I've noticed something lately about our news media that concerns me.
When the Taliban first came on my radar screen, just about the time they destroyed the Bamiyan Buddhas, I thought to myself, "these folks are crazy, and are exhibiting behavior that is not gonna win them a bunch of friends!"
The passage of time has made my memory of the chain of events a little fuzzy, but shortly thereafter we heard/saw how Afghani women who "offended Islamic principles" in public were beaten with sticks until they got off the street.
About that same time, this story made headlines:
"The rules of behaviour and dress are draconian and enforced with barbaric cruelty. Last March in Mecca, a girls' school caught fire. Some of the students escaped. But they were without veils. Muttawa zealots herded the panicked girls back into the blazing building. Fourteen teenagers died and dozens more suffered horrific burns. The muttawa later said they hadn't realised the severity of the fire."
That news comes from this article.
I can only say I was horrified and confused.
I knew little about Islam. I was aware of Muslims mostly by encountering the women in the marketplace, wearing their traditional dress. These women were always quiet and unassuming. I had never felt threatened by them. But being aware of the above incidents, it was obvious there were things going on in the Islamic faith that didn't jibe with what I was seein' in the grocery store.
What spooks me a little is this:
The incidents I mention above were all openly reported by our media as things that happened because of fundamentalist Islamic beliefs.
Then came Denmark and the Mohammad cartoons. and it seems to me there has been a change in the way our news is being reported.
These guys,
and this guy,
and the 18 year old that committed this act of terror all have something in common, (and the MSNBC article is the only one that alludes to it...
they're all Muslims.)
A simple question for you-
If all these acts had been committed by fundamentalist Christians, would the fact that fundamentalist Christians were committing these crimes have been a SCREAMING HEADLINE?
Being a Christian, I'm not an objective judge,
but looking at the way news about James Dobson, Pat Robinson, and Jerry Falwell are handled, I think our media would have people all over the world fearful of "these crazy Christians".
I suspect there are many acts of Jihad happening
in the U.S. and the world that our media are not reporting
as acts of Islamic fundamentalist terror.
That troubles me a lot.
That's information I'd like to know.
But all this has served as a caution to me,
and should also cause my Christian brethren to pause and reflect:
If we want others to admire and emulate us, we must love and try to understand our fellow man, and be careful not to fall into "the Taliban" sect of Christianity.
20 February 2007
17 February 2007
Free Installation!
The battery in our 1999 vintage automobile came with the car when it was new.
I intended to replace it this fall, prior to the really cold weather setting in. I forgot.
So when this latest cold spell, (single-digit temperatures), blanketed the area, I figured we'd go out one morning to find the car wouldn't start.
But it's been reliable and hasn't let us down.
Knowing I had pushed my luck pretty far, I went to Wally World to buy a new battery yesterday. There was a method to my madness-
Buy your battery at WW and they will install it free!
On this particular model car, the battery is completely out of sight. There are battery posts readily marked up front, under the hood, but the battery is tucked down under the engine somewhere. I've never seen it, so I had no idea how difficult it would be to replace it.
Why worry? Wally World will do it free!
Taking a look at the batteries on display, it appeared I had two choices-
A "good" battery... 650 Cold Cranking amps, was gonna cost me just under $50.
A "Maxx" battery... 900 Cold Cranking amps, would cost an extra $15. To me, it seemed a no-brainer... I was looking for a battery that would spin the cold engine and make it easier to start. I decided I'd spend the money on the "Maxx".
The helpful clerk behind the counter was named Brett. I told Brett I needed a new battery, and Brett asked what make/model car I owned, stuck his nose in his reference manual, and said "you need a 34N".
He walks over to the display and grabs one of the "good" batteries.
"No, no Brett... I want the larger battery with more power."
(Tim Allen grunts here, please.)
"We can't do that. The spec calls for the 34N."
"What? What spec is that?"
"Our reference book specifies what battery we can install, and the 34N is the battery that goes in your car."
"What kind of craziness is that? The two batteries are the same size!"
"No, they're not."
I grab both batteries and set them on the floor. They appear to be EXACTLY the same size!
"You mean to tell me those batteries are not the same size?"
"Yep."
(Now, my friend Brett has begun to turn on me. He is showing me a little attitude. I don't like clerks that show me attitude.)
"Got a tape measure, Brett?"
"Uhh, well, I don't THINK they're the same size."
"Well Brett, are they or aren't they? They look to be exactly the same outer dimensions. Give me a tape measure Brett!"
"Well even if they are, I can't put that battery in your car because our book specifies the 34N."
I measure the batteries. They are exactly the same size.
"Here Brett, take this piece of paper and pen, and write your store manager's phone number on it, please."
I leave Wally World, having failed my mission, and go to work a full 90 minutes early... the time I figured it might take to install the battery. From work I call the nice Wally World manager and explain how Brett was really not the most helpful of clerks, and ask what is this crap about not being able to sell/install the 900 Cold Cranking amp battery in my car?
My new friend the Wally World manager is very apologetic. He says his clerk is mistaken... that there have been lawsuits (damn lawyers again), and young clerks like Brett sometimes are overly cautious. If I will return to the store, he'll be more than happy to insure I am satisfied.
"No, I really don't think I want Brett and his crew touching my car tonight. How 'bout I come by first thing in the morning?"
"That'll be fine".
So, bright and early in the morning after I am relieved, I return to Wally World to meet my next new friend, Don the installer.
I warn Don that the battery is one of those you cannot see from above.
Don's an expert... "Yeah, we'll have to go through the fender to get to it."
I watch from 20 feet away behind the safety fence as they put the car on the lift and remove the right front tire. They then unscrew four screws in a panel inside the fender, and set the panel aside. Then my new friend Don gets a funny look on his face. He calls another guy over, points at something I cannot see, and they have a little discussion.
He walks across the shop floor and gets another tool kit, and begins to assemble a long line of extensions to his ratchet/socket set.
To make a long story short, much head scratching, lifting/lowering of the car, attacking the battery from above and below followed. In this shop, where experts do this sort of thing all the time, it took them 75 minutes to install my new battery!
When the dust had settled and the car was back on the ground, Don came over and confided,
"I'll never do another one of those!"
So now comes my obvious question-
"Free Installation" if you buy the battery at Wally World...
