Off to a nice start, my early retirement is. I woke up to a nail in my rear scooter tire, both through the tread and the sidewall so I can’t repair it. New tire time. So I proceeded to remove the muffler, side plate, brakes and lines to find the axle bolt is some oddball 23.5mm. All sets, mine, the office, the groundskeeper, end at 19mm. This is after I first wheeled it to the corner gas station, whose air pump was broken. Then across the street to waste a dollar on their air. Then pushed it back home.
Only one thing left to do. Call the robotics club. I am not paying $28 for a single wrench at AutoZone. Now, having prudently kept the electric bike, I got my chasing around done in the morning. Apologies to the lady at the library who I thought had her phone on vibrate. It was the scanner two cubicles down. Sure fooled me. I apologized twice. Isn’t retirement supposed to be easier than this? At least I didn’t wait until I was 65 to find out, chaps.Here’s another shot of the club in action. Here is Agent M repairing a laptop while right behind it you can see the scooter tire resting on the electric bike carrier for transport to the repair shop. We, the club, wound up purchasing a $40 socket wrench to get that axle bolt off. It was 24mm. This left plenty of time to go over the new material on transformers and contact E24, who is deep into the on-line electronics course. That is a funny term, because the exams are on-line but they still mail him lesson booklets. Like Habib and I, he is hesitant to lend out any study material until the exam is over.
Who’s Habib? Adel Habib, the Egyptian math professor I went to university with. That’s the guy who taught me to speak passable Arabic, which is why I can call the bingo numbers up to 55. Sort of. Once he left for Atlantic City to try his gambling theories, I’ve never seen him since. Maybe I’ll try; he would be in his mid 70s now. We used to shock the hell out of people by communicating in Arabic. Since then, I’ve gotten woefully out of practice except in the movies that have short clips of the language. Yes, they are the real thing, not mumbo-jumbo.[Author's note 2015: I re-established contact with Habib in 2015, but that does not conflict with my rule about real names. I had not heard from the guy since 1974 or so.]
On that vein, the new assistant manager at BK has begun a 401(k), something I know a few things about. I’m providing him with the specialized spreadsheets I’ve developed over the years that play both sides of the fence. What sides? Well, the side where the government promises to run the economy right so your retirement is secure, and the other side where they are lying through their teeth. DC bailed out the banks, the funds, and now they’ve bailed out Europe. They loaned money to people who bad risks while our own unemployed are counted in the tens of millions.
Not that those who have jobs can look forward to much, since few traditional positions are available and those hardly pay a living wage. Who was the wise man who said we are all in the same soup now, but only the lawyers are here to dine? The pundits, I don’t know if I like or dislike that word, are saying America has returned to the 1800s, the “gilt-edged rich” and the working poor. My stance does not change, the country is already bankrupt but nobody will admit it, for once they do, they all go hungry.
I’m reminded of that tune, “A Country Boy Can Survive”. Yeah, right, what is that crowd going to do? Pawn their guitars? Self-sufficiency is a lost art since the urbanization of the majority. I don’t find it at all strange that those who will suffer the most are those who stayed middle of the road for the past five generations. Don’t speak out against immigration; somebody might call you a Nazi. Don’t protest welfare; you might be labeled a redneck. Don’t vote against bad politicians, or take a stand on anything until it’s you who needs help, then blame everybody else.
It is so amazing to meet people who slaved away their whole lives at dead-end jobs who are today no better off than I am. Imagine being over fifty and still owing more on your house than it is worth. One person in four is already there, and the others are sleeping mighty uneasy. Even inflation isn’t raising house prices. They better not complain to me, I’ve got my own problems. Like finding a Pirelli tire that fits my scooter.
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