What is going on in Pueblo?

I went for a drive today on old Lime Road, the road that goes by the Comanche Power Plant, the Vestas wind turbine manufacturing facility and the CCC cement plant.  I don't know which of the three are responsible for this, but I did a quick U-turn.

Super Bowl

Well I finally finished my dish for the super bowl party, What time does the game start tonight?

Garage Queries

A number of people have asked "what is so bad about working in a small garage?"  Well here is a picture of mine before my move.  Any more questions?

The big move.

I am moving, and not into a condo or townhouse like most senior citizens who are downsizing. After 60 + years of living in a traditional house ( U.S. Naval service an exception) I have decided to move all of me into the part of the house where I have always felt most comfortable…the garage. I unloaded my house and I am moving into a garage. Well not really a garage but a warehouse. I will sleep in my motorhome inside the warehouse. It has a queen size bed, couch and chairs, a TV and DVD and all the comforts (well almost all) of a house, minus the extra 2,600 sq. ft. The warehouse has a bathroom complete with shower and I kept my refrigerator, microwave and crockpot. Even though the motorhome has all of those, I prefer not to use propane inside the motorhome inside the warehouse.


The rest of my “stuff” went away along with most of the junk I have accumulated over the years, except of course my garage stuff and family momentos and photos.. Now I have room for what I enjoy most, 5 cars, two motorcycles and enough tools to stock an automotive repair shop. I will keep you posted on my progress.

Pondering

When I was in the shower this morning, I thought: If we assume a Big Bang beginning of the universe, then every molecule, every atom, every proton, every electron, every quark, every wavelength, every vibration, every multi-dimensional string, every everything that makes up everything else shares an ineffable property of pre-Bang Oneness. Assuming that, then every everything is always moving in one of two directions: either away from that primordial state, or returning towards it. We feel these quantum movements. Moving away is experienced as loneliness, fear, anger and despair. Returning is experienced as one or more of the infinite variations and gradations of what we call love. Now, while some might say that equating the miracle of human feelings to the meandering of sub-atomic bric-a-brac robs them of their mystery, the truth is quite the opposite. Connecting our fundamental experience of life to the great mystery of existence ties us to the eternal within our every waking moment. We are not separate. We are made of the same stuff that existed at the beginning and will exist at the end. Therefore, the question we must each ask ourselves is simple: "In what direction am I moving today - towards oneness, or away from it?" When I was done reflecting on this, I stepped out of the shower, toweled off, and, while glancing at the mirror, pondered a new thought: "I have a pretty nice ass for a guy my age."

Obama's State of the Campaign Address

Starbucks

I am pleased to admit that I haven’t been into a Starbucks since I was last in Seattle. I get my coffee at my favorite restaurant for $1.30 and it comes in a mug and is refillable for free for as long as I sit there.

Last week I was asked to meet an acquaintance to discuss converting his notes (and doing some additional research) on a local automotive racing legend into a form that was fit for publication. He suggested we meet at a Starbucks across from where he worked and I acquiesced. I ordered a “coffee” and after looking confused the clerk barista asked me if I wanted to save room for cream. I replied no, just a small cup of coffee. She breathlessly said that it was brewing and would be ready in a couple of minutes and took my name and my $2.09. I wondered why she needed my name. Three minutes later I found out, I had to return to the counter to get it. I guess at Starbucks the clerks baristas are not waitresses. To made a long story short the coffee (and I use that term very loosely) tasted like Liquid Smoke with just a small hint of ash. One sip and I was done, no wonder that they have to put all the other stuff in the cup to make it drinkable. Sorry Starbucks but an endless cup of $1.30 coffee at the Pantry has you beat hands down.

My colonoscopy experience

The Veteran’s Administration said it was time for me to have a colonoscopy.
A few days later, a very pleasant FEMALE doctor showed me a color diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one point passing briefly through Minneapolis. Then she explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in a thorough, reassuring and patient manner. I nodded thoughtfully, but I didn't really hear anything she said, because my brain was shrieking, quote, "SHE'S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET UP MY BEHIND!"
I left the clinic with some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called 'MoviPrep', which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven. I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of America's enemies.
I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous. Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation. In accordance with my instructions, I didn't eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavor. Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder together in a one-liter plastic jug, and then you fill it with lukewarm water. (For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a liter is about 32 gallons.)

