Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'....

You get busy, preoccupied, bombarded with work, car troubles, gigs, and the occasional drama, you blink and the next thing you know - *POOF* - 3 months go by and you haven't written a blog!

Well, you can thank my dad for reminding me to keep all of you who don't stalk me on Facebook up to speed on my life (such as it is). This was SO much easier when I could plan an hour of "me time" in most days before working at my predictably scheduled desk job. As it is, this is the first day off I haven't booked solid in MONTHS it seems!

Okay (deep breath). We have a lot of things to cover, so let's get down to business... Meeting is called to order! (BAM!)

Most of the past 3 months have been sucked up in trying to get my money-pit of a car dealt with. It's working - then it's not - then it is... UGH! Basically, this was an extension of all of the problems with it that I covered in the LAST blog: mostly overheating. Without going into the details of that POS I'd rather forget, I'll just say that nearly $2000 in repairs, lost wages, bus fare, and bottles of Excedrin after it all started, just to attempt to just get it safe to drive, I dumped it off on someone who can do something with it.

Once I decided to get rid of it, the guy I had been paying to put all the parts that he THOUGHT he needed to fix it into it offered me $200 for the whole thing. The day I'm ready to sell it, he chickens out, in what was likely a chance to talk down my price. "Fuck it," says I, and head to CraigsList. I list it for $500 and sold it that day to a guy who owns a shop, can fix the problem, and give it to his teenage daughter. I got about 20 calls and dozens of e-mails on it and I probably could have gotten more, but I just wanted it out of my life. I got 2.5x what I was planning on getting for it, and it went to the best of all possible homes: a teenager who needs a simple, safe junker that her dad can fix right and for cheap.

Next (actually, first), I needed to find a replacement. After scouring CraigsList for deals, I found that the only cars in the Detroit Metro Area available that DIDN'T need major repairs BEFORE they were drivable, all cost at least $1500. That was assuming I could find a way to BFE (read: outer suburbs), with no working car, to even LOOK at them. Thankfully, my friend Jenelle's husband knew a guy who was getting rid of one of his cars - a 1994 Pontiac Trans Sport with 185k miles on it. I wasn't keen on owning a gas-guzzling minivan with so may miles, but the price was right - $800. If it was running and ready to go, I was in.

My friend Lou drove me out there to look at it. It was in IMMACULATE shape (for a 16-year-old car with nearly 200k miles), and owned by a retired GM engineer who mostly used it for road trips to Florida (highway miles, good). I only got to drive it on the bumpy back dirt roads of Clarkston, but it seemed solid. Regardless, it ran, no weird noises, and all the gauges seemed to be in the right place.

My cousin (who I hadn't actually seen in person for over 2 decades) had been following my Facebook feeds about my car woes, and being grateful for getting back in touch with her and providing a family connection and support during her time of need, she offered me the money to cover the car. I had initially refused, as I had hoped my old car would be repaired after the last round and didn't want to take advantage of or burden my family with my problems, but when that didn't work, I reluctantly took her up on her offer. Once again, I am in awe of the wonderful friends and family I have accrued over the years, and hope to perpetuate this positivity and sense of selflessness. Since I can't make a difference monetarily, I just 'pay it forward' in every other way I can think of.

As I drove my new car home last Wednesday, I noticed a slight wobble coming from the back end. It didn't seem severe, but I decided to get it looked at. Thursday and Friday I worked both jobs and I had the kids for the weekend, so I planned on taking it in today (Tuesday). Well, after taking off to drop the kids home on Sunday, the tire exploded on the freeway. I pull over, instruct the kids to stay in their seats, and assess the damage... "Hmf. Just change the tire. No problem."

Well, in a standard sedan, no, but with an under-mounted spare with some weird gear system to release that I had no clue as to access - yes, problem. I called a tow truck. They responded quickly, let me watch the process carefully in case I needed the spare again, and had me on my way a scant 40 minutes (and $45) after the initial hobble to the shoulder.

All was well, however the brakes didn't seem to escape unscathed. I crept along at a snail's pace to the nearest exit and called the ex to come meet me to get the kids. The kids and I piled out at a Meijer to wait for their mother and sat in the book section, reading - Courtney read Dr. Seuss aloud, Liam read one of the "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" books, and I started Stephen Colbert's "I Am America (And So Can You)".

The next day, after limping my car to work, I limped to a shop Lou had HIGHLY recommended, to get the car looked at. They gave me their wi-fi password so I could use my laptop while I waited, and were exceedingly friendly, up-front, and honest. They repaired the severed brake line, replaced the blown tire with a solid used one, and gave the whole thing a good 'once over' to warn me of potential problems. They even ran the diagnostic computer on it. They ran down every part of the bill in detail with me, in case I had any questions or concerns. All tolled, it took about every penny left in the "Murphy's Law" fund I had expected to pay for an $800 car, but no more. For this I got a clean bill of (immediate) health for the car and a good does of peace of mind! I was back on the road again!

Anyway, the long and not-so-short of it, is that I have a bright red 1994 Pontiac Trans Sport SE that runs beautifully parked in my driveway now!

(FYI - this is NOT my driveway!)

There are an ass-load of other things that have happened in the past month, including a quartet gig at a REAL gentleman's club (tuxes, brandy, and cigars, not strippers, kamikaze shots, and venereal diseases), an invitation to the first Michigan Harmony Brigade, becoming the director of a barbershop chorus, and PLENTY more, but I'll get to those when I have more time (hopefully sooner than 3 months). I figured those stories would all be playing in the background of the transportation debacle, so I should hit that one first.

And later....the rest of the story(ies)...

X-mess 2009...

Fair warning: The following blog is an epic-length tome of chaos & woe, but not with a self-pitying, whiny intent. This simply documents the past month leading up to a scrumbled & frantic Holiday season. After all you are about to read, rest assured that I am not nearly as panicked and downtrodden as the story may lead you to believe...

"Holidays are joyful. There's always something new..."

Well, that Karen Carpenter lyric is HALF true, anyway.

