More Email Greatness

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Gee, it has an ID plus it's from the gubmint!! It's gotta be for real! Why, that's ten dollars a question - wow!

Oh wait, why would a US government agency host a questionnaire in Taiwan?

Oh, and deliberately wrong imputs pursued and indicted? Ooohh, scawy.

Presented Without Comment

More Scenery

Another blurry pic through a buggy windshield. Spanish Peaks Mountains from C10 east of Walsenberg CO. I'm in Grand Junction tonite, and pooped. Cya later.

Always a Rainbow

Today, on the way towards home, I was on I70 just west of the Johnson and Eisenhower Tunnels. Climbing the grade, I saw I was catching a Pathfinder pulling a single axle trailer with a much wider wheelbase than the Nissan. Following was a four door import. The Nissan with the trailer was taking up two lanes - there are three lanes eastbound to the tunnels. I was in the middle lane. The car seemed to be running interference for the truck in the middle lane - when he wandered over, it protected his "six."

So, I watched this for about ninety seconds, because my truck was outpulling their rig, and it's curvy. I considered using the far left lane, but I wasn't running as fast as traffic in the fast lane. Besides, he seemed to get it together and stay in far right lane. I figured he saw me coming.

I was easing up on him and suddenly he started drifting into me. I heard some crunching noises and saw something glittering explode to hood level. He still hadn't noticed me, and in fact, was about to collide with the front of my truck with his Pathfinder.

I laid on the air horn. He had been gesticulating and shaking his head, too busy talking to his passenger. He immediately pulled over. I did not - there was very little shoulder and a guardrail there. It wasn't a safe place. So, I went on up the hill until the shoulder widened, stopped and inspected the damage.

Apparently the trailer tire and wheel got up against my front wheel and shattered all the plastic chrome nut covers, which was the glittering trash I had seen. The chrome hub cover (brand new, I put it on last week) was dented. There was as tire scuff on the fender drop behind the front wheel.

He had to be running beside me crabbing that little trailer against my truck. It was a very close thing that he didn't get his truck into mine. I couldn't move into the other lane because of the traffic - to avoid him, I'd have to shove someone against the center "Jersey Barrier."

I never saw them again. I called in to CHP to report what had happened. I didn't want to be accused of hitting and running. They had not received any phone calls from anyone else about the incident. I flat out told the dispatcher he was not maintaining lane discipline and it was his fault. She agreed, and we figured they wouldn't want to report it because it was their fault. Who knows, he might have been drunk or high, suspended license, no insurance or whatever. The dispatcher told me if they didn't show up real quickly, to just drive on. She had my company name, and my name and number.

I hope he got a flat tire, the moron. If I hadn't had the new hub cover installed, he might have broken the sight glass on the hub oiler, and I'd have been parked until someone could come out and put in a new one. Trucks like I drive use gear oil to lube wheel bearings, and there is a hub with the outer wall made of clear plastic, so the oil level can be checked. There is a plug in the center that can be removed to add oil. The plastic is durable, but it can age and crack. It won't take a direct hit, though. I'd have made sure the idiot would have to pay for that, had it happened.

I am continually reminded that fifty percent of intelligence levels out there are below average. Driving with his head firmly ensconced in his rectal area on a very busy and dangerous road only proves it to me.

So, I managed to get through Denver without incident, and the further east I went the more showers I ran through. This picture was taken about two or three miles east of the Kansas/Colorado border. Into every life some rain must fall, but sometimes, there is a rainbow. My day could have taken a far worse turn if that moron had actually hit me hard. There are some large dropoffs there, plus spinning out may have caused him to roll. His day could have been worse as well, but at the moment, I have little sympathy for his problems.

Tubby Trucker Reporting In

Fear mah authoritiy. The top pic is the truck I'm driving for now - a 2002 Freightliner Classic, C15 Cat 550hp, 18 over, and 3.90 rears on tall rubber. The crane is an older Effer, made in Italy. It is capable of pickup up more weight than the truck can handle - I could dump this truck in a hurry. My "new" truck arrived over the weekend, but it's gonna take a bunch of work before it's ready to rumble.

The pic is from the south side of Clifton CO on C141 looking north. Sorry 'bout all the bugs. They won't have the guts to try taking on that windshield again.

Calvin's Dad

As a wee lad, my dad told me if I shaved my head, the hair would grow back curly. I believed that for years.

Trucking and Patience

Well. I am sitting in Oakley KS at the T/A in the truck wash line at Blue Beacon, actually paying for internet access. Because I'm bored and don't have any reading material.

This day has not been a stellar day for the image truckers give the public. I may have contributed to that negative effect as well.

It all started this morning in Colby, KS. I had spent the night at the Super 8, north of the I70 interchange. So, I'm headed down a four lane street south to get to the eastbound entrance ramp. A truck pulled right out in front of me, and swung into my left lane. Obviously, he was afraid his trailing trailer needed the extra room, because he kept his turn going to get on the westbound ramp.

I thought perhaps the brush with mortality I've experienced may have made me more patient and forgiving, but maybe not so much. I got on the radio while he was ponderously and extremely slowly moving in front of me and said: "Yeah, you were really planning on getting out of my way, right?" somewhat sarcastically.

No answer.

The lanes there are just marked on acres of flat pavement, so I drove into the marked median to get around him and eyeball this idiot. He wouldn't look at me. "For God's sake, don't even look at me!"

I had big plans of flipping him off.

Part of trucking is momentum. It takes a while to start and stop a truck. The laws of physics cannot be denied. It is rude to do what this asshole did.

But, I've always been against "Radio Rambos." They are idiots with CB radios found mostly in populated areas who agitate on channel 19. They talk mean but when it comes to backing it up - they refuse to be found. They talk the talk, but don't walk the walk. There are many stories about how several CBers with signal strength meters have tracked these idiots down and messed with their equipment or got physical with them. Generally it is some loser kid, but sometimes it is a loser adult.

I don't want to be a Radio Rambo. I really have no business mixing it up with idiots if I have to back it up, considering the fabulous grip I have. I might even be able to make a fist. Woo hoo. So, that incident kinda bothered me. Other people heard me, and a couple of truckers had seen it and told everyone else what had happened - that the chicken hauler had cut off the flatbed (me). I kept my language clean, at any rate.

I trucked more or less locally for ten years, then worked for the USPS for ten, and am back. In the "old days," truckers had a bit of a code and some honor for their profession. Now, not so much. For instance, when a truck passes another, it is common courtesy to flash headlights to let the passing truck know it is clear and it's safe to move back into the right lane, or to say something on the CB (Yer clear, big truck). Now, only in your dreams.

Or, and this pisses off many of you "four wheelers" as well - Mr. Werner Enterprises is speed limited to 65mph, and catches Mr. Swift Trucking set at 64, and decides to pass. Mr. Werner decides to cut over into the left lane in front of you, running at 75mph, the speed limit, just as you get to his DOT bumper. They then climb a hill, and Mr. Swift can outpull Mr. Werner, so this exciting side by side race can take several minutes to determine the outcome.

