ACT OF GOD

before the act

Can't help but hear about Toyota every day. The media playing the Toyota card for the very last drop of blood they can get out of it. Sure, it's not a good thing to be 75 yr old, driving a new Camry, loving your new car, then it's going faster than you can think and it's not like you're in the wide open spaces. They say a certain number have died; therefore, it's really bad. What's worse is interior fires in cars, pickups, tractors, big trucks. After my Toyota burned up, no fault of Toyota mfg, a mouse did it, I talked with people I knew and everybody I talked with either knew somebody who died in a burning car or knew somebody who knew somebody who did. A lot more vehicles burn up per year with people in them.

Nobody wants to be Joan of Arc, but an awful lot of people have done it quite unexpectedly, never thinking that a burning car interior is far more fatal than the gas tank exploding. I talked with an insurance man about making something of keeping a fire extinguisher. The issue with my truck could have been prevented before it got going if I'd had a fire extinguisher. It would have saved the truck, saved the insurance corporation paying. It would cost more to start requiring fire extinguishers, or even to be educational about it, than it costs to pay for burned up cars. I'm here to tell it for nothing, a fire extinguisher that doesn't cost very much can save your car and maybe your life. The interior of a car is fuel. All made of oil, like the gas in the tank. It doesn't explode like a near empty gas tank would; it burns like kerosene. That's to say it's about the same as burning gasoline except it doesn't explode when it starts.

The news media went into a feeding frenzy around Toyota for something that is definitely worth noting, but I'd feel confident in guessing a whole lot more people have burned up in a car fire agonizingly over the last year than have had a Toyota jump into hyperspeed. They don't bother to tell about that. It's too sad a story. Who do you blame but civilization? The same as with roadkill. I keep my fire extinguisher in the arm rest box in the middle of the front seat, beside me. All I do is flip the latch. I'm not putting it in the trunk or back seat area. It's right beside me like Jesse James's .45. When a mouse was the cause of the fire, it can only be called an act of God, which takes it to a whole new way of looking at it.

I can't help but think, if it's an act of God, then it could only be a blessing, a gift. It looked like the truck was taken away, which it was. Seeing the flames beyond reversing, I settled into acceptance right away, and once I accepted, I watched the fire thinking, something's going on and I don't know what it is. I was seeing the truck as needing to be cleared out of the way for what's next. Insurance gave me 4 times what I could have sold it for. That was one benefit. I started driving Jr's car because he wasn't using it, at his suggestion. I laugh remembering what he said when I told him I'd like to buy his car, "I aint sellin my damn car!" And I remember the time he said to me when he was ready to turn over to sleep, "Take a fool's advice, don't be in a hurry." I was thinking in that direction, anyway, but it was all the better to hear him say it. It carried more weight than coming from me. Vehicle buying and selling is not my art form.

Jerry Edwards sold the car to Jr for $500 when he found a great bargain on a next to new car. He told me he'd got a good deal on the car because it had been in a wreck. Tore up the right front end, which I already knew from looking at the paint and the way the right fender isn't a factory perfect fit. Jerry told me not to take it on a long trip. I didn't know what he meant then, and don't know what it means now. When Chuck Billings was bringing it up to speed, he found it needed a new ball joint in right front. Jerry said he'd replaced the one on the left front. New alternator, new wires, fuel injection system flushed, timing set, new plugs, new fuel pump. The car runs like new. Sometimes when I pull up out front, I'll let it idle for awhile and listen to the smooth motor. I thank Chuck every day for being a good mechanic when I'm driving it.

I didn't see it while the truck was burning, while I was thinking something was next, though knew not what. It turned out to be a simple transition from a truck that was nearly consumed underneath by rust, the slow fire, to Jr's car, the car I wanted to buy anyway. The estate gave it to me for my time with Jr, which I accepted gratefully, the car I actually wanted for my next/last vehicle, my old man car, 93 Buick Century, gray. The interior is perfect, just one degree shy of new. It's a good car. That was Jr's assessment the day I mentioned a tuneup would help his car run better, "There's nothin wrong with that car! That's a good runnin car!" He was right. I knew it then. I know it better now. A tune-up did help. This winter showed me the measure of the car. Minimal, very minimal rust, a perfect-running v6, a legend in good engines. With my fire extinguisher at my side, I believe the Catfish and I will go far together. I wouldn't be afraid to take it on a long drive.