If this battery turns out to be a dud, can they refuse to install a replacement?
I intended to replace it this fall, prior to the really cold weather setting in. I forgot.
So when this latest cold spell, (single-digit temperatures), blanketed the area, I figured we'd go out one morning to find the car wouldn't start.
But it's been reliable and hasn't let us down.
Knowing I had pushed my luck pretty far, I went to Wally World to buy a new battery yesterday. There was a method to my madness-
Buy your battery at WW and they will install it free!
On this particular model car, the battery is completely out of sight. There are battery posts readily marked up front, under the hood, but the battery is tucked down under the engine somewhere. I've never seen it, so I had no idea how difficult it would be to replace it.
Why worry? Wally World will do it free!
Taking a look at the batteries on display, it appeared I had two choices-
A "good" battery... 650 Cold Cranking amps, was gonna cost me just under $50.
A "Maxx" battery... 900 Cold Cranking amps, would cost an extra $15. To me, it seemed a no-brainer... I was looking for a battery that would spin the cold engine and make it easier to start. I decided I'd spend the money on the "Maxx".
The helpful clerk behind the counter was named Brett. I told Brett I needed a new battery, and Brett asked what make/model car I owned, stuck his nose in his reference manual, and said "you need a 34N".
He walks over to the display and grabs one of the "good" batteries.
"No, no Brett... I want the larger battery with more power."
(Tim Allen grunts here, please.)
"We can't do that. The spec calls for the 34N."
"What? What spec is that?"
"Our reference book specifies what battery we can install, and the 34N is the battery that goes in your car."
"What kind of craziness is that? The two batteries are the same size!"
"No, they're not."
I grab both batteries and set them on the floor. They appear to be EXACTLY the same size!
"You mean to tell me those batteries are not the same size?"
"Yep."
(Now, my friend Brett has begun to turn on me. He is showing me a little attitude. I don't like clerks that show me attitude.)
"Got a tape measure, Brett?"
"Uhh, well, I don't THINK they're the same size."
"Well Brett, are they or aren't they? They look to be exactly the same outer dimensions. Give me a tape measure Brett!"
"Well even if they are, I can't put that battery in your car because our book specifies the 34N."
I measure the batteries. They are exactly the same size.
"Here Brett, take this piece of paper and pen, and write your store manager's phone number on it, please."
I leave Wally World, having failed my mission, and go to work a full 90 minutes early... the time I figured it might take to install the battery. From work I call the nice Wally World manager and explain how Brett was really not the most helpful of clerks, and ask what is this crap about not being able to sell/install the 900 Cold Cranking amp battery in my car?
My new friend the Wally World manager is very apologetic. He says his clerk is mistaken... that there have been lawsuits (damn lawyers again), and young clerks like Brett sometimes are overly cautious. If I will return to the store, he'll be more than happy to insure I am satisfied.
"No, I really don't think I want Brett and his crew touching my car tonight. How 'bout I come by first thing in the morning?"
"That'll be fine".
So, bright and early in the morning after I am relieved, I return to Wally World to meet my next new friend, Don the installer.
I warn Don that the battery is one of those you cannot see from above.
Don's an expert... "Yeah, we'll have to go through the fender to get to it."
I watch from 20 feet away behind the safety fence as they put the car on the lift and remove the right front tire. They then unscrew four screws in a panel inside the fender, and set the panel aside. Then my new friend Don gets a funny look on his face. He calls another guy over, points at something I cannot see, and they have a little discussion.
He walks across the shop floor and gets another tool kit, and begins to assemble a long line of extensions to his ratchet/socket set.
To make a long story short, much head scratching, lifting/lowering of the car, attacking the battery from above and below followed. In this shop, where experts do this sort of thing all the time, it took them 75 minutes to install my new battery!
When the dust had settled and the car was back on the ground, Don came over and confided,
"I'll never do another one of those!"
So now comes my obvious question-
"Free Installation" if you buy the battery at Wally World...
If this battery turns out to be a dud, can they refuse to install a replacement?
15 February 2007
13 February 2007
The Mystery Patient
"Your patient is a 21 year old male. He has severe trauma to his right hand, including fractures, lacerations, torn tendons, and glass and metal contamination."
We arrive to find a red-headed kid that looks like "Butch" from "Our Gang's Little Rascals" waiting for us.
Dad, (also red-headed), is sitting, concerned, in the room with him. Right now "Butch" is frightened with the prospect of losing his hand. But he looks like the kind of kid that would otherwise seek a fight, or, if necessary, start one himself just for the entertainment.
My paramedic asks, "How'd this happen, partner?"
- Looks at his Dad... "I ain't sayin'."
Uh-oh.
As usual, alcohol is involved. He's not falling down drunk, but he's gonna feel more pain in a couple hours... maybe a little headache too.
His injury is serious. Several bones are broken, two tendons are completely severed. His hand looks like roadkill, and is peppered with shards of glass, rocks, and small metal bits. He needs a specialist, and quick.
We load him aboard the aircraft and get started toward the help he needs. Over the intercom I ask my crew the first question that comes to mind:
"Did he and Dad steal a car and wreck it?"
During the 25 minute trip, he offers no clue.
I land at the receiving hospital, unload crew and patient, and head to our main base to refuel.
When I return to pick them up, my crew is smiling- away from Dad, sobering up a little, Butch had spilled the beans:
"You guessed it, Greybeard! He and Dad stole a car and wrecked it. He had his hand out the window, and the car rolled over and crushed it."
Oh well.
Even the "Butches" of the world deserve and get good medical care.
We arrive to find a red-headed kid that looks like "Butch" from "Our Gang's Little Rascals" waiting for us.
Dad, (also red-headed), is sitting, concerned, in the room with him. Right now "Butch" is frightened with the prospect of losing his hand. But he looks like the kind of kid that would otherwise seek a fight, or, if necessary, start one himself just for the entertainment.
My paramedic asks, "How'd this happen, partner?"
- Looks at his Dad... "I ain't sayin'."
Uh-oh.
As usual, alcohol is involved. He's not falling down drunk, but he's gonna feel more pain in a couple hours... maybe a little headache too.
His injury is serious. Several bones are broken, two tendons are completely severed. His hand looks like roadkill, and is peppered with shards of glass, rocks, and small metal bits. He needs a specialist, and quick.