The correct "professional trucker code" solution is for Mr. Werner to wait until traffic gets past before making his big move. Mr. Swift, seeing Mr. Werner coming, would realize he is holding Mr. Werner up and be ready to "back out of it" to help Mr. Werner out. This would have been all worked out on the handy communication device that most all trucks have had for the past fifty years - the CB radio.

Now, say it after me, "not so much."

So, what is the problem? Most say the "professional truck driving schools" are to blame. They crank out grads with barely enough experience to shift gears, much less navingate across the country successfully. Things like the trucker's code aren't even covered. Common courtesy is not being taught.

And there is a distinct lack of courtesy in our daily lives as well - it is a given that this is a far ruder society now than twenty years ago.

So, here I sit in line at the Blue Beacon. For some reason a red Mustang was in line ahead of the truck ahead of me. There was a truck, a Ford pickup, the Mustang, a grain hauler, and me in line. The first truck moved, then the pickup, then the grain hauler. The 'Stang? It got moved about ten feet when the grain hauler lost it in his hood. A moment's inattention. It looks like this won't delay me much - the police have taken the report, and we've all moved ahead.

Pay attention out there, people. Trucks win in accidents involving cars. The laws of physics cannot be repealed.

Buttes

This was taken on SD79 not too far from the North Dakota Line. I think we are looking at the Adam and Eve Butte. I was somewhat preoccupied when I took the second picture. That curve coming up was a lot closer than it looks, and I was running about seventy. The road ran up into a split between the buttes, and was almost a mini mountain pass.

I don't take pictures while driving very often - some of the scenery is on some pretty busy roads. Here, not so much. I had to run SD79 from Sturgis into North Dakota. There was not very much traffic, to say the least.

Seen On Site

Remind me to start carrying a real camera instead of the grainy cell phone....

Sometimes, when we go to a site to unload our tanks, we see things unusual. We went to a water reclamation site last week that also was an elk feeding operation. If my cell camera was better, you'd see the velvet on the antlers and the raggedy winter coat gradually sloughing off these bulls. There was a runway between their pen and us, and curiosity overcame them - they had to bunch up on their side of the fence to check us out. I'm sure they were hoping we'd feed them some sort of goody. Heh.

Magnificent. Simply magnificent.

Memorial Day

I decorated the family graves today.






There is a small flower to the left of the red and blue arrangement I put in - it is just under the left red flower. I don't know who puts the single flower on Dad's grave every year. I have an idea, but I'm not sure. Whoever it is gets there long before I do.

One of the decisions I had to make when Dad died was the headstone. He didn't leave a will or any indication what he wanted. I had the choice of the copper headstone you see there or a marble one. I liked the copper look, but I didn't consider that it wouldn't match the marble headstones of his parents. Oh well.




Grandpa was also a veteran. He died before I was born.




My grandmother's grave.





Just looking around at all the decorations. The ol' cemetery looked pretty good. I should buy some flags for Dad and Grandpa next time. I like the way they look out in the breeze.

I'll Be Glad When She is Gone

Governor Kathleen Sebelius and KDHE Secretary Roderick L. Bremby, left, visited with Dan Nagengast and his daughter, Laurel, about the importance of homegrown Kansas products during the Governor's visit to the June 21 Capitol Mid-Week Farmers' Market in Topeka.


Well, y'all might have heard something about the controversy surrounding Sunflower Electric's bid to add to it's coal fired generating plant in Holcomb, KS. The Secretary of the Kansas Department of Health and Environment Roderick L. Bremby supposedly had the final say. Sunflower's permit was not authorized because the two plants would emit eleven million tons of carbon dioxide per year. Lessee just a second - is CO2 considered a harmful pollutant as per the Federal Clean Air Act? Nope. Is there conclusive scientific proof that CO2 is responsible for global warming? Nope. Is there even consensus on the issue that global warming even exists - particularly NASA's data on oceanic temperatures? Nope.

Mmmkay - then how about the representation of the electorate? Is this Berkeley, where eco-nuts thrive? Nope, this is red state Kansas, where conservative values prevail. Is this the home of a "progressive" governor who is about to leave office and would like a big job in a Democratic administration in Washington? You got it, baybee.

Now, to be fair, another part of the opposition to the plant was the fact that the power from one of the plants would be sent out of state, so Kansas would bear the brunt of the "pollution" for neighboring state's power needs. If CO2 is a pollutant in a destructive sense.

So, the House was primed to try to override the veto, but now that is pretty well out. However, the stink stirred up by this issue has blown us out of the water for consideration for a refinery.

Yes, Kansas was in the running for a brand spankin' new refinery to be built by Hyperion Resources, Inc. - a Dallas based company. "Project Nicole", a $10 billion oil refinery producing 8,000 construction jobs and 1,800 well-paying permanent positions, would have been located in Pottawatomie county. South Dakota was also in the running. In the air quality permit filed with South Dakota, the company claims their plant would emit up to 17 million tons of CO2. There is some contention that Kansas was a fall back state, but Hyperion had to exercise property options in South Dakota or lose them.

Phillips wrote to Kansas commerce secretary David Kerr on Jan. 22 asking for a commitment to approve the air-quality permit if Hyperion applied in Kansas. Bremby replied Feb. 11, "Kansas remains open for business."

Bremby wrote he couldn't commit to issuing the permit but said if Hyperion submitted the same application as they did in South Dakota, there "should not be a problem with issuance."

Sometime around this time, Hyperion told Campbell, the environmental consultant, to stop planning for the Kansas air-quality permit application, Campbell said.

So, lessee here - we have a multibillion dollar corporation who is thinking of building an oil refinery in Kansas. They see a power plant get turned down for cranking out eleven million tons of CO2. They will be cranking out seventeen million tons of CO2. They weren't born in the dark yesterday, regardless of Bremby's assurances. Why even waste any more money on Kansas?

Oh, but what the hey - this will look good on their resumes as friends of the Sierra Club and warm the hearts of liberal politicos nationwide. It's for the children, after all.

Not like our kids aren't gonna need some energy or anything. Aaarrrrggghhh!!!!

Under a Rock

OK, I'll admit it - my musical tastes lean towards well fossilized tunes. It just about has to be "classic" rock, or I won't listen to it. The last "new" stuff I enjoyed was from Tom Petty. Not exactly cutting edge here.

However, since I've been back to "work," I've been going without my XM radio. My unit was in my old truck, and I had been too busy or it was out when I had time to install it. So, I've been listening to terrestrial tunes.

Mostly, my opinion about "new" music hasn't changed. I didn't hear much that made me want to rush right out and buy something. Buuuuutt then I heard this:



Mmmkay - good solid electric guitars, good drums, a lead singer who's voice is too rough with cigarettes and marinated with plenty of high test booze, plus lyrics that are self depreciating in the manner of "Money for Nothing."

