Being observant is important

Thursday was just like any typical day for me. I woke up…hung around for a while…worked for a couple hours…and then went home. On the way home, I noticed that the gas gauge was showing that I had JUST above “E”. This kinda bothered me because I knew for a fact that I had just less than ¼ of a tank that morning…but, my fuel gauge has never really worked well to begin with. Anyway, I decided that I would be ok until the morning when I was supposed to be at work at 8am.

Friday morning (the 13th, of course) came and I got up and ready for work. I knew that I needed to stop off at the local gas station (a WaWa…I’m not kidding) to fill up.

Well, I pulled into the gas station and up to the pump. I began pumping my gas, as you do and when it finished, I went inside to get something to drink. After paying, I went back outside and slid to a stop as I noticed a puddle and small rivulets of anti-freeze flowing away from under my truck.

This is exactly what I needed…here it is, 7:40am…and I’ve got an anti-freeze leak…on Friday the 13th…of course.

Well, I looked at my watch and decided that, because of the low temperature, I would be ok driving to work as it looked like a very small puddle. I want you to know that I’ve never watched gauges like I watched those while driving to work that day.

“Oil…ok. Battery…ok. Fuel…ok. Temperature…um…what’s normal? Crap! I have no clue what a normal range is for engine temperatures! Oh, that’s it…I’m going to burn up the engine out of sheer ignorance! Ok…everything is ok. It’s sitting there about 185 degrees and I’m sitting here at a light. 185 degrees isn’t that hot…is it? Wait…wait, hold on…it’s creeping up! It’s…yes, it’s going up as I watch it!”

My heart was racing as I watched the temperature gauge move past 190 all the way up to 210 degrees…where it stopped. “Hmm…maybe 210 degrees isn’t so bad either. Let’s see…that’s nowhere near as warm as the sun…and the sun is ok…relatively speaking. We’ll call 210 ok then.” I got to work, and the temperature gauge never moved from 210 the whole way there (a 10 min drive).

Now, as all of you are aware, I am kind of adept at fixing things of a technical nature. To me, my truck is nothing more than a computer with wheels…which, in some ways, is true. Far be it from me to shy away from a challenge! I decided that there, in the parking lot, I would diagnose the problem with my truck and, assuming I could, fix it. With a geek-like swagger only found in those that are completely oblivious to reality, I popped the hood of my truck, closed the door, and went to the front of the truck to diagnose the problem.

The first thing I noticed when popping the hood was a decided lack of steam. 210 degrees is, I admit, quite warm and I would have thought I would have seen a fair amount of steam…but, I was wrong. I look at the reservoir and realize it’s as full as it should be. I look around for leaking antifreeze and, finding none, I decide that the leak must be on the bottom of the radiator or somewhere like that. So, I do this weird looking, push-up wannabe thing with both feet and one hand on the ground while the other hand supports me from the bumper, and I look around under the truck as best I can. Nothing. Not even a single drop of liquid (and this on the day that we had “Freezing Fog”…seriously…I didn’t even know that phenomenon existed!). “Hmm…maybe the leak is on the top after all.”

So, as any geek would do, I decided that I would look at this like I would any other problem. Trace the potential path of liquids, and look for failure points along the way. Ok…the reservoir looks ok and it connects to this hose that connects to the radiator. The radiator connects to the engine and back again at two different places so I, in a moment of total genius, grab a hold of one of the hoses and decide that, as any physic instructor will tell you, it’s a simple matter of forces. If I squeeze the hose on one end, the water contained therein must go anywhere…and it’s going to go the place that it’s easiest to go…which I hope is the leak area.

“This just might work!” I said to myself, and I chuckled at the slowness of my technical prowess. I squeezed the top hose coming from the motor to the radiator…and nothing happened that I could see. Just for good measure, I gave it a couple more good squeezes and then looked around on the ground to look at the puddle of antifreeze that I knew I had just created. The only problem was…there was no puddle.

“What the heck? Hmm…” I said, once again confounded by the overwhelming complexity of a modern automobile. I traced the path of liquid once again…this time from the motor. “Ok…motor, radiator, back to motor and then from the radiator to the reservoir that is filled with…wait a second…the puddle that I saw at WaWa was green…and I have orange antifreeze!” After laughing out loud at my stupidity, as well as the unfortunate poor slob that DID have a leak, I closed the hood and went to work…on Friday the 13th.

Closing Thoughts for the Week

Well, it’s the end of the week. I realize I usually don’t write things more than once in a GREAT while, but I’m feeling creative or something and felt compelled to write some more…so, here goes.

There is an ancient Chinese parable that I was told recently that goes something like this (if you know the actual story, I’m going from memory and adding stuff as I see fit) :

Two Buddhist monks were walking along after a heavy rain when they happened upon a river that was moving quite rapidly. On the riverbank was a woman on her way to a party dressed in her best clothes.

“Would one of you please carry me across the river so that I don’t get my clothes dirty or wet?” she asked.

The younger of the two monks looked away as if to ignore her as it was one of the rules of their sect that they could neither talk to nor touch a woman. The older, and wiser, of the two monks went over to her, picked her up and carried her across the river. After putting her back on the ground, the two monks went on their way. The younger monk was flabbergasted and flustered. He couldn’t believe what had just happened.

As the day drew near an end some time later, the younger monk could take it no longer and said, “I can’t believe that you did that. You took a solemn oath that you wouldn’t touch a woman when you became a monk and yet you carried that woman across the river.”

