Heroes wear ball caps

Plans for a do-it-yourself project always sound better in the planning stages.  Our motor locked up in our work truck.  It’s October,  the busiest time of our season.  We decide we have a few options.  One,  we can move all of our equipment into a trailer and pull it for a while.  Two, we can go in debt and buy a new truck, or three..Proceed to remove and reinstall a new motor into the truck.    Together, my husband and I are just ambitious and stubborn enough to make us a dangerous combination.  You got it,  we went for option three.

Motor arrived,  within hours we had the motor mounts in,  lined up and bolted to the transmission.  Giddy,  doesn’t even begin to describe the mood after this accomplishment.  Heck,  we’re patting ourselves on the back and convincing ourselves,  we got it whipped now.  Heck,  that was the hard part!  Let’s call it an early evening today and we’ll have this baby running by the end of the day tomorrow.

Here we are,  backyard mechanics because the garage we are building for just this occasion isn’t finished yet.  But that’s ok,  the rain that’s falling just helps wash off the three inches of grease that has now formed to my body. 🙂

Planning is the key to success in any given project and we planned our strategy out throughly.  Well,  we made some plans first.  Gotta save some bucks wherever we can so we ordered several new parts on-line and they were delivered super fast from Jegs.  (Thank you Jegs – kiss, kiss)  So far so good.  A few smashed fingers but it’s all good,  makes ya know you’re still alive getting those little fingy’s stuck between the motor mounts and the motor.  Great for creativity too.  Hubby can come up with new words that if Hollywood heard, they’d become the newest fad. 

I believe it was Friedrich Nietzsche, who once said “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”.  Well I’m fairly sure at this point he has never replaced an engine  while laying in the gravels in his back yard with a cheap craftsman set of tools a couple screwdrivers, a pair of pliers that came off the Mayflower and a hammer,  for those parts that refuse to co-operate.  If he has,  we should name a holiday in his honor,  but somehow I’m just doubting he has.

We are now at the point where we are figuring out that things are not going as planned.  After spending 3 hours going to every part store in town to purchase just a few parts.    We live in a  town that has a part store on every friggen corner,  so why don’t they  have what we need?    We drive an antique,  it was made in 1980.  Many, many years before most of the employees in said parts store’s were even born.   If one more dude looks at me blankly and say’s,  “you want a whaaat,  for whaaat year?”  I’m going to slap him back into the 80’s.  See, that way he can find the bleeping parts easier. 😉   Heck,  he might even thank me for it,  the 80’s were great times, weren’t they!

I honestly believe that a higher spirit was watching over us this afternoon when the phone rang and it was, Ole John.  Note,  I did not call him old John,  he’s “ole John”   John was a friend from high school.  We haven’t kept up with him as much through the years because he’s had his own issues.  Tell ya what though,  there ain’t no better mechanic for “antique trucks” anywhere round these parts.  (yes,  I said ain’t)  Cause there just “Ain’t”.

Ole John was here in less than 15 minutes.  Drove up in tattered jeans, a worn looking shirt and his baseball hat turned backward covering his braided pony tail that rest half way down his back.  Without a word,  he slides under the truck and goes to work.   As we start to explain our duress,  he just chuckles and say’s “hand me that 9/16 wrench there brother,  we’ll have this thing rolling in no time”.

Some folks heroes  wear  bright  Jersey’s with big numbers on the front and back and do a little  dance as the fans roar and cheer.  Others wear fire suits  with  logos and smile with glee as they recite their sponsors names.  My hero wears a  ball cap, turned backwards and  a single braid ,  worn half way down his back.


Frozen cow pies can be deadly


 One of the great memories I have as a child is of putting on all the warm winter gear, dad building bonfires,  Mom fixing hot chocolate  and us kids going sleigh riding as proud mom and pop clapped and beamed from the sideline.

We’d zip down these ole mountains on anything we could find.  It wasn’t unusual to be sliding down on tires, trash can lids, car hoods, you name it we probably tuned it into a super sonic sled.

As I’m sure you’re probably thinking,  Yes,  it is amazing we all lived through that unscathed.

I figure that when you’re 40-50 pounds you’re so light that even if you do have a little crash,  you just don’t have the impact force that an adult has. I’m assuming that’s why mom and dad just observed and never joined in on the fun.

You know,  there are times I wonder, just how I missed some of the very important lessons in life that my parents tried so hard to teach me. 

Several years ago,  around this time of year,  my brother Joe and I were reminiscing about great times we had as a child. 

Ahhh,  wouldn’t it be great to go sleigh riding!

We are still young.  Forty’s are young, aren’t they?

Off we go,  we were going sleigh riding. 

  I had a couple of those plastic dome shaped disks they sell at Wal-mart for “kids” to use for sleigh riding.  

Very cool looking sleds,  wondering  if we should wax the bottom so we can gain some super sonic speeds,  like old times.

We grab our thin plastic  little sleds and race to the top.   Racing to the top of the hay field was harder than I remembered.  After catching our breath we were  able to communicate in complete sentences instead of spitting out short little words so it wouldn’t appear to each other that we were totally gasping for air.   The plan,  we would have a race to the bottom on our little round plastic disk sleds.   First one to the bottom wins and off we go! 

As I laid at the bottom of the mountain,  with snow crammed down the back of my pants,  starring up at the sky and wondering if I was still alive, wondering where Joe was or was he dead too!

I truly had a pain in the ass for I think I broke my tailbone. 

I rolled over and found Joe and asked, “WTF happened,  did we hit something?”

Joe was laying on his back too.   Unable to move, moaned, “Man,  I think we hit some cow pies”

All I can remember thinking was what my obituary was going to say. 

Poor sue,  passed today, frozen and covered in shit. 

I learned some very important lessons that day.   Live for today.  Trying to relive yesterday can sometimes stink and  Never, ever, go sleigh riding in a cow pasture because  frozen cow pies can be deadly!