One year ago today: July 10, 2016, far left logic.
Five years ago today: July 10, 2012, 80 years, if you start now.
Nine years ago today: July 10, 2008, introducing the amazing Arnel.
Random years ago today: July 10, 2004, early faked Martian landscape.
(When you see it.)
I’m still in Miami. The chain did not arrive until late afternoon--according to FedEx. Weay it never got here at all. Here are some pictures to amuse you. Don’t forget, the links still work and you may not know it, but the yesteryear links are the most popular feature of this blog. That I cannot explain. However, moments later, I’m here to give you a fuller description of how third world this area has become. You may have the preconceived notion that the term ‘third world’ is an economic classification. Wrong, it is easy to delineate the problem along economic parameters, but the basic meaning is a mental, but functional way these people think. And yes, I do mean “these people”. Political correctness has long been debunked as an effective or popular mode of behavior amongst the majority non-millennials.
Here is the tab for the two of us at Alabama Jack’s. Works out to $35 with the tip. Good food. Chunky waitresses. Great entertainment. This is not a place to hang out to meet women unless you are into the suburban housewife type with the flabby arms.
It is likely your own first-hand experience with this [behavior of people dumping their mistakes on you] comes from dealing with your bank. When they make a mistake, no matter whose fault it is, you the customer are the one who gets stuck. Well, Florida has long gone down that path, so I’ll give you the full details of this episode. Last Thursday, I planned to drive here, get the chain on my Rebel fixed on Friday, and head back Saturday. Except, my chain, ordered and paid for on June 28, was not here. Fedex said next day. But to Fedex, next day is Monday.
If you’ve been reading the blog, you’ve guessed that I’m still here far beyond what was planned. There’s another element, most distasteful, that is present, it is the American contribution to the third-world mentality. The millennials. They are consistently these people who are full of ideas on how you can deal with the problems they are causing. Fedex was very quick to suggest we just wait until Monday. Oh? Is Fedex ready to pay for my stay until Monday? What, they say, are you crazy? It’s not their fault you live 245 miles away. Like I said, rearranging the system until you are the one who suffers when they make mistakes.
Cornerbrook, Newfoundland.
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Guess what? They lied. By 4:30 PM, no chain. So we call them and get the runaround. Two of us were waiting here and we saw no Fedex truck. But their driver is claiming he delivered the package. Does Fedex look into the facts, or hear our side of the story. No. Third world again. They stick together and deny their driver could ever make a mistake like that, whether or not they personally believe it to be true. Here's a picture of one of the custom cycles being built at the shop. I see this workmanship all the time over there. I don't see what goes on at FedEx because I never use them. And this is why.
Now, they are saying possibly tomorrow, after they go through the truck to look for the package. No, they cannot guarantee anything. Even if they find it, they cannot commit to delivery as a priority. I drove to the library, but half way, my Rebel backfires and dies. It’s that other manifold part I’ve been waiting for since March. I’m five blocks from Fred’s place. Here’s where the almost supernatural ability of Miami goes in to play. I call back the motorcycle shop, but he’s closed for the day. Why, I’ll just call JZ and have him pick me up. No I won’t, the cell battery goes dead. And it begins to rain.
Who remembers the time I had the, what was it, $650 flat tire in Miami? That flat I got on Father’s Day. That was paid for by my savings to go see the Smithsonian that year, by the way. I rolled the Rebel into the library parking lot and wiggled the manifold gaskets back and forth until she got started. I’ll take it in tomorrow. If I get home before Thursday, it will be no thanks to Miami. Whose fault is all this? Well, certainly not FedEx. Trust me, they got their bases covered not matter how many times they shaft you with their incompetence. What do I think they should do? Find that box. If their driver messed up, they should replace it at their own expense and get it here asap. Even if they have to pay UPS.
“I’m not talking to myself,
I’m seeking expert advice.”
~ Various
Here’s your mystery object for today. It is a plastic ring, but you can just make out there is fishing line coiled in the perimeter. It is called a “Cuban ring” and is apparently used for fishing. You attach your hook and bait, then use this ring to hold on. I dunno, but if the price was a dollar lower, I might have bought one for the ring alone to store electrical wire. Because, as soon as I get back home, the priority is to begin wiring the old living room slash new bedroom.
They have already caused me to stay into a stretch of bad weather, I believe tropical depression number four, or similar. It rains every afternoon in the summer that it can, but gets into the real thing during these Atlantic weather patterns. I drove home last day, taking three hours to cover 16 miles because I had to continually pull into gas stations with canopies. Fortunately, I’m ready for this and take along my reading material. What? You find this fascinating? Okay, I’ll describe it.
Florida is sub-tropical. It means the harder it rains, the sooner it will let up. Nor is the rain unpleasantly cold. I don’t even take along a jacket, although on the highway, I suit up. In town, if you get soaked, just wait and you’ll dry out. Today I had to stop on 103rd, 79th, 58th, 36th and finally West Flagler for stays up to 40 minutes. By fluke, the longest stay was across the street from where I got the Father’s Day flat. These two dour brothers running the gas station, what a cheerless duo. They probably thought I was angry at the rain, whereas I consider it just part of the voyage. Maybe I’m okay with getting soaked to the bone.
There was an incident on that same trip. The first rain squall hit when I was on 132nd, and there are no gas stations in that district. I was heading down Flamingo when I saw the road ahead lost in blue, meaning rainstorm. So I pulled into this subdivision that had a bell tower for decoration. Typically Miami, there are not awnings or carports. Noting a gap in the shrubbery, I ran the Rebel right up into the shelter of the tower and parked behind a pillar. Like most balconies and common rooms in these townhouse developments, this tower is never used.
However, the structure was in the middle of a traffic circle and anyone who went completely around, that is, making a U-turn, could see I was waiting out the storm. Whell, and that ‘whell’ pronounced the way that irks Quagmire, this one bozo spots me. He drives completely around the circle twice, really slowly, giving me the evil stare. I’m parking under “his” canopy. You can never tell if these guys might just be jealous that you thought of it first, but he’s waiting for the rain to clear to do something.
He’s also blocking traffic, so he has to move whenever somebody else wants to make the turnaround. So I waiting for an auspicious gap in his vigil and zoomed back out onto the boulevard. It’s sad when such tales from the trailer court make this blog, but hey, this is Florida.
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