Despite the fact that I didn't lift a single finger to work on the car this weekend...
...I STILL HAVE BLOG POST MATERIAL! Whether you like it or not! But I feel as though I must burden you, so buckle up.
FIRST UP, the one thing no one wants to read a blog for--DREAMS! But, doggone it, it was the first dream I've had in which my old hunk of iron was the chief protagonist, and it was quite pleasant as well, so here goes:
It was a lovely crisp morning, and I was driving my lovely crisp Volvo somewhere. I wasn't quite sure where, but I did make sure I had my pillow laid up beside my head so I could sleep and drive. I drove along and it occurred to me that I was supposed to be meeting a man at a small restaurant, and it was located over close to East Lake Park here in Birmingham. East Lake is a pretty older neighborhood that has fallen on some hard times of late, but the lake is still nice. (This is what it looked like back around the turn of the 20th century.) But the place in my dream wasn't that--it was like driving beside Lake Como in Italy--beautiful mountains surrounding it, with a crystaline blue lake, and just as I came around a bend in the road, there were huge stands of tall trees with their leaves full of golden fall colors. I thought to myself, "Wow--East Lake really looks NICE this time of year!" I drove on down the road beside the lake and laid down on the passenger seat while the car kept going and I just looked up through the windshield at all the pretty trees. When I got to the restaurant, I pulled up in the gravel parking lot and put my pillows in the backseat so the guy could get in. We drove around for just a bit and then I took him back to his car and that was it. I never really knew why I was there, or why I was meeting him, and we didn't really talk about too much, although I did show him my 200,000 mile badge on the grille. And the restaurant was a real dump, by the way. Didn't even have a paved parking lot.
See!? Now don't you feel all warm and Volvoey all over!? Well, maybe not.
ANYway, the other non-newsworthy news of the weekend was oil changing. After morning worship on Sunday, I went off with Boy to see about getting the oil changed in the Honda. Nobody open except Wally-World, and there was a line of six cars. At ten minutes per car, multiplied by the Wal-Mart Moron Factor, that would mean we wouldn't be able to get out of there until around midnight, so we just went on back home. With a stop off at Advance. I have decided that while I don't mind letting others change the oil in the Odyssey and the Focus (being that their filters are inaccessible), I will be changing the oil in good old lovable Järn myself. The filter is right there in the open the way it should be, and since I have my own supply of factory filters, I don't like the idea of paying someone else to change it but not getting a discount for having my own filter. They charge you the same no matter what, which offends my parsimonious nature.
Back when I used to work on cars, there was no such thing as recycling oil, but nowadays I think I would feel bad if I dumped it in my neighbor's backyard, so Boy and I got one of those nifty jugs you use to drain the old oil into, and a case of oil, and an air filter. "You wanna help me change the oil? You can learn about cars that way!"
"Uhh, no, Dad."
At least he was helpful in carrying stuff.
Next weekend will hopefully be more productive. It is my plan to FINALLY install the headlamps and get the oil changed all on Saturday.
Well, a boy can dream, can't he!?
FIRST UP, the one thing no one wants to read a blog for--DREAMS! But, doggone it, it was the first dream I've had in which my old hunk of iron was the chief protagonist, and it was quite pleasant as well, so here goes:
It was a lovely crisp morning, and I was driving my lovely crisp Volvo somewhere. I wasn't quite sure where, but I did make sure I had my pillow laid up beside my head so I could sleep and drive. I drove along and it occurred to me that I was supposed to be meeting a man at a small restaurant, and it was located over close to East Lake Park here in Birmingham. East Lake is a pretty older neighborhood that has fallen on some hard times of late, but the lake is still nice. (This is what it looked like back around the turn of the 20th century.) But the place in my dream wasn't that--it was like driving beside Lake Como in Italy--beautiful mountains surrounding it, with a crystaline blue lake, and just as I came around a bend in the road, there were huge stands of tall trees with their leaves full of golden fall colors. I thought to myself, "Wow--East Lake really looks NICE this time of year!" I drove on down the road beside the lake and laid down on the passenger seat while the car kept going and I just looked up through the windshield at all the pretty trees. When I got to the restaurant, I pulled up in the gravel parking lot and put my pillows in the backseat so the guy could get in. We drove around for just a bit and then I took him back to his car and that was it. I never really knew why I was there, or why I was meeting him, and we didn't really talk about too much, although I did show him my 200,000 mile badge on the grille. And the restaurant was a real dump, by the way. Didn't even have a paved parking lot.
See!? Now don't you feel all warm and Volvoey all over!? Well, maybe not.
ANYway, the other non-newsworthy news of the weekend was oil changing. After morning worship on Sunday, I went off with Boy to see about getting the oil changed in the Honda. Nobody open except Wally-World, and there was a line of six cars. At ten minutes per car, multiplied by the Wal-Mart Moron Factor, that would mean we wouldn't be able to get out of there until around midnight, so we just went on back home. With a stop off at Advance. I have decided that while I don't mind letting others change the oil in the Odyssey and the Focus (being that their filters are inaccessible), I will be changing the oil in good old lovable Järn myself. The filter is right there in the open the way it should be, and since I have my own supply of factory filters, I don't like the idea of paying someone else to change it but not getting a discount for having my own filter. They charge you the same no matter what, which offends my parsimonious nature.
Back when I used to work on cars, there was no such thing as recycling oil, but nowadays I think I would feel bad if I dumped it in my neighbor's backyard, so Boy and I got one of those nifty jugs you use to drain the old oil into, and a case of oil, and an air filter. "You wanna help me change the oil? You can learn about cars that way!"
"Uhh, no, Dad."
At least he was helpful in carrying stuff.
Next weekend will hopefully be more productive. It is my plan to FINALLY install the headlamps and get the oil changed all on Saturday.
Well, a boy can dream, can't he!?
posted by Terry at 9/26/2005 11:40:00 AM
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