The Holiday Season is ALWAYS a flurry of activity, mad dashes to the store, unexpected catastrophes, scurrying from gathering to gathering, and financial frustration, but this year has been a DOOZY! This doesn't even come CLOSE to the car wreck of two Christmas Eves ago, of course, but rather than being a single, terrifying event like the one that etched that year as "The Worst Christmas Ever", this has been a Chinese Water torture of hits that, at first glance, could plunge me into the depth of despair. However, upon reflection, each maddening setback has had its own silver lining. Still, just when I think I'm about to catch up..."there's always something new."

First off, to catch up on the last blog, I did manage to cobble together the back door threshold of the house and plug up some of the holes in the house, just in time for the cold weather to set in. With the help of the reciprocating saw my sister left behind when she moved to L.A., I got to explore my mechanical, manly side by doing some work with nails, screws & wood to make a sturdy foundation for the threshold, replaced some rotted wood, and allay some of my self-consciousness about home repair. All the bending, kneeling, and physical exertion left me PLENTY sore for a few days, but the good, productive kind of sore. In the end, it ain't pretty, but it'll do until I research some county home improvement loans and will save me a LOT on my heating bill.

I mentioned unexpected car repairs in my last blog. Well, I shouldn't have jinxed myself. The main cause of my holiday woes this year has been based on my car. My heat's always been a bit weak in my 98 Cavalier, and the temp gauge rarely goes into the "normal" range. I thought little of this, but the guys at my oil change place suggested a radiator flush should do the trick, as there was a TON of gunk in the coolant system.

Now, I bought this from a fairly green grease monkey, who obviously bought it as junk and fixed it up. The body was in great shape, but other than a good repair on the head gasket, he seemed to skimp a bit on or totally ignore the other repairs. The trunk latch was tricky from the get-go, and is now stuck shut (better than open, I suppose), some of the gauges would flip out on occasion, the check engine light was on more than off, the suspension left MUCH to be desired (especially on the near lunar, crater-filled surface of Detroit area roads), and the "theft deterrent system" didn't always like my key and would shut off the fuel for a few minutes from time to time when I'd try to start it, among other things, but the engine sounded strong and it got from A to B quite well...until I got the radiator flush.

First off, since my car was recommended for the more expensive (yet completely overrated & unnecessary) DEXcool fluid, it cost me $30 more than the standard flush. They then charged me $30 MORE to flush my heater core, which I found out later was ridiculous, as the standard flush should do that. After $90, the heat was little, if any, better. I then started talking to a friend and customer at Blockbuster.

This guy has worked at the Murray's Discount Auto Parts store next to my Blockbuster for years. He's tricked out his own show car, which is a late-90s Cavie, as well. He's certified up the wazoo in all sorts of repairs and diagnostics for cars and knows my car model inside and out, top to bottom - literally. I had him look at it.

Apparently, the flush broke the nub off the thermostat. We replaced it, as well as a bent piece that housed it (likely something the seller didn't bother to replace - just added more gaskets), and hoped that would be the end off it. After a VERY minimal charge for labor, and a lot of headaches getting the parts, after a week or so, it was done and we hoped for the best that that would be all.

At this point, I was feeling okay. Working around his schedule to get the car to him, bumming rides from people while it was there, & driving to Hell & gone to find the parts on the dirt cheap was a hassle, but I had just sold my precious F-rotor trombone to pay for my kids' Christmas presents, and so far, the extra money was covering it. Even when I was presented with a $200 shut-off notice for my water bill (which I haven't been receiving), the trombone money was just enough to cover it all. I drove the car for a day for a day, did some holiday shopping, got my son's Wii and some other odds & ends, figuring the car was fine to get me through the holidays now.

No such luck.

It stared to overheat. Thankfully, my ex was willing to drive my kids down to me for their weekend with me, and I told her I would MAKE a way to get them back, so she wouldn't have to make the hour drive here and back again for them. My repair guy's tight schedule forbade my leaving the car with him, and as it did okay for short jaunts of 10 minutes or so at a time, I made plans. My uncle was in from California, so the kids and I met him for lunch on Sat and he agreed to drive us all up. That way, we could all have a pleasant time catching up on the drive up, and he and I could have some grown-up talk on the way back.

Well, on the way to meet up with my uncle, the car overheated again, and the only way to get the parts in time for me to get the car back in time for my next shift was for me to get them while my uncle drove the kids home to Flint. So much for pleasant grown-up catching up. Nonetheless, my uncle agreed to get them home to Flint, while I picked up a new radiator, water pump, coolant, and other necessities to basically replace the WHOLE FUCKING COOLANT SYSTEM, as the nub of the thermostat that came loose in the radiator flush apparently ripped apart the water pump and got wedged in the radiator.

Thankfully, I had already bought my kids' presents, paid the overdue water bill, and after a loan from my mother, I was able to cover the cost. He did the repair and after a couple days of being stranded without a car (thankfully, during my days off), all was fine...for all of a day.

The day after getting my car back, I was running a few errands, stopped to pay my cell phone bill and was hit buy an older lady trying to pass me on the left - IN THE PARKING LOT! We get out and I assess the damage. She tries to convince me that there we 3 lanes in the parking lot (which is ridiculous, and even if there was, STILL doesn't explain passing on the left in a 'no parking zone'), and as I duck my head into the cell phone store to have them call the Hazel Park Police so we can make a report, she drives off!

My hub cap is shattered, my wheels misaligned, and a new leak has started under my car. I thought (hoped) it was just some of the coolant from the previous repair that had been shaken loose from pooling somewhere after the repair, so after talking with the cop for a minute, I continued to run my errands. The car seems fine for the remainder of my runs.

Later that night, I headed out to visit my old friend Jason and his family and pick up the last present for my little girl - a Zhu-Zhu pet, which Jason's BRILLIANT wife had the forethought to buy several of on Black Friday. About half way there, the temperature gauge started to spike and hit the danger zone. I exit the freeway in a panic. I only afforded myself a few minutes to visit before I was due at work. If my car is rendered immobile out in East Warren, I'll never make it to work on time! I let it cool down and started off again, hoping it was a glitch in the gauge I could get checked out later, but after 1/2 mile, it spiked again. I limped it as close as a mile and a half from Jason's house before I gave up, calling Jason to come rescue me. I called my work 5 times in the hour this all took, to say I'd be late, but no one would answer. Now I was fearing that not only would I not have a reliable means to GET to work, but I may not have the job AT ALL!

