One year ago today: July 15, 2017, a generic day.
Five years ago today: July 15, 2013, soaked my balls.
Nine years ago today: July 15, 2009, shorthand guitar
Random years ago today: July 15, 2008, anti-virus using DOS.
Dead center of this photo is a missing chunk of my life. It’s two guys in their early twenties cruising Winter Haven in their daddy’s convertible. On a Saturday night. Enjoy, you two, get it while you can. There they were, up and down First Street, on a skrunt hunt. Pushbutton car radio playing Led Zep, arms hanging out the sides, getting ten miles to the gallon and having a whale. The only potential downside is the complete lack of single women over 16 in Florida, but let the good times roll. I was in town for plumbing supplies, and stopped in to see my lady friend with the bar.
When she learned I still didn’t have hot water, she offered to give me two bottles of it to take home. You know, in case I needed to shave in the morning or anything. The back door to her bar was not closing so I gave her two of those door closer thingees they use on screen doors. City gal that she is, she had no idea what they were. I had never considered that anybody would never have seen one of those.
Later, all the joints seem to be holding, so I have my hot water back. What’s life without these little surprises? I think they call that situation “being rich”. Sorry, I have no experience at that, even if I do know that having money does change people. How it works is once they have enough money that they don’t have to rely on other poor people any more just in case, they quit putting up with the bullshit that makes poor people stay poor. How’s that for a quotable philosophy? While I could not define what that attitude is that makes them poor, trust me, you’ll know it when you hear it. Here are some guidelines:
a) strong but uneducated opinions
b) problem-solving with ‘we’ instead of ‘I’.
c) two or more credit cards
You may also note that in general, rich people don’t have tattoos or smart phones. I guess they ain’t kewl enough, so when you Millennials see one, make sure you comment how out of touch they are. Like my ex-cardiologist did when I told him about his office security leak. What a bozo. That’s the guy who said I was only concerned about his office giving out my private information because I wasn’t aware of how the world had changed. Jeese, huh, maybe I should start getting out more, y’think?
I was going to pack up, but the events of this morning are better than anything I can bring to the table. I’m striving for good news. Band practice went well. Brad is still weak, not sure, but the learning curve is excellent. A hot shower over here brings quizzical looks to these guys who actually like cold showers. They say it cools their ardor. All I can say is jumping into a cold shower cures your libido, your brainwaves are about as shallow as the water you are standing in.
This is out of sequence, but this afternoon saw an excellent rehearsal with the new rhythmist. He has the correct idea and now regularly surprises me how well he can pick some brand new tune. His learning rate, medium as it is, does not appall me like the professionals I’ve met. I say to you, my readership, that this will never be an A-Room act, but nor is it intended to be. This is a local country duo not intended to surprise anyone.
The remarkable situation today was how well he recognizes what has to be done. I’ve been nurturing things along with simple bass lines. Yet I don’t think it will be long until he can independently strum the correct progressions. He knows what he has to just to keep up. It is not just a matter of me noticing it more, he does not get thrown when I casually introduce the bass licks I intend to play. Try that with your average guitar schmuck who thinks he’s your immediate superior.
Panama City, FL
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Today we fire up the hotdog cart. It sat a few weeks while I got the chasing around done. The guy told us the propane tanks were full, and they feel somewhat heavy, but no hissing sound when you open the bung. We shall solve that mystery in a few hours from now, so check back. There is also a scheduled band practice late this afternoon. Another Dwight Yoakum song has entered the list, that’s the “All You Ever Do” tune and we were cutting down on most of the instrumental passages. Once I got to listening to them, I wonder if I could play that melody-like arrangement. It’s a technique that works great once in a while. And it is piano-based, so I would already know much of the patterns. I’ll check on the Internet to see if there are any guitar tutorials or cheatsheets, which make life easier.
Okay, three hours later. We have ignition. It has taken time to get used to the quirks of this cart. The water pump, for example, is on demand so it can sit there when you switch it on. Until you turn a tap, nothing. But it does not necessarily stop when you cease with the water or the water tank runs empty. I took all the tanks out of the unit and let them soak in a 2% bleach solution. I drilled strategic drain holes in the flooring in case of any spills.