SNOW WEARY

convergence

I blazed a trail up the driveway to my neighbor's the Carpenters, primarily to see if the car would make it. It better than made it. It showed me what it could do. The snow had shrunk down to 4 or 5 inches. That's about what I anticipated when I took it up there. I wanted to make some tracks too that might melt on these afternoons of a couple hours above freezing. Got a few pictures from the deck at the house. Above is one of them, the convergence of two branches running from springs nearby on their way to the creek, Waterfalls Creek, origin of the Little River that runs through Sparta on its way to the New River, Ohio River, Mississippi River, Gulf of Mexico, the Atlantic Ocean. The springs that feed into it are at the very edge of the Continental Divide. The 2 lane highway is the dividing line a good bit of the way. Springs the other side of the Parkway flow to the Atlantic.

I haven't yet driven the Catfish on the Parkway. Must remember to do that when weather allows. The Blue Ridge Music Center is a nice drive up the Parkway, a drive at a good smooth pace. Mountain Music Jamboree a nice drive the other way, more dramatic, big vistas. Less people on the Parkway now that gas costs so much. Gives the fellers running liquor a clear road to run, be careful of the deer.

I have to confess to being bored by the snow and freezing temperatures, cold and wet when the temperature is above freezing. The snow was too deep to be an enjoyment walking in it, and by now it's so wet and slushy it's not easy keeping a foothold on a bank. The snow is so wet if you fall down, you're wet like falling in water. At night the slush freezes. It freezes and thaws, freezes and thaws. I look out the window and want to stay inside. The cats see a dog tail go by the window that makes indoors a good place to be.

Of course, after this long a time below freezing my water has been frozen awhile. A trickle runs through, enough for the toilet, which is all I ask. A few days and nights of nothing but below freezing, and it got the trickle. The water came back when the temp rose during the day. I drove up to the other house to get 6 gallons of water. I keep half gallon ocean spray bottles and fill them with water. Driving was the way to do it. I thought of walking, but that's the same as 2 5gal buckets, 3gal of water in each one. One in each hand, a lot of weight. Carried them 6 in a bag, easy to carry, just too heavy for walking from here to there and back. From the house to the car, no problem, from the car to the house, no problem.

I was happy to see ol Catfish could pull its way through 4 and 5 inches of snow. Turning in to the driveway I had the slush from the snow in the road the dumptruck scoop threw over. It was something I aimed to plow through in a hurry to break through it. It didn't work like that. Distracted by something else, I found I had stopped with the front wheels in that pile by the side of the road. It was a little slippery, but I went through it like there's nothing to it. I like front wheel drive, like it a lot. It walked right up the driveway with narry a slip. Of course, I wasn't racing it, but feeling it along like the tires were my shoe soles.

This winter certainly has given me plenty of chances to get a measure of how it does on snow and ice. Better than anything I've owned before. The 4wheel Toyota pickup that burned was good on snow with 4wheel. Not at all with rear wheel. It was ok on ice too, but I don't think as good as the Buick because of the center of gravity. The pickup's was way high, which worked fine most of the time. In Dead Man's Curve I had to watch it. It tilted too easily for my comfort. This Buick hugs the road in that curve like it's saying to me, go ahead, see what I can do. It doesn't take the curve like a sports car, which is ok. I don't need it to. It's my old man car. I just need it to get me there.

It sounds like an army of helicopters going overhead. Earlier I heard one going south to north, took it for a medical helicopter on its way to Alleghany hospital. At first I thought the helicopter I heard less than half an hour later, going north to south, would be the same one on its way back. Then I heard another go one direction and another go another direction. Who knows? I'm not even going to question what it's about. I have nothing to go by for guessing. A blinder guess than pennies in a gallon jar. Helicopters in the night. As long as I don't hear machine gun fire, I know they're not making a movie.

CARS

cloud on bullhead 14dec09


The only thing of importance today was picking up the Catfish after Chuck did some more work on it, like a major part he could not have to put on until today. Ordered. It's the fuel pump assembly that goes down inside the gas tank. Meaning the gas tank had to be taken off, emptied first, the old fuel pump assembly taken out and the new one put in. The pipes that came out of it to run the gas forward to the engine, had corroded and were seeping gas. Plus, the reading on the dashboard from E to F changed. Before, the needle went way above the F when full. When the needle was at F it was half full. Now the needle more accurately describes what's in the tank.