Jason pulled up about 10 minutes later, bought me McD's for dinner, and took me to his home, where I was cheerfully greeted by his wife and kids (my Godkids). After FINALLY reaching my place of employ on the phone and negotiating the night off to deal with this mess, I was able to spend a wonderful evening decompressing a bit with my oldest, dearest friend, his wife, my Godkids, a cold beer, and a movie.

The next day, I had to bus to 12 Mile & Schoenherr to try and coax my car closer to my repair guy - hopefully at LEAST to my Blockbuster, where it can cool down while I'm working and finish the trek to get repaired. While waiting for my connecting bus, I met an elderly lady who was having numerous health problems, was estranged from her family, laid off of work, and had lost faith in much of humanity. We talked for about an hour in the freezing cold, waiting for the bus. I was my usual, upbeat self and was more than willing to let her vent about her woes. We discussed, family, the rich, morals, values, religion - you name it. By the time the bus arrived, her mournful scowl had turned into a rejuvenated smile. She thanked me for the talk and restoring her faith that there are good people out there, after all. It really helped me put things in perspective amongst all the insanity and pitfalls I'd been facing and warmed my heart to bring some faith back to someone who was in a much more dire spot than myself. I bid her a merry Christmas, got off the bus, and thanked God for that opportunity.

After waiting in the cold 50 minutes for my connecting bus and 2 20-minute layovers too let my engine cool, I got to work just a bit late. After work, I dropped it at my repair guy's house and my ever vigilant and compassionate girlfriend drove me home.

At this point, it's December 23rd, and I'm not going to ask my repair guy to give up that kind of time with his wife and 2-year-old boy on Christmas for my sake. I tell him to get back to me after the holiday with a time line. This, of course, leaves me with no car for Christmas travel. The PLAN was to get the kids about 3pm on Christmas Eve, drive to my family's gathering in Monroe for the evening, and drive the kids back up to Flint for bed. I'd sleep on the ex's couch, spend the morning in Flint with her & the kids, and drive home. It SEEMED such a simple plan! As it was, the ex was, thankfully, generous enough to pick me up and have me and the kids spend Christmas Eve with her. I spent a nice (if at times awkward) evening with the kids & the ex and we put the gifts under the tree after the kids hit the hay.

The next morning was a flurry of of wrapping paper. We all played Wii Bowling & Star Wars - Force Unleashed on Liam's new Wii system, watched Courtney's Zhu-Zhu pet scurry and chirp around the living room, and had an enjoyable morning.

I'm a planner. When I'm confronted with obstacles, I don't whine, I overcome (okay, sometimes I whine THEN overcome). I wasn't going to ask the ex or any of her family to sacrifice 2 hours of their Christmas to cart my pedestrian ass from Flint to Hazel Park, so I booked a non-refundable Greyhound Bus ticket online from Flint to Pontiac for that afternoon. The online instructions said that the actual ticket was supposed to be printed at the ticket desk upon my arrival there. The ex dropped me at the Flint bus station, and as I approached the ticket counter, where they were supposed to print my ticket, I noticed it was closed for the holiday. I figured this was a formality, and the bus driver would have my info on some sort of manifest. When I asked, however, he said I could not board without a ticket. I explained my predicament and he coldly said there was nothing he could do. After several minutes of pleading, I opened my laptop and showed him my confirmation, which I had the forethought to print to a PDF on my desktop. Reluctantly, he let me board (whew!).

When I got to the Pontiac station, I figured I'd just catch a local bus down Woodward Ave to either my grandfather's house or Blockbuster for my shift at work. As I had no idea when the next bus was due (but assuming it would be within the hour) I plugged in my earbuds and started walking South toward my grandfather's, looking over my shoulder on occasion to be ready for a bus. After nearly 4 miles of walking in the cold, ice & rain, with my overnight bag in hand and computer bag on my shoulder, I approached my grandfather's, and as I'm about to cross Woodward to my grandfather's subdivision - you guessed it - the bus drove by. I laughed as I sloshed my way through the slush for the last block. I just got a nice 4-mile walk in, was bundled appropriately for the weather & had my blood pumping so I wasn't freezing, and got one last dose of my Christmas music on my MP3 player. Silver lining. :)

As I walked up to my grandfather's door, my uncle greeted me with a hug and a ham sandwich made from leftovers from the Christmas Eve gathering I had to miss. I had a lovely visit with my uncle, mom, & grandfather before my uncle offered to drive me to work. I had a nice, if busy, shift at Blockbuster and my coworker offered to drive me home.

My friend and repair guy called me the next day after looking at my car. The prognosis? Cracked heater core. Not an expensive part, but entails ripping apart the ENTIRE dash and much of the front seat to install. EASILY $500 in labor at any repair shop. He agrees to do it in exchange for a Wii. Thankfully, only a $200 cost, but still more than I have. The following day, I bus to work at Starbucks. My dear friend and duly crowned "Queen of Awesome", Marney, agrees to loan me the money to buy the Wii, as buying it myself would mean no house payment this month. She meets me at Starbucks on my lunch break to drive me to Target to get it.

A couple days later, repair guy calls me and says it's all done. He also cleaned off my dash before reinstalling it and aligned my wheels to the best of his ability. He also agreed to replace my wheel bearing, letting me pay for that repair after I got my paycheck that weekend. By New Year's Eve, I had my car fully operational, my mortgage paid, some of my chaos-related personal debts paid, and life mostly restored to some semblance of normal. I'll post pictures on my Flickr page when I can afford to restore my Pro account.

Throughout all of this, there were SEVERAL bright spots that helped keep me sane and brought several moments of joy to an otherwise crazy holiday season. The Flint Holiday Walk gig with my quartet, making my family's traditional fudge, visiting Santa, and decorating the tree with my kids, Christmas shopping with my girlfriend, driving with the Christmas music on the radio (when the car worked, anyway), all helped bring periods of serenity, peace, and normality to the season.