We load him aboard the aircraft and get started toward the help he needs. Over the intercom I ask my crew the first question that comes to mind:
"Did he and Dad steal a car and wreck it?"
During the 25 minute trip, he offers no clue.
I land at the receiving hospital, unload crew and patient, and head to our main base to refuel.
When I return to pick them up, my crew is smiling- away from Dad, sobering up a little, Butch had spilled the beans:
"You guessed it, Greybeard! He and Dad stole a car and wrecked it. He had his hand out the window, and the car rolled over and crushed it."
Oh well.
Even the "Butches" of the world deserve and get good medical care.
12 February 2007
Olbermann/Stanford-Binet
Hey, all you Olbermann fans, (and heaven knows he has tens of 'em!)
Chris Muir devoted his strip to him today.
Enjoy!
11 February 2007
09 February 2007
Waking The Beast
Make one minor change, and the car in the photograph looks exactly like the dust covered car sitting in my garage. The exception is that my car has insignia indicating there is a 454 Cubic Inch/390 horsepower engine under it's hood, while the pictured car has a wimpy 350 C.I. engine.
I wrote earlier about the car and why I was no longer driving it here.
Now that Big Bubba is enjoying 80 degree afternoons in a Phoenix suburb, it's time to brush off the dust, drop in a new battery, and let the 7.4 liter powerplant contribute to global warming.
At 13 miles per gallon, my new Army pension is gonna come in handy.
07 February 2007
Our Nest Is Empty
On the morning of 1 November, 1968, I woke up in the bedroom I had slept in for 18 years, looked at the ceiling, and thought to myself, "when I wake up in my next 'home', some of my neighbors will be shooting at me." I would leave that day for Viet Nam.
My bags were packed.
I had decided I didn't want to lose control and cry at the airport,
so I had a friend come to our house to drive me there...
Goodbyes would be said at our home.
I picked up my bags to carry them to the car. My intent was to put the bags in the trunk, then return for hugs and kisses before driving away.
Dad mistakenly thought I was going out the door for good.
From behind me I heard him call my name in such a strange way, it was like an animal's cry...
When I turned to look at him, he was crying.
Dad wasn't the crying type.
Dad was a macho guy.
He always had trouble expressing his love, but there were enough times like these that I knew he loved me deeply.
That was a hard time, but the past week has been the most stressful of my life.
We've thought about it for years... planned it for weeks.
Our son, our only child, no longer lives in our home.
It's all happened so quickly-
He graduated, interviewed for this job, was offered the position and accepted it, all within a month.
He's never been away from home for more than a week at a time.
Now he's in his own home more than two day's drive away, and going into his empty bedroom hurts so badly we can't stand the thought of cleaning it right now.
It can wait 'til later.
I've not had 8 hours sleep (in a night) in over a week.
I stole hours I should have been sleeping to rent the moving Van.
We packed it and drove 14 hours each of two days, then 3 hours the final day to get to Mesa, Arizona. We then unpacked the Van and began the job of unpacking boxes and constructing "easy to assemble" furniture my son had purchased for his new home.
More sleep deprivation... I "easily assembled" furniture from 8 in the morning until almost 2 A.M. for the next two days.
Yesterday we returned the Van, then flew back to this house that feels mighty empty right now.
I can't help thinking of Mom and Dad, and how strong they had to be to stand and watch their son drive off on his way to fly helicopters in a war where the news was reporting helicopters being shot down on a daily basis.
My son is safely in Mesa, Arizona, yet my heart aches.
How do parents stand sending their children off to war?
God Bless them all!
My bags were packed.
I had decided I didn't want to lose control and cry at the airport,
so I had a friend come to our house to drive me there...
Goodbyes would be said at our home.
I picked up my bags to carry them to the car. My intent was to put the bags in the trunk, then return for hugs and kisses before driving away.
Dad mistakenly thought I was going out the door for good.
From behind me I heard him call my name in such a strange way, it was like an animal's cry...
When I turned to look at him, he was crying.
Dad wasn't the crying type.
Dad was a macho guy.
He always had trouble expressing his love, but there were enough times like these that I knew he loved me deeply.
That was a hard time, but the past week has been the most stressful of my life.
We've thought about it for years... planned it for weeks.
Our son, our only child, no longer lives in our home.
It's all happened so quickly-
He graduated, interviewed for this job, was offered the position and accepted it, all within a month.
He's never been away from home for more than a week at a time.
Now he's in his own home more than two day's drive away, and going into his empty bedroom hurts so badly we can't stand the thought of cleaning it right now.
It can wait 'til later.
I've not had 8 hours sleep (in a night) in over a week.
I stole hours I should have been sleeping to rent the moving Van.
We packed it and drove 14 hours each of two days, then 3 hours the final day to get to Mesa, Arizona. We then unpacked the Van and began the job of unpacking boxes and constructing "easy to assemble" furniture my son had purchased for his new home.
More sleep deprivation... I "easily assembled" furniture from 8 in the morning until almost 2 A.M. for the next two days.
Yesterday we returned the Van, then flew back to this house that feels mighty empty right now.
I can't help thinking of Mom and Dad, and how strong they had to be to stand and watch their son drive off on his way to fly helicopters in a war where the news was reporting helicopters being shot down on a daily basis.
My son is safely in Mesa, Arizona, yet my heart aches.
How do parents stand sending their children off to war?
God Bless them all!
30 January 2007
One Reason For Me To Retire
I could attend a few get-togethers-
From the New York Times, via Instapundit:
"There were a few tense moments, however, including an encounter involving Joshua Sparling, 25, who was on crutches and who said he was a corporal with the 82nd Airborne Division and lost his right leg below the knee in Ramadi, Iraq.
Mr. Sparling spoke at a smaller rally held earlier in the day at the United States Navy Memorial, and voiced his support for the administration’s policies in Iraq.
Later, as antiwar protesters passed where he and his group were standing, words were exchanged and one of the antiwar protestors spit at the ground near Mr. Sparling; he spit back.
Capitol police made the antiwar protestors walk farther away from the counterprotesters.
'These are not Americans as far as I’m concerned,' Mr. Sparling said."
I would love the chance to meet one of these "spitters" in person!
