June 20, 2015

Yesteryear
One year ago today: June 20, 2014, outsourcing the right way.
Five years ago today: June 20, 2010, potatoes from the past.
Six years ago today: June 20, 2009, cross country bicycle?

MORNING
           Ah, like myself, you were expecting a weekend of adventure and excitement. Instead, here is something you and I have never seen before. A classy sidecar with a flat tire. On the 826 southbound. This just never happens and you can imagine my feelings when three other vehicles driving over the same stretch of road had to pull over for the same reason. All of us hit something on the freeway that should not be there—and the punctures were unusually large.

           So large that they could not be plugged by a single plug insert. JZ came out and we got the thing back to his place. That was way too late in the afternoon to do anything we had planned. That normally involves chasing women and such. As shown here, there is no easy way to get at that rear tire. So we parked it, This shortened our planned radius of travel to 40 miles instead of 200.
           The problem resolved to the hole in the tire being too big for those tar plugs. We tried. We spent hours trying. A single plug blew out, then a double plug. Both of us had forgotten this was Father’s Day, an meaningless concept to us at best. Nothing was open. And the Honda dealerships in Miami, including those with a repair department, will replace your tire. But they will not fix a flat.

NOON

           “It’s so hot the hens are laying hard-boiled eggs.” --Texas saying.

           We compromised on a shopping trip to the market out on south Dixie. We figure if the last tire plug holds overnight, it might just do the job. It didn’t. But how were we supposed to know that? Here is the Mexican market. You can get some incredible deals as long as your shopping skills exceed comparing stickers over at Safeway. Right, Patsie?

           This the market on the right side of Dixie just over half way to Homestead. If you listen well, you can hear the prices going up as soon as two gringos like us walk in the door. JZ spent around $30, almost more than he could carry.
           Again, this is the farmers market, out on the road to Homestead. You will be the only white people in the place. The vegetables are all locally grown but expect to see mounds of things you cannot identify. And cactus for sale. (You slice it, boil it, and it goes with rice.)
           The conversation naturally centered somewhat on the reasons we got bested on our offer on the cottage. We concluded that we had been taken by surprise. The same offer but a larger down payment. We were not expecting that. Surprise works, and it always will.
Each passing deal gets us closer to the goal. We decided there is every random chance of something we like arising closer to home. Be patient, as the buying season is over. It was with some attention we went over recent sales prices in this area. Two out of three properties are still selling for less than they did in 2006.

NIGHT
           We wound up at Alabama Jack’s, a redneck country bar in the bayou. You can find this place on a map, it is on Card Sound Road, the route most tourists do not take. Just before you hit the toll bridge, there you have it. We got there late, just after 5:00PM, the time when the band quits. It’s the same band that was there last year and the year before. Quite good, but worn out.

           The fish near the place have become aggressive over the food scraps that get generated by this pub. We got there just before quitting time, but the pretty waitresses were a trip down memory lane. I’m old enough to remember American when only pretty young single women stood any chance at being hired. That’s the way it should be and smart business owners still do it.
           From there, we headed home, but wait. The only route takes us right past the “Last Chance Saloon”. We stopped in to find ourselves, the bar maid, the bar flies and two of the fattest women in the county. I mean, mostly grossly fat around the midsections. I can’t believe people like that can get through the doors.
           So I proceeded to play country music on the juke box. JZ proceed to play billiards with the fat women. Why not, with equipment as heavy as those broads, there is nothing much else ever gonna happen. We left early, definitely tucker edout from the day. Strange it is that the one thing that could change those bars around, a live country band, is the only thing they are reluctant to even try.

ADDENDUM
           While working on my hobby last evening, I had more documentaries in the background. I study military history, but as a reminder to all, I am strictly against war and military with the exception of defense against unprovoked attack. What caught my attention was reconnaissance photos of some German panzers in the western desert.

           I thought it must be Allied propaganda. No German commander would ever deploy his tanks like that. Dug in on flat ground where they should be mobile, no covering fields of fire. I spun my chair across the room and turned up the volume. Ah, there’s your explanation.
           They were German tanks, but in the wrong desert. This was batches sold to the Syrians after the war, probably by France. Who would sell arms to the Germans if they could. It was clear the Syrians had no idea how to use these weapons. This was the Golan Heights and it was 1967. The Israelis must have used them for target practice. Most had their turret rings dislodged from the hull. Direct bomb hit.
           While all this was going on, I got the cost of relays down from $4.00 each to 99 cents. The use of relays in circuits is something I should study, but honestly, I’ve never had one that didn’t work with any transistor I found in my junk bin. I’m mulling over something impressive I could build with relays, like a basic computer. Or mechanical RAM, maybe a random number generator. These type of circuits are noisy. Has anyone ever build built a clock out of magnetic relays?


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