I'm gonna trade this life for fortune and fame
I'd even cut my hair and change my name

'Cause we all just wanna be big rockstars
And live in hilltop houses driving fifteen cars
The girls come easy and the drugs come cheap
We'll all stay skinny 'cause we just won't eat
And we'll hang out in the coolest bars
In the VIP with the movie stars
Every good gold digger's
Gonna wind up there
Every Playboy bunny
With her bleach blond hair

Hey hey I wanna be a rockstar
Hey hey I wanna be a rockstar

So, I go looking for the video for this post and watch it. Too fracking cool with the cameos! The Tuetuls(American Chopper), Billy Gibbons(ZZ Topp), Gene Simmons (Kiss), Kid Rock, The Nuge, Chuck Liddell(Ultimate Fighter), Wayne Gretzky, Grant Hill(NBA), Eliza Dushku(Uh Huh - mmmmmmm) and many others I don't know or have missed.

So, yeah, I'm out of it. But, these guys will do.

(Bonus points for anyone "who" picks up on my little cultural reference)

Edit: Earl mentioned in the comments about another video version - 'Raqstar. Definitely worth a look. Plus, Wikipedia has a page with all the cameos listed. Woo Hoo!

Saturday Comics

I'll have what he's having, thank you very much.


It would be the end of the world as we know it if my cat couldn't lick his ass.

Hot Time in the Ol' State Tonight

For the second night, northwestern Kansas has been getting nailed. As in tornados and hail. I had to go to the Greeley CO area, and on the way back to Kansas, I started hearing about all the fun. Apparently east of Oakley KS on I70 a twister crossed and caused a major pileup, and possibly people killed. There were three separate areas going at once - around Gove and Dighton, Leoti and north of I70 in the Studley (yep, there is a Studley KS) area. The stuff in the Leoti area could find me here in Colby. I was nearly out of hours and decided to park it for the evening.

Plus the town of Ellis on I70 just west of Hays got hit - at least one building destroyed. And Greensburg - like they need another round of this - has one just east of town at the moment.

All I had to do was drive through some blinding rain and heavy winds. It was raining mud where dirt was blowing in the Deer Trail CO area, but it all got rinsed of rather well later on. Colorado DOT had their wind warnings posted on the electric message boards.

Oh, and everything is just peachy at home - just under a severe thunderstorm warning with winds up to 70mph and golf ball sized hail. The storm is moving to the east at close to sixty miles an hour.

I'll be glad when this all dies down.

CRS

CRS - as in Can't Remember S**t. There is a condition even worse than CRS - it is called CRAFT. Can't Remember a F***ing Thing.

Didja ever find yourself walking into another room and forgetting why you were there? You had to retrace your steps to the original room to try to jar your memory what you wanted in that other room. Or - dash around the house looking for a watch or billfold only to find it's on your wrist or in your pocket?

Me neither.

We are given a rather large (to me at any rate) wad of cash at the beginning of the week. Our fuel cards only purchase fuel, so the cash pays for minor repairs, motel rooms, a certain amount per meal, and whatever incidentals we might need. Any cash expense requires a receipt, naturally. I pay for all my meals out of pocket, and when we settle up, I generally have cash coming to me.

I keep my company cash in a magnetic bill holder separate from my personal cash. Before I go anywhere, I usually pat myself down to make sure I've got the cell phone, the billfold, the cash, and the assorted stuff like keys, pocketknife, change, Chap Stick and whatever else. The cash is in my left jeans pocket.

So, after getting back, I needed to stop by WallyWorld to get some refills from the pharmacy. I stepped out of the ol' pickup and patted down. Oh S**T! OH F**K! No money clip. Close to four hundred dollars.

Glad I didn't have a mirror to see the expression on my face. I'd been moving stuff from one truck to another and getting it ready for me to take out tomorrow. It had also been raining and hailing. I had been all over our yard. I was going to have to go back across town and search the ground, the two trucks, the shop, the bathroom - well, I was gonna have to retrace my steps as best I could.

But, since I was going to have to have the refills no matter what, and if someone had found the clip and decided to keep it, my rushing across town like a chicken with my head cut off wasn't going to change anything. So, I picked up the prescriptions and blew off the other minor shopping I'd had in mind.

As I was driving back across town, the thought floated up in my head "Do you suppose the clip could be in the pocket of the dirty jeans I wore yesterday?"

Well. It just so happened my travel bag was sitting on the floor across from me. I pulled back the zipper, rooted around for a second, and pulled out the jeans. I found the left front pocket, and LO and BEHOLD the money clip was right there.

Thank you, God.

Just remember when you lose something, you always find it in the last place you look.

Oh Yeah?

Uh huh. He must mean that $800 I got last year. I've been living pretty high on the ol' hog on that, I'll tell ya. Not like the food stamps the farm program funds. Oh no. Food stamps are nuttin' I tell ya. Don't look at the man behind the curtain. These are not the droids you want.

I'm Well Aware

Robert M. Wright

DODGE CITY,
THE COWBOY CAPITAL
and
THE GREAT SOUTHWEST
in
The Days of
The Wild Indian, the Buffalo, the Cowboy, Dance Halls, Gambling Halls, and Bad Men
BY
ROBERT M. WRIGHT
Plainsman, Explorer, Scout, Pioneer, Trader and Settler

(1913, 2nd. Edition)

I got yer history right here: Robert M. Wright. He was all the things the book description said and more. I've noticed Skyways.org is a pretty interesting site - there is quite a bit of Western heritage contained within. Here is a speech he gave against prohibition in Kansas in 1881 as a duly elected representative:

Eventually, it was my fortune to become representative of this section in the state legislature, in which I was serving when the prohibition bill was introduced, in 1881I must say that I think that prohibition has proved a good thing for the state, but, at that time, with such constituents behind me, I could not consistently support the temperance bill. I soon saw, however, that it was going through and that it was useless to fight it, so I contented myself with having the consoling "last word," on the subject, my short speech being the last made before the bill was put to vote. My remarks were not intended as argument, but merely as a mildly satirical fling at the opposing faction, and put a flavor of the burlesque upon the situation. But the threat to secede, while not meant seriously, was not without point, as the territory in sympathy with that I represented, forming one section for judicial purposes, comprising thirty-eight of our present counties. The "Topeka Daily Commonwealth," of February 16th, 1881, says, "Honorable R. M. Wright delivered yesterday," and reports it thus: "Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen of the Committee:

"I feel that I would be doing my constituents a grave injustice were I to remain silent at this most portentous juncture in the history of our legislation. I cannot refrain, therefore, from raising my feeble voice in protest against this monstrous measure: I do not oppose this bill because of my own love for the distilled nectar of the cornfield, nor yet for the purple ambrosia of the vineyard. I admit that I like a glass of either now and then, but I am not a slave to the demon of the cup, and I can look upon the wine when it is red without necessarily being bitten by the adder which is alleged to be lurking at the bottom of the said utensil. In fact, Mr. Chairman, so great is my virtue in this direction, that I have gone three, aye four days, without my whisky, and I am proud to relate without any special disturbing effects upon my physiological structure, but it is a dangerous experiment, and should not be tried too often. Sir, I have been a resident of this great state for seventeen years and I have learned to know it, and to know it is to love it. I know no other home. I love its broad prairies, its rich soil, its pure air, its beautiful streams, and last, but not least, its liberal people. But alas, sir, if this bill becomes a law, I am afraid I shall cease to be one of the citizens of this proud commonwealth, as the county which I have the honor to represent on this floor threatens to secede and take with it all the unorganized counties attached to it for judicial purposes. Now, sir, under the peculiar circumstances of their situation, have they not a just and equitable cause for their professed action? Sir, this committee well knows, or if there are any of its members who do not I deplore their ignorance, that the section of the country in which I live is essentially the habitation of that most poisonous of all reptiles of the genus Crotalus, or in common parlance, as he is familiarly known to the cowboys-the rattlesnake. This insect, gentlemen of the committee, is not the phantasmagorial creature, if I may use the term, which perhaps many of you have seen when you have "histed" to much rock and rye on board, but a genuine tangible nomad of the prairie, whose ponderous jaws, when once fastened on the calf of your leg, you will realize is no creature of the disordered brain. This octopod, this old man of the prairie, if you will permit me to indulge in a metaphor, has all his life obeyed the spiritual injunction (I am sorry I have not my little pocket Bible here to prove this, as many of the members of this committee have done in discussing this question) to increase and multiply, and accordingly he multiplyeth extraordinarily, and he doeth this without irrigation either, and in fact every farmer has an abundant crop without the trouble of cultivation. Now, sir, the only known preventive, the only known antidote to the venom of this venomous beast, is pure unadulterated corn juice, vulgarly called whisky. Aye, sir, men who have imbibed freely of the corn juice have been bitten, and the snake has always been known to die instead of the man, so you see it is not only a sure cure for the bite but is a speedy means of getting rid of the snake also. , "Ponder, oh, gentlemen of the committee, and hesitate before you take away from us that which saves life.

Are you aware of what you are about to do? Do you propose in this arbitrary manner not only to deprive us of a source of solace but even to take our very lives? My people, sir, will never submit, never (No Pinafore here.) (This was in the days of Pinafore.) "Now, sir, the only way out of this labyrinth of proposed injustice is to exclude Dodge City as well as all that region west of the one-hundreth meridian from the provisions of this bill. If you do this it will not only be an act of justice guaranteed by the constitution upon stern necessity, but will receive the righteous judgment of all the citizens of Dodge; harmony will again prevail upon the border, the scouts will be called in, and future generations of cowboys will arise and call you blessed." In the spring of 1885, preparations were made for the enforcement of the Prohibitory Liquor Law in Dodge City, and the sale of eighty barrels of four-year-old whisky, besides other liquors and bar fixtures was announced by Henry Sturm, the well-known purveyor of the city. The prohibition law put a different character on liquor sales, many of the saloons being transformed into "drug stores."

Some of the pranks the rough and tumble denizens of old Dodge City pulled:

Once upon a time, a long while ago, when Dodge was young and very wicked, there came a man to town, an itinerant preacher. In the present age you would call him an evangelist. Well, anyway, he possessed a wonderful magnetic power, he was marvelously gifted that way; he would cast his spell over the people, and draw crowds that no one ever dreamed of doing before, in fact he captured some of the toughest of the toughs of wicked Dodge, and from the very first he set his heart on the capture of one Dave Mathews--alias, Mysterious Dave who was city marshal at the time, said to be a very wicked man, a killer of killers. And it was and is an undoubted fact that Dave had more dead men to his credit, at that time, than any other man in the west. Seven by actual count in one night, in one house, and all at one sitting. Indeed he was more remarkable in his way than the preacher was in his.

Well, as I said, he set his heart on Dave, and he went after him regularly every morning, much to the disgust of Dave. Indeed he was so persistent, that Dave began to hate him. In the meantime, the people began to feel the power of the preacher,. for he had about him an unexplainable something that they could not resist, and the one little lone church was so crowded they had to get another building, and this soon would not hold half the audience. Finally they got a large hall known as the "Lady Gay Dance Hall" and fitted it up with boards laid across empty boxes for seats. There was a small stage at the rear of the building, and on this was placed a goods box for a pulpit for the preacher. Now whether or not Dave had become infected by the general complaint that seized the people, or whether the earnest persistence of the preacher had captured him I know not.

Anyhow, certain it was, he promised the preacher to attend the meeting that night, and certain it was, Dave would not break his word. He was never known to do that. If he promised a man he would kill him, Dave was sure to do it.

It was soon noised around by the old "he pillars" of the church, and the "she pillars" too that Dave was captured at last, and what a crowd turned out that night to see the wonderful work of God brought about through the agency of the preacher-the capture of Mysterious Dave. Soon the hall was filled to its utmost capacity, and Dave, true to his promise, was seen to enter. He was at once conducted to the front, and given the seat of honor reserved for him in front of the preacher, and Oh! how that preacher preached straight at him. He told how wonderful was the ways of Providence in softening the heart of wicked Dave Mathews, and what rejoicing there would be in heaven over the conversion of such a man.

Then he appealed to the faithful ones, the old "he pillars" of the church, and said to them, now he was ready to die.

He had accomplished the one grand object of his life.

He had converted the wickedest man in the country, and was willing now and at once to die, for he knew he would go right straight to heaven. Then he called upon the faithful ones to arise and give in their experience, which they did, each one singly, and said, they too, like the preacher, were willing to die right now and here, for they knew that they, too, would go right straight to heaven for helping to carry out this great work. In fact, most of them said, like the preacher, that they wanted to die right now so they could all go to heaven rejoicing together. Dave sat their silent with bowed head. He told me afterwards, he never in all his scrapes was in such a hot box in his life. He said he would much rather to have been in a hot all around fight with a dozen fellows popping at him all at once, than to have been there. He said he would have been more at ease, and felt more at home, and I expect he told the truth.

Finally he raised to his feet and acknowledged he had been hard hit and the bullet had struck a vital spot, and at last religion had been poured into him; that he felt it tingling from his toes through his whole body, even to his finger tips, and he knew he had religion now, sure, and if he died now would surely go to heaven, and pulling both of his six shooters in front of him, he said further, for fear that some of the brothers here tonight might backslide and thereby lose their chance of heaven he thought they had better all die tonight together as they had so expressed themselves, and the best plan he said would be for him to kill them all, and then kill himself. Suddenly jerking out a pistol in each hand, he said to the preacher, "I will send you first," firing over the preacher's head. Wheeling quickly he fired several shots into the air, in the direction of the faithful ones.

The much-frightened preacher fell flat behind the dry-goods box, as also did the faithful ones who ducked down as low as they could. Then Dave proceeded to shoot out the lights, remarking as he walked towards the door, "You are all a set of liars and frauds, you don't want to go to heaven with me at all." This broke up the meeting, and destroyed the usefulness of that preacher in this vicinity. His power was gone, and he departed for new fields, and I am sorry to relate, the people went back to their backsliding and wickedness.