Shown here is the process of checking the gas heater. The fancy tank valve is visible and the knobs have to be set before firing the unit. Once the gas is flowing, you can see I’m brushing bubble bath soap on the connections to check for leaks. We had water leaks, but the gas was fine. I timed how long the water supply would last and time to fill it again. I also took measurements on the interior to make some removable trays. The last guy just let everything rattle and roll around. I had the tailgater (bass amp) set out for music and used the time to go over the rig in detail. And wipe it down with more disinfectant.
Ah, but you want the background information, straight from the guys who are learning something new and the impressions we draw, right or wrong. The whole operation seems more of a sure thing as we progress, and it helps when everybody knows that it is being done properly. Everyone has to read the manuals, and the paperwork, though delayed a by weeks now, will cover all the bases we can think of, including the insurance kerschmozzle. It is a mess of sub-conditions. Back to the cart, you bet that water is hot. It is not quite instant, but the heater indeed works fine. Every connection was loose, and there were a lot of connections. All that is taken care of. The other guy is rubbing salve on his scalded parts.
I’m gradually introducing Agt. R to the fact he must become more management oriented. Like many, he prefers to do the work to shuffling the papers. Since meeting me he is certainly convinced of the value of top tier management and record-keeping, but old habits die hard. I’m also making up a checklist for anybody we let operate the equipment. We have no shortage of candidates, this is one high-profile venture in this little city where so many people already know more than we do. Remind me to cut them a generous check come Xmas time.
[Author’s note: I’m glad I have not completed the “demand” notice to my lawyer concerning the collision, though I did send him a missive explaining how difficult such writing is. Due to mosquito season on the verge, I took to spreading repellent on my shoulders. It’s easy, you squirt the balm on your hand, then smear it over your anatomy. Except when you discover your right had will only reach a fraction of the distance. No pain, but the muscles will not obey the signals. So much for the deep rub I was looking forward to.
To see what I mean place your left hand as far as you can behind your right shoulder. Take it down and repeat the action with your right hand. Mine right won’t reach even as far as my left ear. It just will not obey. I’ve been partially maimed and that is that. So I drove out to the Funbar, had a few, listened to the juke box, and concluded that weird women are never in short supply. And pretty women have no troubles in this life except those they create on their own.]
ADDENDUM
At least initially, one of us will have to be present during all operations. It is too complicated to leave to anything unsupervised until we have confidence in The routine maintenance on the cart is another matter we can’t leave to chance. The hoses must be properly drained, the battery put on a charger, there’s quite a bit to do. While we can insist whoever is on duty that day must clean and wipe down everything as part of their duties, the mechanicals need a manager. Agt. R is now seeing the light that his plan of hiring a couple of teenage hotties is not going to work.
Thus, the plan is that whether or not one of us actually sells and serves the hotdogs, we will arrive as a team and set everything up. Then one of us will take the money, we plan on a four-hour shift, spelling each other out for however long the day lasts. Since we want to attract quality people, we have to guarantee them something, since it is not their fault if we choose a bad location. In dollars, here’s the deal. You get a guaranteed $40 for showing up. After that, you get a cut per hot dog sold. You take and pass the food safety course, I’ll pay for that. We don’t know how this will pan out. The plan is to always have two people present until we know the procedures to a T, then look at matters again.
This photo shows the mandatory triple sink in the final stages of being spiffed up. Note the shine. The countertop is repainted with a proper enamel finish and you can see the spackle around the corners and edges of the cabinet. I did all that. This is typical of the attention given to all parts of the equipment, both inside and out. And I’m going to give it another coat of high gloss on the entire interior. Because I know that is where the inspector is going to look. It’s how the bureaucrat mind works. Remember, anyone, how Quizno’s used to pay me to drive to Miami to clean that back sink every year? The same philosophy applies here.
Stick around for more pictures of the cart, you’ll see how it is starting to sparkle and shine. As a draw, we are completely happy with our first conclusion that we push the rusticity angle. The cart is home built, though I’m replacing all the panels that have gotten water warped. We have seven museum-grade or better display cases to go, and talk about unique. We have, for instance, a display of jackknives like you’ve never seen. And toys from the era when plastic meant Japanese. Another display of those truck stop matchbook covers, etc, etc. The limitation is our display cases, we have not begun to touch the mountain of artifacts in his back yard.
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