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.

Day 2 Nevada to Millbrae

The final day of our rush to the coast was uneventful with two exceptions. One, just after crossing the state line into California we stopped in Truckee for gas. The small town is in the mountains, it was raining and the smell of the trees was wonderful, however it was the first time the gas was over $3.00 a gallon. The next was the only unpleasant part of a most pleasant trip and that was the Bay Bridge, the bridge that gets you into San Francisco proper. There were 12 lanes into the toll booths and we were in the lines for over an hour. Some of the lines were prepay, called Fasttrak and some were cash. We got into one of the cash lines only to have it change to Fastrack after a few minutes, we crowded into another cash line and it changed and a Fastrak line at the other end changed to cash. People kept changing back and forth with much horn honking and finger waving. Finally I said "to hell with it" and stayed in one line. When we got to the boot it was Fastrak only, and I just stuffed my 4 bucks into an opening and said arrest me! Then the fun began. Twelve lanes goes back into 4 lanes to get onto the the bridge. After you pay the toll you move up about 200 yards and stop at a red light along with the vehicles in the other 11 lanes. Then it is a quick green light, red light all the way down the line and it turns into a virtual drag race, and I am stuck in an underpowered 4 cylinder station wagon with Becky, four dogs and completely frayed nerves. I took off like a bat out of hell and figured that the BMW on one side and the Lexus on the other would let me in because of the relative value of the vehicles should a crash occur. I was wrong. It is California you know, so I got squished and I was the first to blink.

Then all of the lane changing began on the bridge. I don't know why if the sign says Chinatown exit right 1 mile that the cars exiting to Chinatown can't start to merge over immediately, but no they wait until the last 400 yards and then make a mad dash for the exit. After the bridge it was easy cruisin' in a light mist from the 101 to the 280 and down the hill. One more thing and it is the most dangerous and amazing thing I have ever witnessed. It is completely legal for motorcycles to travel between lanes! That means when you are travelling in the next to the fast lane at 1o miles over the speed limit as everyone does and the guy next to you in the fast lane is doing the same, here come a motorcycle going 20 miles over the speed limit right between you. With all of the lane changing and crazy driving it had to be the most deadly thing I have witnessed and it is all legal according to everyone I used it as a conversation starter on.

Day one 13 hours to Nevada

Driving up I-25 we encountered the most severe rain/hailstorm I have ever seen. People were actually stopping on the interstate and stacking up 5 deep under the underpasses. I tucked in behind a Wal-Mart semi and rode it out. Later found out that it was the worst hailstorm in Pueblo, Colorado history. No damage to the Saturn. We stopped in Cheyenne to get gas (12 gallon tank) and turned west onto I-80. From there we drove through road construction that lasted for 10 to 15 miles and spread out about 5 miles apart. One lane, 35mph and not a road crew in sight all of the way through Wyoming and Utah. I swore we would not return by the same route and we didn't. 13 hours and 750 miles later we stopped for the night (morning?) in Wendover Utah/West Wendover, Nevada. The only interesting thing about the town was that there is a big Hotel and Casino right on the state line, with the hotel part on the Utah side and the casino on the Nevada side. Interesting. Passed the Bonneville Salt Flats at about midnight or I would have stopped to pick up a t shirt.

3,000 miles in a $1,500 car

Before I begin my diary about our vacation to Northern California I need to bring everyone up to date on a couple of things. First in a much earlier post I spoke of trading my beloved Harley Davidson in for a large used motorhome. While we had planned this trip for a long time, the motorhome was still undergoing some upgrading and refurbishment so we drove instead. During the last few months I began looking into what type of vehicle we should get for our "toad", the vehicle that is towed behind the motorhome to be used for in town driving after arriving at a destination. From my research and reading I knew that I didn't want to have to tow the unit on a trailer or a tow dolly, I wanted to tow with all four wheels on the ground (less resistance and easier to unhook to drive). The number of vehicles that can be towed with all four wheels on the ground is limited. Most require disconnection of the drive shaft or other modifications. We looked at Honda CRV's, Ford Escapes, Saturn Ion's and others, but spending $30,000 for a vehicle that was to be used little was not in the cards. Between the two of us we have eight vehicles and zero car payments and we want to keep it that way. I went back and researched vehicles that were suggested as toads 10 or so years ago and found out the the Saturn was the vehicle most mentioned. After a month of searching we found a 1995 Saturn station wagon, with 135,000 miles on it, 5-speed, airconditioning and a CD player and everything worked. We decided to take it on our vacation because of gas mileage considerations. We drove a total of 2,781 miles, used 84.5 gallons of gas, spent $245.50 for fuel and averaged 32.91 miles per gallon and we had a huge Yakima Sky Box on the roof so our four small dogs would have the entire back of the wagon or our mileage would have been even greater. I could not have been happier with the little car. Other than being a little underpowered with a 1.9L 4 cylinder engine and shifting more often than I liked going over many mountain passes it performed flawlessly. I had not owned a General Motors vehicle since I was aged 12 ( a 1936 Chevrolet pickup that I was allowed to drive in order to muck out horse stalls and drive out on the prairie and dump the stuff). I have never been a GM fan, but I sure have become a 1995 Saturn fan.