I feel happy with the Catfish in near perfect running order. Chuck did a beautiful job on it. I like to ride in it now just to feel the engine run smoothly, the muffler absorbing the exhaust sound, new filters, new brakes, clean throughout the flushed cooling system and flushed fuel injection system. New tires. It's a joy to drive. Maybe I can get some car deodorant called New Car Smell. Except those things only smell like chemicals to me. I don't need chemicals to tell me the car runs fine, and I believe it will for a long time. I'm still taken by how like new the interior is after 16 years and 128k miles.



Jerry takes good care of a car. He's like my uncle Sonny in that way. Sonny bought a 1954 Chevy brand new. He kept it and drove it as his primary car for a very long time. He kept it clean and waxed all the time. Never a spot of rust. It looked brand new off the showroom floor. When he bought a new Chevy up in the 90s, he put the 54 in his dad's garage. He loved his car. I have an appreciation for cars, always have had. If I had chosen a life of luxury, I'd have the finest cars in the land. They would be my treasures. Since I can't afford to have material treasures, it's been a lifetime of getting used to it. It's like Jr's trophies he cared little about. He didn't like that they were stolen, but he didn't miss them.



Sonny came home from WW2 with stress syndrome. Stayed in his room alone all day and all night. I was told to leave him alone. He had a calendar with that picture of early Marilyn Monroe nude on the red bedsheet. Sonny was known for liking spicy calendars. How many years out of high school? 2 or 3? As Sonny started coming around he began to have girlfriends. One I remember worked at the ticket booth of a movie theater in downtown Kansas City. She had red fingernails, red lipstick and she smoked Pall Malls. Mid 1940s. The big story I remember when I was 4 she was robbed. A man pulled a gun on her and told her to hand over the money. She fainted and he left. Management was very happy with her. I missed her when she quit coming around. She paid attention to the little kid and the kid was enchanted with her. She had the classic 40s glamor girl look with the permed hair, high heels and a cigarette.



My grandmother, mother's mother, when she was here told me of the time her brother in law, her husband's older brother ("He was one of them mean Germans"), beat her up really bad when she was pregnant with Sonny. That was the day she quit loving her husband. Sonny was ok, but she couldn't help but see a connection with his mental instability as a result of the war experience, whatever it was. I was never told and never asked. Sonny found a woman when he was getting some psychiatric help who was also getting psychiatric help. They eventually married and had a girl who needed psychiatric help. I don't mean like they were people whose heads leaned over on one shoulder. He worked for Bell telephone from his first job after the Army to retirement. A lineman. Loved it. They were good people. Sonny's wife Helen called me The Reader. She liked to read too. We were the only ones. The ones that needed psychiatric help. Or rather the ones that recognized they needed it.



Sonny grew up on golf courses, his dad a greenskeeper. By the time he was out of high school, he was playing in tournaments around KC and winning. He and his dad won father-son tournaments all the time. He wanted to go the way of pro golfer, but that old mental instability killed it. Nonetheless, he won a lot of amateur tournaments, played a good game up until he couldn't play any more. Had a lot of trophies. It was like he was born with golf in his blood. Sonny was a good natured kind of uncle to have. Always good with the kid who looked up to him. All his nephews looked up to him. James Joseph Brink, Jr.



Uncle Sonny comes to mind in relation to taking care of cars. The man could take care of a car. If I wanted to live the life of having a garage, a yard, garden hose to wash the car in the yard with, I could be one to take care of a car like Sonny did, with him as my role model growing up. I thought it was really neat to wash and wax a car. In high school years I was way into custom cars. Daryl Starbird was in Wichita and brought a big custom car show to Wichita every year. In this later time of the life looking back, I tell myself if I'd followed my heart I'd have gone into auto body work with customizing as my purpose. I also don't believe that's where my heart would have led me, because it had the chance and didn't. It's a kind of work I believe I would have enjoyed a great deal more than many others. But I am now where my heart led me.

93 BUICK CENTURY

as above so below

The last 2 days driving the Catfish, Jr's car, has been an enjoyment after the tuneup. When I start the engine I sit and listen to it run smoothly. When I stop, I do the same, sit and listen to it run. I turned it over to Chuck Billings of Billings Tire and Auto for a couple days. I wanted it tuned up, flushed, new exhaust system, new tires, taillight, headlight, new brakes in front, right front wheel bearings, the works. I wanted to use the insurance money to bring it up to like new. And it took it.

