Deal's Gap

Watch for these guys to pass the "Speed Limit 30" sign about 50 seconds into the video. Think they're exceeding the speed limit?
Both these guys are riding Honda GoldWings. These big bikes aren't supposed to be able to do this:



The now-and-then scraping sound you hear in the turns is the sound of something on the bike's undercarriage being ground away because the bike is being leaned at such a great angle.

Sent to me by friend Cary, who knew I'd be interested.

Formation Flying Made Easy

Flying formation in a helicopter is stressful, hard work.
I have no fixed-wing formation experience, so I won't address that, but I can't imagine it's as tough as doing it in a fling-wing. But done well, both are beautiful to watch.
Still, we are amateurs at it.
Watch an expert:

Revolvers Are Dead? Not So Fast, Bunky!

I thought I had bought my last revolver. Now I'm not so sure.
I'd appreciate your thoughts and feedback on this thing:

Whazzat?

There's a hole in the front bumper of that MG-A. Do you know why?


(Motorcycles have similarly done away with something no longer considered necessary, and for the same reason.)

Heart Attack

Myocardial infarction...
When I started flying EMS, one of the smartest and most experienced flight nurses I know told me the single most important factor in avoiding coronary problems...
"Choose your parents carefully!" This, after I had related the story of distance runner Jim Fixx. Jim's father had died of a heart attack in his early 40's. Wanting to avoid that fate, Jim took up long distance running. He was mostly muscle and bone when he died at the age of 52... of a heart attack.

Last night as I lay in bed trying to doze off I was thinking about the term "heart attack".
ATTACK!
An attack is an aggressive thing. Why would our hearts want to do something so openly offensive to us? These attacks are not good for the body as a whole, therefore they are not good for the "attacking" heart.
Why do hearts attack?

C'mon hearts...
All we are saying, is give peace a chance!

Accessory To Murder

Two U.S. Law Enforcement Agents dead.
Countless civilians dead in Mexico.
All because of a program put in place, then overseen by this man.
Is this the most corrupt adminstration EVER?

You are a liar sir, and you've been caught in your lie.
Go to Jail.
Soon.

They Don't Make 'Em Like That Anymore.

Do you ever get the "urge to splurge" and go buy some piece of machinery that will SWEEP you back to those "good ol' days" of 50 years ago?
I do.
And then I think about THAT car.
One almost exactly like the one in the photo.
A 1957 Pontiac Chieftain, four-door hardtop. Two-tone, white with red trim.
347 cubic inches with a four-barrel carburetor. Automatic transmission, radio and heater. It was a nice car, for sale by another Uncle so I knew its history. I was already bored to tears with the '53 Ford Flathead V-8 Victoria even though I had been driving it less than a year. I wanted something faster.
The Pontiac filled that bill. So I bought it.

And it WAS fast...
Sometimes.
The problem was that carburetor... The engine ran on two of the four venturis most of the time to conserve fuel. The only time the additional two "barrels" would open was if you pushed the gas pedal to the floor... then that big-for-its-time engine would bellow like a castrated bull and the car would LEAP forward, gathering speed (and burning LOTS of premium gas) at a frightening rate. It was a lot of car for a 16 year old.
The two extra barrels on the carburetor were vacuum actuated, and something about the system on my car wasn't working right. Pushing the pedal to the floor would sometimes produce the desired result... Thrilling.
Sometimes the two extra barrels wouldn't open... Disappointing, and sometimes, if I was depending on that extra power, dangerous. I tinkered, wrenched, cursed, spat, and chanted incantations suggested by friends... all to no avail.
The carburetor still worked intermittently.

There was another problem with this car. Fast and HEAVY, the four-wheel drum brakes weren't up to the job of stopping it effectively.
I should qualify this statement...
The brakes worked fine so long as someone like my Uncle was driving the car. With a 16 year old maniac behind the wheel, this car needed the stopping power of a Ferrari. It would stop just fine if it wasn't traveling at Warp 9. But during a panic stop from anything above the speed limit the brakes would heat up and fade, and it didn't make any difference how hard you mashed on that pedal... the car would slow, but at about half the rate you needed. And it would let you know it was not happy being treated that way by inundating you with the smell of overheated brake linings.

So here's the scenario-
I'm headed for school one morning and I am BARELY on time when the phone rings. A sister of one of my closest friends says, "I overslept and missed the bus. Can you come pick me up?"
She lives a couple blocks in the opposite direction I need to go to get to school, and I'm already nearly late. But I'm a nice guy and don't want to disappoint...
"I'm on my way."

I collect her and figure Warp 9 may still get us to school on time. Gas pedal down, tryin' to get those two additional venturis to open, we're probably goin' 70 in a 35 zone. There's a school bus stopped out ahead of us. I take my foot off the "loud" pedal and wonder what the bus is gonna do... It's just stopped there. No flashing lights. No "Stop" sign extended.
Then the little girl comes out of the adjacent house and the school bus driver goes all "lights and stop sign" on me.
I push that brake pedal hard as I can and pray.
And the damn thing lets me down. By the time I get stopped, smoke from the brakes swirling all around the car, we're about 10 feet past the bus' extended stop sign. I look up at the driver, shrug my shoulders, and continue to school.

We're not late! I'm actually sitting in my seat, ready for class when the announcement comes over the P.A. system:
"Will (Greybeard) please come to the office?"
In the office sits Officer Sheek from the Indiana State Patrol. Sitting in his drive warming the engine on his cruiser when I pulled my bonehead stunt pretty much right in front of his house, all he had to do was follow me at a leisurely pace, watch me turn into the school grounds, and do a 10-28 on the license plate.

Reckless driving.
Loss of license for 6 months. (Which would impact my life in some interesting and positive ways in a few years.)
... At a time when driving/riding meant the world to me.
All because I was an idiot, driving much too fast in a car equipped with brakes I KNEW were not up to the task demanded of them.

No, they don't make 'em like that anymore...
Disc brakes.
Fuel injection.
Better lighting.
Better tires.
Better electronics.
Better EVERYTHING.
And to top it all, less expensive too.

When I start getting the urge to buy a "classic" car, I think of that old Pontiac...
And then I lose that urge pretty quickly.

A Word For Our President(?)-

JOBS!

You promised 'em. Where are they?
We've experienced our "recovery summer".
You've thrown money at companies racing into bankruptcy.
You've rewarded unproductive behavior.
Do you know the definition of insanity, Mr. Obama?
This country desperately needs some Hope and Change.

Can you change?
I hope you ARE changed.