 Then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes - and here I am being kind - like a mixture of goat pee and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon. The instructions for
MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humor, state that after you drink it, "a loose watery bowel movement may result." This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground.
MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don't want to be too graphic, here, but: Have you ever seen a space-shuttle launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish
the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate everything. And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink
another liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet.
After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep. The next morning my significant other drove me to the VA hospital in Denver. I was very nervous. Not only was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage. I was thinking, "What if I spurt on the doctor?" How do you apologize to a doctor for something like that? Flowers would not be enough.
At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and totally agreed with whatever the heck the forms said. Then they led me to a room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little
curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked. Then a nurse named Cindy put a little needle in a vein in my left hand. Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Cindy was very good, and I was already lying down. Cindy also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep. At first I was ticked off that I hadn't thought of this, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire Hose Mode. You would have no choice but to burn your house.
When everything was ready she wheeled me into the procedure room, where Another FEMALE doctor was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist. I did not see the 17,000-foot tube, but I knew they had it hidden around there somewhere. I was seriously nervous at this point. The moderately attractive doctor had me roll over on my left side and the anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand. There was music playing in the room, and I realized that the song was "Dancing Queen" by Abba. I remarked to no one in particular that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular procedure, "Dancing Queen" has to be the least appropriate except for maybe Frankenstein by Edgar Winter.
"You want me to turn it up?" said the FEMALE doctor, from somewhere behind me. "Ha, ha," I said, and then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more than a decade. If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like.
I have no idea. Really. I slept through it. One moment, Abba was shrieking "Dancing Queen! Feel the beat from the tambourine," and the next moment, I was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood. The doctor was looking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt excellent. I felt even more excellent when she told me that it was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colors. I have never been prouder of an internal organ.

Sometimes Craigslist is better than reading the comics

Menopausal woman with nasty temper has 85 Grand Prix for sale
________________________________________

Date: 2012-01-17, 8:55AM EDT
Let's answer some questions before I describe the car. Humor me... please...
1. NO, it is not a "condo-car" that's been garaged all its natural life. It's a $600 car.
2. YES, the odometer reads 24k miles, but I am VERY certain it has rolled over and it's actually 124k miles. It's a $600 car.
3. YES, it is restorable. Anything is restorable if you have the time and money! But, in its current condition, it's a $600 car.
4. YES, the interior is very clean. NOTICE I DID NOT SAY IT WAS MINT! It is clean... one tiny tear on the drivers seat back, broken arm-rest on drivers side, TWENTY THREE YEARS OLD!!! Again, it's a $600 car.
5. YES, it does start and run very well. My son drove it to and from work for several months while his daily-driver was being repaired. Not bad for a $600 car!
6. NO, my boyfriend and his tool box do NOT come with the car. In other words, you're buying a TWENTY-THREE YEAR OLD, SIX HUNDRED DOLLAR CAR, people! I cannot guarantee that it will "last at least a year" or that "it will make it all the way to Oregon in September". Sheesh... I mean, c'mon! My crystal ball broke a lonnnnnng time ago. What's more, it's a $600 car.
7. YES, it is quiet. But will it disturb your neighbors? HOW THE HELL DO I KNOW? I don't even KNOW your neighbors! I know you can squeal tires pretty loudly, even in this old $600 car.
8. NO, I will NOT pay for your gas if you drive here from East Jesus and decide not to buy the car for any reason. Why would you drive 3 hours to buy a $600 car anyway?
9. NO, I am NOT interested in donating the car to your worthy cause. My son needs the money. He's a kid, for crying out loud! Do you really think he'd be advertising this $600 car for SALE if he wanted to "help you out because you're down on your luck because your boyfriend left you and took your car and you have no way to get back and forth from....". You get the picture.
10. Did I mention it's a $600 car? That does NOT mean it's a $400 car, or a $500 car, or even a $550 car! THE PRICE IS $600, get it?
11. NO, I do not own a firearm. Yet.
If you've read this far, then you must be somewhat interested in the car, right? Be advised, I am in no mood to be trifled with after the 250 stupid phone calls I received over the weekend. That's right... 250, mostly assinine people, asking questions relating to the above 11 answers. Ever dealt with a woman whose hot-flashes run about 500 degrees? Seriously. Do NOT poke the bear, or if you do, do so at your own risk.
I am not going to post my phone number, as my Xanax prescription is empty and I cannot afford to have it refilled until this Friday. That being said, I do have twenty photos of the car from every angle, aspect, perspective and view which I would be happy to send to you via email. Just click on the pretty blue link at the top of the post, and I promise I'll email you back lots of full-color photos that were taken just this morning.

****Only after I have determined that you are not going to be yet another idiot such as those mentioned above will I give you my phone number and/or address so that you may come and see the car****

50 years ago yesterday the Corvette unveiled at GM Motorama

I have never been a big fan of Corvettes although I did own one, a 1967 427 convertible, but the cars have made an impact on car culture and hot rodding for a half a century.