This car is up and running now. One more thing yet to do Monday, Chuck has to take the gas tank out and replace something that goes inside it with the fuel pump. Big job. It will be the difference between the 15mpg it's been getting and the 25mpg it will get when this is fixed. All the way around, I feel like I came out of that burning pickup incident on level ground. I felt like the insurance co gave me a fair deal. Jr's car took all of it to bring it up to like new. It doesn't burn oil. It's a classic 3300 v6 that has the same reputation as the Chevy Nova slant-6. It will run forever. When the cars have given out, the motors can be used for all kinds of things in the developing (third) world.

The car has a sound body in good shape. Very minimal rust for something 16 years old. All running parts in good condition. After Chuck going over with new wires, plugs, filters, brakes, ol Catfish is a pleasure to drive. It was good before, but I heard every little sound, listened to it idle, skipping and jumping, anxious to get a good mechanic to tune the whole thing up from front to back. By Monday evening when I'm driving the Catfish from Chuck's shop to home, I'll be so happy with the car, secure going into winter.

Two things I have to be hyper aware of. Leaving the headlights on when I use them during the day in a rain. That's an automatic dead battery. Leave the lights on, walk away from the car, dead battery. And don't let the gas needle reach 1/4 tank. That's empty. I found out 3 times when it was Jr's. The needle stays above the F until the gas is down to about a half tank, then it slips below the F and then it's a race to the empty zone. As soon as it starts dipping below F, I fill it. Maybe this new part Chuck is putting in Monday will alter that. I'll probably never know, because I don't let it get anywhere near a quarter tank anymore. I don't like running out of gas or a dead battery. There's always somebody to help, I always make it, but don't like it anyway.

Up to now, I've been a "Toyota man." I've had 3. I've loved them all. They drive beautifully, they run forever, they handle well, the doors don't weigh half a ton, and they seem to me sensibly made. They're not opulent. But they rust. And the wiring goes bad. And when that happens, that's it. First Toyota pickup I had ran beautifully way past 200k, but the frame rusted so bad there was no repairing it. The next one, the frame rusted past repair. The van got bad wiring that could never be found and could only be cured by replacing the whole wiring system. This Buick Century, the same age as the Toyota that burned, has negligible rust. The Toyota didn't burn oil and this doesn't either. The Buick's hole in the muffler is gone and the thing runs quiet now. The engine is a smooth steady rhythm and no exhaust noise.

I want to take care of this car, treat it right, drive it right. I think of it as Jr's car and I want to honor it as such. It will always be Jr's car. I'll keep it in good shape for him. It's a living memory of Jr. Ross has the same living memory when he's in the shop. I have it in the car. I'll regard it with the same respect I have for Jr and Jr's memory. In a way, he kind of sits beside me when I'm driving it. Front wheel drive isn't tolerant of drifting eyes while driving. Rear wheel drive tends to keep the front wheels straight ahead on their own so I could gaze all about while driving and no problem with the road. With 4-wheel and front wheel drive, the front wheels go where my eyes go. I have to keep the eyes straight ahead on the road.

It's nice having a car that runs like brand new and so plain looking nobody would steal it. I've never had an American car. I've never had a car. Only Toyota trucks and van. I was very happy with them, but they don't last. I like to make a vehicle last as long as it has any life in it. The first pickup I took to Herbert Barr in good shape but for rusted frame. The van is useless. The 94 rusted out underneath then immolated itself like Quang Duc. Now I'm in a 93 American made car and it's running good. It looks like even if I live longer than I want to, this car will be running well. In the summer I want to get it painted, and keep on making improvements on it, in a sense restoring it.

It will be my old man car. Wednesday I was given my old man hat at the BROC meeting. The director from Wilkesboro was here for the meeting, Dare, and she always brings something like pens, note pads. This time she brought some hats for the men. Blue old man ball caps with the billboard on the front and the mesh in the back with the bill straight across. A good dark blue that is not Navy, just blue, and white letters BLUE RIDGE OPPORTUNITY COMMISSION. I love it. It's my Hillbilly Show hat from here on. I'll wear it driving the Catfish. Nobody will ever suspect he's a juvenile delinquent with white hair, an old man hat and an old man car. Great camouflage. Maybe I can spray can paint it desert storm cammo. No. Gray is better cammo on a car. Look out. You never know which one of those old guys you see in anonymous cars is a juvenile delinquent in disguise.