Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Spring? Death!

Oh, the things I learn rolling around in the dirty garage. Today was too nice not to take some time to service my Corvette in anticipation of the summer driving season. At the end of last season, the brake master cylinder crapped out, leaving the car with no brakes. I had just had the rear brakes completely redone and the fact that something on the car worked as it should made some related components fail.

Sounds funny, but it happens all the time. Change a belt and the water pump fails, put in a new battery and the alternator goes bad. I have suffered at the hands of the gods of automotive irony far too often to disavow my belief in them. They exist. I promise you.

Out with the sludgy black oil from last season, in with the new clean stuff. New master cylinder and partial bleeding of that system (I need help to finish). The grease zircs are greased and the fluids are all checked and topped off.

And yet spring is nowhere to be found. It is going to snow on Friday, (according to the weather people who are unimpeachable with respect to their job performance), so I'm sorta proverbially all dressed up with no place to go. I guess the thing to focus on is that when I have somewhere to go, I am ready.

Even though it has remained stubbornly cold, it has been amazingly beautiful with sun and clear blue skies. If it isn't perfect to be in it is at least perfect to look at. Sometimes halfway perfect is perfect enough.
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In this blog a couple weeks ago, I ruminated on car magazines. It was a really boring blentry, hence its title "Really Boring Blentry." In that blentry, I sorta chastised on David E. Davis Jr. for being pompous and patrician though undeniably knowledgeable. I railed against him for bitching about being old and dying of cancer.

He died, Saturday. Technically not from cancer, but from complications from surgery to treat the cancer. We all know the real reason he died, though. It is so obvious that it doesn't really even need to be said. But, I will say it anyway. I killed him. I killed him with my blog.

D.E.D. was an amazing editor and a very talented writer in his own right. Near the end of his life, he was bored and googled himself and found my blog, because I mentioned him by name. He saw my misuse of commas, overwrought phraseology, problems with subject/verb agreement and just lost the will to live.

I am sorry Mr. Davis that I killed you. I shall now borrow your sign-off unapologetically as it is indeed your legacy as I see it. Whiskey! Freedom!

1 comment:

  1. I will help you bleed the brakes tonight. Because I want to ride in the 'Vette. That's another blah, blah, blog entry: Emily wants to keep the car and Bill wants to sell it.

    Maybe until we finally get a new garage. Then I hope you'll change your mind.

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