Wright apparently didn't care much for Wyatt Earp, because he deliberately misspelled his name throughout his journal. He had no love for Indians. He does say they were correct in their indignance of having the buffalo shot out and wasted, but even though he sided with them on that issue, he felt they were ruthless and underhanded. He had nothing good to say about Satanta - the Kiowa chief. Pitched battles on the prairie are covered. He mentions the large amounts of game, the origins of the name of the Sawlog creek, the trade in buffalo hides and meat, and eventually the bones, plus the railroads and cattle. There is a small town named for him just east of Dodge City on US50.

If history of the West holds any fascination for you, I highly recommend you read Wright's account. He is a good writer with a proper historian's views of cause and effect of events and motivations. I'm wishing there was more.

Tom Cole Gets Scorched

Tom Cole has an interesting statement on the NRCC Blog

Families today face challenges that yesterday's laws simply don't address. We need to fix government, and one solution is to update our laws so they provide America's families with more freedom in their jobs; greater healthcare and retirement security; safer communities; access to quality, affordable education; and the ability for future generations to compete in the global economy.

(snip)

From young people just starting out and looking for affordable college, to working parents who want more freedom in the workplace, to seniors who would benefit from greater flexibility with their health care and prescription drug benefits, the American Families Agenda provides commonsense solutions that modernize our laws and give people greater liberty.

I look forward to sharing more about Republican solutions and a positive agenda in the weeks to come.

C'mon, man, does that sound like a conservative Republican? The commenters immediately jump him about it:

This is not the message I am looking to support. The message of the Replican Part should be fundumentally different than the Democrats. We don't need to "fix" the government. We need the Federal Government to do wnat it is supposed to - protect our freedom. It should not try to be eveyones "Daddy" Healthcare is not the Federal Governments responsibility. If my new my situation, you might take these comments more seriously. I am not some rich guy who wants to pay less taxes and who can afford to pay for the high prices of healthcare. I just know that government, in general, is inefficiant and wasteful and would like to see less governement programs instead of more.

Posted: Steve Bryant on May 16, 2008 at 12:59 PM

And another example:

PLEASE....you are kidding??!! John McCain is the republican candidate for President. So, which LIBERAL should I vote for. Let's see OBAMA(Marxist), CLINTON(Marxist), MCCAIN(Open border/amnesty liberal). I have changed my party affiliation to independent. I will not vote for anyone who says one thing during the primary and when they think they have the nomination locked up, tell how they truly feel. John McCain "DIDN'T GET IT" after-all.

So if the RNCC is going to support this liberal RINO, then you and are at odds from here on out. No more money, no more support.

Posted: Terry on May 16, 2008 at 1:08 PM

I've been through about half of the comment thread, and NO ONE is supporting Cole's "message." Several commenters have asked if anyone is really listening. I'd say no - the RHINOs are running scared and trying to out lib the Democrats. We don't call them The Stupid Party for nothing.

H/T The Plains Feeder through Michelle Malkin. Photo from The Lotus Blog.

'Nuther Update

Well, I had a pretty big week squeezed into four days. I got home last night. Normally, I'd have gone out today somewhere, but I had a doctor's appointment. Believe me, I was glad, because I was bushed. Five months of sitting on my can didn't prepare me for much physical work. I didn't do much, either.

So, here are some pics of what I do for a living. The first picture is the truck I used to drive loaded with three three hundred barrel tanks. The rest of the pics show a nine tank battery of four hundred barrel tanks being unloaded and set into place. We also haul, help assemble and hang the walkways and stairs for the tanks. This particular battery had eight steel and one fiberglass tanks - the fiberglass will hold water separated from the oil pumped fresh from the ground. Some areas require more tanks for water, and some areas only pump natural gas, so the tanks we take to them only hold water. We also sell tanks for agricultural usage as well. We haul lots of thirty and thirty five feet tall (x 12' wide) tanks for liquid fertilizer resellers. Feedlots, dairies, water treatment plants, asphalt plants and ethanol plants are among our customers.

The most common load is a tick over twelve feet wide. We have specialized trailers that can get the load below 14' tall, but most of the steel tank loads are either 14'4" or 15'4" tall, give or take an inch or two. Some of our trailers have extendable tails, others the whole trailer can be lengthened or shortened as needed. They are "double drops" which means there is a "well" dropped below the level of the rear wheels and the front deck. Most of our trailers are single drops that either have a base of two feet off the ground, or three feet (roughly).

We have several owner operators hauling for us. A lot of times we'll get to a location and the crew won't be ready until the next day. So, the owner operators will drop their trailers at the site and bobtail back home to get another load. They get paid by the mile, and waiting on site doesn't pay very well. So, we end up "decking" the extra trailers - picking one trailer up and loading it on another so they can be hauled home. Or, for some reason a trailer won't pass a roadside inspection. It is generally left there until one of our guys drops by and hauls it home on another trailer.

When you have fairly heavy duty knuckle boom cranes, doing these sort of things is simple. Hauling a crane around kills fuel mileage, plus there is no room for a sleeper if you want a workable wheelbase. A tractor with a big sleeper and a crane gets pretty long and difficult to maneuver in tight places. So, we stay in motels while we're out and about. Motels with truck parking, that is. Most places we go to we've been in the area before and know where we can stay and where to avoid. All of us have the complimentary motel books the chains hand out, plus the business cards and telephone numbers of the independents we frequent. Getting reservations in some boom areas can be problematic - they'll be booked up for quite a while because of all the work crews staying in town. It doesn't have to be oilfield crews - there are plenty of construction crews building the infrastructure for these growing areas. Another problem for us is the annual bike pilgrimage at Sturgis. We go through that area to get to eastern Montana and western South and North Dakota. Getting a room within a 100 mile radius of Sturgis can be a problem. Rates are jacked up pretty good, too.

But, its all normal and good. I usually end my day stiff and sore, and am able to do a bit more as time goes by. I saw my cardiologist today, and all is well there. My atrial fibrillation is gradually going away, so I might not need any more shock treatments. He cut back one of my meds as well - I might not have to take the huge pile 'o pills that I consume in the future. I do need to lose weight, too.

One of the guys I ran with this week told me our dispatcher had a little talk to him about me. She thought I wouldn't make it all the way to North Dakota. She warned him he might have to go all the way up there, and come back to pick up the trailer I'd drop on the way up. She figured I'd get about half way and be too tuckered out, and want to come on home. She worried unnecessarily - I was more worried about how useful I'd be on site. I wasn't happy with my abilities on site, but my coworkers were satisfied.

So, yeah. It's looking good from here.

