Seems like every 50 feet or so...

We went in search of a restaurant called Vinegar Joe’s.

No, that’s not a country music lyric, it’s a restaurant in Arlington, TN. We found it using the GPS (Garmin brand) that I bought last week.

The reason I bought it was that I was lost all the time. Apparently, four years in the Dominican Republic has robbed me of my sense of direction. (Ask the people in the van with me in Pittsburgh last month)

It is pretty good and seemingly worth the money. You put in your destination and it gives you (out loud) directions to get there. You can search for restaurants, vineyards or gas stations. I can’t believe how many Subway Sandwich Shops or Cracker Barrels there are...

We pause for the Real Country Music Lyric of the Day: The jailer had a wife and let me tell you she was awful. But she brought that hot bologna every day.

Sorry, where was I?

The GPS can tell you how fast you are going, where to turn and even what to do if you decide you don’t like their idea on how to get there. It just re-calculates the route for you if you don’t make the turns they suggest.

It’s kind of like someone that tells you what to do, but is right there to help when you ignore their advice. It’s doesn’t say, “I told you so!” nor does it say, “Now why should I continue to tell you when you refuse to listen to me?”

It tells you when you are scheduled to arrive. It tells you how fast you got there and what your top speed was on the way.

But it didn’t tell us that Vinegar Joe’s was closed.

And polish my bowling ball...

Last Monday I took a knife to a gun fight.

And that isn’t quite accurate. It was more like a butter knife to a nuclear war. I played in the United States Amateur Public Links qualifier.

The good news is that I didn’t finish last and I was not injured during the round. Well, not seriously injured.

My caddie (he stayed for both rounds, mostly because I drove and he didn’t have another way home) is a good friend and we had a good time talking about old times (back when I could hit a green with a 9-iron) after it became unrealistic that I could qualify while I still had holes to play.

This was for about thirty of the thirty-six holes. The end of the day (I had to walk all 36-holes) saw me with a blister on my foot and an unbelievable burning sensation in another area.

Today’s Real Country Music Lyric of the Day: There’s no place I’d rather be than with my redneck, white socks and blue ribbon beer.

Back to the story of Custer and the Indians…

I could say I didn’t have time to practice or play in the days prior, and that would be correct. But to be closer to the truth, I wasn’t good enough to qualify for this. My chances (realistically) were just as good my chance to qualify for the 200 meter butterfly in the Bejing Olympics. And I don’t swim.

I could insult myself more, but I have to go get my tennis racket re-strung.

HELP!

The Pros and Cons of having people help you move.

Pros: Obviously, help. People help load the truck and clean the house. A three-bedroom house job can be changed from three days to three hours.

They help you actually move less stuff. They say things like…”Why are you keeping that? Just throw that away!”

(this helped me get rid of my junior high school year book from 1979…the year I was sick the day photos were took and I didn’t get a retake and am not actually pictured in and has a rather embarrassing note to me in the back that starts, “2 sweet, 2 be…”)

They keep you company during the larger than realized job of taking everything you own and putting it into a 34 X 10 space where things won’t shift at 70 mph. Or they give you people to blame when they do shift.

We pause for a moment to introduce a new feature…The Real Country Music lyric o’ the day:
“I only want a big brew and little ol’ you.”

Cons: Sometimes, you take things with you (for various reasons including sentimental) no normal person would keep…things like 73 different golf instruction books or a cracked baseball bat from 1977. I always tried to carry these things on to the truck…the last thing I want is someone thinking…”I’m helping him move THIS?”

But, the biggest problem with people helping you move is that only really good friends will do it. So exactly when you are leaving somewhere (and some people) forever, these same people show up and help you do one of the toughest jobs there is…thus making you miss them all the more.

Stay in touch.

Two men and a truck...a plutonic love story

After packing the U-Haul full of stuff, a friend remarked that it was amazing to him that a regular person would be allowed to drive such a rig.

(it’s more than 34 feet long—a tractor trailer is about 60 feet or so, but 34 feet is plenty)

I had to agree. The 15-mile trip from the rental facility to the house was highlighted by two running-off-the road and four curb incursions.

In short, I was terrified of the impending trip. I was terrified to back the thing out of the driveway.

With help, I managed to get it out of the driveway. Then, one of the friends that helped load up suggested that he go on the trip with us.

Holli offered him food, lodging and new clothes. At this point, I intervened and offered food, lodging and used clothes. He took us up on it.

