Down the Hall on Your Left

This site is a blog about what has been coasting through my consciousness lately. The things I post will be reflections that I see of the world around me. You may not agree with me or like what I say. In either case – you’ll get over it and I can live with it if it makes you unhappy. Please feel free to leave comments if you wish . All postings are: copyright 2014 – 2018

Archive for the category “Automobiles”

Names, Nicked And Otherwise

 

THE OTHER DAY AN ACQUAINTANCE OF MINE moseyed up to me and asked me about the license plate on my car. What is on the car is called a “Vanity Plate” – a customized message for which I pay extra every year.

The plate on the Toyota reads: “KRAFTY.”

My acquaintance asked me what that meant, or to quote him – “What’s that all about?” If we had actually been friends he would have already known.

I explained to him that KRAFTY has been my nickname since childhood. It was a rational play off of my last name. Duh! He then asked me if I had any other nicknames. I didn’t know what he was fishing for, but I played along.

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Throwback Thursday from June 2015 – “Excuse Me If I Destroy Your World”

 

Excuse Me If I Destroy Your World

Dogs eat carTHIS MORNING AS I WALKED into the Friendly Confines of St. Arbucks for my morning coffee I saw that The Usual Suspects were already deep in prayer, or whatever you want to call all of them talking at once.

When I slid into my pew it became obvious that they were all worked up about the Kroger store – just a Molotov Cocktails throw across the parking lot.

It seems that a number of early shoppers had been parking in the Fire Lane and the Handicapped (Gimp) Parking spots illegally.

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I Think I’ll Take The Bus

 

“HOLY LIABILITIES, BATMAN!” Yet another reason to stay off of Interstate 70 has just reared its ugly head. The first “Driverless Car” has come to Terre Haute (That’s French for “Who is your insurance agent?”).

Maybe it is a coincidence or someone is making a sly statement, but the headline on the story in the local fish-wrap reads thusly: “First Driverless Car Hits the Market in Terre Haute.” Given the recent problems with this new technology “Hits the Market” may be more prescient than they think.

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Picture Me As “Superfly”

 

LAST WEEK MY WIFE, THE LOVELY AND EVER OBSERVANT, Dawn, and I were driving around town taking care of some errands when she asked me a question that made me go, “Hmmm?”

Her question: “What ever happened to Whitewall tires?”

Indeed.

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Triumph Over The Dog Catcher

 

SOMETIMES YOU WANT SOMETHING just because you want it, even though you know that if you got it, it wouldn’t be good for you.

Do I love Chili Dogs?

Yup!

Do Chili Dogs love me?

Nope.

They taste so good going in, but on the way out they can make for a loud and sleepless night.

I just saw an equivalent to a plateful of chili Dogs and my mouth watered up like the Vegas. It wasn’t food although it looked good enough to eat.

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It Is What It is

IT LOOKS LIKE ST. ARBUCKS HAS A BIG NEW ADVERTISING CAMPAIGN UNDERWAY. From deep within the secret laboratories in Seattle 91825 comes something they are calling, “Blonde Espresso.”

I have no idea what that means.

I do know the meaning of “Blonde,” and I know what “Espresso” is, but I don’t understand the pairing of the two.

Blonde Espresso? Is that like “Jumbo Shrimp” or “Governmental Efficiency?” The two words clearly seem to contradict each other. I’m a bit “Profused” as opposed to being “Confused.”

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Taking It Slow

 

BOY! THOSE ROADS ARE SLICK OUT THERE THIS MORNING! We had a couple of inches of that dry and fluffy snow last night and that has made driving a bit of an adventure. I’m fine because I am a perfect driver (Stop snickering!). It is the rest of those idiots out there that made things ugly.

This is Indiana in January. Are all of those other drivers imported from Southern Arizona where it never really snows? It’s like watching someone on ice skates for the first time only now they are piloting tons of steel on wheels.

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“Hi! This is Elizabeth from the Resort Rewards Center!”

SOME PROBLEMS SEEM TO BE IMPOSSIBLE TO SOLVE. I’m not talking about some mathematical Gordian Knots and things like Time Travel or Pauley Shore’s career. No, I mean those everyday things that tend to drive us all slightly bonkers. There are problems and if we use our collective imagination we can find solutions.

Problem #1: Those pesky phone calls from “Hi! This is Elizabeth from the Resort Rewards Center!”

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I Can Change The Batteries

 

“Call me a mechanic!”

“OK. You’re a mechanic.”

“No! No! There’s a light on the car dashboard that says ‘Maintenance Required.’ Call me a mechanic!”