On Two Wheels, Part 2- Starter Bike

There's always a special place in your heart for "firsts", isn't there?
You're looking at one of mine in that photo. At 15 I found out a trusted Uncle was selling his car, a 1953 Ford Victoria. I bought it from him, then stored it until I could drive it legally. When I turned 16 and became a legal driver I started driving the Ford, but I also wanted to upgrade my two-wheeled capabilities. I wanted to go distances that would be impractical at 35 mph on the Cushman. Now, let's back up a moment...
My first experience with things "Made in Japan" was with the cheap toys we got from that country. You could actually look inside some of these toys and see the labels from the beer cans the toys were made of. The phrase "Made in Japan" meant cheap and fragile. That reputation worried me about some of the first Japanese motorcycles that hit our shores. For me, the "Harley-Davidson" name printed on the gas tank meant quality and dependability.

Shopping around bike shops, I saw a used bike exactly like the one pictured above for sale... a 250cc Harley-Davidson "Sprint". The Sprint was actually Harley's response to Honda's invasion...
H.D. realized they needed a small, entry level bike to draw folks to Harley shops and hoped when they moved up to a bigger bike they'd stay under the H-D roof to make that purchase. So Harley bought the Italian company Aermacchi (who made airplanes during WWII), and simply added the Harley-Davidson name to the small, decent motorcycles being produced by that company. How well that venture worked out for H-D is debatable... everyone knew these little bikes were not made in Milwaukee and looked at them skeptically. But I liked the looks of the Sprint and hoped if I did have problems needing service, my local H-D dealer would treat me right.

I owned the bike three years and put almost 10,000 miles on it, finally selling it when I was drafted into the ARMY.

With some minor complaints, it was solid, dependable transportation. It had a single-cylinder, pushrod engine and came up short on horsepower when compared to the efficient vertical-twin overhead cam engines being produced by Honda. In a 1/4 mile race, the Sprint would always fall a couple bike lengths behind a comparable Honda. It vibrated so badly I couldn't feel my hands after an hour of riding. But the Sprint would go 85 miles per hour, (and the speedo needle pointed to 85 on the rural roads I traveled FREQUENTLY!) It had an exhaust note like a shrieking banshee, (which I loved then but would HATE if my neighbor had a bike that sounded like it now), and would go forever on a tankful of gas.

It actually turned out to be a great starter bike, and in spite of its shortcomings I still have fond memories of it. If money wasn't an object and I had a place to store lots of bikes, I might buy one to tool around town on today.
(But as we've discussed earlier, 250cc bikes being offered by manufacturers today are better in EVERY way, and I'm also tempted to buy one of those simply because they are a SUCH FUN to ride!)

Later, I'll tell the story about moving up in the motorcycle world without having to worry about the money factor. Come on back!

Today Is A BIG Day!

September 30th.
I'm not going out on a limb to make a prediction here, but it'll be fun to see if it DOES happen...
Do you know what's special about 30 September?
It's the end of the fiscal year for the U.S. Government. That means there are a ton of agencies and offices that, finding themselves in a "Use it or lose it" situation with their alloted budgets, will spend that money, even if they don't necessarily need to. ( I once watched as the U.S. Army spent a literal fortune sprucing up a military base that was scheduled for shutdown and return to the local economy, rather than lose that money and face the possibility of a lower allocated budget for the next year. Sadly, this is just the way our government works.)

So tomorrow is $$$$$$ day. I cringe when I think about how much taxpayer money will be wasted. But don't be dismayed Bunky... THERE IS a silver lining.
Think SOLYNDRA.
Smart democrats must be shaking in their boots right now, imagining the political ads they'll be facing in just a year. Solyndra has exploded in their face and will only get worse for dems as time passes. Now we find there are at least two more possible Solyndras out there, and this is "use it or lose it" money, so these two companies may have had the same amount of scrutiny as was given to Solyndra before that half-a-billion dollar subsidy was poured down the sewer. These two companies don't even have to go bust to hurt dems pretty dramatically...
They can hurt dems re-election prospects simply by not proving to be "The future of American industry", which I suspect is the way this will play out. Solar power is a VERY competitive global industry. What are the chances these two companies have a truly radical idea to reduce costs so "made in America" will once again be a big deal?

So this money will be spent tomorrow and dem pols cannot stop it...
it's "already allocated"... or in other words, in the pipeline.
But lots of eyes will be watching these, and other companies that got government handouts on 30 September. When the true reporting starts, I'll wager we'll all be stunned at how much this "spend our way out of debt" administration wasted on risky businesses they should never have had a hand in.

Anyone want to accept my wager?

Racist?

Maxine Waters, Andre Carson, and now Morgan Freeman have called me racist because I want government to stop spending money it doesn't have.
I guess I don't understand the full definition of the word.

I thought the oceans would stop rising. I thought we were the ones we have been waiting for. I thought electing a half-white man would cause us to look more closely at "the content of a man's character". Have you seen some of the things these liberal{!} idiots are saying about Herman Cain? (Who I am thoroughly impressed with at this point.)
Oddly, Martin Luther King's character seems to be under question these days!

I didn't vote for him, but I truly hoped BOzo's election would lead to a more unified nation.
Man, was I naive!

(Seen the latest catchy acronym? OMG!... Obama Must Go!)

Hotel, Saloon, Brothel. Hotel, Saloon, Brothel...

We just returned from a weekend spent at The Riverboat Inn in Madison, Indiana, once again sharing time with my schoolmates from High School. The hotel is quaint, clean, has a great view of traffic moving up and down the Ohio River, and the help does a pretty decent job of making everyone feel like occupants are all part of one big family...
Fresh baked cookies coming out of the oven at almost all hours and the coffee pot is never empty.

Saturday morning, twenty or so of us boarded a trolley for a tour of the city. It's a neat town, obviously situated there because of the river and the trade coming from that line of communication. Something the tour-guide said set my "light bulb" off...
She commented how streets in Madison, in the old days, seemed to be lined with "A Hotel, a saloon, a brothel, a hotel, a saloon, a brothel..."
This statement, seemingly, was made with some pride. It made me think of the town I presently live in and how folks here speak with pride about the gritty things that happened long ago near our downtown hotel, adjacent to our railroad, our comparable line of communication.

What is it about the passage of time that makes a sordid past something to be proud of?
("Frankie and Johnny" and "Stagger Lee" are both songs/stories of passion and murder from St. Louis, and illustrate what I mean about pride in our "colorful" history.)

