Know your title...or where it is

So on Christmas Eve I decided to treat myself and took my car to the dealer for service.  It was more than past due for an oil change, and the warning lights in the car told me that the air in the run-flats was low.  Of course I waited long enough for the battery to go dead as well.  I get up early on Christmas Eve, and with a couple of broom handles to prop up the jumper cables for maximum length, I’m able to jump my car without electrocuting myself.

I’ve raised this car for almost 15 years.  In its heyday it was great, comfortable to ride, fast and with a retractable hardtop.  And best of all, ultra-reliable.

About five years ago, old age started setting in.  (the car, not me)  No longer comfortable to ride, it feels like sitting on a go-cart with your spine absorbing every bump in the road.  Now every trip to the dealership results in a bill that ranges between $2,000 and $3,000.  And every time I make that investment, I can’t see my way clear of doing anything but keep the car.   In the back of my mind I’m rationalizing (each time) that with an investment like that, I must be good for another four years.  (Oh, and it’s rear-wheel drive and does not do well in snow.  I’ve had to leave it on the side of the road and walk home more than once.)

My thought was that on Christmas Eve, the dealership would be empty - who besides me would be there?  Wrong.  As it turns out, half the globe likes to get their car serviced right before their holiday travels.  Fortunately I have an appointment and they take me on schedule.  The way it works is, you tell them what you want, and a mechanic looks at your car for about 20 minutes.  Then you’re paged and called into a small office where a “consultant” tells you the grim news about all the other services you need.  Oddly on this occasion they tell me the battery does not need to be replaced.  But…there is always a “but”, the back brakes are just about shot, the tires are wearing unevenly, so an alignment makes sense as well.  "We could complete the $2,700 effort now if you like?"   In an unnatural act, I tell them to hold off, I pay my $67 bill (the smallest I’ve ever had at this place) and leave.  It’s time.

Long story somewhat short, I decide I should get an all-wheel drive Subaru Legacy.  It’s attractively priced and has tons of safety features, many more than I’ll ever have time to learn, unless my wife reads the library of manuals.   The sales guy is very thorough.  He tells me how the engine is mounted very low in the front for better stability and if you’re in a head on collision, it will not wind up sitting in your lap or on your knee caps.  This all makes good sense.  At the end of our road test, this trusting soul decides to prove his final Subaru point.  (In the TV Series, Rock the Park, they only drive Subaru’s during their adventures.)  To get back into the dealership parking lot he directs me to go into a lot just before theirs and stop the car somewhat aligned with the slim single open parking slot in their lot.  To get to it, I need to go up over a steep 9 inch tall curb that is made of frozen dirt and caked in snow and ice.  Then travel about another 20 feet across a snow and ice covered grass berm into the parking slot.  I remind him that I have not bought this car as yet, and any damage is on him.  He’s fine with that, and I damn the torpedoes.  In the back of my mind I’m thinking about the engine that is hanging low and I’m very sure that I’ll be leaving parts of it across the icy knoll.  The car handles it like a pro and amazingly I manage not to smash into any other vehicles.  (I might have a future in parking cars)

Bottom line is I bought a Subaru (not that particular car…as I can’t imagine that I didn’t damage it in some way)

Of course I was just window shopping so I told the dealer that I’d need to go home and get the title to my trade-in (that was fun, as they did not put any worth in the sentimental value I placed on the car.  I think the phrase they used was something along the lines of, "It's just a 15 year old car we will not be able to sell.")   

I’m a master paper collector.  I have all papers for everything I’ve ever bought.   I'm the reason there's a pulp shortage in the world right now.  I have all 15 years’ worth of maintenance bills on my existing car.   

But naturally, I cannot find the title to my car.  

It’s not where it supposed to be, so I turn my whole house, floor by floor, drawer by drawer, upside down – I’m now a certifiable, raving lunatic.

So my car has the last laugh.  To get rid of it, I need to make a trip in morning, in the freezing rain, to the NJ Division of Motor Vehicles and pay $60 for a “lost title.”   I’m sure I’ll find the original tonight….

After Thoughts:  My newest catch phrase that I say frequently now is: WTF.    I mentioned that the car has safety features, which I have not yet figured out how to turn off.  One that will eventually make me a better driver is that the car has cameras up front that can track the lines in a highway or street.  If you cross the lines without a turn signal on, it beeps at an alarming level that I would image an F15 Fighter Pilot would experience when an enemy cruise missile has just locked on. 
I've been wanting to try out the "Crash Avoidance"...but I'm too chicken.

Happy New Year to All!