On January 17, 1953, a prototype Chevrolet Corvette sports car makes its debut at General Motors' (GM) Motorama auto show at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York City. The Corvette, named for a fast type of naval warship, would eventually become an iconic American muscle car and remains in production today.

In the early 1950s, Harley Earl, the influential head designer for GM, then the world's largest automaker, became interested in developing a two-seat sports car. At the time, European automakers dominated the sports car market. Following the debut of the Corvette prototype at the Motorama show in January 1953, the first production Corvette was completed at a Flint, Michigan, plant on June 30, 1953. The car featured an all-fiberglass body, a white exterior and red interior, a relatively unremarkable 150-horsepower engine and a starting price tag of around $3,500 (not including taxes or an optional AM radio and heater). In an effort to give the Corvette an air of exclusivity, GM initially marketed the car to invitation-only VIP customers. This plan met with less-than-desirable results, as only a portion of the 300 Corvettes built that first year were sold. GM dropped the VIP policy the following year; however, Corvette sales continued to disappoint. In 1954, GM built around 3,600 of the 10,000 Corvettes it had planned, with almost a third of those cars remaining unsold by the start of 1955.

There was talk within GM of discontinuing the Corvette; however, GM rival Ford launched the sporty two-seat Thunderbird convertible in 1955 and the car quickly became a hit. GM didn't want to discontinue the Corvette and look like a failure next to its Big Three competitor, so the car remained in production and performance enhancements were made. That same year, a Belgian-born, Russian-raised designer named Zora Arkus-Duntov became head engineer for Corvette and put the car on a course that would transform it into a legend. Duntov had applied to work at GM after seeing the Corvette prototype at the 1953 Motorama show. According to The New York Times: "Once hired, he pushed through the decision to turn the Corvette into a high-performance sports car with a succession of more powerful engines. Chevrolet offered a 195-horsepower engine on the 1955 Corvette, a 240-horsepower engine on the 1956 Corvette and a 283-horsepower engine on the 1957 model." During the second half of the 1950s, Corvettes began setting speed records on the racing circuit. The car also got a publicity boost when it was featured on the TV show "Route 66," which launched in 1960 and followed the story of two young men (Martin Milner and George Maharis) driving around America in a Corvette, looking for adventure.

Ban the Check Engine Light!