From the New York Times, via Instapundit:
"There were a few tense moments, however, including an encounter involving Joshua Sparling, 25, who was on crutches and who said he was a corporal with the 82nd Airborne Division and lost his right leg below the knee in Ramadi, Iraq.
Mr. Sparling spoke at a smaller rally held earlier in the day at the United States Navy Memorial, and voiced his support for the administration’s policies in Iraq.
Later, as antiwar protesters passed where he and his group were standing, words were exchanged and one of the antiwar protestors spit at the ground near Mr. Sparling; he spit back.
Capitol police made the antiwar protestors walk farther away from the counterprotesters.
'These are not Americans as far as I’m concerned,' Mr. Sparling said."
I would love the chance to meet one of these "spitters" in person!
Caring For My Wife
27 January 2007
Birthday Responses-
Thanks to all for your kind birthday wishes!
And the tone most of you set is true... I passed my class II flight physical again today, although my hearing and eyesight are slightly worse this year than last. I can't complain... I'm still not required to "wear" glasses- just "possess" them.
CP-
I truly think you are right about piloting keeping you young. I'm composing a post about pilots and risk-taking. I'll publish it this week!
FF-
I'm no expert on flying big iron, so I'll expect someone to correct me if I'm mistaken here...
I'm flying as a commercial pilot under Part 135 of the Federal Aviation Regs. The airlines fly under a different Part of the Regs- (Part 121? Help me someone.) Under part 135 I can fly so long as I can pass that Class II flight physical. Some of the guys that fly with my company, (all old Viet Nam Vets like me) are older than 60... one is 63. I also intend to hang on for a few more years!
Slick-
Do I have your current email address?
Again, thanks to all of you.
60 ain't so bad!
And the tone most of you set is true... I passed my class II flight physical again today, although my hearing and eyesight are slightly worse this year than last. I can't complain... I'm still not required to "wear" glasses- just "possess" them.
CP-
I truly think you are right about piloting keeping you young. I'm composing a post about pilots and risk-taking. I'll publish it this week!
FF-
I'm no expert on flying big iron, so I'll expect someone to correct me if I'm mistaken here...
I'm flying as a commercial pilot under Part 135 of the Federal Aviation Regs. The airlines fly under a different Part of the Regs- (Part 121? Help me someone.) Under part 135 I can fly so long as I can pass that Class II flight physical. Some of the guys that fly with my company, (all old Viet Nam Vets like me) are older than 60... one is 63. I also intend to hang on for a few more years!
Slick-
Do I have your current email address?
Again, thanks to all of you.
60 ain't so bad!
25 January 2007
A Day For Personal Reflection
Indulge me please. It's a landmark day for me.
Today I'm 60 years old.
Remember my post about "The Ants And the Grasshopper"?
All my life, I've been an Ant.
For years, I have squirrelled away a goodly portion of my earnings for later use, denying my family the instant gratification those funds could have provided in order to have security "when I get old."
And there's the problem- when I started down this path, "old" was when I turned 60, or 62, or 65.
I'm through the first of those gates and I don't feel old.
I'm blessed with health good enough for me to pass a flight physical and pursue my job as a commercial pilot.
Still, I'm 60.
The Army will start paying me a pension I have anticipated for 41 years.
The day is here. I can't believe it.
Now what?
How wonderful to have options... "the first day of the rest of my life".
Life now presents different paths to follow... and I have decisions to make.
How odd that there is stress in making these decisions, even though things have gone pretty much as planned!
Have I run my race? 60, 62, or 65... Is it time to do the cooldown lap?
What a weird feeling.
Today I'm 60 years old.
Remember my post about "The Ants And the Grasshopper"?
All my life, I've been an Ant.
For years, I have squirrelled away a goodly portion of my earnings for later use, denying my family the instant gratification those funds could have provided in order to have security "when I get old."
And there's the problem- when I started down this path, "old" was when I turned 60, or 62, or 65.
I'm through the first of those gates and I don't feel old.
I'm blessed with health good enough for me to pass a flight physical and pursue my job as a commercial pilot.
Still, I'm 60.
The Army will start paying me a pension I have anticipated for 41 years.
The day is here. I can't believe it.
Now what?
How wonderful to have options... "the first day of the rest of my life".
Life now presents different paths to follow... and I have decisions to make.
How odd that there is stress in making these decisions, even though things have gone pretty much as planned!
Have I run my race? 60, 62, or 65... Is it time to do the cooldown lap?
What a weird feeling.
21 January 2007
My One Night Stand With Agnes
I've mentioned I like motorcycles, but I don't think I've written before about how much I have ridden. I bought my first two-wheeler, a Cushman Motor Scooter quite similar to this one, at age 12 with money earned on my paper route. Law enforcement in our rural county looked the other way as several kids my age gave up bicycles and began to ride the streets.
I bought my first motorcycle when I was 16. I rode various bikes right up until the Army called for my services in '66.
I went bike-less, but stayed attuned to the industry via magazines until I came home from Viet Nam. I had never owned a Japanese motorcycle. I had never owned a bike with a two-cycle engine.
I decided I'd kill two birds with one stone and buy a three cylinder Kawasaki motorcycle.
It was incredibly fast... it would accelerate from 0-60 m.p.h. in 3.2 seconds. When asked about it's performance I would comment, "In first and second gear it's the fastest unicycle in the world!"
It wasn't a good touring bike. Too light. Too noisy.
Still, on three occasions, I rode from Savannah, Georgia to Indianapolis, Indiana...
13 hours, on Kawasaki Triples.
The last of those trips was notable: It was on that trip I met Agnes.
Pardon me, but Agnes was a bitch.
In Mid-June of 1972 I came to Indy to attend a motorcycle race (as a spectator).
I attended the race on Saturday, then started my trip South to Savannah at Noon on Sunday expecting to get home there about 1 A.M., grab a few hours sleep, then go to my job as a Flight Commander. The weather was great and I was making great time. I stopped for fuel in Chattanooga, Tennessee and when I paid for my fuel the guy at the cash register asked, "Where ya headed?"
When I told him Savannah he asked, "Then you haven't heard?"
"Heard what?"
"You're headed right into Hurricane Agnes!"
