November 12, 2021

Yesteryear
One year ago today: November 12, 2020, the death penalty.
Five years ago today: November 12, 2016, the original wood pile.
Nine years ago today: November 12, 2012,”past university age”.
Random years ago today: November 12, 2015, I have ergophobia.

           Remember, millennials, you are not salesmen. You are “brand ambassadors”. Your paychecks will be equally as meaningless. We took the plenum off the van this morning and examined the spark plugs. They are fouling due to a bad head gasket. That is an uneconomical repair in a vehicle this age so I am about to spend $9,999 on something. Don’t go over $10k in the US or you will attract government attention. That’s cash, you can do it by instrument because that creates all the paper trail they need. It is cash that gets their attention.

           The hillbilly helped me and I confirm he would not make a good work partner. He’s just too slow, often taking ten minutes to remove a single bolt. Also, if he finishes an immediate task and I’m not around, he stops working. Otherwise he’d be fine, but I’m too impatient to supervise most kinds of workers. He’s got experience with mechanic work but overthinks every situation.

           Plus the guy does not know his way around women. I know the situation, again due to my brothers. These kind of men basically mess up their own chances with behavior that makes women either shun them or put them through hoops for nothing. In the shed he was able to see dozens of old photo albums of the women I’ve dated, which left him in disbelief. No, those are not trophies, I know every one of those gals. No, I never asked most of them out. Didn’t have to.

           By noon, I was getting impatient with progress, deciding to just put it back together and I’ll what it is worth as a trade-in. I had a similar van picked out already, noting that used vehicles have jumped in price. The seller would not budge, so I’m still looking. I don’t like dealing with those who quote book prices. Somebody should just print up a book with lower prices and quote them back.

           What luck, the hillbilly scrounged up eight pieces of used corrugated metal roofing sheets. They finished almost the entire shed. He disappeared, of course, when I needed them hauled up on the roof. Now that I need those special roofing nails with the sealing heads, they have gone missing. From the drone’s eye view of the shed, it now looks like it has been there long enough for the metal to rust, kind of a nice touch. I may get away with having to buy a single sheet that will just look like a repair. He’s a good helper but not a good business partner. Then again, neither was JZ who never really recovered from the theft of his work truck.

Picture of the day.
Bridal dress #219975, $579.00.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.

           Shopping on-line produced no viable results, the really big used vehicle dealerships are fifty miles west of here, in Tampa and Clearwater. I’ve decided to try a quick fix with the Blue Devil block sealant. I’ll need the van to get around to shop for another van. There is water getting in the pistons and exhaust gas in the radiator, so a good sealant should last another thousand miles. Blue Devil has gone from $34 a quart to $49. Look out America. Now you know why I laughed about how happy you were over that free stimulus check. Free, huh?

           While we had the van apart, I changed the oil. Six quarts in that big motor, which I now see was not new when it was replaced. It was taken from another Chrysler. Six quarts was another $35, so you see how quickly it adds up. This clip shows steam from the tailpipe. It’s water in the piston since it rarely gets cold enough in Florida for any condensation.

           Now the hillbilly, while not convinced my methods with women work, could not deny the pictures of me with dozens of drop-dead gorgeous girls. But he could not disbelieve the facts either. So I said we put it to the test. The last couple hours on the van repair and I advised him what to say and do, but more accurately, what not to say and do. When I get back from Winter Haven, I says, I’ll buy on the condition you try my method. Don’t be surprised when it goes against your instinct because, dude, your instinct has let you down for half your life. The only absolute rule is—you must not take any of the women home on the first night even if you are certain you would score.
           We get underway around seven, over to the Karaoke in Bartow. Remember I’m there to coach him. Still, these are difficult habits to get over but within a half-hour he had gotten past first base with every available gal in the place. He’s sold on the method, but I warned him takes years to perfect. It was nearly an ideal setup for the test because the place was full of barflies hitting on anything that moves. I pointed out what they were doing wrong and for the first time in his life realized what he thought was normal was actually a negative approach.

           In essence, these men were competing with each other, an endless, mostly hopeless task. It’s actually worse, they are killing their own chances by getting in each other’s way. He’ll be a while to get it right, I had to kick him under the table constantly to keep him from reverting. Sure enough in no time at all he was playing pool with the two prettiest gals in the place. He was quickly dancing with the only others worth looking at. Now, I could not constrain what he said at the pool table or on the dance floor, but he must have said something wrong and sewered things. Nonetheless, he’s now a believer.
           That’s not the point, it was the learning experience. Like most men, he thought if he did not keep sex in the immediate conversation, he was losing ground with the women. Now he knows better but he’s got a lot of unlearning to do. To prove this was no random streak, on the way back to Lakeland I said choose any pub on the way. This time, we sit at the bar and that changes things slightly. I handed him a pencil and paper and said write down your shopping list. In no time at all, there were gals asking him what he was writing, but he forgot the correct answers and chased them away. But he’s sold on the methodology, probably because it works.
           You’ve heard me mention Cher a few times, the gal with the utterly perfect body but not my type. I’m not kidding, she is over fifty with the body of a, well, I must say and 18-year-old. She knows it. Within a few minutes you’d have thought the two of them were old family friends. Nothing untoward, he saw me watching, but later he told me he’s been hitting on her for years and this is the first time she’d ever responded. There you go.

ADDENDUM

           The van is a goner. The Blue Devil treatment is slated for tomorrow morning, as it works best when the motor starts cold. Examination of the old plugs show there is oil getting past that seal at the bottom of the coils. I forgot to say this model has six coils but they can be replaced one by one. We tested and found nothing wrong, but the plugs were coated with gummy oil residue and looked ancient. They were properly gapped and tested fine, so we cleaned them and put them back. They worked fine for around twenty minutes, ha!
           There is a possibility of buying a better van on credit. Now, hold your horses, this does not mean the existing credit system. There are a few dealerships that extend their own credit and are smart enough to know that attracts good buyers who are concerned with privacy. I talked with two people who’ve bought from them and they say they would again. One was a guy who simply did not want his ex-wife knowing he bought a new truck, and the other owed Snap-On tools some money and didn’t care to have them on his trail. True, these everybody should obey the rules, but if they don’t, it is not necessarily the business of ex-wives and credit bureaus.

Last Laugh