Captain Kirk vs the Groupies

WILLIAM SHATNER - SHATNER HATED BEDDING STAR TREK FANS

WILLIAM SHATNER desperately tried to avoid romancing obsessed STAR TREK fans - because they wanted to enact their sci-fi fantasies with the actor.
The 77-year-old, who shot to fame as Captain Kirk in the original 1960s TV show, insists he couldn't enjoy flings with the series' most devoted followers because he was so turned off by their bizarre bedroom behaviour.
In his new autobiography, Up Till Now, Shatner explains how women would pretend they were being "beamed up" by the Starship Enterprise commander, shrieking: "So, this is what it's like to be in bed with Captain Kirk!"
He writes: "You can't imagine how much of a downer that is in every sense of the word."

Egads, the double entendres...

"Going where no man has gone before" - maybe Bill was upset that he wasn't the first?

"Mr. Spock, the women on your planet are logical. That's the only planet in the galaxy that can make that claim." He's been doing extensive research.

Please, Captain, not in front of the Klingons. He even embarrassed Spock.

Of course, I have to ask - how many times did he "desperately tried to avoid" the Kirk obsessed fans? What was the threshold?

Just askin' is all...

Rattles From The Catch Can

Stole this from On Pit Row. I only got four out of seven - apparently I suck.

I'm at a casino hotel in New Town ND. The motel we stopped at last night says right on the front desk "Free High Speed Internet Available - Please Ask." Really? Not so much, and a crabby clerk to go with it. The casino has wireless in the lobby only, but it beats getting poked in the eye with a sharp stick. Y'all have a great day!

Mother's Day

Well, if Mother was still here, I'd sure wish her a happy Mother's Day. If you are interested, I wrote about her earlier, on the anniversary of her death. I find myself with not much more to say about the subject.

For all you mothers out there, have yourself a day!

Town Team Basketball

click picture for larger

I just got an email from a good friend about a picture on the local site that our John Deere dealer keeps up. This picture is from Pete Thomas's CimarronKansas.net site, from this page where he posts group pictures that people have lost track of the identities of the subjects.

At any rate, do click on the picture to see the larger version. My dad is number 11, VFW #6. This picture was taken in the early fifties. Back then, not only did small towns watch their school's sports teams, they usually had a "town team" as well, staffed by high school graduates. Dad was pretty proud of his time on the town team. He mentioned it many times as we grew up, and I think I even remember him telling us he got to play the Harlem Globetrotters, who kicked their butts. Look at the score in the picture. Pete has one of the guys identified as being from Montezuma - a town southwest of Cimarron. He mentioned that Cimarron had assembled a "dream team" to try to take on the Globetrotters - so they even apparently cherry picked guys from competing teams to play. Also, keep in mind my father was 6'3", so that was a bunch of strapping lads right there. Just not nearly enough for the Harlem Globetrotters!

Also note the crowd that was present. That old gym was pretty full - it's the same gym my generation used in high school. That has to be the west end of that gym behind the players. Keep in mind the entertainment available to the citizens of the time. Broadcast television was just in it's infancy. There was a small movie theater in town. Fraternal organizations had plenty of members. I was even a member of the Odd Fellows for a while, and the Masons were big. People were more invested in their communities back then.

Ahh, the memories of having to "run the steps" of that ol' gym. It was heated, but had no A/C. What really strikes me about these old pictures is that no matter who is pictured or how old they are now, they all think of themselves as that person in that era. Not the wrinkled, graying and diminished survivors they are today, but rather young, vital, strong and healthy. Dad, if you can hear me now, you had the piss and vinegar to take on the Harlem Globetrotters at their own game. I salute you.

This 'N That

In the spirit of breaking out old laptops, I dug out an old Compaq LTE 5280. It sports a 120mhz Pentium, 20mb of ram, an 810mb hard drive, and swappable drives. So, it only has a CD ROM or a floppy drive installed. No usb. However, back in the day, I went all out and got a docking port for it, so I could run both drives at once. However, she won't boot up anymore. The BIOS asks to insert a bootable disk. I seem to remember the hard drive was kinda sticky, and a sharp rap would make it run. Not anymore.

So, Jed, this one is probably the best bet to run Linux. It's gonna have to have drivers for the docking station to load in order for it to work, or install completely from floppies, or install from a CD ROM I imagine. According to what I've read, any 2.5" hard drive will drop in the rather heavy duty drive casing. Whether or not the BIOS will recognize the extra capacity is another matter. RAM for this puppy is expensive - like sixty or seventy bucks for 32megs. The whole thing isn't worth that much. This system was six or seven thousand dollars when new, but she's pretty much obsolete these days. I kinda doubt it has the poop necessary to run a PCMCIA wireless card in Linux as well - 120mhz ain't much. But, it has sound at least. The display isn't much, and the keyboard isn't anything to brag about. It has the "pointing device" for a mouse. It also has a cream white case that shows every scuff and nick, plus the patina of aged plastic. I bought a replacement BIOS and system batteries for it many moons ago, and they are shot as well. No surprise there.

I hated that it wouldn't boot up - I'm sure gonna have to check to see if the hard drive is really shot or just corrupted. It doesn't matter much - I'm not that anxious to recreate the Win95 environment and reinstall every stinking driver just to have Win95 when I'm done. If a larger drive works and the specific drivers were available, I'd run Win98 long before I'd futz with Win95. But, this sort of project cries out for a distro with a light touch rather than WinBloatWare. I used to really enjoy this sort of thing, but I've gotten away from it for several years and have forgotten much of what I've learned. Plus, I don't get out and shoot my guns as much as I should, much less futz with obsolete Win machines.

In other news, I had to eliminate a pest last night. I have to take furosimide - generic for Lasix - to keep fluids from building up in my legs. So, if you don't know the effects - well, lets just say there are a lot of trips to the bathroom in a short time. Of course, I'm an uncouth farm boy who enjoys "stepping out to check the weather" when I get a chance. This policy has put me at odds with several different varieties of pests over the years. My dog's food is the major attractant.

So, there has been a raccoon eating Bab's dog food off and on for some time now. There are several feral cats doing the same thing. Generally, if Babs is paying attention, she runs the critters off - unless it is a skunk. She wasn't born yesterday, and has learned a thing or two over the years. Gotta give her that!

Well, the raccoon would scamper off when I'd appear at first, but it was getting rather familiar with me. Not in the "I want to have my ears scratched" friendly sort of way, either. More along the "you are irritating me and I might try to kick your ass" kind of way. It never hissed at me, but it was damn sure reluctant to leave that dog food. Babs had been in a tussle with it a time or two in the past week or three, but that didn't deter the thief. So, with it not fearing my or my dog's presence much anymore - well, that makes for a potentially dangerous situation. Particularly if it shows up with rabies someday - how would you know? I really didn't want to have to deal with an irritated or rabid raccoon up close and personal. Also, every relative it ever had would eventually decide it was buffet time at The Poor Farm. I'm not going to feed every cat, bird, mouse, raccoon or skunk that comes along.