No, I hadn't heard. And bein' a 25 year old from the Midwest I really had no inkling what a Hurricane could do. Besides, I had to be at work tomorrow, so I really had no choice but to press on, right?
The rain started half an hour later as darkness fell.
Light showers at first- no big deal. It was warm, and I was wearing a windbreaker. I was wet, but I'd been wet before.
Just North of Atlanta the rain worsened.
As I entered Atlanta it was physically difficult to keep the wind from blowing the bike out of my lane. I found a Semi-truck and fell in behind him.
Up close, in his wake, I could control the motorcycle.
Just South of Atlanta, at about 9 P.M., I gave up.
Time to find shelter and warmth! I pulled off at the first exit with a motel.
"Sorry, we have no rooms."
Uh-oh. I hadn't thought of that. Everyone with a lick of sense had stopped long ago and rented rooms. The desk clerk tried to help... called all motels along the Interestate highway for miles.
No luck... no vacancies.
I was soaked. I could tell the clerk really didn't want me to even dampen a chair in his lobby, much less curl up and spend the night there. Reluctantly, I put my butt back on the saddle, got back on the highway, and found myself another big truck to follow.
It poured. And poured. The chain on the machine rusted... the automatic oiler couldn't keep up with that amount of water.
At that time, I-16 from Macon to Savannah was incomplete.
I had to get off the good road and travel 60 or so miles on two-lane roads. About half-way between those two towns, in a little place called Metter, Georgia, I was nearly out of gas.
Late Sunday night/early Monday morning... still pouring down rain, the only gas station in town was closed. I had no choice but to stop.
There was a soft-drink machine next to the front door. I found that by sitting on the ground with my back to the wall next to the beverage machine I could stay mostly out of the rain, and the machine gave off a certain amount of heat. Helmet and windbreaker almost kept me warm. I went to sleep.
The attendant arrived at 7 A.M..
Gray and gloomy, rain still coming down, I refueled and set off on the last 2 hours of my trip.
Finally home, I called my Assistant Flight Commander and told him he'd be on his own for the day. I took a warm shower and hit the sack.
Agnes had hosed me down for more than 9 hours. I had to replace the chain... rusted and stretched, it was ruined.
It's another of those things I wouldn't want to do again. But I'm glad I have the story to tell.
I bought my first motorcycle when I was 16. I rode various bikes right up until the Army called for my services in '66.
I went bike-less, but stayed attuned to the industry via magazines until I came home from Viet Nam. I had never owned a Japanese motorcycle. I had never owned a bike with a two-cycle engine.
I decided I'd kill two birds with one stone and buy a three cylinder Kawasaki motorcycle.
It was incredibly fast... it would accelerate from 0-60 m.p.h. in 3.2 seconds. When asked about it's performance I would comment, "In first and second gear it's the fastest unicycle in the world!"
It wasn't a good touring bike. Too light. Too noisy.
Still, on three occasions, I rode from Savannah, Georgia to Indianapolis, Indiana...
13 hours, on Kawasaki Triples.
The last of those trips was notable: It was on that trip I met Agnes.
Pardon me, but Agnes was a bitch.
In Mid-June of 1972 I came to Indy to attend a motorcycle race (as a spectator).
I attended the race on Saturday, then started my trip South to Savannah at Noon on Sunday expecting to get home there about 1 A.M., grab a few hours sleep, then go to my job as a Flight Commander. The weather was great and I was making great time. I stopped for fuel in Chattanooga, Tennessee and when I paid for my fuel the guy at the cash register asked, "Where ya headed?"
When I told him Savannah he asked, "Then you haven't heard?"
"Heard what?"
"You're headed right into Hurricane Agnes!"
No, I hadn't heard. And bein' a 25 year old from the Midwest I really had no inkling what a Hurricane could do. Besides, I had to be at work tomorrow, so I really had no choice but to press on, right?
The rain started half an hour later as darkness fell.
Light showers at first- no big deal. It was warm, and I was wearing a windbreaker. I was wet, but I'd been wet before.
Just North of Atlanta the rain worsened.
As I entered Atlanta it was physically difficult to keep the wind from blowing the bike out of my lane. I found a Semi-truck and fell in behind him.
Up close, in his wake, I could control the motorcycle.
Just South of Atlanta, at about 9 P.M., I gave up.
Time to find shelter and warmth! I pulled off at the first exit with a motel.
"Sorry, we have no rooms."
Uh-oh. I hadn't thought of that. Everyone with a lick of sense had stopped long ago and rented rooms. The desk clerk tried to help... called all motels along the Interestate highway for miles.
No luck... no vacancies.
I was soaked. I could tell the clerk really didn't want me to even dampen a chair in his lobby, much less curl up and spend the night there. Reluctantly, I put my butt back on the saddle, got back on the highway, and found myself another big truck to follow.
It poured. And poured. The chain on the machine rusted... the automatic oiler couldn't keep up with that amount of water.
At that time, I-16 from Macon to Savannah was incomplete.
I had to get off the good road and travel 60 or so miles on two-lane roads. About half-way between those two towns, in a little place called Metter, Georgia, I was nearly out of gas.
Late Sunday night/early Monday morning... still pouring down rain, the only gas station in town was closed. I had no choice but to stop.
There was a soft-drink machine next to the front door. I found that by sitting on the ground with my back to the wall next to the beverage machine I could stay mostly out of the rain, and the machine gave off a certain amount of heat. Helmet and windbreaker almost kept me warm. I went to sleep.
The attendant arrived at 7 A.M..
Gray and gloomy, rain still coming down, I refueled and set off on the last 2 hours of my trip.
Finally home, I called my Assistant Flight Commander and told him he'd be on his own for the day. I took a warm shower and hit the sack.
Agnes had hosed me down for more than 9 hours. I had to replace the chain... rusted and stretched, it was ruined.
It's another of those things I wouldn't want to do again. But I'm glad I have the story to tell.
19 January 2007
ARGH! What's That Bright Orb?
I tossed and turned most of the night, every half hour or so glancing at the alarm clock... 3:14, 3:30, 4:05, 4:28, 4:58.
The alarm was set for 5:00, so I sat up in bed and turned the alarm off so it wouldn't wake Sara Jean. I HATE working days!
My natural cycle is attuned to night work.
It helps that I love flying at night.