So goes the conversation inside my brain when one of those little lights comes on while I’m driving. It may have read “Maintenance Required” but in my head it was screaming, “Pull over immediately or you’ll die!”

Maybe I overreacted a bit.

The car is trying to tell me something I know, but I don’t know exactly what. I had the car into the Dealer’s shop a couple of weeks ago for an oil change and to get it ready for winter. They took care of everything, but the little orange light started flashing almost immediately. I wondered why. Everything should have been hunky-dory.

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The Choices Are Almost Endless, Unfortunately

WHENEVER I AM DRIVING AROUND TOWN lately I’m seeing something that makes me wonder a bit. Not a lot, just a bit. What I’m seeing are those stick figure decals on the rear windows of cars. In the beginning these decals or stickers were showing just your basic nuclear family: Mommy, Daddy, and a couple of kids.

It didn’t take long before someone added the family dog to the lineup. After that the floodgates were opened. More kids, Granny and Grandpa. If there had been a divorce the decal would show a space with a Vacancy sign.

I spent most of a quarter hour doing extensive research into this and about all I learned was that some people have incredibly bad taste.

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The Call Of The Wild

SOME MORNINGS IT’S JUST A FESTIVAL OF WILDLIFE in our backyard, not counting me.

Most mornings when I come out to get to the car it is still dark and as I glance around the yard I can see pairs of glowing eyes looking back at me. Yesterday morning, however, it was like  Siegfried and Roy were holding auditions out there. I got into the car and when I turned on the headlights – Ta-Da!

First on the bill was a large raccoon clinging to the side of the tree right in front of me. It had that usual raccoon look on its face – “What? What? You got a problem with me?” I think raccoons are the Joe Pesci of the animal world. We made eye contact and had an interspecies moment there.

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Throwback Thursday from Oct. 2015 – More Questions Than Answers

Throwback Thursday from Oct. 2015 

More Questions Than Answers

bear in carTODAY IS ANOTHER ONE OF THOSE POSTS about the strange behavior of the human animal. If you have already heard or read about this please feel free to talk amongst yourselves or go get a piece of cake.

The dateline on the news item, and I use the word “News” very loosely, was Yekaterinburg, Kazakhstan. We’re talking Central Asia here, a place where I might think that isolation from – everywhere else – can play practical jokes with your brain. The gist of this story was something that the AAA magazine would never have printed I am sure.

It seems that motorists hurrying on their way to other parts of Kazakhstan saw a guy driving down the road with a live bear sitting in the backseat of his car. Up at the start of this posting is a picture of the bear in question hanging out of the car window, possibly asking for directions to the nearest asylum for the Seriously Wacky. I have to admit that if I was driving along and saw a bear in the car in front of me I would also try to get a picture – just to give to the driver’s family, in case things didn’t end peacefully, and the bear had lawyered up.

To give due credit to the local Kazakhstanian police, they did pull the guy over. One peek into the backseat and I’m sure those cops were wishing that they were going up against terrorists, drug-crazed bank robbers or even Mary Kay Sales Reps instead.

Cut to several steps closer to the chase – the Kazakhstanian CHiPs sent the guy on his way, along with his bear, but without any kind of traffic citation ticket.

It seems, that according to Kazakhstanian Law it is perfectly legal to drive around with a live bear in your car – provided that the bear is wearing a seatbelt – and the bear in the backseat was, indeed, wearing his seatbelt.

This whole thing brings several questions to mind.

How in the heck did the guy get the bear buckled up without being mauled into an early grave?

 Since the bear allowed itself to be put in the backseat and properly belted in – I’m guessing that this was not the bear’s maiden voyage in a car. Just by the fact that the bear was in the backseat tells me that the guy wasn’t driving a Mini Cooper.

Was driver training next on the agenda?

Does this sort of thing go on in Kazakhstan often enough to warrant such safety conscious legislation?

Nowhere in the news item did it ever mention if anyone bothered to find out why the guy had the bear in the first place and where were they headed. I can’t imagine that there are too many spots one can go with your bear tagging along. I know that such places would be limited here, so I can imagine there would be fewer in, say, Yekaterinburg, Kazakhstan. At least I hope so.

In more local Terre Haute news (That’s French for “Bears under 100# must be in an approved car seat.”) bears have recently been spotted in northern Indiana. There is no word on whether or not these bears are émigrés from Kazakhstan or simply bears from the Detroit area looking for work.giphy

Throwback Thursday from Oct. 2015 – “The Oscar Meyer What?