On Two Wheels, Part 1

I drove to work tonight because it was raining, HARD. It's the first time I've had to drive a steel cage to work in over a month. My round-trip to/from work is +-70 miles, depending on the route I take, and I figure I save at least $4 per round trip by riding, depending on which bike I happen to ride on a given night. My seven-night work shift also means I can exercise each of the four bikes at least once in a shift, weather permitting. All four have full-fairings and provide pretty good protection from the wind. My head sticks up higher than the windscreen on the Moto Guzzi and BMW, so I have to put my faceshield down if I'm caught in a rainshower on those machines.

I started riding "bikes" with motors when I was twelve. At that time our community was pretty rural and the county was geographically fairly large, so I suspect our Sheriff's department was stretched thin... we didn't often see a brown and beige Sheriff's cruiser, and we saw even fewer State Troopers. Those I did see seemed to ignore me... I think stopping us might have required calling out someone to deal with Juvenile offenders, and already overworked Deputies probably said, "I don't need the hassle". For four years I rode a Cushman Scooter similar to, (but not as nice 'cause it was OLD and WELL-USED), the one pictured above. It would go 35 miles per hour at full-throttle with a good tailwind, so although I have no idea how far I drove that thing, with daytime-only riding, nine or so months per year, I MAY have put 1000 miles on it in four years.

It was dependable. In addition to flitting around the neighborhood I used it to deliver "The Indianapolis News" to my customers for a couple years. Powered by a five horsepower Cushman Husky engine, it would start on the first kick when it was warmed up. Cold starting took two or three kicks with the help of full-choke. It had a centrifugal clutch... it was like an automatic transmission... there was no manual clutch to deal with. It would sit motionless until you increased the throttle. If you added throttle, (and you added throttle in the opposite direction of today's motorcycles), two spring loaded "shoes" attached to the end of the engine's crankshaft would be pushed by centrifugal force against the inside of a drum similar to a brake drum and the scooter would accelerate slightly faster than a turtle.

At the time many of our roads were barely "improved", meaning they were gravel-covered and graded whenever the county could get to 'em. These roads were traveled infrequently, and automobile wheels would cause gravel to be pushed aside so that there were two "paths" with very little gravel and a lane of gravel in the center in addition to the the sides of the "paths". Tiny wheels on scooters didn't negotiate these gravel roads very well... crossing from one path to another or meeting a car and being forced to the side of the road was like balancing on marbles.

Take a close look at the picture and you can see a little pedal on the right side of the floorboard. That's the rear (drum, of course) brake pedal. No speedometer/odometer. No tachometer.
Look again at the handlebars... no levers. Not only was there NOT a manual clutch, there was also NOT a front brake. It's a very good thing these little scoots would only go 35 or so, 'cause with only one (rear) brake they took a long time to stop, even from that sedate speed. Trying to stop quickly on rain-soaked pavement was an invitation to possible disaster.

I paid $50 for it with money I had earned on my paper route. I sold it to a friend for 50 dollars just before I turned sixteen when I started contemplating buying my first REAL motorcycle.

Looking back now through the eyes of a Dad, I'm surprised parents allowed teen-age kids in our community, (and in my case a PRE-teen), to ride a motor vehicle on public roads.
Strange feelings...
I wouldn't have allowed my kid to do it, but my son was 12 in 1995, and 1995 sure as heck wasn't 1959! But I have fond memories of riding that old "putt-putt", and I'm sure glad my parents didn't stop me.

I'll write about that first (and other) real motorcycle(s) later.

GWB Coin Flip, 9/11/11

Man, Would I LOVE To See That!

After the big speech Thursday night, even libs are beginning to question BOzo's intelligence.
No surprise to me... he's done nothing in his life of note except fool the fools.
Palin is smarter than he is. She had her facts straight on Paul Revere and made idiots of those trying to ridicule her. Obama's "Lincoln founded the republican party" comment? Dead wrong. Call the "Corpseman"!

But I bet she's a better athlete too.
I would just LOVE to see her take him on one-on-one in a game of B-Ball.
Sarah Barracuda Vs. BOzo!
Who are you betting on?

Where's a promoter when you want one?!!

Updated:
The only thing more stupid than the present occupant of our White House is our media, thinking we won't notice when they try to erase his gaffes.

6 September 1986

I had been out of work 8 months. My unemployment checks had ceased and my "networking" to find another flying job in the area had apparently failed. What was I gonna do? How would I pay the bills?
In the distance, I could hear the proverbial howling of the wolves.

The phone rang. It was my friend J.M....
"You still looking for a job? I need you. How soon can you start?"

There have been mergers and acquisitions, so my paychecks have had three different signatures on them. But today I'm celebrating 25 years flying as an EMS helicopter pilot.
What a long, strange trip it's been!

Will You Watch The "Jobs" Speech?

Fred Imus, (Don's younger brother), died a few days back. His appearances on the "Imus in the Morning" show always put a smile on my face. I TIVO the show and fast forward through most of it, slowing only for a few political interviews and Fred's now-and-then bits.
Just after BOzo's State of the Union address Don asked Fred if he had watched the speech. Fred replied he watched long enough to realize Obama didn't intend to resign, then switched the channel.
That's pretty much how I intend to handle Thursday's speech. I'll watch long enough to see which political factor will be furious by the end, then I'll start looking for a documentary somewhere on the WWII Lancaster bomber or an old "Honeymooner's" episode.
If there truly is a bombshell, (HA!), I'll catch it later on FOX News.


Are you gonna watch?

Work. Off. Work. Off. Work

I'm at work. I work 12 hour shifts from 7 P.M. until 7 A.M., seven nights in a row. My shift starts Wednesday evening, so the following Tuesday night is the last night of my shift and I'm headed home for seven days in a row on Wednesday morning.
The four pilots at this base have a sort of love/hate sentiment about working this schedule...
We don't need to take much vacation because of the seven day break every other week. But stress factors involved with the job can make this schedule tough-
More flights than normal or other work stresses, and we can begin to feel a little draggy by the sixth or seventh night of our workweek.
Our company doesn't care about our schedule so long as the work gets done safe and efficiently. We've tried other schedules and the four pilots at this base have decided we like this one best.

Our schedule, no matter whether it is four-on, four-off or seven-on, seven-off means we all spend a quarter of our lives at work, not counting extra days covering for someone bein' sick, and vacations. So we all work a couple hours more than the normal wage-earner out there who works 40 hours per week:
There are 268 hours in a week (7X24). 268 divided by .25, (the 1/4 of our lives we spend in the air or waiting for the call to go fly, equals 42 hours (average, obviously).