Hide your Beagles, Vick's an Eagle

How could Philadelphia, or any team think that they could become a better team by signing Micheal Vick?












I guess this has forced me back into blogging. I will try to keep everyone updated, especially as to my just completed vacation.

Government Motors is Running on Fumes

In 1953, when "Engine Charlie" Wilson was nominated for secretary of defense, the GM CEO famously told a Senate committee, "For years I thought what was good for the country was good for General Motors — and vice versa." His statement was misremembered as, "What's good for General Motors is good for America."
Even quoted correctly, it was a sloppy thought. Today, who would even think it?
This week, President Barack Obama effectively fired GM's boss. Some defenders of private capitalism have objected to this, but they are thinking of government as, well, government, and not as GM's primarily lender. As lender, Obama was simply exercising his prerogative by saying, in effect, "If you want any more money from us, you have to throw your CEO overboard."
Out the CEO went — and, it is reported, much of the board of directors will soon follow.
"Pet rocks," Forbes magazine's Jerry Flint calls the GM directors. The booted CEO, Rick Wagoner, was also stonelike in his performance. Since he became GM's head of North American operations in 1994, Wagoner has presided over the shrinkage of GM's market share by nearly half, from 33 percent to 18 percent.
Back when "Engine Charlie" made his famous comment, GM's market share had been 54 percent. It was still over half in the late 1960s, when my business professor argued that GM, Ford and Chrysler had oligopoly power, and might stay on top of the market forever.
Volkswagen had been buzzing around, and a company called Toyota had introduced a little made-in-Japan thing called the Corona, but Detroit would be able to defend itself. Already GM and Ford were introducing their import killers, the Vega and the Pinto, which turned out to be the two worst U.S. cars of the era.
Most of the moves by the U.S. companies were better than that. In my lifetime, they have phased out the chrome, the spongy suspensions, the feather-light power steering and plastic bench seats. Their cars are less thirsty and better built.
Trouble is, their rivals stayed ahead of them with fuel injection, disc brakes, hybrid technology, etc. Now the Japanese companies have 30 assembly plants in the United States. They are suffering right now, but they are not in the intensive-care unit.
The new boss of GM, Fred Henderson, says the company may have to file for Chapter 11 bankruptcy, which probably means it will file unless the U.S. Treasury agrees to more support. The question then arises: Should the Treasury do it?
It looks like a poor bet. GM is an old company, with old workers, and old union and old-thinking management. It has been in decline for most of 50 years. As of Dec. 31, its liabilities were double its assets, giving it a book value of negative $86 billion. Tuesday, its stock was selling at $1.94 a share.
The more the Treasury lends, the more GM will come to be Government Motors. In Obama's America, that will mean becoming a development project for electric cars, plug-in hybrids, or whatever it is the politicians want. The result might be wonderful, but the history of state-controlled companies suggests boondoggles are more likely.
The best thing is to let GM do what failing companies have always done: reorganize if possible, liquidate if necessary. The GM of "Engine Charlie" is no more. Let it go, and let investors put their money where the odds are better.

Say It Ain't So, Jerry

In 2006, when Jerry Jones brought wide receiver Terrell Owens to Dallas, no one was happier than me. I once again had reason to root against the Cowboys, an often entertaining pastime. And T.O., with his narcissistic whining, made rooting against “America’s Team” ever so worthwhile. Last year’s signing of the thuggish Pacman Jones was like adding whipped cream and cherries to an already mouthwatering sundae. Last season’s implosion — with Pacman’s suspension and Owens’ verbal undermining of certain Cowboys teammates — was especially delicious. But early in this off-season, Jerry Jones cut Pacman. And now he’s released Owens.I feel bereft. Who am I to root against now? Tony Romo — who stops and changes tires for strangers? I think not. And if the Cowboys owner is wising up about the importance of character and chemistry and essentially admitting his mistakes, what joy can I even get rooting against him?
Life is so unfair.