Throwback Thursday from Oct. 2015

The Oscar Meyer What?

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THERE ARE SOME DAYS WHEN THE WORLD JUST SHORT-SHEETS MY MIND.  I don’t take it personally. I know that the rest of humanity’s billions has it happen to each and every one of them too.

Today’s little, “Say What?” happened when I went to the pharmacy and headed back to the car. When I stepped outside I was greeted by what you see in the picture off to the right.

Now, I have seen the Oscar Meyer Weinermobile  before. This must be the Sports Model. It appears to be built on the frame of a Mini Cooper. Therefore I feel awkward calling it a true Weinermobile – it is more of a Vienna Sausage Mobile. An Hors d’oeuvre. Ram a toothpick through it.

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Throwback Thursday from Sept. 2015 – “Get Well Soon!”

Throwback Thursday from Sept. 2015 –

Get Well Soon!

dead deer get well soonHOW CAN ONE TRULY DEFINE what is, “Bad Taste” and what is not. Just as “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” the same can be said about humor. What one person thinks is funny another may not. In fact, I think you can be rock solid sure that for whatever one person thinks is funny there is another person who won’t laugh.

Such is the case of the picture to the right.

I think it is funny and I’ve had others say that it is “In bad taste.” Of course, if I ask them to tell me the difference, they fall silent.

One person tossed out the “bad taste” thing, saying that the balloon was what made it so bad. I then asked him if it had been a Get Well Card instead of the balloon would they have approved?  That was met with stony silence. That was kind of nice compared to his whining. He was also upset when I said I would have done as much for him as was done for the deer.

Somehow I don’t think he’ll be bothering me again.

Judging from the appearance of the deer I would guess that it had been there for a day or more. The sympathetic balloon delivery person probably had seen it there by the side of the road and made a special stop at a local Dollar Store for the balloon. I doubt that the driver who hit the deer just happened to have the balloon with them. If he/she/it already had the balloon in the car then there was someone in a nearby hospital who probably got a card attached to a salt lick.

Deer are, in many ways, nothing more than big, antlered, squirrels. They don’t pay attention to the traffic and tend to stop and stare at the headlights of approaching vehicles. If that vehicle is a Vespa or a bicycle then the deer has a good chance of making it across the road. If that vehicle is an 18-wheeler Peterbilt… Well, let’s just say that chances are the deer won’t be home for supper.

Earlier this summer my wife, the lovely and with a heart of gold, Dawn, and I drove from Terre Haute (That’s French for, “Get Well Soon”) to Michigan. Along the stretch of Interstate Highway from Indy to the Michigan state line we counted about a dozen deer in need of “Get Well Soon” balloons. All of those deer may have been part of a suicide pact or they were scofflaws when it came to traffic safety.

Someone else suggested that they were all part of a club where they “played chicken” with the cars and trucks. I’d never heard of such a thing until he told me that the first rule of the club was, “Never talk about the club.”

I don’t know how much credence I can put into that idea, except that it would bring a whole new perspective to the old question –

“Why did the chicken cross the road?”

Throwback Thursday from Sept. 2015 – “She Just ‘Sort of’ Robbed The Bank”

Throwback Thursday

She Just “Sort of” Robbed The Bank

tripleI WAS CHATTING WITH THE USUAL SUSPECTS the other day when the topic of bank robbery came up. Sometimes they scare me. This bunch of Geezers couldn’t rob the Food Bank, let alone an actual – “Money in the vault, Can I see some ID, please,” type of bank. This group would be called the “Don’t forget to take your meds gang.” Even so, they would be a bigger threat than a person I once knew who really did try to rob a bank.

About ten years ago B.R. (Before Retirement) a female coworker whom I knew and liked working with, called in to her Supervisor one sunny morning. She said that she was going to be in a little late because she “Had some business to take care of.” Little did we all know that her “business” was knocking off a bank.

While I and everyone else at work were getting ready for another day on the job, she was out pulling into the parking lot at a local bank.

From later reports it went down something like this –

My coworker drove to the bank, checked her .45 caliber semiautomatic handgun to be sure it was loaded (it was), got out of the car and walked up to the front door of the bank. At this point things began to fall apart for her.

She pulled the handle to open the door – nothing. It wouldn’t budge. The door was locked. It was locked because, in an effort to rob the bank and still get to work, she got an early start to her day and arrived, fully loaded, before banking hours. The bank wouldn’t be open for another half hour.