An opposite shift pilot felt ill yesterday and called to say he wasn't coming in today, so I had plenty of warning that I'd be up at "Oh-dark-thirty".
It inevitably means I toss and turn all night long, worrying I'll oversleep.
There's this bright circle in the sky that I don't normally see while I preflight the BK 117!
During the pre-dawn drive to work, I realized I had left my sunglasses at home... had to borrow an extra pair from my female nurse.
(They look mighty pretty on me!)
Back to nights tomorrow, Thank God!
The alarm was set for 5:00, so I sat up in bed and turned the alarm off so it wouldn't wake Sara Jean. I HATE working days!
My natural cycle is attuned to night work.
It helps that I love flying at night.
An opposite shift pilot felt ill yesterday and called to say he wasn't coming in today, so I had plenty of warning that I'd be up at "Oh-dark-thirty".
It inevitably means I toss and turn all night long, worrying I'll oversleep.
There's this bright circle in the sky that I don't normally see while I preflight the BK 117!
During the pre-dawn drive to work, I realized I had left my sunglasses at home... had to borrow an extra pair from my female nurse.
(They look mighty pretty on me!)
Back to nights tomorrow, Thank God!
17 January 2007
This Just In-
I found a large Manila envelope in the mailbox this morning.
The sender was the United States Army. The contents included a letter that starts:
"Dear Major (Greybeard):
Your application for retirement under Title 10, United States Code, Section 12731, has been approved."
The tree planted in 1966 has borne fruit.
WOO-HOO!
The sender was the United States Army. The contents included a letter that starts:
"Dear Major (Greybeard):
Your application for retirement under Title 10, United States Code, Section 12731, has been approved."
The tree planted in 1966 has borne fruit.
WOO-HOO!
15 January 2007
Wildlife
A long, long time ago in a place not too far away,
I was a Flight Commander.
One of the Warrant Officers that worked for me, a guy named "Rex", was an avid sportsman. Professional and a hard worker, I liked him a lot.
But there was a subject we'd frequently argue about: killing deer.
His argument was that hunters sorta play Darwin by culling the numbers and keeping the overall population healthy.
I was 23, and of course knew everything.
I concluded that Darwin's laws would cull the weakest of the herd, leaving the strongest animals to breed and improve the population over time.
Hunters are naturally looking to kill the strongest buck with the largest rack of antlers. So in actuality they are "anti-Darwins".
Looking back, I can still see truth in my argument, but I now know I was no wildlife expert. Today I'm much more aware of what's goin' on around me, and I'm learnin' every day.
This time of year, the sun is long-gone when I leave home for work.
Tonight I backed out of my drive, put the selector in "D", and had gotten all of 15 seconds into my trip to work when a Red Fox darted across the road about 30 feet in front of me.
We don't often see foxes, so the sight brought a smile to my face. But it set me to thinking about the changes in wildlife numbers around our home:
More Foxes. More Deer. More Hawks. Lots of wild Turkeys.
We see a Bald Eagle now and then.
There are no longer any trees within 50 feet of a pond back in the timber behind our house. Beavers have gnawed them all down. Beaver numbers have risen enough that Department of Natural Resources folks have had to relocate several of them to less populated areas.
Wander into our backyard on a clear moonlit night when a train is whistling it's approach at the crossing down the street, and the response of Coyotes will set the hair on your neck standing up. There are a bunch of 'em back there!
I've written previously about the reason for the coyote explosion-
White Tail Deer.
I wish Rex would come sit in my back yard. He could help solve a problem I now have... trying to keep a vegetable garden. Sara Jean and I can testify that deer love tulips, tree seedlings, and most any vegetables when the plants are about two inches tall.
Tonight on my 32 mile drive to work I saw two Does dead alongside the road, struck by motor vehicles. Coyotes chew the carcass at night, Turkey Vultures assist during the day. One carcass was almost totally stripped of meat- it's ribcage gleaming white in my headlights.
I still think deer are beautiful- tawny color and big gorgeous eyes.
But they certainly have become pests. Their numbers are such that in some areas of the State there's not enough food for them all, and some die of malnutrition. The DNR is trying to find ways to properly control the population.
The increase in predators is obviously the result of an increase in prey.
I'm glad to see some of them, like the foxes, more often.
It's also good to see that DNR programs for some endangered animals seem to be working.
My question is, can we keep the predators, but reduce the number of deer eating my garden as it emerges in the Spring?
I was a Flight Commander.
One of the Warrant Officers that worked for me, a guy named "Rex", was an avid sportsman. Professional and a hard worker, I liked him a lot.
But there was a subject we'd frequently argue about: killing deer.
His argument was that hunters sorta play Darwin by culling the numbers and keeping the overall population healthy.
I was 23, and of course knew everything.
I concluded that Darwin's laws would cull the weakest of the herd, leaving the strongest animals to breed and improve the population over time.
Hunters are naturally looking to kill the strongest buck with the largest rack of antlers. So in actuality they are "anti-Darwins".
Looking back, I can still see truth in my argument, but I now know I was no wildlife expert. Today I'm much more aware of what's goin' on around me, and I'm learnin' every day.
This time of year, the sun is long-gone when I leave home for work.
Tonight I backed out of my drive, put the selector in "D", and had gotten all of 15 seconds into my trip to work when a Red Fox darted across the road about 30 feet in front of me.
We don't often see foxes, so the sight brought a smile to my face. But it set me to thinking about the changes in wildlife numbers around our home:
More Foxes. More Deer. More Hawks. Lots of wild Turkeys.
We see a Bald Eagle now and then.
There are no longer any trees within 50 feet of a pond back in the timber behind our house. Beavers have gnawed them all down. Beaver numbers have risen enough that Department of Natural Resources folks have had to relocate several of them to less populated areas.
Wander into our backyard on a clear moonlit night when a train is whistling it's approach at the crossing down the street, and the response of Coyotes will set the hair on your neck standing up. There are a bunch of 'em back there!
I've written previously about the reason for the coyote explosion-
White Tail Deer.
I wish Rex would come sit in my back yard. He could help solve a problem I now have... trying to keep a vegetable garden. Sara Jean and I can testify that deer love tulips, tree seedlings, and most any vegetables when the plants are about two inches tall.
