Lost and Found

I have lots of data.

I was fumbling my way through the archives, looking for an old VST plugin, when I happened across a file named “Fort Wayne Chronicles.TXT”

I had nearly forgotten this tale until I read this. I shouldn’t have forgotten it. I should remember it every time I use my giant Craftsman floor jack or jack stands. I don’t remember how long ago this was. Best guess, it was somewhere around 2000 – 2002, since I was driving the ’86 Suburban. In fact, this was likely the event that caused the eventual failure of my wheel bearing, thus ending the reign of the Urban Assault Vehicle. It was the tale of a time that I drove out to Fort Wayne to visit Phil and go see Sunny Taylor play a show at Mad Anthony’s, and instead ended up spending the weekend changing a tire.

My weekend was NUTS! I went out to Ft. Wayne to see a band that I’ve been wanting to see for months now. They were playing Saturday night at a place not more than 6 or 7 blocks from my friend Phil’s apartment. I picked him up a little late, but we were only going to miss a few minutes of the act. We pulled into the parking lot, and I heard a lout banging noise. I didn’t think much of it, as I always hear loud banging noises in the truck. We pulled into a parking space, and when Phil opened his door, I heard a hissing noise. Bad… Very bad… My right rear tire had blown. I said fuck it, we’ll fix it after the band plays. We walk into the bar, and it’s quiet. There’s no band! They cancelled at the last minute. Fuck it, lets get a drink. I had a few beers, and then decided I’d better fix the flat before drinking any more. We went outside, only to discover that I didn’t have a lug-nut wrench. We found a dude in the bar that had one, so he let us borrow it. Then we couldn’t get the lug nuts loose. I was standing on the wrench – no, I was jumping on the wrench. Still, they wouldn’t budge. We finally got one loose, and proceeded to do the same thing on the other 4. It took us about an hour to get the lug nuts off. In the mean time, the guy that owned the wrench told us to keep it, and he left! Its a good thing, too, because by the time we were done jumping on it, it had become so twisted and bent out of shape, that it looked like a damned pretzel! After all the lug nuts were removed, we then tried to remove the tire from the axle. It didn’t work. It was seized up so tight, that no matter how hard we kicked at it, it wouldn’t budge. Not even a little! We walked back to his apartment, and got his car, drove to Meijer and bought a huge pry-bar and a new lug-nut wrench), and headed back out. Even with the prybar, we couldn’t get the tire off! I was bending the shit out of the axle, and the damned rim just wouldn’t pop off. We worked at it until about 1:30am, and finally decided to call it quits for the night. We went back out there Sunday morning, and unfortunately, it hadn’t spontaneously fallen off during the night. We then went to Sears, and bought a few items, including another prybar, 2 cans of WD-40 and a 3 ½ ton hydraulic floor jack. (By this time, I was disgusted with the factory screw jack.) I drenched that thing in oil, and pried until my arms hurt, and we still couldn’t get the damned wheel off! Finally, I got a brainstorm. I borrowed the scissor jack from Phil’s car, and wedged it in between the frame and the wheel rim. I had to crank that thing so hard that it bent the shit out of my rim. Finally, in one huge explosion, the rim went flying one direction, the jack flew another direction, and luckily, none of my fingers went flying anywhere! (The first thing I did was count them all!) Then we put on the spare, and drove away. But that is the first time in history, that it has taken me 19 hours and almost $200 to change a flat tire!

Which Time?

Lake_Central_School_LogoOne of my favorite questions that I always answer with a another question is, “What year did you graduate high school?” My answer is always the same, “Which time?”  To my knowledge, no one before me had ever graduated from Lake Central more than once. Furthermore, they’ve since taken precautions to ensure that no one else will ever duplicate the feat. It was perhaps one of my finest teenage pranks.

Found here is a narrative of the whole graduation ordeal that I had written back in 2003 for display on my first website. Continue reading

Saved by a Punch

Being resourceful often requires one to think “outside the box.” However, it has been my experience that sometimes being resourceful actually requires one to be acutely aware of the box. Not to just think outside the box but to think about the box itself.

72 Pontiac LeMansNever was this more evident than the time I decided to replace the rear differential gasket on my old ’72 Pontiac LeMans.

The rear differential was leaking gear oil. (The car was around 20 years old at that point, so it was to be expected.) I decided to remedy the situation by replacing the differential cover gasket. I ran out to Dyer Auto Parts (which doesn’t exist anymore) and asked for a 10 bolt differential cover gasket for a ’72 LeMans. I hadn’t yet lost my faith in the abilities of others, so I accepted what he gave me without really scrutinizing it. Continue reading

The Chika Williams Saga

The following is an exact transcription of my efforts to waste the time of a Nigerian 419 scammer

For more info on 419 scams and how to screw with them, do stop by 419eater.com.

I receive these things all the time, and just shitcan them as quickly as I get them. One day, I decided that I’d see what happened if I wrote back. I started off with a very simple and lame response. What happened after that was a riot! I actually kept this guy going, while I conversed with him through three different email accounts. He was under the impression that he was dealing with 3 seperate people, and even started a torrid love affair with one of them!

I never expected this dipshit to go along with me for 3 months! He must have been really desperate to go to the great lengths that he did. Nonetheless, he was a quite amusing part of my day for the three months in question. I kinda miss typing to my African friend Chika!

Everything has been left in tact, including grammatical errors and whatnot. This guy’s english seemed to get worse as he grew more impatient. The only thing that I have censored out of the original emails was my personal cell phone number. I did, in fact, give him my cell number. I believe he tried to call it twice one day, but declined to leave a message.

Continue reading

Memories of a Hurricane Past

Fun Facts:

  • October 15th, 2005 – Jenn and I were married.
  • October 16th, 2005 – We landed in Riviera Maya, Mexico ready to soak up the sun for 5 days at an all-inclusive resort.
  • October 17th, 2005 – I turn 29 years old. There was much tequila involved. I don’t remember much.
  • October 20th, 2005 – Hurricane Wilma makes landfall on the Yucatan Peninsula, and extends my stay in Mexico.

The following is the journal that I kept on my PDA while Jenn and I (and about 1500 other people) were hunkered down in a storm shelter waiting for Hurricane Wilma to pass us by. For years I thought this information had been lost. Only recently did I discover an old backup file from my PDA that I had created before it’s demise.

Continue reading