I didn't get much by way of tangible, wrapped gifts this holiday, but I DID get a couple. My girlfriend gave me a couple Detroit t-shirts she designed (awesomely talented graphic designer, BTW), a simple white T that says "Bazinga" (if you get it, kudos!), and coolest of all, a cigarette case with a Star Trek logo on it with a built-in lighter! She couldn't have hit the nail on the head better. Not a THING I asked for, yet so completely DEAD-NUTS-ON-THE-MONEY-PERFECT for me! She absolutely floored me.

It wasn't a huge material haul for me this Christmas, yet I am in NO way disappointed with that. My friends and family have bent over backward to see that I survived through this ordeal, as they have for the past 9 months or so. I don't need much. Most of what I need, I have. Everything else is just fluff. What I was given this Christmas was far better than any DVD, electronic gizmo, or toy. I was given the opportunity to see what wonderful friends and family I have, sacrifice to make my kids smile at Christmas, bring hope and faith to someone less fortunate by simply listening, revel in some off the simpler traditions of the season, and gain my perspective on how great my life truly is.

I'm George Bailey, and I'm the richest guy in town.

...In My Brand New (old) Automobile!

Okay, the barbershoppers got that, anyway...

Well, here I sit, in my favorite morning spot once again - the Biggby Coffee in Madison Heights. I haven't been here in over a month and as soon as I walk in, I'm greeted by Paul & Travis like a long-lost friend. I feel like Norm at Cheers here. It's the only place where I can just say, "the usual". I like that. I've been skipping my morning coffee due to time and budget constraints the past month or so. I''ll probably start coming back here a bit more often, but probably just once a week...and skip the muffin.

But now to the point... My car is on the road and ready to go!! I spent a couple hours Wednesday day hitting my insurance agent and the Secretary of State getting her legal. As I ran the errands, I noticed a throbbing sound in the front driver's wheel. I didn't think too much of it, figuring it was a bald spot on the tire or something, but when I hit the freeway that evening on the way to quartet rehearsal, it got insistent. Figuring it a prudent measure to have the new ride scoped out by a knowledgeable and trusted source, I took my 98 Chevy Cavalier to my favorite mechanic, Tony at B.Y.O.P. (Bring Your Own Parts). I dropped it before work yesterday and bussed the rest of the way.

Sure enough, it needed some work. Having only paid $1300 for it, I assumed as much. A while later, Tony calls me with a short list of necessities. I give the okay, he agrees to grab the parts himself to save time (as I was working till 6), and after $228 and a promise to do the brake pads, I'm back on the road the same day!

So, ladies and gentleman, I present my new ride.





Suggestions of a name for her? Monikers my former modes of transportation have gone by include the Blue Bomber, 'Lil' Red, the Teal Tornado, Moose, and of course, the Shitmobile (which - knock wood - will nnot apply here).

On The Road Again!

Okay, it's been a while since I posted anything about what's going on with me, specifically. This one's not getting much into the big picture for various reasons, but is action packed; filled with car crashes, excitement, police, humility, defeat, and eventual triumph!

I love how I can make a simple car accident on I-94 sound like a Arnold Schwarzenegger movie.

Anyway, a week ago Sunday, I was traveling I-94 on the way back from visiting a friend. I was due to visit my friends Jason & Jenn at their place at 8pm and was running right on time, give or take 5 minutes. The weather was snowy (in late March? WTF!?), the traffic heavy, and I was taking all due caution, going about 5 MPH under the speed limit. Rather than take I-75 to I-696 and up Schoenherr, I figured it might shave a couple minutes off to just take I-94 to I-696.

I chose...poorly.

Just as I pass Gratiot, a red Jeep Cherokee comes barreling STRAIGHT ACROSS the freeway and hits my back passenger quarter panel. He was far enough back when the subsequent skidding was over that I couldn't see his plate in the dark, snowy weather. Traffic was REAL heavy for a Sunday night, and between the slick road, heavy traffic, bad weather, and the skinny left shoulder I was on, I was not about to risk getting outside my steel cocoon to talk to the guy.

I call 911, make my report, and wait...for the MI state police...on I-94...in Detroit...on a Sunday...in bad weather. Yea, right. I call Jason & Jenn and explain I may not make our Wii date, then call my Superheroine Sister to see if she can some to save the day, once again. Meanwhile, I'm sitting on the skinny left shoulder right against the berm in a busted car that had no heat anyway with 2 busted windows, my heart racing with every passing truck that shakes my car as it passes at 60+ MPH, missing me by millimeters, it seemed.

Shortly before the State Police show up 30 MINUTES LATER, the offending driver limps his hulking red ass away! I see him moving and start to spout a stream of expletives. The state police show up 5 minutes later aand take care of another accident just behind me on the off-ramp, then completely disappear! Thankfully, a tow truck driver spots me, turn his lights on to make others aware of my existence, and waits for a safe time to haul my shattered Fortress of Solitude onto his flatbed. Another tow truck comes by 10 minutes later to block the lane and secure the perimeter, and just as it's all loaded up, THEN the cops decide to show up.

We pull off the freeway and I give the cops all the info. Hit & Run - not much they can do. Yay. I get the info necessary to just give my shattered means of conveyance to the junk yard, my sister picks me up, and we head to Detroit Metro to pick up Paulie B.. From there I decide to just crash at Val's place to be sure I can get to work, as the public transportation system in Bloomfield Hills is basically nonexistent.

The next week was spent dealing with my incapacitated car (chaufeured by my awesome sister) and browsing CraigsList for a new set of wheels. My best bud, Lou, helped me try and get to see some, but all the posters neglected to get back to me. I managed to get to work via considerate local coworkers, my sister, and the bus. I did, through all that, manage to discover that if you walk 2.5 miles at a brisk pack while conducting Madison Scouts '92, you get a REAL good full body workout!

I had to swallow some pride and ask my grandfather for a loan to get the car. I was keeping my searched under $2k, expecting to just get a reliable beater. I would have needed him to co-sign to get a loan from the bank and didn't want to damage his credit, being that my paychecks have been miserable lately and aren't apt to get better real soon. I figure once I get the money flowing again, I'll talke out a bank loan to pay him back. Thankfully, some of the car searching for said beater panned out yesterday and I looked at a few cars, again through the kindness of my non-pedestrian sister. The last one I looked at had a couple issues, but the seller was a mechanic and fixed them on the spot. It's a 96 Cavalier, 90's Teal, virtually no body damage, VERY little rust, and runs great. It's no Mazzarati and a bit smallish, but for the price, it's pure awesome. Best of all, it has no exhaust problems, a great working radio/cassette player, and (get this) WORKING HEAT!!!