Summer is harder than Winter. Our clientele are more active and are more likely to need our services. Weather is generally more conducive to aviating. Inclement Winter weather can sit on you for days at a time, and it's then that we frequently E.M.S.-
Earn Money Sleeping.

This summer has been stressful for another reason-
It has been hotter than normal and that puts added stress on people and machines. We had record high temps today (102 or so) and the forecast is for similar weather tomorrow. I had difficulty sleeping today because my upstairs bedroom was too warm. Still, I was glad I wasn't here at work waiting on a call to go take off in a "flying greenhouse" in above 100 degree temps.
(My counterpart didn't get a call today so the helicopter was still sitting where I left it last night when I parked it.)

It's an interesting job, different in almost all ways from the way most folks make a living...
And interesting almost every day because of the many ways people find to hurt themselves.
I love it. And I'll miss it like crazy when I can no longer do it.
And that day may be just around the corner.

The Miracle That Is Cosmetics-

Compare and contrast.

When The Slaves Are Intelligent:

You may remember this:




(She's on "The List".)
I USED to think Sarah Silverman was funny. I even thought she was cute, (although I hear she's hirsute and if I found that out for sure it would be a turnoff.)
But knowing BOzo was whelped in Muslim schools, and looking at his list of Muslim friends,
I could only shake my head in amazement at this video and at the polls that showed Jewish support for this poseur.
The amazing thing is that even as folks like Rodolfo and Flightfire come to the realization this guy is incompetent, there is still a surprising amount of support in the ranks of the "Slaves" out there.

And ya know what?
Intelligent slaves are wonderful, so long as they're still on your side.
But... when they finally turn on you?
Ask Pharoah, Mussolini, Hitler, and Ceausescu what happens then!

California II

Late August can be a miserable time here...
Temps can reach the high 90's and stay there, sometimes even staying in the 80's all night.
This year has been different, so far at least. We've had almost a week of PERFECT weather...
Cloudless skies and afternoon temps in the mid 80's, and I have taken advantage of this gorgeous weather to exercise all the bikes. Yesterday Sara Jean took her position on the throne of the '89 Goldwing and we rode 227 miles, mostly through the surrounding farmland. A couple observations about that:
She's more comfortable as pillion than I am in the front. I began to feel hot spots on my butt after a couple hours. There's just no way to shift your weight around enough in front to avoid 'em. On the other hand, she can move pretty freely back behind me. We stopped for lunch at a family buffet restaurant and afterwards she actually found herself nodding off in the warmth of the sun back there. (She asked if we could install seat belt and shoulder harness back there to insure she won't fall off!)

A few days ago friend Dean called and asked if I could come back and help track and balance the Huey again. I had gone down a couple weeks ago to help with this job but we never did get the machine to settle within limits. On inspection, Dean found a bearing installed wrong and replaced it. This time we quickly saw improvement, and after 45 minutes or so had the machine well within limits. Flying the old girl was SUCH a neat experience, and this 45 minutes in my log book puts me over the 3000 hour mark in the UH-1 series of aircraft. (I have time in the UH-1B,C,D,H,&M.)
I rode the 800cc beater BMW three hours round-trip to do this job and have decided the old Beemer may just be my favorite motorcycle of all time. It's just powerful enough to be confidence inspiring on the highway, smooth as heck for a two-cylinder motorcycle, and gets 53 mpg when driven with respect. I'm gonna keep this bike and start slowly restoring it.

Most of my riding lately has been done with a Harley Davidson alongside. I LOVE the sound of the things and have decided this is the best way to enjoy a Harley...
Insure a friend that owns one is in the vicinity so you can listen to that lovely engine thump away!
(But I'll still jump at the chance to buy a Sportster for quickie trips if I can find one priced right.)

My seven day on- seven day off schedule is wonderful with weather like this. Even with the bike riding, I've had time to do yard work. An hour or so each afternoon when the dew is completely gone and our 2+ acres looks great. (But it's been so dry I stir up a cloud of dust everywhere I mow... the air filter will need attention really soon.)

Another fatal crash of an EMS helicopter last week... four dead this time in Missouri. No details on the accident yet, but the industry is so small you always fear someone you know will be among the dead. Names have been released and I didn't know anyone aboard, but it still hurts personally and it hurts our industry every time this happens. We're already regulated so strictly I'm now turning down flights (due to weather) I could safely fly. Accidents like this one may bring on more regulation. I've said before, I'm glad I'm at the retiring end of my career, not just beginning it.
Disheartening.

To those of you who wrote, concerned about me after you heard of the crash, thank you.
Don't worry about me. I've scared myself in in a helicopter most of the ways you can, and don't intend to do it again.

Veronica

Joe got it...

The answer is Veronica Lake. I was also gonna use the following clues:

-4 feet 11 inches tall. Did she use a pillow to see out the windshield of that airplane?

-A comic book character was given a similar name in her honor. ("Archie's" Veronica Lodge).

-A character in an animated movie was a melding of Veronica and Rita Hayworth. (Jessica Rabbit)

-The U.S. Government asked her to change her hair style as a precaution in order to protect women who were increasingly replacing men in factories. (And she did).

This tiny beauty is just another of those that went to Hollywood, then died much too young under strange circumstances. But I too was surprised to find she had gotten her pilot's license.

-Born in 1922 in Brooklyn, N.Y. (Birthdate sometimes listed as 1919.)-Died in 1973-Became a pilot in 1946.-Flew, at least once, cross country from L.A. to New York in a light plane.-Considered "difficult to work with" on the set, it's now generally thought this celebrity was a paranoid schizophrenic. -BLONDE HAIR.

The Enemy of My Enemy...

I don't know much about Rick Perry, but I have learned this:
Trial Lawyers are frightened enough of him they have formed a Political Action Committee to put obstacles in front of his campaign.
So the John Edwards' of the world don't like him?
That says it all, doesn't it?
I think I may like him A LOT!

Do You Ride? Here's Useful Information!

I soaked up the lesson well-
I was following that pickup truck with a full two second gap.
In the bed of that pickup was a sofa.
Apparently the cushions on that sofa were not fully secured.
Yeah, you're gettin' ahead of me, aren't ya!
Guess the "Hang-time" for a sofa cushion that is caught up in turbulence and launched to an altitude of fifteen feet or so outta the bed of a pickup truck going, say, 55 mph!
(If you answered about two seconds, YOU WOULD BE CORRECT, BUNKY!)

Yes, I was able to avoid it.
But henceforth I'll give sofa-laden pickup trucks at least a three second gap!

