite the flames of war across the globe, not quite 20 years after 11/11/1918.

Item: in 1918, much as in 2018, the Moslem population was "feeling its' oats," and creating much havoc and distress as they wantonly plundered whatever war-torn territories they wandered into, stretching from the remains of the Persian Empire {the Middle East}, to the remains of the Ottoman {Mediterranean}  and Austro-Hungarian {European} Empires.  It got so bad, that a certain John Joseph "Black Jack" Pershing declared "enough is enough," and stopped the Moslem hordes dead in their tracks, with some good old-fashioned intimidation that kept the "followers of Allah" absolutely silent and socially invisible for the next 60-odd years.  

This is clearly one instance where history needs to repeat itself, if we ever want to move forward as a whole society ever again.  If Black Jack were still around, there'd be no "Brexit," if nothing else.

Item: in November 1918, Communism was engulfing Russia; indeed, the Bolshevik Revolution had abruptly yanked Russia almost totally away from the Great War the year before {much to the relief of the beleaguered Triple Entente}.  The United States faces much the same in 2018, as the mainstream Democratic Party has been effectively overrun by bona-fide Socialists, Communists, and Anarchists.  I won't mention the GOP's coincidental struggle with narcissistic plutocrats, and spineless "can't we all just git along?"autocrats within it's own house - and no, The President is NOT included in the GOP rank-and-file, despite everything the media has said since November of 2016......

The War To End All Wars?  For a very bloodied, and totally exhausted world a century ago, the notion seemed massively appealing.  Looking at it from the modern perspective however, it clearly seems to still be wanting, for those who care to see - and even for those who don't.  Which makes it all the more important for us to REALLY understand why that famous, fatally-flawed notion should once again become something to aspire to - no matter the ultimate cost.

To me, THAT is the true meaning of Armistice Day, One Century On.

May God Bless and Keep all of the Vets who served in The Great War To End All Wars, and in all the others before and since...........

Sorry - small Hyperbole!!

I'm typing this installment with the Mother Of All Sardonic Smiles solidly fixed on me ugly mug.

Why, pray tell?

Wellsir, as I'm writing this it's a balmy 23 degrees outside - which perfectly complements the fresh, three-plus inches of "GLOBAL WARMING" that fell on us yesterday!!!

You read that right Friends and Neighbors {and you too, Willona};  14 October 2018 is on the record books as the start of winter, here in Hooter - er, Huskerville.  No need to wonder why, really.  See, contrary to popular fiction the polar ice caps aren't really disappearing at all - they're simply sending parts of themselves south for the winter, just like all the other migratory species on this here mudball!!

Which explains why my trusty old #2 railroad steam locomotive scoop has had the rust knocked off of it a good two weeks before the trick-or-treaters show up.  It's a beautiful thing, really.

Time to make with a Colortini or two - y'all are encouraged to do likewise.

More shortly.......

Never To Be Forgotten.......

.......... or forgiven, for that matter.  

Why?

Dig the illustration, Cats & Kitties:

'Nuff said.

For Those Who Have Fallen

May God Bless and Keep ALL of our fallen Military - from Valley Forge to the Taliban and / or ISIS.

We will NEVER forget the ultimate sacrifice one and all made; to do so would thoroughly cheapen and demean all the blood that has been spilled.  Simple as that.

Oh, yeah - almost forgot:  Thank You!  Thank You!! Thank You!!!  Thank You!  Thank You!! Thank You!!!

Da Beeg Five-Oh....

One half of a century.  

As my man Ben Stein might say, ”Woooow.”

A fifty year old person has clear recollection of when all but the largest of cities “rolled up their sidewalks” by 10 pm on weekdays and midnight on Saturdays, with Sunday actually being a nationwide day of rest, save for hospitals, police & fire, and a selection of restaurants.

Fifty year olds also can clearly remember only four to six channels on television, “SenSurround Sound” in movie theatres, AM Top Forty and FM Underground on the radio - complete with Wolman Jack hopping back and forth between both frequencies - and that rare luxury known as a “party line” on the good ol’ telephone.  

Men landing and walking on the Moon, “portable” telephones, 24-7/365 commerce, video games, basic cable TV, and this Interwide Web-thingy {among many, MANY other things} were all far in the future, when the fifty year old in question was still a youth.

And I ought to know - ‘cos I AM that fifty year old in question!!

That’s right, Fellow Babies - this modest and humble drummer is about to plunge headfirst into my sixth decade with a clear head, reasonably sharp focus, somewhat-healed heart, and all guns still a-blazin’ as usual.    The ride so far has been nothing short of utterly typical - the ups and the downs tend to cancel each other out over the long haul, despite whatever perspective I might have on a day-to-day basis in the trenches.

Death of a loved one; a nearly insatiable hunger for travel; a desire to be ones’ own boss; health issues; financial hassles; political guerrila warfare; familial drama and upheaval; the odd spiritual quest or three; a taste of ones’ own mortality - you name it, I’ve “been there, done that,” and then some.  But again, I must stress that my situation is way more typical than unique - anyone who can’t concoct a large laundry list of personal experiences after fifty years of life is either brain-dead, or at the very least severely challenged in the mental department.

“Older but wiser.”  

Clich`e it ain’t, Cats and Kitties.  It’s simply the natural order of things - the kicker comes from whether or not we decide to dump a pallet of monkey-wrenches into the machinery, just to see what might happen.  Myself, I’m going to continue to do my damnedest to avoid such a scenario; as such, don’t expect future blogs about an asinine “midlife crisis,” or whatever.  I’m perfectly peaceful about what has gone before, and I’m firmly focused on the future.  IMHO, to do otherwise would simply be a waste of time, and would play right into Old Nick’s cloven “hands,” dig?  

I mean, how the hell can one call some personal fluxtime a “midlife crisis,” when not a single one of us know for sure how long or short our lives will be in the first place?  Doesn’t it make more practical sense to continually double down, rather than dwell on this or that heartache to the nth degree?

Y’all know the answer just as well as I do - “Older, but wiser.”

And that will just about do it for now, Boys and Girls.  The bottom line is that age fifty is whatever the hell I choose to make of it, and I hope to post updates about it here with a touch more frequency than my posts from 2017, God willing.  

So sit tight, fire up a pitcher of Colortinis, and ride the groove with me, if you will.  I dig the company, y’know?

More shortly……...