I''ll post a pic of the new one soon in this blog entry.. In the meantime, here's one of the remains of my former Fortress of Solitude:



Total bad car, get a better one for even cheapper. Karma's great that way. :)

So once again, I am mobile. I'm taking thhe morning to grab a cup of coffee att the Caribou and blog, then it's off to my insurance agent, the Secretary of State, MicroCenter for another FM transmitter for my MP3 player, and off to work. Tonight, I have the first rehearsal with my quuartet in over a month, and *I'M* picking Lou up for a change, now that I have working heat!!

Yay me!!

Baby, It's COLD...Inside!

I have an "audition" with the Lansing chapter for the director's position tonight. Oddly enough, it's not my 'lesson plan', conducting skills, or rapport with the members that has me concerned - it's the drive there.

When I bought my current automobile from Charity Motors to replace my Isuzu (which so valiantly sacrificed itself to save my family and me), it apparently, unbeknownst to me, had a bypassed heater core. This mean NO heat...in a family car...in Michigan...in winter. This leads to freezing kids, frosted windshields, tingly toes, an with an hour-and-a-half drive to Lansing, a VERY uncomfortable drive. I have to keep the window cracked so the interior windows don't frost over and bundle up as if for extended deep-sea diving (thank you Jean Shepherd). It was MOST unpleasant last time I made the drive, but this time, I'm prepared. I have 4 layers of shirts, my long wool coat, gloves, and plan on stopping for a hot cup of coffee on the way.

I don't complain about my car much, mostly because there's little point. It has a laundry list of repairs that need done and resembles something that might suit for a first car for a kid enrolled in an auto shop class. It's a teal-blue 94 Mercury Tracer Trio with no heat, no A/C, some busted trim, a loose and rattly exhaust, nonfunctioning thermostat, quirky tachometer, leaky front driver's tire, and the obligatory rust and dings for a car of it's vintage. It's loud, uncomfortable, an doesn't like the cold, but it gets from A to B, starts, stops, and (so far, knock wood) hasn't pulled a "Blues Mobile" and disintegrated into a pile of parts.

Also, there's simply no money to get these issues dealt with right now. Sales is not the most lucrative job to be in right now. With the econemy the way it is, bills overdue, and Christmas coming up, it looks like I'm going to have to tough it out with Blue Bomber II for a while longer. With the job market dwindling, unemployment at record highs (especially in Michigan), and forclosures becoming commonplace, I'm glad to have a job (well, 3 - soon to be 4, actually), and a functioning car, no matter how quirky.

Well, I'm off to have another wonderful day selling 1/4 of what I need to to make the same money I did this time last year. But after that, it's "Mush! Mush!" off to Lansing to wow and amaze the guys in Lansing with my amazing musical talent and knowledge...

...or at least not fall flat on my ass. Hell, I'm surprised and thrilled I made it this far in the process!

Sharing my Fortress of Solitude...

I'm mostly just writing this one because I have the time (all of about 20 minutes) before work.

Kids are doing well in school. Courtney loves Kindergarten. Liam's getting a much better handle on his behavior so far this year in 3rd grade. Let's hope he can keep it up.

Sonya saw her parents off on their European vacation yesterday, meaning that we get to borrow their car while they're gone. Since Sonya's car is still stranded in Rondeau Park in Canada, the extra vehicle will be nice. I'm very picky about my car and lending it out. It's my Fortress of Solitude, where I can listen to MY music, think MY thoughts, keep MY stuff, and just be ME. Lending it out to anyone is difficult for me, no matter what pile of rusted-out junk I drive. Conversely, I don't like borrowing other people's cars, either. I hate imposing and get fidgity about making sure everything is EXACTLY as it was when I got it - from the pennies in the ashtray, to the seat and mirror positions, to the gas level in the tank (to be fair, I'm not as careful about the minutea when I'm forced to drive Sonya's car). That's how I am when I have to impose myself on anyone. I believe in imposing as little as possible and leaving as little a footprint as possible.

The past few days, I've had to share my car with Sonya. Not fun. Sonya's car is usually a flurry of stuff of varying degrees of importance, from dishes left behind from a hurried rush out the door with food in hand, to toys and changes of clothes left from visits to Grandma & Grandpa's house, to supplies and important forms for the Cub Scouts and school. Her trunk is...I don't even want to get into that...

I let her borrow my car for 2 days to run errands and get the kids from school while I was at work, and my car quickly became similarly cluttered. Not as bad, but noticable. After one day I came home from work to find it scattered with some of the kids stuff (I usually clear it out after every trip), 3 umbrellas (none of them mine), and 2 baby gates Sonya picked up for her brother to coral his dogs. Now, I'm no Mr. Belvedere. Being my portable locker and home-away-from-home, it gets its fair share of clutter, but it's usually minimal, garbage is contained to a single garbage bag, and non-essentials are kept to a minimum in the "wayback" of my station wagon. There's rarely more back there than an emergency tool kit, blanket, bag of barbershop music, empty deposit cans from my journeys (excised once a week), and some reading material. Mind you, I don't feel she was inconsiderate or disrespectful. It's not like the car was suddenly a garbage dump. She was just being herself. I don't fault her for it, but I'll just say I'm glad to have my car to myself again. I'm just that picky about my Fortress of Solitude.

The quartet was supposed to have another gig this Sunday with our fill-in bass, Jack Day. I got an e-mail from the organizer yesterday canceling our participation. I'm dissapointed, and yet relieved, because we're going to try and have a garage sale this weekend and prepping for that with a quartet rehearsal in there somewhere to prep for the gig was going to be a real hassle. On the other hand, I like the idea of getting $65/hr to do something I truly enjoy. I should develop a cancelation fee policy. Oh well...