Tonight on my 32 mile drive to work I saw two Does dead alongside the road, struck by motor vehicles. Coyotes chew the carcass at night, Turkey Vultures assist during the day. One carcass was almost totally stripped of meat- it's ribcage gleaming white in my headlights.
I still think deer are beautiful- tawny color and big gorgeous eyes.
But they certainly have become pests. Their numbers are such that in some areas of the State there's not enough food for them all, and some die of malnutrition. The DNR is trying to find ways to properly control the population.
The increase in predators is obviously the result of an increase in prey.
I'm glad to see some of them, like the foxes, more often.
It's also good to see that DNR programs for some endangered animals seem to be working.
My question is, can we keep the predators, but reduce the number of deer eating my garden as it emerges in the Spring?
12 January 2007
Making a "Grand Entrance"
That's a Robinson R44.Made by the Robinson Helicopter Company of Torrance, California, it has room for a Pilot and three passengers. Powered by a 540 cubic inch Lycoming engine, it can cruise at 120 miles per hour in heated/air conditioned comfort all day long.
I love the thing.
Yesterday, I got the chance to do something I love to do-
Most of the time, I fly students in the smaller Robinson-
the two seat R22.
Yesterday one of my students decided he wanted some time in the four-seater. Another helicopter flying friend had advised me of a nearby restaurant that has a large empty field adjacent to it, perfect for landing the helicopter. Wonderful!
Our R44 introductory flight included an off-airport landing, and dinner.
One of the neat things about helicopters is the amount of attention they attract. People going into the restaurant stopped to watch as we landed. People leaving the restaurant stopped to watch as we cooled and shutdown the engine. We secured the machine and walked to the restaurant, passing through the crowd like a couple of Rock Stars, answering the normal questions:
Is it harder to fly than an airplane?
How fast can it go?
Ya gotta be real careful about off-airport landings.....
Rotorwash can blow stuff and cause damage to surrounding property.
People can be a problem too- I once flew a U.S. Congressman to a meeting in a nearby town and landed, surrounded by a cordon of police cars I had called to secure the area. As I shut the helicopter down, 25 kids from an adjacent apartment complex came scurrying over to see what was happening. If the police hadn't been there to stop them there was no way I could have protected them, or the helicopter.
There were no such problems yesterday though.
I ordered short-ribs. They were unbelievable..... tasty, and you could shake the bone and the meat would fall off.
And best of all.....
knowing the financial plight of his instructor, my student picked up the tab!
08 January 2007
BlogTag!
Dave Starr tagged Aviatrix.
Aviatrix tagged me and four others.
The assignment is to reveal five things my readers don't know about me. Click her link above and go read her revelations.....
Go ahead.... I'll wait here patiently for your return.
Dum de dum dum..... dum de doo dah......
Earthshaking stuff, huh?
An inflatable Dolphin?
Unless that Dolphin is an anatomically correct version of Dan Marino,
I gotta say there's just not much there that tweaks my tweaker!
Sure, after a few beers I'd enjoy hearing more about her close encounter with becoming a spy, or maybe the "Olympic team" story, but those are about the only reveals there I'd care to pursue.
My first reaction was.....
"C'mon, there's no RED MEAT here!"
Then I started thinking about whether and how I would respond to bein' tagged, and realized it might be difficult for me to meet the requirement.
Aviatrix has done a great job of sticking to her Blog's subtitle...
she's stayed pretty close to writing a "discourse about aviation stuff."
Now and then she has shared some VERY personal things goin' on in her life... interesting too, but the detailed information she has revealed, for the most part, has been related to how it affects her job or her pursuit of a job.
On the other hand, as she indicates in her post, I've been much more forthcoming here at Pitchpull...
"Musings about life through the eyes of an old helicopter pilot".
But her reason for tagging me-
"....because there are a number of things that his readers know about him and can predict he will say...."?
Ouch.
But maybe she's right-
I've aired quite a bit of my dirty laundry here. And maybe I am predictable.
But it is harder for me to come up with facts you don't know because I've already told you many things I'm ashamed of..... stuff I hoped many of you had either experienced yourself or had been directly exposed to in your life, so you'd realize I'm an ordinary guy with many of life's problems and be more comfortable coming here, reading my now-and-again rants.
So I sat with pen and paper and gave it some thought.
Hoping to avoid having you yawn while reading my list, I tried to expose certain things that would make you say "hmmmmm!",
(at least while reading the lead-in.)
I also decided to follow the "Baker's Dozen" rule....
I'll give you six facts for the price of five so you don't feel shortchanged.
I do reserve the right to Blog about any and all of these things in further detail sometime in the future!
So without further ado-
SIX THINGS YOU PROBABLY DON'T KNOW ABOUT ME:
1. I WAS A CAR THIEF...
Well, sorta.
When I was 13, a friend and I came home at dusk one evening to find a pickup truck parked in my driveway. The pickup belonged to one of my Dad's co-workers. Dad had driven it home from work and the co-worker planned on stopping by later to drive it home.
My parents weren't home.
The keys were in the ignition.
Today, a good lawyer would call this circumstance "an attractive nuisance".
We went for a 15 minute joyride and got back safely. Ten minutes after our return the co-worker arrived and came to the door, announcing he was leaving with his truck. Why he didn't notice the truck was already at operating temperature when he started it is beyond me. Maybe he did and just said nothing...... I'll never know.
But that night, two barely teenaged boys stole (borrowed?) his truck and got away with it.
2. SIX DEGREES OF GREYBEARD...
I shook hands with President Nixon in 1971. If you are aware of the game "Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon", you know that shaking hands with President Nixon probably puts me within six degrees of most of the population of the world, including Kevin Bacon.
For instance- I'm just two degrees from Presidents Eisenhower, Truman, Kennedy, Johnson, Ford, Carter, and Reagan, certainly.
Nikita Kruschev, Leonid Breshnev, and Chairman Mao are also on that list.
The list could go on and on...... you get the picture.
Shaking hands with me puts you in pretty tall cotton.
3. GREYBEARD AND U.S. HISTORY...
I have a semi-interesting family surname.
I can't say it's uncommon, because there are variations of it making it VERY common. Our family surname is frequently misspelled because hearing it, folks assume a more common spelling. There are so few people who spell their last name as our family does, we can pretty much assume those that do are related to us in some way.