In Search of HooDoo Heaven

Hiking National Parks out West - Lessons Learned:

1.     Don’t fool yourself into believing that there will be no paybacks if you try to hike up and down mountains for 5 or 6 hours a day, and you haven’t gotten yourself into any kind of shape.  You know how after a tough workout you describe how certain parts of your body hurt?  In this case, describing what didn’t hurt would be easier.  And in this state of endless agony, you’re constantly asking people who are returning from a summit that you’re trying to reach, “How much further to the top?”  Their answers are always so disappointing that you think they’re screwing with your head – They’re not.  You’ll also find that while you’re under exhausting stress, you, your loved ones, and your very close friends grow patient-less…even angry.  I was sure that at a couple of points along the trail I’d get a rock to the back of the head.

2.     Even if you think you’re a camel, drink water, lots of water.  What I found out after the fact was that when stressing your muscles, lactic acid builds up in them causing night cramps, water flushes it out.

3.     Do Not try to navigate the maze of canyons without a map.  Fight the overwhelming force that tells you, “Oh I don’t need no stinking map.”  Unless of course your mission is to get lost.  (Note to self: Bad idea to blame your spouse re forgetting map)  The trail signs are completely inadequate - we wound up on a “Horse Trail.”  No sign of horses but you could definitely tell they were there.  We should have figured out that we were in trouble when we lost site of any humans, but we had more than enough evidence that horses were there.  After a while the smell got to be so strong that I started to question what they were feeding these animals – Think Kramer, Rusty and Beeferino.   Quick Note:  After using an ancient unisex outhouse where it was apparent that they had an “annual” service contract, I found myself looking forward to the smell of the Manure Trail.

4.     And the Don’t Leave Home Without Them items: Vitamints, Triple Strength Bi-Flex Joint Health, Advil, Advil PM, Zantac, Tums, Gas-X, and everyone’s favorite – ImodiumAD.

5.     An Observation about Bryce Canyon National Park:  Ebenezer Bryce lived in an area just outside Bryce Canyon called Tropic.  Yes Tropic.  He lived there from 1875 to 1880.  Five years – and for that he had a National Park named after him.  I was thinking to myself, those must have been the most stellar, show stopping five years anyone ever had since the dawn of time.  So I asked one of the of the Park Rangers about it.  He said, “You’ve got a good point.  These days you need to either a famous inventor or a president to get a National Park named after you.”  (Look for Trump Tower to be submitted as an entry for our next National Park)  The ranger went on to say that Ebenezer Bryce (and here I thought only Scrooge had that first name) was part of the Mormon Church and his main job was to do reconnaissance work for the Church and scope out new wilderness areas for potential settlements.  Once he’d find an area, he’d help the new Mormon settlers get going, building houses and showing them how to farm.   Once established, he’d move on.  He did this fourteen times and finally settled in Arizona.  The ranger felt that the magnitude of the number of times he did this was impressive and that by itself warrants the naming.   I still thought it was very weak.

6.     And last but not least - Plan Ahead.  National Parks have crowded times and not so crowded times.  You really need to do the homework to figure out how to maximize your enjoyment of the parks – Well worth the effort.  Truly Amazing Sites.

7.     “Climb a Mountain or spend a week in the Woods.  Wash your Spirit Clean.” – John Muir

You Know You Need a Vacation When....

So yesterday I got to the massive Secaucus train station Park & Lock at 6:36AM…at least that’s what my claim ticket said.  I got there early enough to get a good spot up against the walkway closer to the station.  I’m in the zone, I get out of my car, walk around the passenger side, grab my knapsack that feels like it has a bowling ball in it, and head for the train.

I return in the evening, racing past a number of people who are also heading to the parking lot.  I’m going to get there first, avoid the long payment lines and get on the road.  I pay my fee and briskly walk towards my car.  My car is not there.   I double back a couple of times checking my sanity but I know I parked in this particular area.  I finally come to the conclusion that, “Ah Crap, someone stole my car!” 

I’m super pissed now and sweating bullets.   I head to the valet guys by the payment area and break the bad news that it looks like my car has been stolen.  My point person, a guy who looks to be in his early 30s tells me not to worry, this happens all the time.   Not that cars are stolen, but people forget where they’ve parked their car.  I assure him I know where I parked my car, and I really just want him to call the police.  Instead, we walk up and down the area where I said I parked my car clicking away at my keyless remote fob- (2015 Mazda CX5).  We find nothing.  Now I can see my new associate eyeing me up and down.  I can tell he’s thinking I’m either a geriatric or a lush and can’t remember where I parked my car.  First he questions me and says well maybe you came in, left and came back later and parked somewhere else.  My first thought is, why in God’s name would anybody do that, but I show him my time-stamped ticket.  He’s not satisfied and decides to take me on a tour of the whole parking lot as we look for my car.  He begins picking out random cars asking me if they might be mine.  My patience is paper-thin and I decide to call my wife…Did I just say that?