Work's getting better. Ups and downs, but I'm slowly building my client base by "resurrecting the dead" and contacting a bunch of former customers who haven't ordered in years. Still a very gray...gray office and a bit isolating, but not bad. At least it's climate-controlled, clean, and there's no one there I dislike. Even made a friend in one of the warehouse workers - a fellow 30something geek who happens to live real close by. He was gracious enough to play chaufeur for me the past couple days so Sonya wouldn't have to load the kids up in the car to get me.

Well, 10 minutes to get to work. Better skee-daddle.

GARAGE SALE THIS WEEKEND! COME BUY MY CRAP!!!

"Luck ‘O The Irish", My Arse…

The St. Patrick’s Day Parade in Corktown went well. Sonya and Leigh headed down about 2 hours early to join a friend of Leigh’s in the parade walking a pack of Irish Setters. This left me to gather up the kids myself and head to our usual spot along the parade route across the street from Nemo’s. Not unexpectedly, they dragged out my timeline and bit. After doing a mountain of dishes, a bit of tidying around the house, and gathering some chocolate milk for the kids, I argue with Liam a bit to get moving and we hit the road about 1:30. We grabbed some Taco Bell on the way to be sure the kids get some protein before inhaling the piles of candy they were sure to gather along the parade route and a 6 pack of Guinness for me and whomever else we should meet up with.

We got there about 10 minutes into the parade. About 40 minutes after my anticipated arrival time, but still typical for us, and not missing much. Liam desperately wanted to wear his roller blades to the parade. I wasn’t keen on the idea at first, knowing Michigan Avenue is brick paved and bumpy, and fearing skinned knees or a bumped head marring the experience. I eventually acquiesced, and I’m glad I did. He’s apparently got this roller blading thing down pat. It sped up our movement from the car to the parade, and he spent the whole time zooming up and down within about ½ block on either side of our spot, laughing, cheering, meeting other kids, and snatching up candy and beads without a single scratch or bruise. We met up first with my sister Val’s old flame Stephan and his girlfriend, and later with Val, and eventually my best friend Lou and his fiancé.

Though I forgot to borrow the camera from work, Val got a few great shots. You can see them on her Flickr page here: Val's Flickr Page

As the parade was wrapping up, I spotted a guy in a leather jacket with “Teen Angels” emblazoned on the back. They being my favorite local A Cappella/Doo-Wop group, I stroll over and ask if he’s in the group. After chatting him up a bit, discussing barbershop and A cappella music, I find out he’s the brother of a good friend of mine in another quartet! We have a few laughs as the parade comes to a close, and the small mob of us that had coalesced head to Sonya’s parents’ place to gather and decompress.

The rest of the evening was spent between watching the Balduck Mountain Ramblers at Nemo’s, chatting at the house, drinking, and munching on take-out Botana from Xochimilco’s. I passed out in a chair, letting Sonya take the kids home and figuring on a short nap before heading home. I woke up about midnight (MUCH later than I had planed), and drove home, with a quick stop by AJ’s Café in Ferndale to participate in their world record attempt to sing “Danny Boy” non-stop for 50 hours.

St. Patty’s Day proper was spent at work, then home to watch the kids while Sonya took some much needed time out to hang with her family at Nemo’s to watch the Ramblers some more and have a beer. That’s about where the fun and supposed “Luck O’ The Irish” ran out…

Just where the hell did that phrase come from anyway? Snakes, famine, and religious oppression at home, hatred, bigotry, indentured servitude, and deplorable living conditions here. Where in the hell did ANYONE get the idea that the Irish were lucky?

Well, even only being about ¼ Irish, it seems that sour brand of “Irish Luck” is coursing through my blood again. The car I bought for such a deal about a month ago is fast becoming a giant mutant albatross around my neck. First the heater core doesn’t work – a $400 repair I haven’t done yet. Then I notice the stereo has a few glitches, which, having no garage, I can’t get to until this interminable cold weather breaks. I still have to find a bed liner for the hatchback area. The front driver’s tire has a very slow leak. Then, most recently, it had been running a bit rough and the “check coolant” light came on. No biggie – probably just needed a top off on the radiator fluid, right? That took care of it for about a week, then the light came on again. This time my car’s thirst was quenched for all of a day before the hood started to steam. The temperature gauge was still within the realm of “normal”, but I figured I’d take it in for it’s first oil change under my care and get $15 worth of free advice from the grease monkeys there.

I drive in with a pleasant smile, hoping they’ll say it’s a slipped hose or something. Well, faith ‘n begorah, if it wasn’t the water pump. On top of that, my serpentine belt is in tatters and on the verge of disintegration. Great. I head to the local discount auto parts store for a $45 water pump, $20 serpentine belt, and a $15 timing belt (which you may as well replace if you’re doing the water pump), and I take it to my trusted mechanic, Tony, at BYOP (Bring Your Own Parts) Auto Repair.

I left it with him first thing yesterday, knowing he probably wouldn’t be able to get to it that day. He usually encourages appointments so he can plan his schedule better. I hop a bus to work from there and wait…and wait…and wait. About 3:30 he calls me with a grim tone in his voice. He knows I ain’t Rockefeller and try to do the minimum needed to get from point A to B. Apparently my thermostat wasn’t reading correctly and sometime (probably Saturday) I had blown a head gasket.

This can often be a death sentence for a car, depending on how the engine’s built. While my Mercury Tracer (basically a Ford Escort) has a good rep and being a Ford product, parts are relatively cheap, it wasn’t exactly designed for durability. It’s the kind of domestic Econo-Box you buy in a six-pack and hope to take good care of to get to about 150k miles. Mine's at about 102k. He runs down the litany of procedures for the work and as my heart beats faster in my chest, having assumed I just dumped $1500 down the drain buying this overrated go-kart, he gives me the total…$500 (give or take $100).

That’s it? I was figuring on about $300 for the water pump anyway. Was I happy? Hell no, but at least that repair brings my total cost of the car to around the Blue Book value (so far – I still have to get to the heater core before next winter). While it’s not a repair I was financially prepared for and will suck my account down to the dregs, it’s not a panic-inducing situation (knock wood).