Crosschecking The Instruments

A commenter responded to my video below:

"Just how many of you are there to watch those gauges. If there is a problem do those gauges tell you first or does the change in sound or feel? "

It's a valid question. I can remember being sorta overwhelmed the first time I looked at the dashboard of a complex aircraft...
How can anyone possibly make sense of all that?

First, it's just me watching those gauges most of the time, Anon. My Nurse and Paramedic are in the back kicking death in the ass, so they're no help at all.

Now, think of your car. Most of us have owned a car with a speedometer, tachometer, water temperature gauge, oil pressure gauge, and maybe even an oil temperature gauge in the dash cluster. What did you pay attention to, mostly?

The BK117 I fly was built to be flown with either one, or two pilots. Watch the video again...
I always turn the lights on for the entire instrument panel as an insurance policy. Most of the instruments you see over on the far left of that panel are redundant instruments I have in front of me. If you look closely, you'll notice this bird even has THREE attitude indicators (artificial horizons if you like.) So I pay almost no attention at all to the left one-third of that panel unless something on my side fails.

The far right side of the panel contains the basic flying instruments:
Airspeed indicator, altimeter, vertical speed indicator, heading indicator, and the aforementioned attitude indicator. In this particular bird, the green rectangle you see at the lower right corner of the panel is the GPS... attached in an absolutely horrible place because in order to program it I have to manipulate the cyclic with my left hand to turn GPS knobs with my right. It's a pain.

In the center of that instrument panel are gauges for both engines and the transmission:
Oil pressure and temperature. Torque, (power being demanded), engine and rotor tachometers, and exhaust (or turbine outlet) temperatures. It's safe to glance at all these about as often as you'd check your rearview mirror in your car, because all these instruments are backed with warning (idiot) lights that would illuminate should any of them get out of normal operating limits. This would also set off a "Master Caution" light squarely in front of my face to say, "Something's wrong! Take a look at what's going on with your flying machine, stupid."

So it's not so overwhelming as it seems. The night I took that video was extraordinarily calm and I was able to turn the controls completely loose to handle the camera. On a night like that it really is a matter of monitoring the gauges by glancing at them now and then, and making minor changes in the controls to insure the aircraft is at the heading/airspeed/altitude I want.
(And your comment about how the aircraft feels or sounds is a valid one... the machine DOES talk to you, and better pilots may feel or hear a problem before any of the instruments indicate something abnormal is going on.)

Another commenter said something valid for that night...
I AM still trying to convince others I actually WORK for a living!

The View From My Office:

I was surprised and pleased that my camera would record this video clearly in these conditions.
Look closely and you can see our home airport coming up on the horizon.

Absence Makes The Heart...

She left me more than a week ago.
I took her to the train station, gave her a kiss, and she boarded the train for her childhood stomping grounds to visit family there.
She was gone four days.

She came home long enough to pack a larger suitcase with lighter clothing, then left the next day for Arizona.
She was gone five days.

I missed her.
BAD.

Her airplane arrived yesterday at Noon. I was trying to think of anything I could do to show her how much I appreciated her. Dinner on the way home was a given. But figuring she might be thirsty for a cup of our home-brewed Arabica blend, I brewed a fresh pot, pre-heated and filled the thermos with it, and put just the right amount of dry creamer and sweetener in a thermal cup so that when we were comfortably on the road to dinner she could enjoy a cup from home. I handed her the thermal cup and reached for the thermos. She opened the top of the cup, saw it was full of something white, and, figuring it was a new cup with a piece of styrofoam in the bottom, upended it and covered her, me, and most of the front half of the car with the creamer/sweetener.
Welcome home darlin'!

But, dinner was VERY nice.
And a partly-cloudy 82 degree day was a welcome change from the 109 degrees she left behind.
She took a nap when we got home. During that nap I studied her, marvelled at how beautiful she is, and took comfort in the light hum she makes when she's sleeping soundly.
She's glad to be home.
The missing piece of my life is back where it should be, as is my missing "peace".

I may even clean up the mess she made of the car.

For Ears That Hear and Eyes That See:

"Shoot Him In The Face"

"What do you think of this 'Bond Arms' derringer?", I asked my friend the M.D..
"If you're gonna use one for home defense, shoot him in the face", he said.
My friend the Doc is hard core. We're on exactly the same page about the direction our country has chosen and he, like me, is preparing for ugliness as quickly as time and money will allow.

This looks like a versatile little gun. It's chambered to shoot either .410 shotgun shells or .45 Long Colt cartridges. You can also buy other, easily switchable barrels in other calibers as shown in the article here at Gunblast.com.
Me? I think the .410/.45 Colt version would suit me just fine.
Anyone have any experience with this derringer?

Shoot him in the face?
Messy...
Wouldn't want to do that in my living room.

ER's And RINO's

"Doctor it hurts when I do this."

Have we learned our lesson? Please... tell me we have.
And republican candidates, please note my request:
If you are a republican from a State North of Virginia, or a State East of Ohio, you need not apply for the job of President of the United States.
Your definition of "conservative" needs revising.

(And I've been saying for a year that BOzo is likely to have a primary challenger.
Ed Rendell... John Warner... some other "moderate" democrat... HELP US!)

In The Wind-

Escapism from barry munsterteiger on Vimeo.

For all my biker friends.
But especially for CJ.

Blinded By The Light

It's a HOT, humid Friday night.
I come to work knowing things might get interesting as the night progresses.
And they do.
Liquid flows in great quantities on evenings like this. Much of that liquid contains alcohol. Alcohol affects judgment. Poor judgment means job security for those of us in EMS.
But increasingly, it brings dangers to us too.

Our flight to pick up the patient, load him, and start the journey to get the care he needed was proceeding uneventfully. At about midnight, somewhere midway between the sending and receiving hospitals, a green FLASH hit me in the face. Your first reaction is, "What the hell is that?!" Your second (involuntary) reaction is to search for the problem in order to try to rectify it. That's a mistake. And it could have blinded me.

Someone, at midnight, out in the middle of nowhere, had pointed a green laser at our helicopter.
The brilliance of the light momentarily shocked and disoriented me. The "What the hell..." reaction contains a great deal of confusion, as your mind tries to sort out what could be causing such a bright light to suddenly appear.
When I finally realized what happened I dialed up the frequency for the closest operating FAA control tower, (in this case an Air Force Base) and reported what had happened. But I knew that action was probably futile...
What would the tower do? Maybe call local law enforcement and report what had happened so that if someone else reported something similar they could begin to track the culprit down. But the likelihood of catching someone doing this in the country in the dark of night is very, very slight.

