May 10, 2018

Yesteryear
One year ago today: May 10, 2017, the USSR was gone in 2 weeks.
Five years ago today: May 10, 2013, until one check bounced.
Nine years ago today: May 10, 2009, a mile away . . .
Random years ago today: May 10, 2006, 5 minutes 24 seconds.

           All day. That’s how long it took to go eleven miles and back. I didn’t waste any time, but this is Florida. Here’s the cPod Mk III. It’s mine, but it is still parked over in Winter Haven. The ball hitch turned out to be a heavy duty 2” which nobody over here can tow. I’ll expropriate the truck once I get over to Wal*Mart to get a hitch that size. The lady gave me the whole story on this unit, it looks rough on the outside, but that was never my consideration. The workmanship is beyond anything I can do myself, particularly the joints and caulking. The widow says he learned it all by himself once he retired. It’s remarkable.

           Between the bank, making the same wrong turn twice, and sitting plain too long in the coffee shop, I didn’t get back here until too late to get anything else done. Winter Haven has almost 100 lakes and the big ones look much alike. So that intersection by the Amtrak station still confuses me in a car, but not by motorcycle. Make that error and it’s a mile before you can make a u-turn and even then, there’s always a stream of traffic waiting to pounce once they see you even trying.

           I went to the ReStore to find the light fixtures I wanted were sold. I hoped they would be picked over because they were decidedly overpriced. Nope, but I picked up a whole box of 20 Amp switches for $7. As I go to leave, this lady comes running in the door. She hit a bump on the road and now she can smell gasoline. The menfolk went bailing out the door and sure enough, her tank is dripping a stream of gas. Right under my car. I had a photo but accidentally deleted it when I tried to rename it. MicroSoft puts the Rename and Delete buttons beside each other. Corporate genius at its finest.

           One of the guys ran inside and emerged with a sack of kitty litter, which staunched the flow enough for the rest of us to move our cars out of harm’s way. Just you keep in mind, this is the type of calamity you must be on the constant look-out for in Florida. Don’t matter how good a driver you are, you can’t stop some idiot with a leaking gas tank from parking right next to you. On the uphill side.

           The interior of the camper is unfinished, but that was never a consideration on my part. The widow, a charming lady, says the hubby had planned that Mississippi excursion when he passed away last year. This is the interior showing some storage and the fire extinguisher. The camper is wired for 120 if it is available and by sheer coincidence, the trailer underneath is the identical model as my cPod, which is now relegated to moving hot dog supplies. Or possibly mounting a generator for power outages. One doesn’t want to throw out a thousand hot dogs because of a summer lightning storm.

Picture of the day.
Full tilt.
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           Here’s an unusual picture. I call it “The Aisles of Wal*Mart”, same as a song that I wrote. What, I didn’t tell you about that. It’s got this heavy duty bass playing and the lyrics chant about what a shopper would see in the aisles of Wal*mart. It’s a little ditty that takes you right in. But I forget where I stored it and can only find it by accident. That lousy MS search can’t be set to look deep enough. If I stumble on it, remind me to put it in the video bin, but the lyrics go like, “Hallmark cards. Toilet paper. Pillow cases. Kotex.” Anyway, it looked fine, so I left this picture upside down.

           Again, I missed the day’s work over the camper. I would hesitate to tow it with the batbike, but I’ll test it that way. It feels heft, close to 150 pounds more than the cPod, which was intentionally constructed with the lightest materials. This camper has an aluminum canopy. There are two rare circumstances with this purchase. First, it is easy to conclude the guy reached the same conclusion as me. Hotels have become outrageously expensive, or as the phrase I coined goes, “America, where the most expensive thing you do on vacation is sleep.”
           So when I see a wagon camper so well-constructed one could live in it long term (my record is around 30 days) I instantly conclude that, like myself, he thought to hell with the hotel thing. Besides, I do not believe anyone would willingly show ID to a hotel if it was not required by law, or at least believed to be required by law. This camper was meant to be towed by a trike, which is not only heavier than the batbike, but has much wider tire contact with the ground. I hesitate to tow more than 400 pounds unless the trailer can be equipped with brakes. People love to pull in front of you and slam theirs on.

           The second rarity of this camper is how I found it. No on-line. In the olden days, I used to pick up a local paper in any little town I stopped. Read the house ads, see what’s of interest to the locals, get the lay of the land. For some reason, as I stepped out the door from the ATM, I saw a Winter Haven copy. Out habit, I suppose, I flipped to the want ads to notice the entire section was only three short columns. And the only thing for sale was this camper. Now, as soon as I get a tow, it’s mine all mine. Here, you better take another admiring look at it.
           The spare tire and mount alone are worth $80.

ADDENDUM
           Here is the entire for sale classified section for the Winter Haven Sun for the day in mention.

Last Laugh

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