So, I needed to "step out." I'd seen it a couple times already that night, so I loaded up my Henry Golden Boy .22 rifle. I knew I'd be able to be close enough to get a clean kill. So, with the raccoon peering over the edge of the porch with it's cute little mask and eyes gleaming - well, I plugged it good and clean at any rate.

I really, honestly hated to do it. I think raccoons are cute. I anthropomorphise the critters just as much as any kid raised on cartoons would. But, I know better, and I know what the consequences of inaction can be. So, I shot it and I'd do it again.

We've Come a Long Way, Baby

I was digging around in one of my "junk" rooms (what, don't you have one?), and found this little beauty. I wasn't even sure it would fire up. It sure needs a battery, but I'm thinking it ain't gonna get it, not when I can plug it in and fire it up. Yeah, I have to reset the time in the BIOS and in Windows, but so what. It may be another five or ten years before I check it out again, and a new battery would be toast by then.

This is a Digital Equipment Corp. HiNote CS475. It sports an Intel 75mhz 486DX processor, 20 megs of memory, and a 540 meg hard drive. It has 219 megs of free space at the moment. The BIOS dates to 08/19/94. This little powerhouse is running Windows 95 A. It takes about five seconds to boot up, if you are johnny on the spot to skip the "extended memory test." And, it is little. 8 1/2" x 11" little. 9 1/2" diagonal screen small. The laptop to the left is a WallyWorld Acer special with a 15" screen, 1800mhz dual core Turion, 2048 megs of memory, and a 180 gig (180,000meg for comparison) hard drive.

The HiNote has two (yes, count 'em, two) whole PCMCIA slots, one floppy drive and one PS/2 keyboard port. Oh, and one power switch. Notepad and WordPad are included in this version of Win95, so this hotrod could be used as a word processor if the keyboard wasn't so tiny. It's 10 1/2" x 4", compared to the Acer's 12" x 4 1/2". It can go online with an older Linksys 10/100 card, surfing with IE 5.5.

For a while, I collected old laptops off eBay. I brought 'em home, cleaned 'em up and got them to work. I updated everything on them I could find - and this was in the days of dialup. I had shotgun modems running through two phone lines, and used ICS in Win98 - woo hoo! IE 5.5 is as high as Win95A can handle. It might be interesting to see if there is some old Mozilla browser that would still work. IE has bitched about not being able to display some page elements, so I suppose flash and other goodies are right out. I'm not even sure there would be enough disk space to store flash, Adobe Acrobat, and other net visual aids. Besides, there is only a bios beeper - no speakers, no sound card and no sound jacks. And before anyone says it - yeah, I know I could probably run Linux on it. I'd hate to lose this old version of Windows, and I really don't feel like running down all the oddball drivers I'm sure it would need. I've tried Linux on a different laptop in the past, and I'm not gonna run it ever again except on the most generic machine I can build or find.

Another thing I thought was kinda cool is the trackball mouse. It's actually very intuitive and easy to use. I like it far better than the pointing device stuck in the middle of the keyboards of many laptops from that era. I think IBM Thinkpads had them forever (guess that's Lenovo nowadays) and still do - yep, just went to Lenovo's site and they have 'em. They can keep the dern things.

I don't even want to try to network this puppy with Vista and XP on the same network. I fear any file transfers I might want to do will be done with floppies, if I can actually find a functional blank one somewhere in my pile 'o stuff. It's funny how my little Sandisk Cruzer holds about sixteen times the data that this hard drive can hold. This version of Winders doesn't support USB, even if I had a PCMCIA USB card. But, I really don't expect it will do anything but gather some more dust and serve as a wayback machine. It doesn't have the juice to surf the net these days, and it's ergonomics pretty well rule out mobile word processing. So, I'll just keep it around to show the kids how I had to haul the thing to school barefoot through the snow, uphill both ways.

Rahma Likes His Freedom

Get a haircut, dude!

I've mentioned before that I attended K-State for a couple semesters. Yes, that is me. Yep, I was what I looked like. Aggieville played a big part of my scheduling. Classes? Not so much. The eyes might have been a bit glassy at the time.

I lived in Van Zile Hall. Back then, it was a coed dorm. It has since been totally remodeled and is a women's dormitory nowadays, but back when dirt was new, it was a pretty bohemian place to stay. We had our own food service during the week, and had to eat at one of the huge dorm complexes on weekends. It was an experience, fer sure.

Every year at Halloween, Van Zile put on a Spookhouse staffed by the residents for fundraising. Two of us put on a tableau with a mad doctor torturing a patient, namely me. One of my legs was hidden, dropped on the side of the table I was lying on, and a huge bone was in it's place, so it looked like it was my leg. My torturing doctor was dressed in a white lab coat and had one of the old style reflectors strapped to his head. He had a fake syringe that looked like it would draw blood, and he also had a fake knife that he "used" on me, simultaneously squirting red dye colored water from a squeeze bulb hidden in his hand. Of course, he laughed maniacally during the performance. My part consisted of screaming, moaning and writhing in "pain." We scared the dog crap out of plenty of people - heh. We even had our picture published in the campus newspaper, and we were considered the star attraction.

My picture was also in the paper one other time. We used our funds to resurface our pool table, and I happened to be shooting a game when the photographer came by for the "story." I also had the habit of skipping classes until test time, then showing up for said test. A day or so after the picture was published, I showed up at my Mechanics of Materials class taught by one Professor C.R. Knostman. Class had just started, and he spotted me.

Class, we have a celebrity in our midst today. Mr. Borland has taken time from his busy pool playing schedule to grace us with his presence today. Please welcome him and commend him for his effort.

So much for celebrity status. If I could have shrunk into the desk, I can absolutely guarantee it would have happened. I deserved it, of course. He really was a good teacher with a very dry sense of humor. He certainly deserved a better effort from me.

Another tradition that I'm sure is dead was the "john sheet." We'd get a big chunk of butcher paper from food service and hang it in a bathroom. A subject was chosen and written as a header. It didn't matter if it was a women's or men's bathroom - we all snuck in to write on the latest. A free for all discussion that usually sidetracked into other areas and sometimes degenerated into name calling was recorded. It was a precursor to today's online forums. I've got one stashed away somewhere - if I ever find it, I'll have to take a high resolution picture and post it. I don't recall if any of the discussions fell under Godwin's Law, but they dern sure came close.

Some of us would go work out from time to time. I lifted weights and rode the LifeCycles. They were a new kind of exercise equipment - most of us had never even heard of one before. We became acquainted with some of the "regulars." One of the fixtures was a huge black (African American? I don't even know what is right so black it is) guy who always wore sweats. He was probably six six or so, ripped and a shaved head. Remember this was in the days when long hair was king. Witness the picture above. He also always had a good lookin' white chick to help him with whatever he apparently needed. We'd see him on campus going to class wearing sweats. Every day. So, one of my buds asked him why he wore sweats all the time.

Rahma Likes His Freedom was his answer. Needless to say, this became our catchphrase. Even today, if you were to run into a Van Zilian, twenty odd years later, and utter that - you'd get a reaction.