Who would do such a thing? Why would they take the risk of blinding me and maybe killing all aboard my aircraft?
All sorts of answers come to mind:
An immature individual, thinking no harm would be done.
Someone under the influence of intoxicants, reverting to the thought patterns and immaturity of an adolescent.
Someone irritated by the sound of aircraft flying by on a hot summer night.
Can you think of others that, in an impetuous second, might do something so thoughtless?

We hear more and more reports of lasers being focused on aircraft. And one of the things that scares me is the thought that IF a pilot is blinded by these lights, the accident report will surely come up with big question marks as to why a perfectly healthy pilot flew a perfectly functional aircraft into the ground, killing patient, Nurse, Paramedic, and him/herself.

I now know of two incidences where this has happened to helicopters in our fleet, and in both cases it happened when a patient was on board and the pilot could not divert to investigate and see if he could locate the culprit.
And if this behavior escalates, we're going to have to begin to consider wearing some sort of protective eyewear to preclude being blinded by lasers.

What a world we live in, huh?

A New Chapter

Our Nation is about to undergo the "change" we were promised.
I "hope" I'm wrong about how this chapter will unfold.

We have an administration that has not formulated a (constitutionally required, annually) budget in OVER two years.
And the media is allowing it.

This administration oversaw the delivery of weapons to folks it knew would use those weapons to hurt/kill people. One of our Border Patrol agents was killed with the complicity of this administration.
And the media is ignoring it.

The agencies responsible for overseeing our financial system and warning us when things are getting out of hand...
(The same agencies that were perfectly happy to okay the program responsible for lending money to prospective homeowners who had ABSOLUTELY NO CHANCE of repaying those loans),
has finally awakened and is about to downgrade the Nation's credit rating no matter the outcome of ongoing debt ceiling negotiations.
And the media is trying its damndest to spin it in Obama's favor.

Our media has taken a page straight out of "Pravda".
The voters were/are ignorant.
And it's mostly because "The Fourth Estate" has failed us miserably.
God, please help us through the coming troubles.

Certifiable?

Well, the price was right.
Really, REALLY right.
And I've decided I love older boxer BMW's.
Picked it up yesterday, this one's a 1984 R80RT that I'll be wearing out between home and work.
(And I'm still looking for a buyer for a perfectly functional 1987 GoldWing Interstate!)

Repositioning The Deck Chairs On The Titanic

We live in interesting times.
At the end of his term, this President will have increased our debt load more than all the other Presidents in history, COMBINED.
I think the only way we could possibly have avoided a meltdown is if our leaders had agreed to take drastic action, yesterday. That obviously hasn't happened...
We're still giving millions to folks who study shrimp running on an underwater treadmill.
We're still giving money to folks who funnel it to the Taliban.
And we're still giving guns to folks who are killing our Law Enforcement officers.

"There are icebergs in the waters ahead, Captain."
"Steady as she goes, Mr. Murdoch. But move those chairs over closer to the rail, please."

"But I Could Have Told You, Vincent..."

How fortunate am I?!!
When weather gets a little schmutzy I get to sit around, surf the net, and still get paid.

We had rain yesterday afternoon, dropping the temperature from the high 90's down to about 70 degrees, resulting in an evening with reduced visibilities and low scud all around.
So the phone rings and my communication specialist says, "Weather check for..."
and I laugh before they can even finish the sentence.
I joke... "What are you trying to do, kill us?!!"
On nights like this they know the answer before they ask, but they still HAVE to ask.

Anyway, while being paid well for sitting on my can, last evening I found a neat site and I'd like to share it with you.
My life has been a blessed one, and there are VERY FEW people I envy.
This guy is one of 'em.
If you like bikes and things mechanical, poke around and enjoy.

(You'll have to tolerate bein' subjected to a thirty-second ad, but it's worth it.)

The Debt Ceiling

It's times like these when I realize how far out of touch I am.
Every now and then I have to shake my head in wonder because what seems SO simple to me obviously isn't. And at these times I fall back on you guys to help bring me up to speed.

Here's what has me baffled:

-Why do we have a debt ceiling?

Seems it's a self-imposed limit we're unable to restrict ourselves to!

-If we're gonna have to constantly raise it, (and apparently we are), and every time we raise it we have to watch stupid politicians arguing about who's at fault and what terrible consequences there'll be if we don't jack it up again, why don't we just do away with it completely?

The Sky's The Limit!

Just think how many jobs could be created or saved if we had no limit on our financial resources! And we could use stimulus money to raise the minimum wage to like.... $100 per hour. No more poor people!

Hey...
I like this "Progressive" thinking!

Chrysler Bailout

So!
Yesterday our government completed the sale of Chrysler to the Italian "Fiat" corporation.
In this transaction, U.S. taxpayers only lost 1.3 BILLION DOLLARS.
How many jobs were created or saved due to the loss of that $1,300,000,000.00 ?
Our country is in the very best of hands.

Debates

Presidential political debates CAN be devastating...
Gerald Ford lost the '76 election when he stuck his foot in his mouth about Poland in his debate with Jimmy Carter.
Jimmy Carter lost the election four years later when Ronald Reagan made him look like an idiot saying "There you go again!" during their debates.
George H.W. Bush lost to Slick Willy when he reneged on his "Read my lips, NO NEW TAXES!" pledge.
Al Gore looked like a doofus when he tried to physically dominate G.W. Bush by occupying Bush's personal space during their debate.
John Kerry was, and is, just a stiff.

Barack Obama performed well in the debates in '08 because he had no record to defend.
That won't be the case in '12.
If he ends up being the Democrat nominee for POTUS, (and I still think that's in question), he'll have to defend policies that have run the country aground emotionally and economically.

I doubt this country can survive as a Representative Republic if Obama is re-elected.
From here on, it's gonna be fascinating to watch.
Bring on the debates!

Boyer-

My bride and I LOVE old movies. We have so many of them recorded on our DVR, (and continue to record more), we'll have difficulty watching all of them in our "spare time".
Two nights ago we were watching one of our favorites, 1939's "Love Affair" with Charles Boyer and Irene Dunne. That's a still from the movie above.
(1939... an UNBELIEVABLE year for movies!)
This movie was later remade as "An Affair to Remember" with Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr, then (sort of) rehashed again as "Sleepless in Seattle" with Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan. ("Love Affair" with Dunne and Boyer is my favorite of the three, although the others are VERY good.)

But as I watched I once again noticed one of that era's very noticeable co-stars... cigarettes.
It made me wonder if Boyer, like so many of his peers, died of lung cancer.
He didn't.
The way he died is sad, but oddly romantic.
If I've piqued your interest, read his biography and how he actually died HERE.