So he rode along, helping clear traffic, consulting on whether I was about to hit the car sitting at the stop light during my left turns and letting me know that all the road signs that I hit bounced back, good as new. We didn’t keep track of the curbs I hit (probably double figures) and we had a great time strategically plotting the entry and exit of gas stations, restaurants and a hotel.

His son was in the area on a charter flight (he was flying it) and picked him up about an hour after we arrived. It was a long day for all of us…but a great day nonetheless.

Part of the fun is getting there…unloading is another story.

But that’s tomorrow.

Why not?

We’re moving to just outside the city limits so there is no garbage service.

So, it’s off to the landfill every three or four days, hoping the can doesn’t tip over in the back of your car on the way. This is the fate of everyone in our subdivision. That is, unless someone does something about it.

That someone is me. I have a couple of ideas.

First, instead of standing around and complaining, we are going to start a garbage pickup company. There are about 50 homes in our subdivision and I’m sure we could get all of them to be on our route.

I priced a truck on Trucks.com. The cheapest truck I could find is a 20-yard capacity 2002 Kenworth Rear Loader for $49,000 (we are buying used…why would I want a shiny NEW garbage truck?).

I will have to go to Tampa, Florida to pick it up. It is 809 miles away. At $4 a gallon (the mpg of my truck is listed at 2.8), it will cost us $1156 to drive it back.

Add that to the plane ticket to go to Tampa and at least one night in a motel, some beef jerky and soda, and I’m up to $50,689.

A new pair of gloves will run about $10. Overalls: $35.

I’m sure there is a license or something to purchase. Let’s guess $100.

The Landfill is about 14 miles round trip from the subdivision. We’ll need to make three trips on garbage day (once a week)…add $60 per week for gas.

Second pair of gloves (just in case the first pair gets soiled): $10.

Frequent oil changes, a sturdy pressure washer, insurance for the truck, and a part-time employee to operate the truck and collect the trash ($12 an hour, one day a week) will run us another 10-15 thousand a year. Just to be safe, let’s make it $15,000.

Twenty-five more pairs of gloves: $250.

There must be something else I’m forgetting. Let’s put $100 more down for that. (If I haven’t forgotten anything, we’ll just buy 10 more pairs of gloves.)

Ok, let’s see…we are up to $69,314 for the first year. Two-year operating costs (with a 4% inflation adjustment on everything for year two) comes to $88,684.

So we’ll need to charge the 49 other houses $75.41 per month to break even after two years.

The reason I say two years is because I think that is about the amount of time it will take the IRS to catch up with us due to the fact that I forgot to include paying taxes in my business plan. At that point, the truck will be seized along with the sturdy pressure washer and any unused pairs of gloves.

My second idea is to drive over to the landfill a couple of days a week with our garbage. I’ll buy some bungee cords to keep the can in place in the back of my car.

That and a pair of gloves: $17.

Why do dogs like to watch me eat? I’m getting tired of it.

We got the car loaded and we headed for…well, they didn’t tell me. I still don’t know exactly where we were. I’m glad I didn’t have to drive home.

I took a nap on the way. I think they stopped at a hardware store (they go there every day for something) then drove around in what seemed like circles until we arrived.

When we got inside, a bunch of people seemed interested in me, but I wasn’t in the mood. I’d been sleeping pretty soundly (I heard them mention snoring) and was rudely awakened. What do they expect? Also, everyone seemed to know my name and I didn’t have a clue who they were. Also, they had a dog. Small by their standards, but I know he could put his paws on my shoulders and lick me if he wanted. I let everyone know I wasn’t very happy to be on the floor. Would someone pick me up?

After a bit, they took me into the dining room and sat me down. I wondered if it was my seat from home. I didn’t know for sure until I found a Fruit Loop from this morning (breakfast) lodged in the cushion. They must have brought the seat with them. Seems like a pain to have to haul it around, but if they want to do it, whatever.

Anyway, the food was pretty good. Mac and cheese, corn and dinner rolls. There was some other stuff, but I didn’t get a shot at it. They never ask me what I want. Blueberry Cake with Cool Whip for dessert. I got some blueberries on my forehead. I’m not sure how. I probably spilled a bunch on the floor, but the dog was right there, so no one had to clean it up.

We went into another room (I kept a close eye on the dog) and we talked and laughed. I grabbed a tennis racket and hit the floor with it and yelled. This went over pretty good, so I kept it up until I got bored.

Then, I grabbed one of Gracie’s toys and threw it across the room. She screamed like I’d hit her with the tennis racket. That was fun.

Before I left, I made peace with the dog. She didn’t lick me or anything and I got to pet her a couple of times.