So I’ll be without a car…AGAIN…for about a week or so while I get the necessary work done. God willing, this will be the last mandatory repair I’ll have to do for a while.

Spring barbershop convention is looking less and less likely…

A Pedestrian No More!

You’re probably asking, “Where the heck has Paul BEEN that past 2 weeks?!” My usual M.O. for blogging is to drive to the coffee shop and blog on my laptop.

Well, No car + no laptop = no blogging.

My car was totaled, as you likely know, and my laptop has been MIA for a while due to a fried-out power cord. It was giving me battery alerts when it was plugged in, but was still occasionally working, until I plugged it in at work one day and heard light ‘ticking’ and saw little puffs of blue smoke. Not good. So, I had to order a new one online, after some extensive searching for good deals. Got it on Saturday, so I’m back in business.

Now, the big news: After a month-and-a-half of walking to work in the bitter cold, snow and rain, begging for rides from friends and co-workers, and having to completely reschedule parts of my family’s life to work around sharing Sonya’s car…I finally have my own set of wheels!

I’ve been on the lookout for a good deal on a reliable car since shortly after my little automotive calamity, recounted in my previous blog “So, How Was YOUR Christmas, Paul? Part 1” (December 31^st, 2007). I don’t usually buy cars on my own. Frequently, I just get family hand-me-downs for cheap or free. The nice part of that is that I know what to expect from the car. I usually can get a real clear picture of what it’s been through and how it’s been maintained. I’m wary of dealers, as their goal is usually simply to get the thing off the lot for as much as they can get. Thus, I’ve only purchased 2 of my succession of 10 or so cars from dealers in my entire life.

Thanks to my grandfather co-signing on a loan (well, technically I’M the co-signer in order to qualify for the credit union’s better interest rate), I was able to get enough money for the car and pay some bills to boot.

Rather than trek all over Hell’s half-acres in the FREEZING cold, I figured I’d start with utilizing the wonders of the information age and begin my search online. I started with eBay, hoping I could find a good deal. The problem with eBay is that you rarely – if ever – get a chance to actually SEE and DRIVE the car before you buy. If you do get the chance to check out the car before you bid, you still have to drive all over to get to them. Given the difficulty in my schedule and transportation to do so, not to mention the plethora of seedy malcontents skulking on eBay, waiting for their next prey, I decided to go another direction.

As I was debating which charity to donate my beloved, yet destroyed, Isuzu Rodeo, it occurred to me – why not BUY from them, too? I figured a charity whose goal it is to help people of limited means get reliable transportation is less likely to take advantage them. Naïve? Perhaps, but infinitely preferable to the plaid sport-coated shyster just trying to boost his commission check or the greasy conman spreading his villainy through the relative anonymity of the Internet.

I checked out Charity Motors’s website and was delighted to find that most of their inventory was not only listed online, but was complete with a full description, mileage, amenities, asking price, and pictures from every angle including the interior and odometer. I determined my price range ($1500-$2500) and narrowed my search.

Now, I have a certain amount of vanity, to be sure. I’d want to avoid something akin to my first off-the-lot purchase after destroying my 84 Ford Tempo in PA back when I was 18. That car was a great deal, as reliable transportation goes, costing a mere $750, getting 35MPG, lasting me 3 years, and making damned near 200k miles. It was, however, the ugliest thing on 4 wheels: a beat-to-hell, rusted out 81 Subaru Wagon with a crumpled corner panel, no roof insulation, tricky 2^nd gear, ignition switch, AM-FM MONO radio, and no exhaust system to speak of. I want something reliable, of course, but at 33, I want something that looks a bit better than something a 16-year-old bought on his own as a first car.

There were Oldsmobile and Buick sedans (nah, too bulky), A few nice 2-door sedans (nah, getting the kids in and out would be a headache), a couple older compacts with some rust (nah, with the winter salted roads, they’ll be Swiss cheese by spring), a beautiful Ford Explorer (nah, as much as I liked the amenities, higher ride, and spacious interior, it was at the higher end of my price range, had too many miles on it, and I’d had enough of the fuel costs on SUVs). Then I saw it – a 1994 Mercury Tracer Wagon at $1,995. Hmm…intriguing.

The body had little-to-no rust, very few dings and no major dents to speak of. It’s metallic teal – a trendy color for 1994, but not my favorite. Beggars can’t be choosers. It listed a host of comfy features: power windows, locks, steering, mirrors, and seat belts, alloy wheels, cruise control, CD player, great gas mileage, and best of all, it was a wagon, so I had my storage space. The odometer only read 2,006 miles, but as it was only a 5-digit odometer, it was more likely 102,006 miles. I HAD to see this car.

I did a bit of research, checking out stats, reviews, and common problems with that model. I was surprised to find that despite it being 14 years old and basically a Ford Escort (notorious for being Ford’s disposable compact) it still got great reviews for being reliable. Most of the complaints were from folks who were expecting too much by way of comfort and luxury of a low-end compact car, or had poorly maintained them. Regardless, being an older Ford, repairs would likely be inexpensive (if not necessarily infrequent), with most parts being cheap and/or available from local junkyards.

After a bit of finagling with our schedules and with Sonya’s brother Jeremy over for a visit, Sonya, Courtney and I headed out to the lot, just north of Pontiac. Liam chose Spongebob over car shopping – go figure. We looked at a few other cars, briefly, but finally looked long and hard at the Tracer. It had a few more dings than the pictures conveyed, but still nothing major. The interior was a rather Spartan, angular, and a bit boxy, but that’s the early 90’s for ya. No liner for the wagon bed, computer core was hanging out a bit, but it started right up. We took it for a spin, and after getting the engine moving and the brakes cleared of the ice, it ran like a dream. I get back and offer $1500 – sold.

They were able to do all the registration paperwork in-house, but unfortunately, my insurance agent wasn’t open on Saturday. Damn. I’d have to go back to get it on Monday. I now OWNED a car, but still didn’t HAVE a car. GRRRR!

