Like a kid at Christmas, I got up early last Saturday to install my new stereo. I wired it in and as is predictable with things like this where I am involved, nothing happened. I double checked, triple checked and then checked again. I had everything right and still nothing.
I called tech support and to my shock and delight it was answered by a man with a pleasant demeanor and a firm grasp of English. The radio was getting power because I could hear the CD motor checking for a CD in the slot. He didn't believe me and sent me to get a CD.
Nothing in my world is simple and I ran into the house to get a CD, remembering my juke box of 400 CDs that required I get a remote, open the door, bend over, grab a CD and reverse the process. meanwhile, Mr. Tech support was listening bemusedly to my running commentary. I decided to grab a Christmas CD since they were in a basket to the left of the entertainment center. I just needed a CD... it didn't matter which one.
I put the CD in and the unit took it, illustrating I did indeed have power. Still, nothing was happening. Tech support guy had me do a couple simple changes to the wiring and voila it worked. I immediately turned down the volume to make salutations to the man on the line and hung up after wishing him a happy day.
I then finalized the wiring. I had forgotten the unit was on and that there was a CD playing. When I remembered, I turned it up and it was Luciano Pavoratti singing "Oh Holy Night." Now it wasn't a "holy" anything... it was a standard spring Saturday. And a Saturday morning at that, so "Oh Holy Night" was not at all pertinent - but it sure was appropriate.
Pavoratti had such a wonderful voice. Ageless. God-like. Perfect. I felt good and smiled while I listened to this Christmas hymn in March, enjoying it beginning to end. I had a moment. It was good.
From there it all went down hill. Everything sounded fine until I turned on the car and got terrible feedback and noise from the car's electrical system. All Corvettes, (old Corvettes especially), being fiberglass have notorious ground problems. I was having one now.
I have been having one now, for days, as it is Wednesday and I have spent considerable time futzing and primping and reading and swearing and still the noise persists. It's better, but it isn't gone and that's not good enough.
I leave town for a couple days tomorrow very early. I shall again try tonight to remedy my electrical phantom malady one last time before relenting and going to the professionals. It is not beyond my abilities nor my comprehension to fix this, but it may be beyond my inventory of tools and almost certainly exceeds my patience.
In the mean time, I have a major project that just began at work which will bring to my doorstep a lot of opportunity to travel to the exotic destinations of Detroit and the areas around Detroit. Oh, and Lansing, a town best driven through at high speed with middle finger very intentionally erect and waving in such a manner the gesture could not be misconstrued for anything other than what it is meant to be, I giant steaming slice of effyou. No offense to the inhabitants of the crap-hole that is Lansing. We have an old, deep feud, it's best if you stay out of it.
I hope not to have similar feelings toward my new car stereo which I and my lovely wife have both spent a bit of time on. While it is a budget build, it is still money spent, and so I want it to work as designed and provide me the joy I expected to be included in the boxes at purchase time.
Isn't it true that we all spend a fair amount of time looking for solid ground to help us reduce the noise in our lives? How's that for taking a lighthearted and meaningless post and turning it into something right here at the end? BAM!
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