It's pretty easy to dismiss the "check engine" light as just stupid, because, well, it is. I suppose if you thought that the cause of smoke coming from under your hood had something to do with the floor mats, then, sure, the "check engine" light is handy, but beyond that, it's useless. But that's not the real problem. The real problem is that the "check engine" light is a tool for the propagation of consumer ignorance about their cars. Which is why it needs to die. Now.
If it sounds like I'm making a big deal out of this, it's because I am. The continued use of a generic, uninformative "check engine" light in cars keeps car owners in the dark about the condition of their vehicle, and ensures they stay dependent and subordinate to car dealers (and I used to be one) and mechanics. The frustrating thing is it doesn't have to be that way.
Let's look at exactly what the "check engine" light does in a car, and how it works. To understand it, first we need to understand what On Board Diagnostics (OBD) are — I know for many of my Gearhead friends this is review, but bear with me.
Every car sold today has an on-board computer system that monitors many, many sensors and conditions in a car's drivetrain, and reports back when there is an error. This has its roots, of all places, in the 1969 Volkswagen Type III, one of the first cars with electronic fuel injection. The "electronic" part of that meant that there was a crude computer brain that managed the system, and could scan for error conditions. Other manufacturers soon had their own systems, and by 1996 an actual, standardized system, called OBD-II, was developed and mandated by law for inclusion in all cars sold in the USA.
OBD-II is actually a terrific system. A global standard for helping to diagnose car issues, with standard connectors and error codes? What's not to like?
What's not to like is that when something goes wrong, all the average motorist sees is that little drawing of an engine bisected by a lightning bolt. And all that tells them is basically nothing. The "check engine" light is the MIL (Malfunction Indicator Light) of the OBD-II system, and illuminates whenever a fault is detected. To see exactly what sort of fault takes a "special scanner" that plugs into the OBD-II connector. These scanners are almost always owned by mechanics or dealers. Independent people can buy scanners as well, or cables to connect laptops, smart phones, etc., but people who will do that are not the ones who need to worry about the check engine lights.
My Significant Other, for example, is never going to be able to connect her laptop to the OBD-II connector somewhere under the dash in her Town and Country; it's hard enough explaining to her how to connect a printer to her computer. If her Chrysler just told her what codes were being thrown, she would at least have an idea about the condition of her car.
"We need a federal mandate that bans the generic 'check engine' light in new cars. “But better yet — the state of things now is that your car actually could do more than just throw an error code at consumers. It contains an advanced system to diagnose itself, but the actual information from that diagnosis is not available to the car's owner; the average owner must pay a dealer or mechanic to provide him or her with the codes, and what those codes mean. This is absurd. Early on, when in-dash displays were rare, one could understand why cars didn't just display what codes were being thrown (though I think a little in-dash receipt-type printer would have been cool).
But today's dash displays capable of displaying text, or at a minimum numerical codes, have been commonplace in cars for at least a decade. Now, pretty much every new car has some sort of alphanumeric display that could show both OBD codes and a short English description, but no manufacturer does this. I've heard of some cars over the years that employed weird, Nintendo-cheat-code-like procedures to display codes (I think Neons had something with turning the car on and off rapidly in succession) but nobody does this by default. And they should.
There is no good reason not to. By not letting the car's owner know what's going on in the engine, a regular driver, one who may not be particularly interested in cars, is entirely beholden to a paid professional to get hidden information from a machine they own. That goes against the great Owner's Manifesto and puts the owner in a very vulnerable position if a mechanic or dealer was dishonest. I think — nay, I hope — most are honest, but without good information on both sides, how can a given owner know? And why should they not know?
Or what about this: if your resources are tight, and you rely on your car to work, and the "check engine" light comes on, you'd have no way of knowing if it's indicating a massive repair or a minor sensor issue. You'd have to guess, either ignoring it and hoping it's nothing, or taking it to a shop and hoping you'll be able to pay for whatever the repair turns out to be, a repair performed by a for-profit enterprise based on information you as an owner have never seen. Making valuable information about a person's own property inaccessible only enables uninformed judgment and the possibility of fraud.
Basically, the generic "check engine" light makes it easier for dishonest mechanics to take advantage of unknowing customers. Considering other car features that are federally-mandated — like tire pressure sensors and airbag warning lights — wouldn't adding one to actually help the consumer make sense? It may be the only type of federal-required feature that makes sense.
Which is why we need a federal mandate that bans the generic "check engine" light in new cars and instead requires, on dash, OBD-II codes and a basic description. The only rational reasons it hasn't happened yet range from a best-case scenario of simple manufacturer desire to build as cheaply as possible, to an actual deliberate campaign of forced ignorance in order to keep dealer network profit streams. Neither of those reasons — or any in between them — are valid or acceptable.
Our cars need to tell us exactly what they're thinking, even if we have to yell at NHTSA to make a rule to make sure the manufacturers do it. Do I have to stand outside of the grocery store getting signatures to make that happen? Maybe. But it'll be worth it.

I have sat back and assessed the incident with the video of our Marines urinating on Taliban corpses.
I do not recall any self-righteous indignation when our Delta snipers Shugart and Gordon had their bodies dragged through Mogadishu.
Neither do I recall media outrage and condemnation of our Blackwater security contractors being killed, their bodies burned, and hung from a bridge in Fallujah.
All these over-emotional pundits, liberal press and armchair quarterbacks need to chill.
Does anyone remember the two Soldiers from the 101st Airborne Division who were beheaded and gutted in Iraq?
The Marines were wrong.
Give them a maximum punishment under field grade level Article 15 (non-judicial punishment), place a General Officer level letter of reprimand in their personnel file, and have them in full dress uniform stand before their Battalion, each personally apologize to God, Country, and Corps videotaped and conclude by singing the full US Marine Corps Hymn without a teleprompter.
As for everyone else, unless you have been shot at by the Taliban, Iraquis, North Vietnamese, North Koreans, Germans or Japanese, shut your mouth, war is hell.

A complete physical for my truck

OK I know it is a guy thing but I am kind of an anal retentive when it comes to care of my vehicles (all eight of them). My 2000 Ford Excursion 7.3L turbo diesel slipped over the 300,000 mile mark late last year and I decided to treat it to a complete physical.

After being hooked up to a $20,000 machine ($2,000 for the laptop and $18,000 for the software) for about 30 minutes and going up and down on the lift twice it was given a clean bill of health. No problems with the engine, transmission, driveline or four wheel drive and nothing but a small pinion seal leak in the rear differential. A door light switch sticks sometimes on the front passenger door (how did it find that?) and the rear swaybar bushing is showing wear. Not bad for a 12 year old SUV and 304,000 plus miles. So I treated it to a complete detail and smiled all the way home.