I got an education, even if it didn't culminate with a diploma.

Ghost Towns

Finney County Kansas

Lawdog posted a story about some kids who:

HOUSTON -- Three teenagers are accused of digging up a corpse, removing the head and using the skull as a bong to smoke marijuana, Houston police said.

Well, these kids were certainly creative at any rate. The National Endowment for the Arts may give them an award considering their thinking above and beyond the normal pot smoking techniques.....

At any rate, that story jarred a memory. Some guys who are several years older than me dug up an old Civil War vet from the cemetery at Ravanna, KS. They got into some hot water for it. My memory of the incident was the kids were looking for old medals in the grave.

Ravanna is a ghost town. That is one of the legacies of the plains - there were a lot of failed ventures out here. For one reason or another, they didn't make it. Usually, the railroad bypassed the city and it withered and died. Now, there are just broken foundations and abandoned cemeteries. There are all kinds of cemeteries out here - the sense of community might be strong in an area and the citizens would set aside ground for one, even if there was no town.

Ravanna was the county seat for Garfield county. Looking at the map, Garfield county originally was the north eastern "leg" of the current Finney county.

In 1892 the Supreme Court decided that Garfield county was illegally organized, it having less than 432 square miles as required by law. In 1893 it was annexed to Finney county. Thus, Finney county as it has stood since that time is twenty-four miles from east to west and thirty-six miles from north to south, and with the addition of Garfield township, which is eighteen by twenty- four miles, has an area of 1,296 square miles.

That was the death knell for Ravanna. It was no longer the county seat, so there was no reason for the rural folk to go there for legal business. Plus the Santa Fe had run their tracks along the Arkansas River, running through Dodge City and Garden City. Ravanna was hit with a double whammy. The only towns still alive on that old map are Garden City, Pierceville, and just barely hanging on - Kalvesta. A lot of these old towns are marked with a grain elevator if the railroads happened to run by. So, whilst cruising the countryside, you might happen across a grain elevator that is still a going concern, maybe even a few occupied houses nearby. Often, there are abandoned and decrepit buildings in the vicinity - markers of a failed community.

Civilization can be a thin veneer out here on the prairie.

This Week Could Be Better

But, I'm not sure yet just how much better I want it. I had an appointment to unload a tank in Sidney NE this morning, and take another tank to the Greeley CO area. I've been playing musical trucks, so I was in a different one yesterday and today. Anyhoo, I pull into the site and smoke and steam is rolling out from under the hood. This is usually an indication that things aren't good. There was an antifreeze leak somewhere. I topped it off with a hose, unloaded the tank and scooted back to town. There are two places here that can work on trucks. One is strictly mobile, the other is a full service shop. The mobile outfit got to me right away.

It's not a bad hose. The radiator is pressuring up, which means a bad head, head gasket or broken head stud. At any rate, it means at least some of the top of the motor has to come off. The shop here in town can get to it sometime in the middle of next week.

So, the boss has two trucks coming up - one pulling a lowboy flatbed to haul this truck home, and the other will bobtail so I can hook to this trailer and deliver the tank. Hopefully, they get here in time for me to get to Greeley tonight so I can be at the customer's site for an eight am appointment.

I'm in the parking lot at the motel still using their internet access. Woo Hoo! At least my simple mind won't be bored for a while at least.

Hail Yes

Nope, not snow

Note to self - clean lint from recessed lens on camera phone before using

Yesterday sucked. I've only seen it hail like this two or three times. I was at our shop washing the truck when the rain started. So? I'll put it in the shop, tomorrow is supposed to be dry, it will dry off, and maybe even not streak so much. But, I wasn't listening to the radio telling everyone hail was on the way. After getting stung a few times, I retired to the safety of the shop. During a slight lull, I put away the washing equipment and pulled the truck into a bay. This is when I should have ran to my pickup, but it seemed to be about over. It got worse. Thirty minutes worse.

There are several "grades" of hail as well as sizes. The first hail was white and full of air - it tends to shatter when it hits the ground or solid objects. The top picture is hail collected on the highway, and it is the softer variety. However, it started hailing the clear stuff - ice just like from the freezer. Hard. Part of the fuzzy look in those pics is actually rain and hail.

So, anyway, I've got a hood and roof full of gravity wells, and one shattered side window vent visor. The gray Chevy between the trucks is my pickup, for what it's worth.

Then, last night we lost power in the wee hours. I was up for a while calling the rural electric coop. It finally came back on. Then, this morning as I was showering, the water pressure died. Of course I was completely covered with suds. I was hoping it would just be a pressure switch. It was not. I feared it might be that the well motor fried on low voltage, but it didn't. It turned out to be some sixty or seventy year old wiring that the wind finally got to. My neighbor took care of that for me. Damn, I've got some great neighbors. I can remember a Peanuts cartoon where Charlie Brown did all kinds of nice things for Snoopy, and ol' Snoop wonders if CB needs anyone bitten as a way to return the favor. I'd bite someone for my neighbor just about now.

Remember

Dad and I circa 1960. Nope, don't remember this.

Just how far back do your childhood memories go? We can generally remember things from about three or four onward, but is there a particular memory you have that dates pretty early in your life?

Of course this is a prelude to another story. Heh.

I have a snippet of memory of being in a neighbor's house from the vantage point of my father's shoulder. It was a basement house. There are (or were) several basement houses around here -it just makes sense. They are cooler in the summer, warmer in the winter. The drawbacks are no direct lighting, rodent and insect problems. If it rains enough, they can leak as well.

Anyways, the entrance and stairs were westward facing and dropped into a living room. There was a free standing propane stove on the east wall. The kitchen was to the southeast, and the bedrooms were to the north and northeast. The picture in my mind is sepia toned, but the place was a kind of tan inside.

The odd thing about all of this is there was a narrow window that I could have seen this house. The people that lived there moved out and the place was abandoned before I was two years old. I saw the place while it was inhabited. My parents figured I was about a eighteen or so months old when I was there.

Most of my early memories date far later than that. I'll never forget meeting my oldest friend Melvin. We were about four. His mother and mine were in the same bridge club, and we met at our house during a "meeting." We cut pictures of tractors from farm magazines and played with those. We've been buddies ever since.

I can remember my dog Ho Heen and I hiding from my neighbor in a ditch. I didn't want him to find me - I was out messing around, Mother had panicked and called him to help find me. He had spanked my butt in the past, so I was not very interested in that sort of thing. I was perhaps three or so then.

So - how far back can you remember?

Evolution

Oh, yeah. We've come a long way, baby.

Pictures?

Anyone else on Blogger having problems trying to post pictures? I keep getting error messages.

And This Is a Problem?

Yeah, Mike Peters is trying to paint gun owners in a bad light (now there's a shocker). I have no doubt he is fully aware of "The Four Rules" and his depiction of people carrying guns is to show they are ignorant, right? Or maybe he's just an ignorant liberal editorial cartoonist who doesn't have a clue. Well, gee, that's a tough one right there. Not.