Back in 1968, during a break between classes at ARMY flight school, I went to the Men's room and had a Warrant Officer Candidate approach me. Having seen my name tag he asked, "Sir, where are you from?" Only then did I notice we shared the same last name. I told him I was from Indianapolis, Indiana, and found out he was from Pennsylvania.
The next day I met him again in the Men's room. He walked up with a smile and asked, "Sir, is your Father's name Harlie?" Ya coulda knocked me over with a feather! His Dad had met my Dad sometime in the past, and we were distantly related.
Anyway, the point of this story is that 200-some years ago, a man from Delaware with my surname signed both the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the United States.
Another probable distant relative was in command of the first airplane to cross the Atlantic ocean- the date was September of 1917. That flight also was instrumental in cementing the use of the letter "N" as the beginning of U.S. aircraft registration numbers.
(The Golf Course at the Pensacola Naval Air Station is named for this man, and the airplane is on display at the museum there.)
None of that adds a cent to my paycheck, but it's still interesting stuff.
4. I WAS THE YOUNGEST NEWSBOY IN INDIANA, MAYBE IN THE U.S.
Now, let me back off that claim just a little-
Although I'm pretty sure, there's no way I can prove that.
I was ten years old. I wanted the paper route, but my parents and the route manager were worried I was too young to handle the responsibility. The route manager came and interviewed me, and after talking with my parents and me, decided to take the chance.
I had the route for almost five years.
It was a great experience, teaching me volumes about managing money, and life in general.
5. I NEARLY FAILED MY FLIGHT INSTRUCTOR EXAMINATION...
I was an Instructor Pilot in the ARMY.
I wanted to teach as a civilian, but to do that I had to take the civilian written and practical exams. The written exam was one of those that takes forever to complete..... it's a comprehensive son-of-a-gun.
I bought a test guide to help me prepare for the exam. I'd lie in bed every night reading the guide and found it to be one of the best sleep aids invented by man!
BORING, BORING, BORING!!!
I finally gave up studying and decided to risk taking the exam.
If I passed it, that would be wonderful.... a cause for celebration.
If I failed it, at least I'd get the results from the exam to show me where I needed to focus my study efforts for the retake.
It took me almost exactly four hours to complete that sucker, and when I finished my head was swimming.
I was certain I had failed it.
When the test results came in the mail, I opened the envelope cautiously.....
I got a 70! (One point from failure.)
That fact doesn't change my paycheck either!
6. I HAVE HERPES...
Oh yuck.
Well that lead is also a little misleading-
I DO NOT have genital herpes!
Like many of you, I had Chicken Pox as a kid... No big deal.
Fast forward to when I was 18...
I met a gal I was pretty enamored with.
Night after night, week after week I spent time with her I should have used to get much needed sleep. I exhausted my reserves and lowered my immune system's ability to protect me. I got a disease called "Shingles".
Shingles is cause by a virus called "Herpes Zoster",
the same virus that causes Chicken Pox.
Allowing my immune system to be degraded allowed the virus to flare up and reappear as Shingles.
Interestingly, just this week it was announced that a vaccine has been developed to be given to people over age 60 which will protect them against shingles.
You can bet I'll be taking that vaccine soon!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So there ya go.....
I've met my assignment, and more.
And ya know what? There's still more to tell!
Watch this space.
05 January 2007
Olby, Olby, Olby!
Some time back, we had a discussion about ratings on Cable TV News Channels.
Ratings are out for the past week.... let's check 'em out, shall we?
(Via Drudgereport.com)
CABLE NEWS RACE
THURS, JAN 4, 2007 VIEWERS
FOXNEWS O'REILLY 2,505,000
FNC HANNITY/COLMES 1,802,000
FNC SHEP SMITH 1,374,000
FNC HUME 1,258,000
FNC GRETA 1,194,000
CNN KING 1,014,000
CNN COOPER 835,000
CNN DOBBS 814,000
CNNHN GRACE 676,000
MSNBC OLBERMANN 665,000
MSNBC SCARBOROUGH 648,000
CNN ZAHN 643,000
CNNHN BECK 467,000
MSNBC MATTHEWS 424,000
Wow,
That Keith Olbermann is really zooming up the charts, isn't he?
10th place!
Watch out O'Reilly, you "worst person" you!
Ratings are out for the past week.... let's check 'em out, shall we?
(Via Drudgereport.com)
CABLE NEWS RACE
THURS, JAN 4, 2007 VIEWERS
FOXNEWS O'REILLY 2,505,000
FNC HANNITY/COLMES 1,802,000
FNC SHEP SMITH 1,374,000
FNC HUME 1,258,000
FNC GRETA 1,194,000
CNN KING 1,014,000
CNN COOPER 835,000
CNN DOBBS 814,000
CNNHN GRACE 676,000
MSNBC OLBERMANN 665,000
MSNBC SCARBOROUGH 648,000
CNN ZAHN 643,000
CNNHN BECK 467,000
MSNBC MATTHEWS 424,000
Wow,
That Keith Olbermann is really zooming up the charts, isn't he?
10th place!
Watch out O'Reilly, you "worst person" you!
04 January 2007
Meet, Greet, Eat, Bleat...
If you're a pilot that Blogs or a Blogger that levitates with no visible means of support, there's something neat in the works you need to be aware of-
The IFR Pilot has started the ball rolling towards a meeting of folks who write Blogs I have read and enjoyed for some time now.
We're in the initial planning stage- still trying to sort out the best place to meet. (Right now, it looks as if we're gonna have access to a lot of Canadian beer).
If you fly and have an interest in meeting and sharing an experience with a bunch of folks with large egos, click this link to add your name to the mailing list.
I think it'll be lotsa fun.
I KNOW it'll be interesting!
The IFR Pilot has started the ball rolling towards a meeting of folks who write Blogs I have read and enjoyed for some time now.
We're in the initial planning stage- still trying to sort out the best place to meet. (Right now, it looks as if we're gonna have access to a lot of Canadian beer).
If you fly and have an interest in meeting and sharing an experience with a bunch of folks with large egos, click this link to add your name to the mailing list.
I think it'll be lotsa fun.
I KNOW it'll be interesting!
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