why, when I want to comment on someone’s story, do I have to type out a curvy tljkf with a handicapped sign next to it? Can paralyzed people not see tljkf? If you don’t have the use of your legs are you not allowed to "blog"? Are we short bused prejudice? I think so. And if "special” people want to comment on the story they read by golly I think you should let them. Even if they can see tljkf. So here is to the "special" folk see what you will.
lkjasd fuioerjo rjiojvodji ejejrldfn iofefo!
Friday, April 20, 2007
Friday, April 13, 2007
The Best Day Ever!
Alright, I knew as soon as it happened it would be one for the books but I have been putting off telling the story because I knew if I told it too soon it would sound mopey.
Lately I have been changing my own oil. If you know me at all you know that me getting my hands dirty isn’t that big of a deal, however me working on the truck is a big deal because I don’t know jack about being a mechanic. I got a crash course from a guy I know I knew the basics. What I didn’t really get was the clutch fluid reservoir. Basically that is what allows your clutch to have any kind of pressure, like your brakes. I let that bad boy go dry over a three month period till finally it went out.
It was 6:45 on a Saturday morning. Heck yes I said 6:45 on a Saturday. Me and Al were going to pick up some free trees at Jacksonville’s annual free tree give away. We got five minutes from the place and we had to turn around. Couldn’t pull it off with this equipment. We drove to the mechanic and he called and said, I filled her up, you should be good. Awesome, I am a bone head.
Well he didn’t check the clutch and she was pretty much shot. About two weeks later I had taken the day off work and my dad came over look at my clutch because it was acting up. We finagled it into working like we always do with crap.
Later that day I was changing my oil. I went to turn on the truck to flood the oil filter so I could check my levels. I pulled the ol’ one cheeker on the seat because I only needed to start it then shut it off. I crank it and it starts to hop forward. In complete slow motion I think, why is it moving it should be in neutral, why didn’t it stall out, the emergency brake is on….. so instead of killing it my immediate reaction is to hit the brake.
Well since I had earlier pulled the one cheeker on the seat I pushed in the clutch with my right foot which is a bit no no. I reach across with my right foot to hit the brake and I don’t know what happened but what I only can assume happened was I hit both the gas and the brake. I friggin mad the loudest peal out noise I have ever heard before. It left a permanent mark in the concrete in my carport. Oh yes, in my carport. I drove Ol’ girl into my laundry room with the hood up no less.
It wasn’t a big deal, just a cinderblock wall I backed it out and had the worst case of the shakes of all time. I had to call my dad back over because I could barely think straight. I had to tear down the rest of the wall buy a new door and materials frame it out, don’t worry I’m not done.
My trucks bumper was bent all the way under the wheel well so it wasn’t going anywhere, we had to take off the whole bumper and drive it to the mechanic to replace the clutch, which is 950 bucks. Happy holidays to me.
My dad and I contorted the bumper back into a place where I am not going to lie, looks pretty impressive.
The grill cracked in half, there is a dint in the hood, the headlight busted, and the passenger fender buckled. So when I replace the headlight I have pretty good idea how I can fix the grill and the dents left in the bumper so the damage will look minimal.
So pretty much I am a bone head…. but we already knew that didn’t we.
Lately I have been changing my own oil. If you know me at all you know that me getting my hands dirty isn’t that big of a deal, however me working on the truck is a big deal because I don’t know jack about being a mechanic. I got a crash course from a guy I know I knew the basics. What I didn’t really get was the clutch fluid reservoir. Basically that is what allows your clutch to have any kind of pressure, like your brakes. I let that bad boy go dry over a three month period till finally it went out.
It was 6:45 on a Saturday morning. Heck yes I said 6:45 on a Saturday. Me and Al were going to pick up some free trees at Jacksonville’s annual free tree give away. We got five minutes from the place and we had to turn around. Couldn’t pull it off with this equipment. We drove to the mechanic and he called and said, I filled her up, you should be good. Awesome, I am a bone head.
Well he didn’t check the clutch and she was pretty much shot. About two weeks later I had taken the day off work and my dad came over look at my clutch because it was acting up. We finagled it into working like we always do with crap.
Later that day I was changing my oil. I went to turn on the truck to flood the oil filter so I could check my levels. I pulled the ol’ one cheeker on the seat because I only needed to start it then shut it off. I crank it and it starts to hop forward. In complete slow motion I think, why is it moving it should be in neutral, why didn’t it stall out, the emergency brake is on….. so instead of killing it my immediate reaction is to hit the brake.
Well since I had earlier pulled the one cheeker on the seat I pushed in the clutch with my right foot which is a bit no no. I reach across with my right foot to hit the brake and I don’t know what happened but what I only can assume happened was I hit both the gas and the brake. I friggin mad the loudest peal out noise I have ever heard before. It left a permanent mark in the concrete in my carport. Oh yes, in my carport. I drove Ol’ girl into my laundry room with the hood up no less.
It wasn’t a big deal, just a cinderblock wall I backed it out and had the worst case of the shakes of all time. I had to call my dad back over because I could barely think straight. I had to tear down the rest of the wall buy a new door and materials frame it out, don’t worry I’m not done.
My trucks bumper was bent all the way under the wheel well so it wasn’t going anywhere, we had to take off the whole bumper and drive it to the mechanic to replace the clutch, which is 950 bucks. Happy holidays to me.
My dad and I contorted the bumper back into a place where I am not going to lie, looks pretty impressive.
The grill cracked in half, there is a dint in the hood, the headlight busted, and the passenger fender buckled. So when I replace the headlight I have pretty good idea how I can fix the grill and the dents left in the bumper so the damage will look minimal.
So pretty much I am a bone head…. but we already knew that didn’t we.
Friday, April 6, 2007
Crazy Brauds
Today a woman at my work went into what can only be described as a tizzey about how women are not allowed to play golf at Augusta. She actually said, “in some countries women are struggling for rights and we can’t even play at Augusta, I just think that is, well bad, very bad.”
Of course to this I had many initial responses, maybe its because you talk too much lady chatalie..... maybe it is because women are inferior athletes and they don’t want to disgrace the course by allowing your estrogen to stink it up.... or even maybe you have infiltrated every other aspect of their lives and they want you to leave their dear sweet golf course alone.
Now I don’t even play golf really I just like to push buttons when I see crazy folk. So I simply responded in what I think is a mild manner, “maybe they don’t like divots”
Well you would of thought I took their right to vote away or even chocolate. I was met with some pretty fancy word slingin’ all for what, women wanting to play golf at Augusta.
Crazy bauds.
Of course to this I had many initial responses, maybe its because you talk too much lady chatalie..... maybe it is because women are inferior athletes and they don’t want to disgrace the course by allowing your estrogen to stink it up.... or even maybe you have infiltrated every other aspect of their lives and they want you to leave their dear sweet golf course alone.
Now I don’t even play golf really I just like to push buttons when I see crazy folk. So I simply responded in what I think is a mild manner, “maybe they don’t like divots”
Well you would of thought I took their right to vote away or even chocolate. I was met with some pretty fancy word slingin’ all for what, women wanting to play golf at Augusta.
Crazy bauds.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)