April 23, 2015

Yesteryear
One year ago today: April 23, 2014, Idaho potatoes.
Five years ago today: April 23, 2010, I study Karaoke.
Six years ago today: April 23, 2009, do airboats actually fly?

MORNING
           You just missed a day in Miami. So did I. Do I look any different to you? Because I’m $820 lighter than when you say me last time. The entire budget for my trip to the Smithsonian has just been sunk into the batbike. I got as far as the overpass this morning when the alternator finally gave out. Fortunately, I pulled into the parking lot of Chiptech, who remembered me from the days when they were our primary supplier at the old shop.

           So instead of surprising JZ, I hitched a ride home from a black lady who was one of those caregivers. She said it was like babysitting except the baby never grows up. I used the red scooter to all the chasing around to get the batbike home, then go buy the alternator for $260. Another $460 in labor plus a battery.
           The only available source of this kind of money is the secret fund I had been saving for the Smithsonian. So that’s the end of that for the foreseeable. I bummed another ride to the motorcycle shop to get some test gear to confirm it is the alternator. At some point I have to ask if I’m nuts sinking this kind of money into an old vehicle.
           Every man reaches that stage with his car. It is not a simple matter of just replacing the motorcycle. That sidecar has to be expertly fitted to run right and it’s a fool who thinks that is easy. My understanding is that even after a successful mating of the parts, there is a three-month break-in period required to adjust what goes wrong. This way, I keep the existing assembly and worry about the price of parts instead of the price of construction.

NOON

           “If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin'.” --Farm wisdom,

           That alternator also scoops the budget for the trip to Naples. That was supposed to be the surprise for today. Get JZ out for breakfast and then talk him into driving the new truck west. By noon, I was still chasing around. I had time for coffee at the bakery and that may be an era drawing to an end. The people who have been looking have been back enough times to convince me they are interested.

           The whole parking lot is lit up now with the removal of that mango tree. For clarity, the landlord did not kill it directly. Instead, he trimmed to wrongly last year and it became covered with caterpillars. They ate all the leaves and that’s what killed the tree. The wood inside turned a whitish color and was almost weightless and dry.
           What’s this picture? Nothing, it’s another photo here to balance the on-line appearance of this publication. In the tens of thousands of photos that need sifting through over here, sometimes I don’t find anything relevant. Keeping you supplied with pictures is no minor undertaking, you know. This is supposedly a hotel somewhere in Patagonia.
           By mid-afternoon, we got one of those fearsome rainstorms that are as bad as a hurricane without the wind. I pulled into the nearest pub and got stranded there three hours. Cost me $20, but I was in the mood anyway. Water six inches deep covering the streets and only crazy people driving through it. I waited for a lull and got home for mushroom soup and crackers. And I’m staying put. I’m down to brass tacks. But now wait. Should I not have $80 left in checking? That would be nice.
           This will be an evening at home, quiet and relaxing. The runoff water here doesn’t disappear like Seattle. That city sits considerably higher above sea level. So they have fewer floods but more earthquakes. I was asked about the possibility of co-authoring a book about the bakery. It seems their success has, like American, provoked a mixed reaction to the people who watched the development. I advised them to reconsider. Writing is not something you decide to do with some anticipated spare time.

EVENING
           That downpour brought everything to a standstill, including my evening. This gave me time to mull over whether I should assist with writing that book. It is easy to plan books while the adventure is still fresh. However, books never match the original plan. This can be a huge discouragement. In reality, few books can say what the author intended.
           And what about that author? Authors do not grow on trees. Writing a book, even some small booklet, will always be a wild, impossible dream for most people. It is one thing to talk, quite another to muster the discipline and dedication to actually get any real writing done. Did I say dedication? Yes. You will find very, very few individuals in this universe who have what it takes to sit down, unpaid, daily, for say, one entire year, and keep a journal.
           For anything else that might be said about such people, it is a good idea to keep any promises you might make to them. In fact, I’d make that a priority. But in this lifetime, I’ve counted to a million and know what the odds genuinely look like. Most people, including myself, will go through life without ever actually meeting a real writer. The chances against it are staggering.
           On the other hand, housewives and drywallers are a dime a dozen. You can’t buy a goddamed trailer without tripping over one.

Last Laugh