October 19, 2020

Yesteryear
One year ago today: October 19, 2019, coconuts, 8-tracks, turtle coops.
Five years ago today: October 19, 2015, non-genderless government.
Nine years ago today: October 19, 2011, potatoes.
Random years ago today: October 19, 2012, substandard, but free.

           I don’t get many premonitions, so that’s why I pay attention when I do. Why did I go to bed early last evening? Could not tell you, but I got the call and I was on the road to Tennessee by 8:30AM. The shed makes lockup just a ten mintue job, I had applie pie and meatloaf leftovers in tinfoil, and got out of Lakeland in record time. Making good time, I’m prepared for the radio drop-out zones with audio books and Cds I burn of my song lists. Practice on the go. This stretch of no radio varies depending on spherics, sometimes you get reception, but from Ocala to south of Atlanta, you’ve luck it you get sports and religion.

           Dang, this one I called wrong. The jacket said murder mystery, and maybe that will turn out yet. But already nearling the end of tape one, It’s so bad I had to listen to it. So far, we have some vague idea the lady’s husband is a retired police type, but we know the pet’s names, breeds, and dspositions. We know that her neighbor’s daughter is pregnant, the recipe for lavender biscuits, and she makes a living tying herbs from her garden with ribbons and selling them at her tea room, which she runs with two single women, on of whom used to know the mayor. When I next stopped for gas, I had to dig out the case and make sure I was not reading Daniel Steele.

           Making decent time, I got just over the Georgia border when I heard the sound of a flat. I pulled over, changed it, and was on the road within fiftten minutes. Something is haywire, that is the same tire that went flat south of Okeechobee earlier this year. That hillbilly dinged my car harder than I thought. I limped eleven miles into Lake Park, Georgia. The GPS was s bad—have you heard that lady try to pronounce odd spellings? She’s like a hooked on phonics reject. I could not find Rick’s but after the second wrong turn, I spotted Frometa tire. That’s the name of the guy who owns it. They slapped a new tire on the rim and helped me find the problem.
           The axle is slightly bent so the top of the tire is slightly closer to the frame than it should be. This causes uneven treat wear. I’ll try to get you a picture. This shop Frometa, is a mile off the freeway, but they gave me a good deal and charged a fair price.

Picture of the day.
Shipwreck in Argentina.
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           The flat put me over an hour behind schedule, meaning I drove the last two hours in the dark. For all the times I’ve made this trip, I got faked out by the wrong ramp in Chattanooga for like the third time now. It’s exit 178, but there are at least four signs saying next exit. But they mean the tone they mean, not the other exits that lead you into a maze of city streets.

           I’d love to say an chat, but it was 14 hours on the road this time. And Georgia is no place to be looking for a cup of coffee after mid-morning. It’s the gas station, who in this part of the world are always out of the small cups. I finally went for it, just north of Macon. Coffee and a packaged sandwich, $8.

           Here’s an old tanker truck at the museum. One surprising theme is just how big the passenger compartments are in comparison to contemporary cars [which are] so small you have tilt the steering wheel to get out. I went to the car show where all that began—and voted against things like cramped driver’s seats and useless back seats. That was in around 2003.

Last Laugh