July 10, 2024

Yesteryear
One year ago today: July 10, 2023, WIP
Five years ago today: July 10, 2019, hand-made in 1908.
Nine years ago today: July 10, 2015, the most vile of taxes.
Random years ago today: July 10, 2015, makin’ ‘em sound better.

           Hmmm, a break in blog postings. (You won't notice because I'll catch up, but there was a two day delay here.) My patron readers know that usually signals something going wrong. I make a commitment decades ago to keep a log of the most important events of each day and I won’t let you down now. We had a major auto breakdown on the way home. As usual, such events are not view so much as problems as cause for adventure, and this one certainly turned into that. Please be patient while I get back into this time zone and you’ll hear the tale we’ll tell our grandchildren. Is this my summer vacation, 2024? Let the details decide.
           We pick up the story from the Wal*mart Arms, after a fairly comfortable snooze on the doggie foam. I’m in Valdosta, which it turns out is not the big city I took I to be based on all the road signs and map dots. It’s a large town with maybe a twenty-square block downtown. The tow driver was there at 7:30AM and we had the van in the transmission shop, but just for a diagnostic. I can hear the transmission is silent and smooth, possibly something else is wrong.

           They cannot run tests till noon, so I took a stroll through downtown Valdosta. The town really is not as big as it seems. The tallest building is the renovated courthouse, such a waste. I continued to downtown a couple more blocks to find few business open this early. I stopped a guy just unlock a taco shop and asked where’s good coffee. Ah, around the corner found me at GUD coffee, pronounced “gooood” And it is, I had the avocado breakfast on toast, warning you this is spicy hot item and it bites back.
           The town is one central square with the requisite town hall and a single layer of shops about. But this is not Gainesville, this coffee shop was full of total babes. Two in particular met my ten rating. The blonde lady in the jean cut-offs, and another who walked in as I was leaving. No pics, but by now you know I cannot be fooled. Ha, makeup, foundation garments, surgery, none can fool me. Later I discover there is a local small college that offers career courses and it sure draws in the student body. Um, nothing like those two women are unattached, so that ends this morning. I took the southern route back to the transmission store for the bad news.

           While it is not the transmission, but the differential, both cost the same to repair. And in this case, that $4,000. I had some thinking to do, as KIA “used” transmissions have a reputation for not going into reverse after a few months usage. I’m across the street with a coffee, it is too hot to stand in the shade. Looking out the window at the parked van. Here is my thinking and decision.
           I know I got that van for half price, I know it is in exceptional good shape, and the only thing wrong with it is that transmission. I know it would cost me a lucky $10,000 to replace that unit and that decision should not be made under pressure. I must wait until I’m back home because that is where I know best where to shop. Looking at the van, I know I can get it back on the road for $3,000. I know it would cost me three times that to replace it. Plainly, I must get this back to Florida if it only costs a couple thousand dollars. Hence the adventure begins a second chapter.

Picture of the day.
Ola, Oklahoma.
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           It’s well-known there are two types of towing companies. Those who run it as a service and those in it for the money. It is wise to avoid the latter. Shopping around got me nothing but quotes well over $2,000 for the 240 mile trip. I finally called the same tow from last evening, who whose wrecker (truck) is not that new, but okay for $1500. However, we must wait until his brother, the shift-driver, gets off work at 4:30PM. This means part of the trip will be in the pitch Florida dark, still, it is a go.
           We set out at 6:30PM, taking the slow lane and swapping old job stories, things apparentpy going fine, stopping regularly to check the straps. As we reached the outskirts of Ocalla, Florida. The freeway here is desolate and dangerous all the big trucks barrel-ass along over the speed limit. Into the headlights we saw what we thought was an alligator on the road, striking it broadside. It was not an animal but a large segment of recap. This is the “new” coating they put on truck tires during retread. And it is one sold slab of material.

           About this time, I get a call from Tennessee that the KIA has not been found abandoned, so the clock is running out on the Volvo as a loaner from the insurance company. If they send her a check, she is not going to know how used car shopping is done in this age. I’m thinking I may be riding a bicycle around town until I get something for myself, although if I buy a beater, I may have a ready customer for it when the van is repaired. Did I mention how locals get around the breathalyzer car gizmo? The law says it must be installed on a vehicle registered in their name. So, install it on a throwaway car and go drive something else.

           Another thing I’ve concluded is I must see about getting a tow bar and one of those U-haul transporters. They would not cost a total of $1520 that I’ve spent so far. I contacted Wilford to see if he had scoot me around on Friday, I know he does otstart work until 7:00PM that evening. Now back to this risky business with the collision.

           The recap flipped up under the motor well and hit the radiator fan, snapping it off at the hub. This plowed the blades into the radiator, giving us warning only enough to get off the roadway. We are stranded at midnight miles from town. The freeway bypasses all the towns along Hwy 27 thanks to an ancient dispute with the Interstate routing. No AAA, not road rangers, the driver set out flares and called for assistance. Only a single state trooper showed up an hour later, informing us we are miles from town, the highway signs are misleading. This unclear photo is to convey the mood. There you have it, pitch dark with a police flasher on the right and the market lights of a semi-trailer clipping along on the far left—most of the trucks were a lot closer.
           Meanwhile the younger brother found the radiator, but the store was a good 40 minutes away. The trooper, a spritely gal, took pity. She gave is a lift to the radiator store, but it was not open for another six hours. There is, she advises, a K-Mart well lit and open all night across the road and she dropped us off there. It was now the middle of night and we found it surprisingly cool to sit down on the sidewalk. Within the half-hour, we were sound asleep. Now I can rightfully claim that at my ripe old age, I slept with my buddies on the concrete in front of an Ocalla K-Mart, so don’t be handing us any hard-luck stories.

           The situation is hard to ponder as even if the parts are really there, we are stuck many miles from the wrecker, itself in a precarious park on the shoulder of an interstate. However, nobody has deserted the team and we know what must be done. The driver is a devout Christian and has been saying his prayers. I’m less ritual but tallied up our finances and needs, the kid brother had nothing but respect for his elder, whom he says is “the youngest of his big brothers”.
           This mishap is bad luck, I say you cannot adequately prepare for every potential disaster. It was a sign of independence we got this far without despair, there seems no doubt we’ll make this happen, it’s what goes after that we can’t see far enough ahead. At this time we are about as bad as things could get without some exterior calamity landing on us.

Last Laugh