Jimmah and BOzo!

US55846324

That's me. US55846324... A number burned into my memory bank forever.
When I was drafted into the U.S. Army I became US55846324.
Guys who enlisted had a service number starting with "RA" instead of "US". We assumed the "RA" stood for Regular Army. Who knows why we draftees were "US".

When I graduated from OCS I became Lieutenant 05261163. I was 05261163 until the ARMY started using Social Security numbers for an individual's service number. Now that identity theft is a problem I wonder if they're still using SS numbers?

But it's funny how those numbers stick with ya...
Important numbers.
My first phone number, (a party line), was 370W1.
Now it's BR549.
Call me.

47.653/ 41.325

Two Honda GoldWings-
One, a 1200cc four cylinder.
The other, a 1500cc six.
When I bought the bigger, newer bike, the intent was to start trying to sell the older bike right away. Well, it hasn't quite worked out that way.
The newer bike is wonderful. It rides like a dream and the onboard stereo system sounds as good as most cars. Sara Jean loves the thing and rides pillion with a broad smile on her face. But...
In many ways I like the old bike better.
It probably weighs close to 100 pounds less than the newer bike. That makes it much easier to maneuver at slow speeds and also shows up in the miles-per-gallon figures.
Driving to and from work, behaving myself, the four cylinder 'Wing gets 47+ mpg.

The newer bike is smoother and a little quieter. By smoother, I mean like the nearly unnoticeable difference between a car with a great new wax job and a car that has been worked over with a clay bar. There is a difference. It's not a big deal.
And under the same conditions the calculator showed the 1500cc bike covered 41.235 miles on a gallon of fuel. That's far better than any of our cars, so I save a small chunk 'o change each time I ride to work, but I'm still looking for a machine that will use about one gallon of gas on the 64 mile round-trip.
That's gonna require a bike with a much smaller engine.
And I'm still looking.

I left home for work tonight with some concern about the weather. I intended to ride the 1500cc 'Wing, and hoped I could drive the 45 minutes to work and arrive before the coming deluge struck. I tuned in "The Weather Channel" to get a quick update on what I'd be facing, only to find Peter Lik spouting off about how to get a great shot of a volcano in Hawaii.
So much for the foremost experts on weather, huh?
It's a bit like Headline News these days...
Want Headline News? How 'bout a little Nancy Grace instead?!

Fifteen minutes into the ride it was pretty obvious I was gonna get wet. The complete horizon ahead was dark gray with occasional cloud-to-ground lightning.
Twenty-five minutes into the ride, the bottom fell outta the bucket.
It poured.
But for a while I stayed relatively dry. My arms got wet first. Then the water caught up in the turbulence forming behind my helmet started trickling down my back, eventually pooling on the saddle and soaking my crotch. The temperature dropped from 95 to about 65 degrees and I actually was uncomfortably cool for the first time in days. But then the rain stopped, the temperature rose, and I was ALMOST drip-dried by the time I pulled into the hangar.
It was bound to happen eventually... a pop-up storm drenching me on the way to or from work. And I'm less fearful of it happening now than I was before. The big fairing does a pretty great job of protecting me.

If I'm going to get a bike that gets 65 mpg or so I've got to first sell the older GoldWing.
Anyone out there want a bike that rides great, is smooth as silk, and gets 47+ mile to a gallon of gas?
Call BR549. Let's talk.

A.W.O.S.

"AWOS" stands for "Automated Weather Observation Service". These days, many little airports have these machines and they provide a great service... an unmanned weather reporting station, updating the weather conditions 24 hours a day. The radio frequencies for these reports are published in several places so pilots can tune in and find the local weather as they start their approach process.
Here's the report I heard when we returned from our final last night:

"****** Community Airport, Automated Weather Observation 0720 Zulu-
Wind 190 at 6 Knots.
Sky condition- clear below 1-2 thousand feet.
Temperature 30 Celsius, Dew point 27.
Altimeter 29.79
Remarks- Density Altitude, 2 thousand 4 hundred feet."

There's a ditty I use to try and remember how to convert Celsius to Fahrenheit-
"Thirty is hot. Twenty is nice. Ten is cool, and Zero is ice."
So when we landed last night at almost 1:30 A.M. it was still hotter than a firecracker, and with a Southerly wind it got worse as the night progressed. Today was unbearable, and I was glad to be sleeping in air-conditioned comfort.
But tonight?
REPEAT!

The natives will be restless.

Motorcycle Artwork

Now and then you'll see a machine that has been restored so perfectly it takes your breath away.
Driving such a machine on the street, risking damage seems a shame.
To me, this old BMW falls into that category.

WOWO

How things have changed.
AM radio is almost all talk-radio now.
If you want music, you listen either to FM or satellite radio. And that's progress, 'cause AM sucks as a conveyor of music. It is seriously degraded by thunderstorms and other atmospheric phenomenon.

But come back with me to 1966. I was a Private "E-nothing" (lowest rank possible) in the ARMY at Ft. Jackson, S.C., just outside the State Capital, Columbia. Homesick as I could possibly be, I was thirsty for anything that remotely reminded me of home. My most prized possession at the time was a General Electric AM/FM radio I had purchased at the Post Exchange. With it, at night, I could tune to 1190 on the AM dial where I could hear a station several hours drive from my hometown of Indianapolis come booming into South Carolina...
WOWO, Ft. Wayne, Indiana.
Top 40, news, weather and sports...
At least I got news from Indiana, which frequently included stuff from Indy.
I was comforted.
In the (infrequent) event I couldn't get WOWO to come in, I'd turn the dial to the left and 890 WLS out of Chicago would generally be there as an alternative. And if thunderstorms precluded me from listening to stations close to home, I'd drop even farther down the dial to 690 WAPE, "The Big Ape" out of Jacksonville, Florida.


There are still AM blowtorches out there that can be heard over much of the middle United States...
1020 KDKA, Pittsburgh. 1120 KMOX, St. Louis. 890 WLS and 780 WBBM, Chicago.
1200 WOAI, San Antonio. 850 KOA, Denver. 1040 WHO, Des Moines.
Late at night I still poke around on the AM dial to find a strong signal. But I listen today because I'm searching for news, weather, sports, and political discussion.
Near-perfect music listening is just a CD or FM radio frequency away.

But how I miss the days of being able to tune in WOWO as I shaved in the morning and hear "The Adventures of Chicken Man!"
My heart hurts a little...
Some things just aren't better than they used to be.