I slept all the way home, got my jammies on and crashed.

I wonder what we’ll do tomorrow…

*It isn't a "back windshield" unless you are in reverse...

While traveling for work, I used to ponder the great questions of life, the universe and the lives of flies.

If a fly zooms into your car right before you leave for a long trip, what happens when you arrive (perhaps hours later) and they fly back out? Are they lost forever, cut off from their family and friends? I think it is obvious they would be. Doesn’t anyone care?

I would think there are literally millions of fly milk cartons with faces of the missing on them.

(I don’t think about that one much, just every once in a while)

But this next one has bothered me for years.

If I’m traveling in a car going 70 m.p.h. and a fly is inside it, flying around, why doesn’t he smash into the back windshield*? Wouldn’t he have to fly 70 m.p.h. to keep up with the car? If he were outside the car he would have to…so why not inside the car? If he were sitting on the seat, I understand, he could just ride with the car. But he isn’t attached to anything!

Even if the windows are down he just rides along in mid-air. What am I missing?

I just don’t get it.

Would you do it for Mr. Lincoln?

We have no cable here at the house.

It’s only a month we are here, our renters didn’t have cable (yes, these people exist) and we couldn’t get cable for one month, could we? We decided not.

So yesterday found me walking down the street looking for the cable box, hoping the door was open and the old line to our house could just be hooked up without the hassle of calling the cable company. Why would I want to worry them?

As luck would have it, the cable box was opened, but it was the one across the street. It was marked with things like A-23 and RTZ-1, not (as I was hoping) addresses. But, I had to assume the cable company didn’t run lines under the street. Also, there is a box in my neighbor’s yard on my side of the street.

I headed over to have a look. It was locked. I thought about breaking into it. Just a little.

After my moment of larcenic (yes, this is a word) thought passed, I started for home. Lo and behold, I saw the cable truck and cable guy pull up to the open box. It was fate. I jogged over.

“Excuse me,” I began.

“Yeah?” he answered.

I explained my situation. A long-time customer returns to his home to find his thrifty (or perhaps intellectually superior) renters have left him out in the cold, unable to watch Sportscenter. It was a tragic tale of woe.

(I feel a tear in my eye as I recount it right now)

“Well, just call the company,” he said. “See what they can do for you.”

This was where a man much more slick than I would have offered some sort of incentive to attempt to rectify the situation immediately.

Ah, but not me. I walked back across the street and up the steps and into my house.

Open until filled...

Job Posting: Advance Agent
Available: Immediately

Job Description: Advance Agent will go ahead of subject to ascertain any potential risks and difficulties for subject. Advance Agent will scout existence of any threats (breakable items less than three feet high, glassware, all dogs, rooms without doors allowing for escape to other rooms with breakable items less than three feet high, etc) that may make the parents of the subject endure an evening of living hell in the homes of friends and acquaintances.

Advance Agent will also occasionally scout local restaurants for booster seats, high chairs, crayons, speed of service, changing tables in both men’s and women’s bathrooms, and kiddie menus (with particular emphasis on finding the quality and availability of Grilled Cheese sandwiches, French fries, and lemonade).

Advance Agent will (upon arrival of subject at destination) coordinate removing any items (silverware, ketchup bottles, glassware, tablecloths, salt and pepper, etc) from the arms-length reach of the subject no less than one nano-second before subject reaches for said items with intent to do harm to either self, others or collateral property in the area.

Qualifications: Candidate will need to have had a minimum of 17 years experience in a combination of child rearing, handling hazardous waste, and hostage negotiation. Ability to withstand torture a plus. Masters Degree preferred, but not necessary.

Compensation: Commensurate on qualifications of chosen candidate. Rubber gloves and helmet/hockey mask provided.

Can someone help me with this?

I’m in the market for a car, so I went to the dealership. While looking over a particular brand (with a salesman leering over my shoulder) I was informed the car in question had Bluetooth technology.

“Great,” I said.

Of course, I had no idea what he was talking about, so I looked it up. Apparently, it is a system of wireless communications. I looked up the products that boast “Bluetooth” technology and it was mostly a bunch of headsets for cell phones that you strap to the side of your head, definitely showing a healthy amount of skepticism regarding cell phones to cancer link studies.

I’ve seen this on the street. They look like they just stepped off the Starship…Enterprise. When they use it, they appear to be talking to themselves. They look insane until you figure out what they are doing. But, once you figure it out…it doesn’t really improve things.

But what really amazes me is that they claim this eliminates wires.

What wires?