“Yes, I did carry the woman, but I stopped carrying her at the riverbank. You, on the other hand, haven’t put her down yet,” he replied.

I really enjoy this story. It’s a simple story, but the message that it carries is very important, and one that we all should learn: There is no point in carrying a burden after the burden has been lifted from you.

Toilet Humor

Hello one and all. I know it’s been a while, but I’ve been busy away from home and have just gotten back to work…so I figured it was time to write.

Groovy and I flew to Baton Rouge to spend Christmas with our families and we both had a wonderful time. We got back on the 27th and on the 29th we had one of my friends up to visit for a couple days. All said, it was a nice trip and stuff, but I could use a vacation now that my vacation is over.

This year I’m not going to do resolutions or tell you how Christmas was. It was good, and I have some…but that’s really all that I want to say right now because I’ve got a good story to tell.

WARNING! If any of the following words offend you or make you feel uncomfortable, please stop reading: Toilet. Splash. Slop. Plunger. Poo. Disinfectant. Sterilize. WARNING! You have been warned…

Our story starts on Christmas Eve during supper. We had all just had a really good meal and were sitting there getting to know one another. The parties there included: Groovy, myself, Groovy’s folks, Lawyerette, Doctor, The Tiger, Groovy’s aunt and uncle, and Wendy the Wonder Dog. Groovy and I were washing dishes and Groovy’s uncle comes up with this game in which you answer several questions in an attempt to get to know everyone. One of the questions was: “What is your most embarrassing moment?” My answer to this was a story about someone pulling down my pants in middle school before class. Unfortunately for me, my answer would be changing quite soon.

Everyone went to bed and woke up the next morning. It was Christmas day, and we all sat down to eat breakfast. It was getting close to the time that Groovy’s Grandfather was going to arrive, so I ran off to take a shower.

I gathered up my clothes to take my shower and went into the bathroom. I decided that maybe I needed to sit and contemplate my life and everything for a bit, so I did. After doing my business, I flushed the toilet (as all people do when they are done contemplating life) and got ready to take a shower. The toilet wasn’t sounding quite right, so I got back out of the shower to see the water level rising quite quickly in the toilet.

“No no no…don’t you do this,” I pleaded with the toilet. “Not today…not here.”

The toilet continued to let the water level rise until right before it got too dangerous to continue. Whew! I was saved by the designers of the toilet who knew just exactly how much water would go into the bowl and how much would go OVER the bowl. I stood there for a moment…relieved, and yet concerned at the same time. The water level fell, as it will do, and I, in a moment of sheer genius, decided that what I needed to do was flush the toilet again.

Wrong. The water level rose much more quickly than the last time, and this time, I was SERIOUSLY concerned about the possibility of a waterfall in the bathroom. My mind racing, I jumped into action and quickly turned off the water flow to the toilet. Thank goodness for the inventor of the little shut-off valve on toilet bowls. The water level finally crested at approximately ½ inch from the top of the bowl.

Frantic at this point, I started looking around for a plunger in the hopes that I could fix this problem and get on with my day. I looked all over the place only to realize that there wasn’t a plunger in that bathroom. “I am going to die,” I said to myself. I looked at the toilet and said, “Please…I’ll do anything. Just flush!” Nothing happened. With nothing else to do, I took my shower and then, thankfully, Groovy was walking by the door as I opened it and I said, “Can you go into your parent’s bathroom and get the plunger…quietly.” She went off to look for one and I closed the door again, turned, and looked again at the toilet. “Toilet…I don’t like you anymore.”

Unfortunately, there wasn’t a plunger in her parent’s bathroom…it was outside in the garage which was on the other side of the living room where everyone was sitting (including groovy’s grandfather), patiently waiting to open presents. Joy. Groovy comes back after a while and hands me the plunger. I take it, turn toward the toilet and think to myself, “Now it’s on, toilet…you’re going down!”

I put the plunger in the toilet and watched the water level rise just a little. It was still precariously close to the top of the toilet, and I was REALLY worried about cleaning everything up when I was done. I did the best that I could do, as far as plunging goes, but nothing was happening. Nothing at all. Water was sloshing about…but the water level wasn’t going down like it should have been. I tried several different techniques: I tried the one-handed plunge…nothing. I tried the two-handed plunge…nothing. I tried the two-handed plunge with one foot on the toilet for better leverage…nothing. I tried shaking my fist at the toilet while plunging (not an easy feat)…nothing. I was getting desperate.

I heard a gentle knock on the door…it was groovy. “How's it going?” she asked.
“I’ve got a situation here, groovy…nothing is happening.”
“Just come on out and worry about that afterwards,” she replied. So, that’s what I did. I put down my weapons, washed up again, and walked away from the battle.

So, we all sit around and open presents. The whole time I’m thinking, “Please…nobody go in there…PLEASE!” I think someone tried at one point, but they probably took one look at the toilet and ran away for fear of being blamed. No worries…everyone knew it was me. Present time was over and groovy’s dad and I went back into the bathroom and began working on the toilet once again.

I was going to be really graphic here and tell about how the water sloshed all over the place and all over the towel that I was holding over the toilet…but that would just be nasty, so I’ll leave it out. Eventually, through groovy’s dad’s hard work…the toilet was returned to working order. I wanted to shout for joy…to dance and sing like a madman. Instead of doing that, though, I grabbed a mop and bucket, and started cleaning the bathroom.

I guess the moral of this story, if there could be one, is never admit what your most embarrassing moment is because, sure enough, something more embarrassing is going to happen eventually.