One year ago today: December 19, 2021, so few inventions.
Five years ago today: December 19, 2017, the early cabin.
Nine years ago today: December 19, 2013, “Ohm” Depot.
Random years ago today: December 19, 2011, ordinary electricity this time.
Get ready for some disjointed topics, since I was on the road most of the day and these are off the new recorder. It has amazing sound, but takes lots of getting used to. This trip centered on getting finances straightened out and fact is, we need three bank accounts. A common cause of failure is people co-mingling their funds. We are the other way, we used our books to verify the bank statements. Up to now the only access I had to the company account was by mail and the bank did not want to issue a second card. I got one, but the system is ominously moving toward complete control of your money.
The gadget says we are 633 miles away by air. It’s an hour late getting away as y’day after church I plunked my keys by the computer. Turns out the cats decided it was a toy, batted it across that whole surface, off the end, and into the trash basket. The on-board recorder said it dropped to 25°F last night. There was no time to repair the door handle or the cruise control. Instead I was out freezing my yarbles to repair this doggie fence. It is ends and splinters of wood on an already ancient foundation, which is why the joke goes it resembles our relationship. I think it does the job nicely and has rustic charm.
By Smithville, I got the recording part sort of worked out, so you get more trip details. Like remind me to replace the $95 I spent on pet prescriptions. I got myself down to McMinnville, a place somehow missed over the years. I see that sign saying Dottie West is from there (“Country Sunshine”) and the place is a hick town. Ah, but my kind of hick town and I passed a lot that sells repossessed sheds. The shed are sold on credit, so I guess it makes sense they take the whole building back on a repo. I must check this outlet, the units look brand new. In person, I mean, you go on-line and you get the millennial runaround, “First, let’s find out a little about you for our files . . . .”
I stopped to mail a letter, which took 15 minutes because today is not good driving. Something changed in America around 1995 when it was 95% good, hard-working taxpayers on the road. You’ve seen those nature programs with a huge school of fish in confusion or panic, yet not one of those fish gets in the other’s way, they don’t even bump. It’s now so bad you can tell what color of neighborhood you are in when the traffic problems start. In this case, I parked away from the mailbox, around six spaces closer, with one on the other side where I wanted to open my van door. Three of the four cars that showed up ignored the convenient spots and squeezed in where I had to stand to dig out my briefcase.
But, it is like self-serve gas stations. Nobody wanted or asked for them, but as soon as one loser starts doing it, you are forced change or your place in line. Another example is road signs. When GPS appeared, they stopped maintaining the road signs and kept the money for themselves. I finally happened upon a tiny plaque that said I was on Tennessee Scenic Parkway 56. That’s how I found out I was in McMinnville, I saw it backwards on an old watertower leaving town. Now on Highway 8 toward Soddy-Daisy.
Something threw me, my phone displayed “emergency calls only”. Now I know it meant no coverage, but see the millennialism? They removed the bars and put this crap on my phone. Crap? Yes, because like the alerts, I did not ask for them and they cannot be disabled. Folks, I don’t want to hear the arguments that it might be me, I do not care about emergencies that don’t affect 99% of the people. The issue is not the alert, but that the people were not asked if they wanted to participate. Remember, I’m a libertarian. If you don’t ask first, you are an arsehole.
Typical fortress-like Albanian village.
Remember to use BACK ARROW to return to blog.
These side-trips eat into my travel time so I’ve got just three hours of sunlight. I took Highway 53 to avoid Chatanooga, stopping for coffee in Hixson. That town seems hate signs, is not shown on maps, and did not appear on my GPS. The temperature is dropping, a sure sign there’s a Canadian cold front on the way. I’m on the ocean side and the Reb is not. I was millennialized by my GPS and wound up in a nothing town called Canton, 16 miles off the freeway. The GPS arrow pointed to the exit rather than the town, duh. Through a mountain pass with no way to turn around. It got pitch black so I found a library. One look at the butch broad snot-ring skritch behind the counter told me there was no way she’d let me use a computer without showing ID. Today I managed only 278 miles in six hours.
The next ring on the outskirts are the small factories. Many are dilapidated by NAFTA but a few are still grinding out low-tech merchandise of sort still cheaper to make than over in China. You can see the demographic shift as the downtown decays and the city moves outward. Finally, in the surrounding hills and mountains you get crap-box condos. People living under constant threat of HOA fees getting so high they can’t sell and they call themselves homeowners. They own the paint on the walls. I’m 40 miles from Atlanta, so I’ll get a chance to find a way around that quagmire.
Wide awake I found Taco Macs after a few GPS wrong turns where the roads were dug up. It’s a sterile sports bar with the usual crowd. I wrote Marion a letter and did some scribbling. Looks like I can get around Atlanta but from what I’ve seen, a gazillion other drivers think the same thing. It went down to just 50°F overnight so I slept like a baby. The temp recorder is inside the van, so it only approximates the chill, if any, outside. The high temp of the day is irrelevant as the van heater quickly drives the reading up to 99.