I call my wife and explain the situation and ask her to text me the Vin and license plate number of the car.  I figure I’m going to need that info when the police arrive.  My wife is having problems finding the info which is not endearing her to me.  Then she asks me, “But now they have our address and a garage door opener, what are we going to do?”  It was probably only a one or two second mental pause, but I collected myself, valiantly fought off the desire to say the first thought that came to my mind and said good bye.

            In the end, my tormentor asked for my key, held it up in the air and pressed down on the lock button and said, I think I hear something over there…pointing to the valet area.  I think he’s lost it because I've told him no less than five times that I didn’t park my car in valet.  We walk over, and there’s my car...parked in the valet area.  A couple of the valet crew are standing around with big smiles on their faces.  It’s almost as if they’ve been waiting for me.  They tell me that in the morning they found the car running with the door open, so they brought it over to the valet area.   I’m super relieved, but feel like an idiot.  I pass out a couple of $20 bills to my new friends, and then the guy who took me on the 3-hour tour says, “Oh that’s right, I was here this morning when that happened…but I just forgot about it.” 

HAPPY LABOR DAY WEEKEND!

Santa ran out of Presents

I believe that our society has become too automated.  Just about every one of our monthly bills can be paid without lifting a pen.  Yes it saves time, but god forbid you have a discrepancy.  If you do, you will need an act of said god to get it corrected.  It seems that once you go into the automated world you’ve given up your right to talk to a person, at least one that has a pulse.  “Oh you have a complaint?  We’ll connect you right away with a service representative – our current wait time is 72 hours, would you like to hold?”   Alternately, you can press one to speak to an agent about buying something new and get connected with Carmelann right away.  There is some satisfaction to be had as you hear Carmelann struggling when she realizes that she’s been had.

Next area where we’ve let computers take over way too much is JIT.  JIT stands for “Just In Time” as in inventory systems.   The idea behind JIT is that with the rise of “Big Data” computer systems, they have collected enough knowledge about our buying habits that they can anticipate how much inventory should be on the selves at just the right time - saving Ba-Zillions of dollars.   Well I think we all know that computer systems are not infallible.   Case in point, the Matthew Broderick movie, “War Games.”  And to reinforce this point, my daughter this past week went into a local ice cream shop where they can mix up multiple ice cream flavor concoctions.  My daughter wanted Peanut Butter and Chocolate.  They were out of Peanut Butter.  I get that.  How many people want peanut butter flavored ice cream.  But then she asked for Chocolate and they told her they were out of Chocolate too.   I’m sorry, but in my humble opinion that’s not acceptable.  You want to run out of lima bean or broccoli flavored ice cream, fine.   But you can’t call yourself an ice cream shop and not have on hand, one of the original two ice cream flavors that’s been around since biblical times.  It’s like going into McDonalds and having them tell you, “We don’t have hamburgers today.”  

But the Piece of Resistance happened yesterday.  I went to the United States Post Office to take care of two tasks.  First, I needed to have my Dad’s temporary change of address renewed.  He received a letter about it, so I figured the people at the post office could help.  No luck.  A very pleasant postal worker told me that it would be best if I called a 1-800 number listed on a form she handed me.  (Sure, I’ve got 72 hours to kill.) Okay, I understand.  If you’re not sure, don’t take a chance and screw up someone’s mail delivery.  But then I asked her for two books of stamps.  Again, with a pleasant smile on her face, she tells me, “We don’t have any stamps.”  I hesitated but then smiled and gave a laugh, as I’ve never known this person to joke around with me.  But this time she really got me.  I said, “That’s very funny, but really, I’d like two books of stamps.”  She’s still smiling at me, even laughing a bit too.  She reiterates, “We’ve run out of stamps.”  Now I’m thinking, “Okay lady, the joke’s over.  Hand over those stamps, I need to be on my way.”  Then it finally sinks in, she isn’t joking, she has no stamps.  The United States Post Office has no stamps.  The mightiest country on the face of the earth and - No Stamps!  I was incredulous and at the same time burst out laughing asking her, “But you’re the Post Office, how can you not have any stamps?”  She said, “I don’t know what to tell you.”  In my mind, the Post Office not having stamps is like Santa Claus sailing down your chimney, opening up his sack and saying, “Snag, No Presents!”  

What craziness could be next, you pull up to a gas station and you’re told, “No Gas?”  Now that’s a stretch, right?