Twenty-Eight Years Ago

Is it possible?
Twenty-Eight years?

I woke when she shook me. Still dark outside, she was standing next to the bed...
"I think my water broke."
Yes, I could see it had.
Grab the 'phone, call the ER...
"Her water broke. What now?"
"Bring her here."

That five minute drive started in an unlikely way-
The starter was kaput on our Fiat 124 Spyder, so I pushed the little convertible to a downhill slope, then with fingers crossed, jumped in and popped the clutch. What a relief when the engine started!

At the hospital, things were moving slowly...
They had connected her to a monitor so we could watch the baby's heartbeat along with Sara Jean's vital signs. We quickly learned how to tell when the next contraction approached, and since they were still separated by 45 minutes or so I asked, "How long before she'll deliver?"
"A couple hours, maybe longer."
I was hungry.
"Honey, would you mind if I go eat breakfast?"
"No, go ahead."
I went to our local greasy spoon and ordered breakfast, announcing to everyone I knew that today we would be parents.
Back at the hospital, I was kinda shocked by the scene-
They had given Sara Jean a drug called Pitocin to speed up the labor process, and WOW!!, did it work!
We could still foresee an oncoming labor pain, but now they were coming every few minutes, and saying SJ was in considerable discomfort when they hit would be extraordinary understatement.

Time for the delivery. I scrub up with the Ob/Gyn. He insures my hands are scrubbed raw before he allows me to don rubber gloves to come and observe the birth of my baby.
I stand at Sara Jean's head, watching the action down below in a big mirror. Of course the birth is a miracle, but it's a bloody, messy miracle. The blood is understandable. The mess? Well, we won't go into that.

"Outside plumbing!"
Until this morning, the Doc has been predicting a girl. The baby's heart-rate when he first hooked up the monitor made him reconsider. We didn't know what we were getting until HE was born.
I whooped!
We both wanted a boy.

So now he's a 28 year old man, living in Arizona. Our work schedules conflicted this year so we cannot be with him on this special day, and that sucks, but we'll work on making up for it at a later date when his schedule (and mine) is not so frenetic.

On July 6, 1983 I could not have imagined the way this story would unfold.
I was out of work, we were living in a teeny-tiny house, driving a little Italian Sports Car with a busted starter.
God blessed us that day with a healthy baby boy, and he (and my son) have blessed us nearly every day since.
My son is a wonderful, caring human being. I could not be more proud of him.

Happy Birthday my son. We'll see you as soon as possible.
And Lord, thank you for giving him to us.

Last One To Leave, Turn Off The Lights, Please.

My son left Los Angeles last month.
Boy, am I glad!
That town always makes me a little uncomfortable. He's back in Arizona, and I can now finally send him the handgun I bought him for his birthday almost exactly a year ago.
(Guns are BAD, doncha know?!)

The great State of California has a new law I'm sure you're aware of...
They're now gonna TAX online sales.
This is really smart because it will raise SO much revenue.
For those contemplating leaving the State because of high taxes, this may just be the "straw" that broke the critter's back. And of course those departing will be the ones paying the taxes. Those not paying taxes won't much be affected by the new law.

I really think California's fate will be the same fate our Federal Government will experience, but California will feel the pain sooner...
Maybe MUCH sooner.
Friend BZ goes so far as to say in Cali there are now two classes of citizen:
Hosts, and parasites.

For most of you, pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!
Nothing to see here.
Move along.
And if you're the last to leave, turn off the lights.

Me And Dad Install The Ceiling Fan

For those new to the blog, my Dad passed away in 2003.
He was one of those unschooled guys that could figure out how most things work, and could fix them with a pair of pliers, a roll of duct tape, and a foot-long piece of baling wire.

We had a garage at our old homestead. It was a mancave...
a comfortable place for my Dad and me and the inevitable four of five buddies that would show up needing a little work on their cars or bikes. My friends loved both my parents and knew they were always welcome at our home. Anytime they broke a transmission synchronizer or blew an engine, they'd find a way to our garage.
We were ALWAYS tinkering there with something.

Against one wall of that garage was a large wooden cabinet with a myriad of small, uniform drawers. Each of the drawers had a dymo-tape identifier:
TAPE
AIR PARTS
SCREWS
BOLTS/WASHERS
And so on.
When Dad died, that cabinet ended up in my garage.

Yesterday I finally had the time to replace the patio ceiling fan that corroded apart last year. I opened and took everything out of the box, then compared the scattered bags of parts to the list of everything that was supposed to be there, according to the destructions.
All was well. So I turned on the "Dennis Miller Show" and started work.

These things used to be a nightmare. In the old days it was obvious someone who didn't speak English had written the destructions, and that's why I call 'em that. But the destructions are much improved now... not perfect, but much, much better. Impatience and lack of reading skills on my part are more of a problem now.

All was going well...
Up the ladder, crane your neck, install a component, down the ladder, read the destructions, grab the next stuff to put together for installation.
Everything went like clockwork and I was feeling mighty proud of myself until I got to the "blade installation" part of the process and the destructions called for bolts with washers to attach the blades to the fan motor.
The bolts were in a bag.
Where were the lock washers?

Back to the box with all the packing materials in it...
GOOD GRIEF... Enough styrofoam to make a couple hundred coffee cups, and a ton of irritating little plastic bags that used to have itty-bitty parts in them!
Mutter and search. Mutter some more.
No lock washers.
So I grab a bolt and head to Dad's cabinet, open the door marked "BOLTS/WASHERS", and start digging for the tiny lock washers that fit the bolt. I needed ten of 'em for the five fan blades.

And as I'm digging toward the bottom of the drawer for tiny lock washers the memories come flooding...
All the times Dad was there, over in his chair, letting us do the work and learn from our mistakes, only commenting or advising us when we needed him.

I found ten washers, put them on the bolts, then went back up the ladder...
Only then did I see there were bolts and lock washers in the fan motor that had to be removed, then re-installed with the fan blades. The bolts I had in my hand were extras.
Grumble, mutter, curse.
Damn destructions.
Damn Chinese. I think they do this just to raise an old man's blood pressure and try to kill him.

Dad and I finished the job.
The ceiling fan AND the light on it work fine.
I took the extra bolts and the now not-needed lock washers back to the cabinet drawer marked BOLTS/WASHERS and added them to the others.

Dad is strong there, and I could never have imagined how comforting that cabinet and the memories it sparks would be to me.

Thanks Dad (and Mom), for providing that little hub of activity where EVERYONE was comfortable.
Through those memories you'll both live forever.