There is an old adage that says, “Plan your work and work your plan.” My friend, the would-be bank robber, skimped on the first part of that. If this plan was to be as easy as 1 – 2 – 3 you can’t skip the 2 and go straight to 3.

So, there she is – standing at the front door of the bank, holding her shooting iron, and she can’t get the door to open. It was then that she made the decision to try again another day. Perhaps it was best to just go on to work like nothing had happened. No harm – No foul.

No way.

While she was standing there contemplating her “Plan B” the people who worked in the other bank, just across the street, witnessed this entire fiasco and had already called the Terre Haute Police Department. Terre Haute – that’s French for, “Mama don’t ‘low no bank robbin’ round here.”

Before she could get back to her car and go off to work, she found herself surrounded. It was not even 8 AM and her day was not going to get any better.

Since she never really robbed the bank, they couldn’t charge her with that crime, but they had a list of others to present her with.

It turned out, upon further investigation, that she had lied on her job application – in that part about “Have you ever been convicted of a felony?” She had done some hard time a few years back for some other failed misadventure. This, of course, made her possession of the .45 caliber semiautomatic weapon a serious “No – No.” Added to that – she had no Concealed Carry permit for the gun – which was not registered anywhere. At least she did have a valid driver’s license – but the car wasn’t hers.

Fast Forward about three years –

I was tooling up and down the aisles of a store in town when I hear a voice behind me call out, “Hey, John!” This happens a lot to me. It is usually a former client or parent thereof – not this time. I turned around and there was our own local Bonnie Parker Wannabe.

“Hi, John. Remember me? We used to work together.”

Now this was one of those moments when you really don’t want to say the wrong thing. So, of course, the first words out of my mouth were,

“Sure, I remember you. Where you been keeping yourself?”

“Oh, I’ve been out of town for a while.”

Courtesy of the State of Indiana.

I really don’t remember the rest of the conversation.

I always enjoyed working with her. She was friendly, confident, and easy to get along with. Lucky for me she never needed an accomplice.

Back Home Again In Indiana

“LUCY, I’M HOME”

OK, so I don’t really know anybody named Lucy, but we are home – back in lovely Terre Haute (That’s French for “You don’t have an accent anymore.”)

After about ten days in the deep south we have crawled our way back north, into the land of, if not milk and honey, then Half and Half and Sweet n’ Low.

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I – 24 Bingo!

IT’S RATHER COMMON TO HAVE UNUSUAL THINGS HAPPEN while driving. The world seems to push things to the edge of the road all the time. I’ve been on the road a lot lately. I-24 in Tennessee has risen to the top of my list of fun roads to drive.

I-24 goes through Nashville which may, or may not be relevant. But one thing for sure – Nashville is a city that has outgrown its roads.

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Adventures In Tire Land

TRAVEL IS ADVENTURE! OK, I’M COOL WITH THAT – UP TO A POINT. Once that point is reached it ceases to be adventure and becomes a serious pain in the Gluteus Maximus.

Tuesday and Wednesday were travel, and I guess, a bit of high adventure. But on Friday and Saturday it all became a pain in my Levi’s.

Friday Morning: I came out to the Toyota to transport my wife, the lovely and officially present, Dawn, and friends Carol and Martin, to a meeting where I was blissfully not needed. En route a sensor light came on telling me that I had a tire in need of air. We took a short detour to a nearby gas station and, for a buck we got the offending tire nice and plump again.

Come Saturday morning I took a peek at the car and I could see the tire in question was looking flabby again. It was time to have the tire repaired or replaced.

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Start Your Engines!

  • OH, BOY, OH, BOY, OH, BOY! This Sunday is the Indianapolis 500 race! I’m not going. I don’t need to. I’m already surrounded by it.

Terre Haute (That’s French for, “Hit the gas and turn left!”) is just about 70 miles from Indianapolis and when several hundred thousand fans show up for the race they tend to spill over all the way to Terre Haute.

Indianapolis is a big city, but even it does not have sufficient hotel space to accommodate that many people coming into town at one time. So, they start looking around and end up in Terre Haute for the weekend, commuting up Interstate 70 for the race itself.

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On The Road Again

WHILE THE CIRCUS IN WASHINGTON CONTINUES I find that there are smaller side shows going on that I find both interesting and entertaining.

Example: While we were down in Texas, visiting family and avoiding nasty northern weather there was a great story on the TV about two Congressional Representatives from The Lone Star State who felt the need to get back to Washington and actually do their jobs. The problem for them achieving this end was that the entire northeast, including D.C. was getting blasted by a late winter snowstorm and airports in the area were closed down.

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