After a day-and-a-half of tortured anticipation, I head to my insurance agent Monday morning and get things squared away there. Sonya drops Liam at school and we head to the lot to get my car. After driving it for the day, I noticed a few things to work on. The CD player, though fancy-schmancy with a removable face, is a bit quirky and 3 of the 4 speakers don’t work. I can fix that. The car wouldn’t warm up at all and the temperature needle stays well below normal, so the thermostat probably needs replacing. I can fix that. There’s no liner in the trunk bed, necessitating a stop by a carpet store for a remnant. I can fix that. Front driver’s side tire is a bit leaky. I can fix that. Driver’s power window is clunking on the way down. I likely can’t fix that, but it works for now.

For now, I finally have a car that works and fits my stuff. The kids love it - especially the power front seat belts (though they shouldn't sit in the front seat, I know), they now refer to as "magic seat belts". As the weeks go by, I’ll get to fixing the minor irritants of my new Fortress of Solitude – adding my bumper stickers, decals, fixing the stereo and presetting my radio stations, etc. – making it my own.

I’m just happy as a lark I don’t have to walk to work in this crappy Michigan Winter weather anymore!!!

Driving In A Winter Wonderland...

Here I sit in the Train Station in Windsor, waiting to pick up a colleague of the dolts at my work and the train is running an hour late due to this pre-Christmas pummeling by ol’ Mother Nature. The wi-fi connection here is about $12/hr, so what do I do instead? Blog. Only thing there seems to do to pass the time, as I seem to have left my ukulele at Blockbuster.

The kids have the day off at school, but as I have to do crap like this to bring home the proverbial bacon, I don’t get to enjoy it with them and bake cookies, see Santa, go sledding, and do all the fun “snow day” stuff I’d like to with them. Snow days in this part of the country are rare, as we hardy Michiganders regard snow with a certain degree of apathy. We’ll get a foot of snow, grumble and complain a bit after the awe of its beauty have faded, then haul out the snow blowers and shovels and dig ourselves out to go about our business. The municipalities seem to usually get their act together pretty quickly and, as most of the area seems to drive gas-guzzling SUVs (myself included – I know, bad liberal!), a good dumping of the white stuff doesn’t deter us for long.

I’m always amused by friends from similar parts of the country who have relocated to warmer climates and their frustration at their respective new communities’ reactions to snow. Most seem simply aghast at how entire urban regions can virtually shut down at the slightest trace of snow. I used to think that way until I was caught in a winter storm on the East Coast, attempting to journey back to the Mitten State.

I was staying with my dad in Jersey for a few months in the winter of ’93. A friend had planned a huge formal party for Valentine’s Day in a pathetic, over-the-top attempt to win back his ex-girlfriend. Motives aside, it sounded like it was likely to be a great party and enough impetus to make me finally decide to brave the 10 hour drive and come home to spend the Hallmark Holiday with Sonya.

The day of my departure, there was a big winter storm predicted. The weather forecasters had been ranting and raving about several inches of snow. My obvious reaction, being a Michigander with all of 3 winters behind the wheel under my belt was, “Pffft! Snow!!? C’mon! You guys don’t KNOW snow!”. So, naively, I set out at the beginning of the storm, determined to show these Central East-coasters a thing or two about how to handle the roads in, what they deemed to be, a “massive” snow-maker.

All was fine for about 2 hours. I drove cautiously, but purposefully amidst the piling precipitation and was making reasonable time, all things considered. Then it finally occurred to me: When East Coasters talk of large snow accumulation, not only are the road crews NEVER ready for it, but they aren’t talking about our white, fluffy, cold, Northern snow. Noooooo. They’re talking about the wet, heavy, SLUSHY stuff that creates a 4 inch deep film of translucent treachery on the roadways. As I began to slow my speed a bit more to accommodate the increasingly bad driving conditions, I started to go around a curve – that is, my FRONT end did, anyway. The tail end of my car continued on the previous trajectory, spinning my car a full turn-and-a-half, resulting in my facing the WRONG WAY on the interstate.

You can guess what happened next. Yup. I got in a head-on collision on the freeway. As catastrophic as that sounds, my momentum was still going the correct direction and the other driver was slowing down as best he could. Thankfully, my grandfather had instilled the seatbelt rule in me very well, so the worst that I suffered was bumping my head on the steering wheel and ending up with a nice shiner for a few days. The other driver’s airbag deployed, so he had nary a scratch on him. A State Trooper wasn’t far behind, so he stopped to make sure all parties were okay, surveyed the situation, and chalked it up to no one’s fault – just bad road conditions. He was going to see this kinda stuff all day.

The other driver was none the worse for wear. I apologized repeatedly, but he dismissed me with a smile, saying that it was a company car, and I just got him the day off work, as he wanted in the first place, and proceeded to thank ME!

My car, unfortunately, wasn’t as lucky as I. The front 2 feet looked like pug dog. I had it towed to the nearest auto place. Now, any of you who have driven the PA Turnpike know that there is NO SUCH THING as the “nearest” anything. The first 5 miles of free towing don’t do much good on that stretch of road. So I spent 45 minutes in the cab with the toothless tow-truck driver, gave the auto shop my contact info so they could contact me with an estimate (which I had no illusions of being anything I could afford) and walked in the miserable weather to the train station. From the train, I took a cab to the bus station. From the bus, I had a friend drive me back to my dad’s.

All tolled, it took about 6 hours and almost every penny I had saved for the trip just to get me back to where I started. As my friend pulls in front of my dad’s place to drop me off - broke, exhausted, demoralized, and sporting a shiny black eye - he says, “Hey, today’s Anthony’s birthday and some folks are going to play pool. Wanna come?”

I stare at him with an overwhelming look of incredulity, pause for a moment, think, and say…”Sure! Why not!” I had just had one of the worst days of my life so far. I might as well end it on a positive note!

Since then, I have learned to respect the local forecasters a bit more. They still overreact, but they know the response times of their localities a lot better than I. Winter weather is nothing to mess with. One of the hard lessons every teenage driver has to come to terms with, I suppose.

The rail crew is battening down the hatches for the train’s arrival now. I’m not looking forward to getting back into the US with a Canadian citizen with a heavy Slovakian accent in my car. If you don’t hear from me in 4 days, assume I’m enjoying the fresh air and warm climate of sunny Cuba! Gitmo, here I come!

Buckle up, folks. We’re in for a LOOOOOONG winter!